Baptism and an Interlude

Light's Hope Chapel resembled an ancient European cathedral. Its decorations were much the same: white marble, murals overhead, and windows all around.

Here, Prince Tyrel Sunstrider of the Kingdom of Quel'Thalas met his lifelong nemesis for the first time—Arthas Menethil.

They both had golden hair, were both young and handsome, and were both princes of their respective kingdoms.

Besides the two young princes, five middle-aged Paladins stood within Light's Hope Chapel. Some were stern, some devout, and some gentle.

At their head stood Uther Lightbringer. Beside him were Saidan Dathrohan, Gavinrad the Dire, Tirion Fordring, and the newly promoted Alexandros Mograine—five powerful Lord Commander Paladins.

Under the guidance of Uther Lightbringer, Lord Commander of the Silver Hand Paladins, Prince Tyrel Sunstrider and Arthas Menethil recited the Paladin's Oath together.

"I swear here and now: from this day onward, my heart belongs to the Holy Light. With sword and shield, I shall protect the weak; with the Holy Light, I shall drive out evil. Humility, honesty, compassion, courage, justice, sacrifice, honor, and spirit—these are the Eight Virtues I shall never forget. So long as someone needs protection, we shall not fall. While the Holy Light endures, faith shall never perish."

Yet while reciting it, Arthas Menethil was far more devout and fervent, while Tyrel Sunstrider remained rational. Uther Lightbringer, who had been observing them both, inwardly shook his head at Tyrel Sunstrider, while feeling immensely satisfied with Arthas Menethil.

After the two young princes had finished, Uther Lightbringer and the other four great Paladins joined forces, summoning pillars of light as dazzling and warm as daylight. They enveloped the two boys, baptizing their bodies with pure Holy Light Energy.

Tyrel Sunstrider clearly felt a warm energy enter his body. There was not the slightest rejection; in fact, his entire body gladly accepted the energy until it completely fused with him.

After baptizing the two princes, Uther Lightbringer said to them, "As princes of the Kingdom of Lordaeron and the Kingdom of Quel'Thalas, each of you may choose any one of us five as your mentor. At the same time, we will teach you everything we know and lead you upon the path of the Holy Light."

The Silver Hand Paladins served the Alliance, after all. Thus, the princes of Lordaeron and Quel'Thalas could receive direct instruction from the five Lord Commander Paladins.

"I wish to follow you and comprehend the path of the Holy Light, Lightbringer." Arthas Menethil chose Uther Lightbringer, who gladly accepted him as his disciple.

Next came Tyrel Sunstrider. The young prince raised his head and carefully examined the five Paladins in the chapel. At last, his gaze settled upon Tirion Fordring, the gentlest among them, who seemed like a friendly uncle next door.

"Lord Tirion Fordring, I wish for you to guide me along the path of the Paladin." Everyone had assumed that Prince Tyrel Sunstrider of Quel'Thalas would choose Uther Lightbringer just as Arthas Menethil had. Instead, he chose Tirion Fordring, Lord of Hearthglen, whose name was not as renowned within the Alliance.

"Why me, Prince Tyrel?" At the High Elves' lodgings within Light's Hope Chapel, Tirion Fordring asked this High Elf prince he had never met before.

In response to Tirion Fordring's question, Tyrel Sunstrider respectfully performed the courtesy of a disciple. "Please call me by my name, Mentor Tirion. I have heard your stories, and I believe you are the only one who will not treat me differently because I am a High Elf."

Tyrel Sunstrider's choice of Tirion Fordring was the result of thorough preparation. He had gathered information on the five Lord Commander Paladins and carefully studied their lives.

Just as Tyrel had said, if he chose any of the other Lord Commander Paladins, they would never teach him everything they knew. The Kingdom of Quel'Thalas had already withdrawn from the Alliance, so they would certainly make things difficult for him. Only Lord Tirion Fordring of Hearthglen would not.

As they were about to leave Light's Hope Chapel, a small incident occurred. The bold and honest dwarf Muradin Bronzebeard had gotten drunk, and just as Arthas and Tyrel's groups were about to part ways, he muttered under his breath, "Never thought these long-eared broads could become Paladins too."

After Paladins had emerged, the dwarves of Ironforge, humanity's closest allies, had soon inherited the ways of the Paladin as well.

Though Muradin Bronzebeard had muttered quietly, dwarves had loud voices, and High Elves had long, sensitive ears. Every word he said fell clearly into the ears of the High Elf group.

"Say that again, you stunted runt!" Kaelen Sunfury, who stood closest, flew into a rage and returned the insult in kind.

Dwarves despised the High Elves for their weakness, while the High Elves likewise despised the dwarves' stump-like stature and crude, rude nature. Though both races were allies in the Alliance, their relationship had always been poor.

"Who are you calling a runt?! You long-eared brat, Muradin's going to teach you a lesson!" Of course, the drunken dwarf could not tolerate such mockery. He immediately grabbed his warhammer and axe, intending to teach the High Elf before him a lesson.

Muradin Bronzebeard struck first. As the younger brother of King Magni Bronzebeard of Ironforge, he was a formidable warrior of Ironforge himself. Young Kaelen Sunfury was naturally no match for him, unable to offer even the slightest resistance.

Captain of the Guard Arthas also drew his sword to help Kaelen Sunfury face Muradin Bronzebeard, but even the two of them together were utterly suppressed.

Just then, a sharp longsword shot toward Muradin. Its speed was incredible and its angle bizarre, making the drunken dwarf break out in a cold sweat. He hurriedly performed a rolling dodge that only a Pandaren monk could manage, barely escaping safely.

"Who are you?" Still shaken and completely sobered up, Muradin Bronzebeard stared warily at the High Elf warrior who had just intervened.

The High Elf warrior said nothing. He simply launched another attack, the ancient rune-engraved longsword in his hand slashing rapidly toward the dwarf.

Dwarves had one trait remarkably similar to orcs: they loved fighting. Muradin Bronzebeard was no exception. Seeing such a powerful High Elf, he naturally assumed a fighting stance and prepared for a battle.

As a direct descendant of the dwarf king, Muradin Bronzebeard possessed strength surpassing even most orcs. The two weapons in his hands were also tremendously heavy, and he intended to use his strength to overwhelm his opponent.

Despite wielding such heavy weapons, Muradin did not seem cumbersome in the slightest. He was even nimble in a way that did not match his stout body, his warhammer and battle axe striking from two different angles.

Yet every one of Muradin Bronzebeard's attacks was easily deflected. The strength he had always been proud of felt as though it had struck a sponge, unable to exert itself at all. It left Muradin feeling thoroughly stifled.

At first, Muradin had held the offensive through sheer strength. But after his attacks were effortlessly neutralized time and again, his movements gradually became disordered. The High Elf warrior's attacks grew sharper as well. Though he wielded only a single one-handed sword, Muradin felt as if he were facing four swords attacking at once.

Muradin Bronzebeard had drunk far too much strong liquor earlier, and coupled with his underestimation of his opponent, he quickly fell into a disadvantage.

Just as Muradin Bronzebeard was gradually being suppressed, stubbornly resisting with nothing but his refusal to yield and his immense strength, Uther Lightbringer appeared. With the warhammer Lightbringer in his hand, he separated the two combatants.

The unyielding dwarf panted heavily, staring fixedly at the High Elf warrior as he asked, "Who are you?"

Upon seeing Uther Lightbringer, the High Elf warrior turned and returned to the High Elf group without uttering another word.

"He is Salorian Dawngrasper," Uther Lightbringer said as he watched the High Elf warrior's calm retreating figure.

"So it's him! The greatest High Elf warrior, whose name resounded across Azeroth a thousand years ago. I never expected him to still be alive." Upon learning his identity, Muradin Bronzebeard's eyes lit up. Though dwarves possessed lifespans far exceeding those of humans, lasting two or three hundred years, Muradin Bronzebeard had only ever heard of this legendary High Elf warrior.

"I did not lose unfairly." The unyielding dwarf accepted his defeat after learning the other man's identity, but his eyes still burned with the flames of battle. He was not in peak condition now. Next time, who would win was still uncertain.