Northshire Abbey

"We have to resolve this!"

"Easy for you to say!"

"The Dwarven craftsmen must forge more weapons."

"You think we're worth less than dogs! We simply can't produce that many!"

"Enough!"

In the conference chamber within Stormwind City, representatives of every power in Azeroth had gathered to discuss how to deal with the current crisis.

This meeting had already been going on for several days, yet they still had not reached a suitable conclusion. The main reason was that they simply could not unite and overcome the hardship together.

The endless bickering and disputes gave Llane Wrynn a terrible headache. There was no way this could resolve the crisis.

Though the situation remained unclear and Stormwind City was directly facing the threat of the Orcs, Llane Wrynn could endure it.

Looking at the Humans, Elves, and Dwarves before him, Llane Wrynn said in a deep voice, "All of you have asked Stormwind City for aid before, whether in troops or arbitration. If we cannot unite against the enemy, the consequences will be unimaginable! Stormwind City needs soldiers, warhorses, and more weapons now."

"Ha, our own kingdom needs those things too! Damn it, what is that?" The representative from Lordaeron had barely begun speaking before he was unable to continue.

A pale golden glow suddenly appeared before them. It quickly spread into a ring, revealing the scene on its other side.

There was a forest there, along with someone they recognized—Anduin Lothar, Stormwind City's young commander.

But why had a teleportation point been set up in such a place? And the teleportation magic before them seemed rather unusual.

Everyone present was bewildered. If they had not seen Lothar, they would likely have called for the guards already. Of course, even without being called, the guards had already rushed over.

Lothar, standing