What Now? Make a Cold Dish

What was it like to be socially anxious and then suffer social death? Deren finally found out.

Because of a misunderstanding, the Elf Rangers had stormed into the Queen's "training" scene. Illidan had been drugged from the start, bullied by Maiev afterward, and finally watched by High Elves. He was so ashamed he wanted to kill himself.

High Elves and Night Elves shared the same ancestors, but they had disliked each other for far more than a day or two. Their grudge could be traced all the way back to the War of the Ancients ten thousand years ago.

After hearing the report, Tyrande rushed over and lodged a serious protest with Jaina.

"You barged into my camp without distinguishing right from wrong, seriously endangering my people's physical and mental health." The High Priestess began loudly accusing them the moment she entered the City Hall reception room.

Jaina could only explain the events again. "So, this was entirely a misunderstanding. Who told your Lady Maiev to go buy knockout drugs from Goblins on the street?" The final conclusion was that this was the Night Elves' own fault.

"Then if you wanted to enter my camp, you should at least have communicated with us first!" Tyrande continued relentlessly. She had to shift the blame away in order to quell the fallout from two of her top officers' illicit affair being exposed in public.

"That was because the Rangers handling the case were stationed elsewhere, far from our guard force's main camp. They weren't familiar with the situation here and thought the old guard camp had been infiltrated by a criminal organization." Jaina patiently explained. It was not her fault. She had separated the two mutually hostile groups of Elves far apart precisely to prevent trouble.

"Fine, even if you say it