Menethil

"So, Alvin, you have already reached an agreement with those Gnolls of the Maw-Claw Clan?"

In the afternoon courtyard, fresh green branches swayed in the breeze, and the golden sun shone brightly overhead. The silver-haired Archbishop leaned back in a soft chair cushioned with thick pads under the shade of a tree, his eyes fixed intently on the boy standing before him, as if trying to discern what was going on inside the mind of his disciple, who had always worn the title of a genius.

The Archbishop, who had dedicated his entire life to spreading the Light among the common people, held no prejudices regarding social class. The coins he tossed into the wishing well in Dalaran were the best reflection of his life's work—"I hope that one day I can spread the path of the Light to the common folk and teach them the meaning of the three virtues."

Despite this, having lived in the Kingdom of Lordaeron since childhood and deeply understanding the conflict between Gnolls and humans, he still instinctively harbored suspicion and rejection toward this barbaric species. The steady old man did not want such uncontrollable variables added to his original plans, nor did he want his disciple to bear the dishonorable burden that would come with it.

"You should know what it means if you, as a prince, accept the allegiance of those Gnolls once this news spreads throughout the Kingdom of Lordaeron."

"I understand!"

The prince stood in the sunlight, his small face taut, and answered loudly. With a serious demeanor and a solemn tone, the boy told the Archbishop before him of his inner conviction: "In the name of Menethil, I believe this will be a choice that benefits the Kingdom of Lordaeron."

Sunlight reflected off the boy's short golden hair with a dazzling glow. The old man squinted and shook his head, seemingly lamenting the other's impulsiveness and recklessness. He sighed softly and said, "Very well, I will send someone to deliver a letter to your father. Let His Majesty the King decide this matter; I trust your father will make the most appropriate choice."

"I shall follow your arrangements, Teacher."

Alvin bowed slightly to the old man, accepting the Archbishop's suggestion. After all, whether to accept Gnolls as vassals of the Kingdom of Lordaeron was not something a child could decide on his own. That the Archbishop had not scolded him but instead agreed to speak to his father on his behalf was already a great indulgence.

Moreover, he believed that his father, King Terenas, would be interested in this plan, which could effectively strengthen the power of the Kingdom of Lordaeron. For now, he just needed to wait quietly. Compared to the simple ideas he had proposed, the clever people in the upper echelons of the kingdom, who had long been immersed in power struggles, would certainly be able to devise a more suitable plan.

Waiting time always feels long. In the days spent waiting for a reply from the capital, Alvin put the group of Gnolls stationed at the garrison completely out of his mind, throwing himself wholeheartedly into prayer and sword practice.

On this trip to Strathlome, the prince's guard consisted only of a small squad of twenty knights, in addition to Abberton, who had always been by his side. The royal instructor who had been teaching him and Arthas martial arts had naturally not come along, so the daily sparring could only be handled by Abberton.

Perhaps because of the Gnoll affair, the loyal knight had been unable to wrap his head around the situation; for several days, he had kept a long face, standing silent like a statue. Despite this, when it came to sparring, the young knight still performed flawlessly, defending against the boy's attacks with impenetrable precision.

"That's enough!"

After his latest attack was intercepted by the wooden shield in the other's hand, Alvin tossed his training shortsword onto the ground and bent over, gasping for air.

The boy rested his hands on his thighs, tilted his head to look at the young man who remained in a defensive stance, and panted, "Tell me, Abberton, can't you go easy on me?"

The boy's playful, wheedling tone left the previously tense young man in a trance. This was the first time he had seen the Prince act like an ordinary child.

Since joining the Royal Guard at eighteen, the young man had followed this prince—who was different from others—for nearly three years. Yet, in this prince, he could only see outstanding talent and self-torturing effort. Despite being a noble prince, he worked harder than children born to commoners.

For over eight hundred days and nights, he had followed the boy's side. Whether in the Royal Library or the training grounds, whether praying or studying, the Prince's diligent performance had caused the once-lazy young man to feel a deep sense of inferiority.

Everyone in the Kingdom of Lordaeron only knew that Prince Arthas's younger brother was a genius, but no one knew how much sweat and effort this child, who bore the title of genius, had put in. His success relied not only on talent but also on unparalleled focus and relentless effort!

The mere label of "genius" was far too cheap for this hardworking child. In his view, compared to Arthas, who always skipped history class and lacked exceptional skills, the prince before him was the one truly suited to be the next King of the Kingdom of Lordaeron. Unfortunately...

Now, this prince was even risking the possibility of angering His Majesty the King and ruining his own reputation, choosing to use his own tender hands to explore a new possibility for the kingdom. This decision made the young man feel it was not worth it for the boy from the bottom of his heart.

The young man felt as if something was churning inside him. Finally, he asked the boy a question that had puzzled him for days in a low voice: "Your Highness, is all of this really worth it just for those Gnolls?"

Hearing Abberton's question, Alvin wiped away his smile, stood up straight, and asked a question that the young man found unfathomable: "Abberton, what is my name?"

Fortunately, it was not Alvin's intention for him to answer. He looked up calmly at the young man a few steps away and said solemnly: "I am a prince of the Kingdom of Lordaeron. My name is Alvin Menethil, and I am proud of my surname."

On the quiet afternoon, a breeze swept through the somewhat empty courtyard, and the boy's tender voice held an irresistible majesty. At that moment, Abberton felt the image of His Majesty the King, whom he had revered since childhood, gradually overlap with the young prince before him.

The young knight let go of his sword and shield, his body sinking suddenly. He knelt on one knee before Alvin, bowed his head deeply, placed a hand over his heart, and swore with passionate blood: "Prince Alvin, please allow me to follow behind you and use the sword in my hand to clear all obstacles in your path."

"I grant it."

The boy reached out his right hand and pressed it gently on the knight's shoulder. Under the bright sunlight, the tall holly tree in the courtyard rustled in the breeze, witnessing the knight's oath.

PS: Thanks to book friend Nuhuqiliu for the 100 Qidian coin tip, thank you for your support!

The status of this book was changed on the last day of last year. Perhaps because the performance wasn't great, I asked the editor, and they said the recommendation slots for games are quite tight. So, generally speaking, the trial recommendation after the status change might have to wait until the week after next. To be honest, I am a bit disappointed, but I definitely won't stop updating, so please rest assured. Finally, I would like to ask everyone: is the pacing of the book really too slow?