Windrunner's Choice

The air at Theramore Harbor was thick with the scents of sea salt and tar. Waves crashed against the granite embankment, and the spray refracted fine rainbows beneath the sunlight.

Jaina's Portal opened at the edge of the harbor, where a bustling crowd flowed ahead from the ships toward the shore.

Sylvanas stood at the edge of the dock, unconsciously stroking the Elven Longbow Deren had given her. It was a habit she had developed after leaving Quel'Thalas, as though only the cold touch of the bow could assure her that she was still alive.

"Your harbor is lively," she remarked, her gaze sweeping over the neatly lined cargo ships. "More so than Kul Tiras—"

Her words cut off abruptly.

Her fingers clenched around the bowstring, and muscle memory had an arrow nocked in an instant. Thirty yards away, a green-skinned Orc Peon was carrying an oak barrel down a merchant ship's gangplank. His rough burlap clothes were soaked with sweat, and at his waist hung not a battle axe, but a carpenter's chisel.

"Sylvanas! Wait—"

Deren's shout was cut short by the hum of the bowstring. The arrow tore through the air, aimed straight for the Orc's throat.

At the critical moment, an Arcane Barrier suddenly unfolded. The arrowhead was forcibly halted three inches from the Orc's neck. Dense violet runes surfaced in the air—it was Jaina's spell.

"What are you doing?!" Sylvanas shouted sharply, already nocking a second arrow.

The startled Orc Peon stood frozen in place. The barrel slipped from his hands and crashed at his feet, amber liquid gushing across the ground. Nearby Tauren laborers immediately dropped their ropes, while several Goblin vendors screamed and dove beneath their counters. The dock's clamor froze in an instant.

Deren stepped forward and firmly gripped Sylvanas's wrists with both hands. "Look carefully! They aren't carrying weapons!"

The Ranger General's pupils contracted sharply. Only then did she notice more details:

The Orcs' coarse green skin was covered in scratches from wood shavings.

Fresh mud clung to the Tauren's hooves.

The Trolls were checking cargo manifests, their fingertips stained with ink.

"Theramore is a neutral harbor." Jaina stepped forward, the crystal atop her staff still glowing. "These Horde people are only here to work."

"What? Work?" Sylvanas's bowstring trembled slightly.

"Hey! You need to compensate me for my wine, and for my workers' emotional distress!" A Goblin ran over and shouted angrily at them. "And the ship delay fees. Let me calculate it—two hundred gold coins altogether."

"Cut it out, Greb. Your workers aren't that fragile." Deren walked over to speak with the Goblin.

"Ah, Deren. You have to stand up for me. That Elf girl nearly killed my worker and spilled the wine. I'll give you a discount—one hundred gold coins." The Goblin apparently knew Deren and tried to ingratiate himself.

"You hired Orcs. Did you report it to City Hall? Did you pay the personnel management fee?" Deren asked sternly.

The Goblin's face immediately went pale. "Well, this, this..." Then he noticed the cold-faced Jaina nearby. Who among the Goblins here did not know the master of Theramore? Wiping the sweat from his brow, he immediately said respectfully, "I'll go complete the paperwork today. I swear on gold."

Jaina gave a satisfied hum.

Only then did the Goblin turn to run, silently cursing his own blindness. He had been so focused on extorting some money that he had failed to notice all these important people standing here. He had walked right into trouble.

"Stop!" Deren called after him. "Tell me, how did you come up with the idea of hiring Horde workers?"

At the mention of business, the Goblin merchant's eyes lit up. "Isn't it obvious? They're cheap! Thirty or fifty copper coins can get an Orc Peon working all day, as long as there's enough black bread and jerky. They're strong, complain little, and don't slack off. Tauren cost more, but they're incredibly strong. One can do the work of five sailors. Ships carry plenty of heavy cargo. Before, it took several people to lift it together, but now one Tauren can handle it alone, or at most with one more person. All the work aboard gets done perfectly."

"Don't they cause trouble?" Deren asked deliberately.

"No, no. They get enough to eat and earn wages. They either save it to send home or buy Theramore goods—cloth, ironware, fine wine, things like that—to take back. They like all of it, and we make a handsome profit from it too. They're practically perfect workers. Besides, City Hall requires registration and management. If they cause trouble, they won't be allowed in to work again. So they all behave." The Goblin merchant looked immensely pleased with himself.

"Fine. Take this and go. Compensation for your wine." Deren took out a gold coin and tossed it to him. The Goblin immediately left in high spirits.

Sylvanas listened to the exchange before her with a complicated expression. At last, she said, "...Unbelievable." Her voice carried a tangled emotion. "I'm sorry. I acted rashly."

"It's fine, it's fine. You've never seen anything like this, so it's understandable. Once you see more of it, it won't seem strange." Deren did not mind at all.

"Let's go into the city!" Seeing the pair exchange courtesies without end, Jaina urged them along. Onyxia gave a cold snort.

Once inside Theramore, everything Sylvanas saw further overturned her worldview.

Along the way, she saw a Dwarf craftsman forging iron goods for a customer—and that customer was a Night Elf. The Night Elf froze for a moment when she saw the approaching High Elf. Before long, however, she continued discussing her requirements with the Dwarf.

"That's Elissriel Moonshadow from Darkshore," Deren explained, following Sylvanas's gaze. "She comes here every month to purchase supplies."

"This is unbelievable." Sylvanas's voice rose in disbelief. "Night Elves... shopping in a human city?"

"The Temple of the Moon was completed just last week." Jaina approached from behind, carrying two steaming drinks. "Tyrande sent three priests to be stationed here permanently." She handed one cup to Sylvanas. "Want to try it? It's made with moonberries from Darnassus."

Sylvanas did not take the teacup. Her gaze was fixed behind Jaina—two Troll hunters had their arms around human soldiers outside a tavern, singing wildly off-key songs.

Before anyone could speak, a commotion broke out across the street.

"Make way! Make way! Emergency!"

Two Orc Peons rushed past carrying a stretcher. A human technician lay atop it, his elbow bent at a grotesque angle. Blood dripped onto the stone-paved road.

Sylvanas suddenly turned around, the distinctive pointed ears of a High Elf faintly reddening with agitation. "What exactly are you building here? Some kind of... racial mixing experiment?"

"Isn't this good? Everyone comes to this city, casts aside all constraints of race, faith, origin, status, and the rest, works, earns money, then enjoys life," Deren said awkwardly.

"Yes, cast aside every constraint, then enjoy life." Sylvanas nodded thoughtfully, then burst into hearty laughter. "Haha... yes, work, earn money, enjoy life! No bullshit loyalty, obedience, nobility, or dignity. It's all fucking hypocrisy and nonsense. Quel'Thalas has already been burned to the ground—damn High Elves!"

She laughed until tears streamed down her face, even as countless people on the street stared at her. Jaina waved them away.

"From now on, from now on, we'll call ourselves Gold Elves—Elves who live only to earn gold coins. Haha..." Tears running down her face, Sylvanas bent over and cried out indistinctly, so excited that she began stomping her feet.

"What's wrong with her? Has she gone mad?" Onyxia asked Deren quietly.

"It's nothing. She's been suppressing herself for too long and suddenly let it all out. It's a good thing," Deren guessed. The Blood Elves had not appeared yet, but Gold Elves might emerge first. Deren broke out in a cold sweat inside.

"Aren't Elves supposed to be the most elegant?" Onyxia asked curiously.

"After maintaining elegance for too long, their faces become covered by masks, and every emotion gets suppressed. To be elegant, they cannot laugh loudly, cry loudly, or even clearly express what they truly mean. Everything is trapped by elegance. After several hundred years, anyone would develop problems."

"That really is true. Those Elves are quite pitiful." Onyxia understood. She walked over and gently hugged Sylvanas, letting her rest her head against her shoulder. "There, there, don't cry. Deren is impossible to lend to you. You can borrow my shoulder instead."

Sylvanas clung to the Black Dragon Princess and sobbed her heart out. Jaina, who was handling documents handed over by her subordinates, shook her head with a bitter smile. Suddenly, she felt a little envious of this female general's courage to cry until her face was a mess in public. She had spent the past few days as nothing but a tool—either fighting the Undead or opening Portals. The moment she returned to Theramore, her subordinates had handed her documents requiring attention. She had to process endless affairs while accompanying people around the city. What a miserable life!

After crying for a while and venting everything, Sylvanas was able to let go. She accepted the handkerchief Deren offered, wiped her face, and thanked him with reddened eyes. "Thank you. I feel much better now."

"Do you need to rest?" Jaina asked. "I have prepared a room at the best inn in Theramore."

Sylvanas thought for a moment, then quietly asked Onyxia, "Can I visit your home for a while?"

The Black Dragon Princess turned to Deren for his opinion. Although she was ten thousand times unwilling to bring this Female Elf home, she was still willing to listen to him when she considered Deren's plans.

"Yes, yes!" Deren naturally wanted to keep Sylvanas under his watch. He had finally pulled her out, and he feared that some hidden big shot might notice that the Ranger General had not become the Undead Queen, snap a finger, and send her straight to her death.

Deren's residence was a two-story stone house in Theramore. It looked plain and unadorned, stood in a quiet area not far from the city center, and was property specially approved for him by Jaina.

"Please, come in." Deren turned the key, and the lock clicked softly. "Sorry, it's a little messy lately."

His words cut off abruptly.

In the entry hall, Chromie was sprawled on the sofa, a children's picture book covering her face while her short legs dangled and swung over the edge of the coffee table. Hearing the door open, she sleepily reached for the lollipop that had fallen onto the floor, only to roll right off the sofa—

—landing directly at Sylvanas's feet.

"Sy-Sy-Sy—" Chromie yanked the book from her face, her amber pupils shrinking to pinpoints. "—Sylvanas?! Alive?!"

The air froze.

Jaina's brows furrowed slightly. "Bronze Dragon, you know her?"

Onyxia's red lips curved into a dangerous smile. "Alive? Interesting."

Chromie scrambled to her feet. She grabbed Deren's clothes at the hem and lowered her voice as much as possible. "How did she end up here?"

"We should be asking you that. Did you do the task we assigned you? We almost got trapped in Silvermoon City." Deren loudly scolded her, smoothly shifting the subject away.

"Another dragon. Dear Advisor, just how many secrets do you have that I don't know about?" Sylvanas slowly approached the coffee table and stared at Deren with a grave expression. "So this was why you approached me?"

Deren sighed. "It isn't time yet. When I can, I will definitely tell you the truth."

Jaina, who had just sat down to read documents, glanced at Deren, shook her head, and returned to them. The same excuse again.

The room was silent enough to hear a pin drop.

Onyxia suddenly smiled. "It seems this secret truly is serious. Fine, we've been busy for several days. I want a good sleep." With that, she yawned and went upstairs.

Deren looked at her gratefully. Oni was still the cutest!

Chromie smiled awkwardly, trying to cover up how close she had come to revealing the truth.

Jaina's staff glowed faintly. "So... the world has changed?"

"All right. I can sense your goodwill. You went through so much hardship and danger to save me and the Rangers. If it truly is an incredible secret, then don't tell me yet. I'm very satisfied with Theramore, and I've decided to live here from now on. Could you leave a room for me here?" After a long silence, Sylvanas finally voiced her thoughts to Deren.

"No." Chromie finally found her voice. "It isn't convenient for another person to live here." She and Deren's group had too many secrets. If a sharp-eared Elf moved in, would they not have to guard against talking in their sleep every day?

Sylvanas looked toward Deren. Deren scratched his head and asked Jaina, "Are there any vacant houses nearby? Arrange a residence for Sylvanas. It really isn't convenient here. Besides, more Elf Rangers may come here in the future."

Sylvanas stared fixedly at Deren. Hearing him say that, she could only deflate and say, "Fine. I won't stay here. I'll trouble Lady Jaina to arrange a residence nearby for me. I'll remember this favor." Her voice was unusually calm.

Jaina nodded. The fate of a tool was impossible to escape. "I'll arrange it. It will just take a little time. For these next few days, would you like to rest at the inn first?"

"Okay." This time, Sylvanas did not refuse. She understood that this human and the two dragons were definitely hiding an astonishing secret from her. But she also understood that some secrets were deadly. She needed to wait for the right time.

The story will only become more exciting. Please bookmark and vote more often. Thank you, friends, for your support. This is a new author's new book, and everything began from zero—from just a few bookmarks a day to dozens now. Truly: though the pass may stretch long and hard as iron, today we stride forward from the beginning. As they say: a peak does not grow tall by itself; those who climb will always draw near its summit. A high platform rises from piled earth; reach out, and you may pluck the stars.