The deathly silence did not last long.
After briefly losing focus, Orgrimmar's draconic eyes sharpened again.
He was, after all, an old dragon who had lived for countless years.
Over those years, he had faced death many times.
So after that momentary daze, his survival instincts drove him to suppress his fear and quickly weigh his options.
The floating fortress before him was beyond comprehension, but that did not necessarily mean it was impossible to oppose.
Their inherited memories were not as complete as the Flame Lord's, so they could not recognize the connection between this fortress and the fallen empire of that ancient era.
Perhaps it was some rare ancient magical construct?
Perhaps it was merely enormous, with limited offensive capabilities?
Whatever the case, he could not simply abandon the domain he had cultivated for over two hundred years.
He swallowed past the dryness in his throat and prepared to unleash his bluster in as steady a voice as possible.
"Your Excellency, hiding yourself is hardly conduct befitting the strong."
His voice echoed as he tried to send it through those cold metal walls to the fortress's owner.
"I, Ogg Borkaiser Valeria, master of the Tranquil Forest, ask why Your Excellency has descended upon my domain in this fashion."
"What exactly do you intend?"
The Black-Winged Tyrant also recovered from her initial shock.
The ferocity and pride in her bones would not allow her to attempt negotiations as Orgrimmar had.
Her jaws spread, revealing gleaming white fangs, while a low growl rumbled deep in her throat.
"Beilei! Is this what you're relying on?"
"A flying iron shell?"
Her gaze swept across the floating fortress before settling on Little Blackie, who had broken free of his restraints and now held his head high and chest out.
The uncertainty in her