Prejudice

The time approached noon, and the sun's rays shone down almost vertically. The heat reaching the ground, combined with the cool, moist air, made for a comfortable and pleasant atmosphere.

Alvin walked with a light, brisk pace behind the patrol escorting the Gnolls, occasionally turning his head to glance at the Royal Guard beside him, who had opened his mouth to speak several times. A cunning, lively glint flashed in the boy's eyes.

After hesitating for quite some time, the young knight could no longer suppress his doubts and spoke to the prince: "Your Highness Alvin, do you intend to accept the allegiance of those Gnolls? They have always been enemies of our Lordaeron!"

As expected! Seeing Abberton's conflicted expression, the boy understood—

Even though he was loyal, fearless, and highly skilled in combat, the young Abberton could not avoid the influence of his social environment. He suffered from a malady common to most native-born citizens of Lordaeron: pride and the exclusion of other races.

Many years ago, the seeds of this pride had been sown among the first immigrants from various nations who crossed the Wall of Thoradin into the northern part of the Lordaeron continent. As time passed, the sapling grew into a towering tree, becoming a common ailment for almost all humans on the continent.

More than two thousand eight hundred years ago, the alliance of humans and elves defeated the Amani Empire and drove the Trolls into the dense forests. Starting with the founding of Dalaran, the lords of Stromgarde, unwilling to remain idle, set out to the north to pioneer new lands—Gilneas, Alterac, Kul Tiras, and Lordaeron were all city-states established during this period.

Humans cleared fertile land in the north, built sturdy walls, and constructed new homes. But the peaceful and happy times did not last long. During a rainy spring, swarms of Trolls rushed out of the mountains and forests, launching a brutal and inhumane invasion against the humans scattered across the region.

Unarmed civilians were slaughtered in droves, and countless houses were burned to the ground. In this era after the passing of Emperor Thoradin, the descendants of the Arathor royal bloodline, much like they had treated the High Elves back then, relied on the Wall of Thoradin for passive defense, ignoring the various city-states that sent messengers to plead for aid.

At the critical moment, the city-states, having nowhere left to retreat, erupted with unprecedented strength. Countless heroes stepped forward, one after another, to the front lines. The flames of war spread across the entire northern Lordaeron continent, and hot blood was spilled upon the land they loved so deeply.

The war lasted for half a year, ending only in the autumn when the rivers ran dry and the leaves drifted down. That autumn, countless elders lost their sons, countless wives lost their husbands, and countless children lost their fathers. Countless heroes used their own lives to keep the Troll army forever trapped on the land they had coveted.

With their own flesh and blood, humanity once again told the Trolls that even if their physical condition and individual combat prowess were inferior to their opponents, humans would never yield; humans possessed a tenacious will and an indelible faith!

From then on, every autumn, the people of northern Lordaeron would choose to hold a grand celebration after harvesting the fruits of a year's labor to pay tribute to those heroes who defended the human race with their lives. This was the origin of the Harvest Festival.

Likewise, it was from that war onward that the major city-states in the north gradually drifted away from Stromgarde in the Arathi Highlands, eventually leading to the fragmentation of the Arathor Empire and the current situation where various kingdoms stand side by side.

After experiencing that historical Troll invasion, the hearts of the people in the kingdoms north of the Wall of Thoradin began to swell. They believed their kingdoms had achieved a great feat that even Emperor Thoradin could not: relying solely on human strength, without outside help, to completely drive the Trolls from human lands!

In the face of this pride, which had persisted for thousands of years, the people of Lordaeron viewed even the Kingdom of Stormwind—fellow humans—as nothing more than a bunch of bumpkins who had never experienced war. Not to mention those Dwarves holed up in the snowy mountains and forests; to most commoners, there was no difference between a Bronzebeard Dwarf and a Wildhammer Dwarf.

As for their former allies, the High Elves, they were merely a group of people firmly suppressed by Trolls in a tiny corner of the world in the eyes of these proud humans. Years of peace had made the people of Lordaeron arrogant, and their view of the arcane-proficient elves had gradually shifted from original admiration to current exclusion.

To most humans, Dalaran, which had accepted the magical knowledge of the High Elves, was full of people who specialized in crooked paths. In particular, those powerful human warriors both envied the formidable power mages displayed with a wave of their hands and mocked their frail bodies resulting from years of study, while also being jealous of their nouveau-riche displays of wealth.

If even the High Elves, a race that had once been allies and lived in peace with humans, were subtly excluded by the people of the Lordaeron continent, then it went without saying for the Gnolls and Kobolds who lurked in the mountains and wilderness and frequently clashed with humans.

In the eyes of most humans, these creatures with wolf or dog heads were merely beasts that could walk upright; to barely bestow the title of "person" upon them was an insult to humanity. Furthermore, these humanoid monsters often raided human territories for supplies, and the hatred accumulated from years of conflict was enough to make anyone harbor prejudice against these barbaric beasts.

After more than two years of spending every day together, Alvin knew this loyal guard very well. The moment Abberton opened his mouth, the boy already knew what the young man wanted to say—he was worried about the negative impact Alvin might face after accepting the Gnolls' allegiance.

Indeed, if he were to publicly announce that he had taken these Gnolls under his command, his reputation in Lordaeron would undoubtedly plummet once word spread. Being branded a renegade would be the least of his worries; he might even end up as despised as those mysterious mages in Dalaran.

One must know that in the eyes of most ordinary people who did not know the truth, those eccentric mages were a group of people polluted by souls, destined to fall into the abyss where demons resided after they died!

Although Alvin did not care much about his reputation in Lordaeron because he could not inherit the throne, if he truly ruined his name, his plans would face significant obstacles, and even Abberton, the guard who had been diligently protecting him, might become disheartened.

Therefore, the prince shook his head without hesitation, directly denying the guard's speculation.

"You're overthinking it, Abberton. I will not accept the allegiance of those beasts for the time being." Having said this, Alvin paused for a moment and added in a voice only the two of them could hear: "At least for now, the conditions are not yet ripe."