After Lordaeron's last hope—Marshal Garithos—was crushed by the Dark Lady Sylvanas, General Abbendis gathered the remnants of his forces, joined several detachments of the Silver Hand, and led a large number of refugees into Farshire.
The mountain road to Farshire was treacherous and easy to defend but hard to attack. They converted the monastery there into a fortress and secured a foothold for the time being.
Then Ashbringer Alexandros Mograine burst onto the scene, giving hope to people trapped in a desperate situation. After he returned from the Dwarven kingdom with that holy sword, he led the survivors in clearing out most of the Undead Scourge from northeastern Tirisfal Glades. They also opened a route to the Western Plaguelands and made contact with Hearthglen.
Hearthglen also occupied a defensible position and was the only human territory in the Western Plaguelands that had not fallen to the Scourge. Its lord, Taelan Fordring, was also a Paladin of the Silver Hand, and the two sides naturally became allies.
Thus the Farshire-Hearthglen front was formed. A small council of five highly respected leaders decided all matters concerning the front. They were:
Ashbringer—Highlord Alexandros Mograine, commander of the Ashen Verdict Knights, a detachment of the Silver Hand. He was foremost among Lordaeron's surviving humans in both personal strength and military leadership. The stories of this man and the holy sword in his hand had already become legend.
Scarlet Holy Light—Saidan Dathrohan, commander of the Scarlet Holy Light Knights, a detachment of the Silver Hand. He was one of the five original Paladins. After the deaths of the Silver Hand's grandmaster, Uther the Lightbringer, and its deputy commander, Gavinrad, he was the most senior and highest-ranking member of the order.
Grand General Alfred Abbendis, who had inherited Marshal Garithos's legacy—the North Maple Legion. His troops were the most numerous in the monastery and had the greatest overall fighting strength.
Grand Inquisitor Isillien, Taelan Fordring's Holy Light mentor. He had practically raised the Highlord of Hearthglen himself. He spoke for Hearthglen's faction on the council and also served as head Priest.
Baron Maxwell Tyrosus of the kingdom, commander of the Argent Dawn Knights, a detachment of the Silver Hand. The Argent Dawn had always been stationed along the border of Lordaeron's northern province, guarding against the threat of Zul'Mashar's forest Trolls. It had suffered no great losses when the Scourge plague broke out, making it the Silver Hand's most intact force and one of the strongest forces stationed in the monastery.
Gordon's father had once worked with Tyrosus, so Tyrosus had always looked after Gordon.
A battle report had suddenly arrived a few days earlier: Tyr's Hand in the Eastern Plaguelands had not yet fallen to the Undead and was under siege by the Scourge. The council of five had immediately decided that they had to launch a rescue.
Though the church city of Tyr's Hand was not as large as Stratholme City, it had long been a symbol of wealth and prosperity in the Eastern Plaguelands. Saving it would further strengthen the human forces resisting the Scourge.
Alexander, Dathrohan, and General Abbendis had each led their elite troops through the night to relieve Tyr's Hand, leaving Tyrosus and Isillien in charge of Distant Mountain Monastery.
Along the way, Gordon filled Unas in on all this. It was somewhat different from the story Unas knew from the game, but from what he had seen and heard since crossing over, this place was a little different from the game anyway. On reflection, he could accept it.
The two had long since dismounted and entered the gates. After passing through a long passage and climbing a flight of stairs, they reached the monastery's central district. It was many times larger than its counterpart in the game and heavily guarded, with sentries at every turn and soldiers in uniform carrying weapons everywhere.
A young female Priest in white robes approached them and gestured for them to follow. "This way, please, you two."
Gordon paused. The Priest was pointing in a direction that did not lead to the Inquisition. Delighted, he clapped Unas on the shoulder and whispered, "Looks like we can settle this without going before the Inquisition."
"Really? Where are we going now?" Unas did not dare celebrate too soon.
"Judging by the direction, the cathedral."
The two followed the Priest through a heavy iron gate and down several dim corridors. Then the view suddenly opened up before them.
The bright sunlight dispelled the gloom in Unas's heart. He had visited this instance many times in the game, but he had never realized how beautiful it was.
A pool of spring water lay in the center of the church garden. Jets of water sprayed from the mouths of carp statues, mingling with the sunlight to produce a rainbow of colors. Directly ahead stood a small artificial waterfall, guarded on either side by a lifelike statue of a lion.
Beside the steps leading to the garden on the next level, several enormous stone statues of warriors towered atop stone pillars. They stood with both hands resting on their swords, looking down upon all below them and radiating an imposing air.
The white marble church was more than ten times as magnificent as it was in the game. Robed Priests and bald monks were everywhere. Without disturbing the Holy Light's worshippers praying in the church, the three walked straight into a side hall beside the cathedral.
The Priest leading them brought the two to a room, bowed, and departed. Gordon took the lead and pushed the door open.
The room was small and furnished as a meeting room. Tyrosus was chatting and laughing with an old man whose hair and beard were both white. A balding, middle-aged man in purple robes sat on the other side, while Darian and Whitemane sat quietly in the lower seats.
Unas spotted Whitemane as soon as he entered. Her dazzling silver hair was hard to miss, and she was dressed so sexily and alluringly.
Whitemane, however, shot him an angry glance and immediately turned her head away.
Having received a cold shoulder, Unas followed Gordon in greeting the people present.
The kindly white-haired old man was naturally Grand Inquisitor Isillien, while the balding middle-aged man in purple was Arcanist Doan, head of the Mage Academy. In the game, he was a minor boss Unas's high-level hunter had beaten countless times.
Speaking of Du'an, there was an amusing story about him. A player had fished a silver coin out of a fountain in Dalaran. It bore an inscription:
"Oh, Abbendis, why do you never spare me a second glance? I would follow you to the ends of the earth, if only you would notice how I feel. —Arcanist Doan."
The inscription became ironclad proof that Du'an was secretly in love with Abbendis. But whether the object of his affection was Alfred Abbendis or his daughter Bridgette Abbendis had always remained a mystery.
Whichever it was, though, this balding man was destined for heartbreak. Neither Abbendis nor his daughter would waste time on romance.
What did they bring this mage here for on an occasion like this?
Unas had no time to dwell on it. Everyone's eyes were fixed on him.
Isillien cleared his throat and spoke to Unas gently. "You're Unas-Lawugade, aren't you? Just as they described, you do look very unusual."
Unas's East Asian features did indeed stand out among a group of white people.
At that point, the balding mage Du'an stood up. He raised the black staff in his hand and aimed the sky-blue, cone-shaped gem set into its head at Unas. Staring into Unas's eyes, he said, "Forgive me. It's just a little detection spell. Don't be nervous; it'll be over soon."
Unas was not afraid of any detection spell. Apart from breaking a neighbor's window when he was a child, he had never done anything bad. His conscience was clear, and he had nothing to hide.
A wave of blue light washed over him, feeling pleasantly cool. Other than that, nothing unusual happened.
Du'an finished the spell and meditated with his eyes closed for a few seconds. Then he opened them and announced the result. "I can say with one hundred percent certainty that he is human."
Isillien nodded slightly and pressed on. "Does this warrior Unas have the blood of any other race in him?"
Du'an shook his head. "I can't say for certain."
Isillien turned a questioning look on Unas, who hurriedly said, "Even if I've lost my memory, I know my own body best. I'm definitely a pure human."
Isillien looked into Unas's eyes, paused briefly, and continued, "According to Knight Joseph Gordon's report and your own claim, you are Holy-favored and can use the legendary resurrection spell?"
"Yes. I used resurrection to bring Gordon back to life just last night."
"Words alone prove nothing!" The silver-haired girl finally could not hold back. "I don't believe a shameless person like you could become Holy-favored! If you really can use resurrection, prove it to us!"
"You can't expect to kill someone right now just so I can prove it to you," Unas repeated. "As for whether you believe it or not, I do."
"You..." Whitemane was momentarily at a loss for words. She had not expected Unas to be so shameless and could only glare at him.
Gordon stepped forward as well. "I can vouch for him. Every word in my report was true."
Tyrosus, who had been sitting silently to one side, suddenly interjected. "Can the two of you swear to it?"
"Of course!" Unas and Gordon answered in unison.
So the two swore their oaths one after the other. Unas, of course, did not know much about the proper form for an oath, so apart from the name, he copied Gordon's oath word for word.
Isillien lightly stroked the soft white beard on his chin and said thoughtfully, "I can sense the sincerity in both your oaths. This warrior's heroic performance in the Whispering Gardens quarantine zone today has also convinced me. I choose to believe you."
His voice betrayed neither joy nor sorrow. "Holy Light above, one of the Holy-favored. I seem to see an extraordinary path ahead of you."
"But, Grand Inquisitor..." Whitemane could no longer sit still.
Isillien raised a hand, signaling her to calm down, and rose from his seat. "I may as well tell you now: Knight Joseph Gordon has brought back extremely important intelligence, and a new military operation will begin shortly. Let us not waste time here. I declare this matter closed. May the Holy Light be with us."
"May the Holy Light be with us," everyone except Unas repeated quietly.
Isillien sat back down, picked up his teacup, and began sipping. It was clear he was dismissing them.
Whitemane hurriedly bowed and stormed out of the room, her anger at its peak, leaving a waft of fragrance in her wake. Darian, her shadow, followed with a wry smile.
As for being Holy-favored and the resurrection spell, the two gentlemen did not seem to believe much of it and asked no further questions.
Gordon and Unas also left the meeting room. Unas let out a long breath, feeling refreshed.
It was thanks to Tyrosus that he had gotten through it with a casually sworn oath. Without Tyrosus backing him, he would probably have been locked in a dark little room full of torture instruments by now.
"Grrr." As soon as he relaxed, his stomach began to protest. He asked Gordon with a miserable look, "Is there a restaurant here? I haven't eaten all day."
"You're still in quarantine, so go back to the Whispering Gardens first. I don't want you giving them another excuse to go after you," Gordon replied. "I have something to take care of. I'll bring you food afterward."
It looked like his stomach would have to wait a little longer. Gordon saw him to the central district, patted him on the shoulder, and left.