White Jaina and Old Friends

Clearly, the Orcs' financial resources were nowhere near the Night Elves' ten-thousand-year reserves. Though Elves loved nature and cared little for wealth, they had still amassed an enormous treasury over ten thousand years.

After Theramore's lavish spending spree, most of the goods on the market ended up in the Elves' hands. Moreover, these supplies were not transported back to Elven territory by conventional means such as land or sea routes, but directly through the Temple of the Moon's Teleportation Array. The amount of Magic Crystals consumed was enough to make one's heart ache.

With his meager funds and the five hundred gold Jaina had sponsored him, Saurfang bought some grain, iron goods, armor, and other supplies in Theramore. He barely managed to fill one ship and send it back to Orgrimmar. Then there was nothing more. Saurfang watched in agony as the Night Elves continued purchasing supplies without end, while the Orcs on Ashenvale's front lines ate dirt.

"This isn't a battle. It's a gambling game! Whoever has more money has the capital to win!" The Old Orc stood in the street, watching aimlessly as Night Elf buyers continued sweeping up Theramore's supplies. Even many Rustwater Goblins had taken the initiative to approach the Elves and pitch their wares.

"Well, if it isn't King Saurfang?" A Goblin from the Rustwater Syndicate who knew him took the initiative to greet him. "You're here in Theramore to purchase supplies too? You should've said so. Our Rustwater Syndicate can deliver straight to your door, all the way to Orgrimmar."

"Hmph!" Saurfang had long grown accustomed to Goblins caring about money and nothing else. He simply had no mood to waste words on such greedy merchants.

Seeing that the Old Orc did not respond, the Goblin left awkwardly.

Saurfang forcibly pulled his gaze away