Preparations

Andorhal's City Hall, in Mayor Martin's usual study.

The room was simply furnished. A square wooden table and several chairs stood in the center, and the strategic map that had once been on the table had been tucked away in a drawer. Besides a short, solid-wood bookcase and a regulation sword and shield, several animal trophies lined the walls—a stag with enormous antlers, a lifelike squirrel, a fox with snow-white fur, and even a standing grizzly bear.

Alvin sat with his round little face set in a stern expression, silently watching the pitiful-looking Goblin merchant across the table. His body was wrapped in bandages, and Alvin's gaze wandered a little.

"Your Highness, Fizzlebang Fizzlebang, from Ratchet, pays his respects."

After receiving proper treatment at the constabulary, the Goblin merchant, who had nearly been roasted alive, had managed to claw his way back from death. When Fizzlebang learned from the guards at the constabulary that he had been saved thanks to the prince's kindness, he began waiting for the prince to summon him.

A Goblin merchant with the instincts of a trader rooted deep in his bones, Fizzlebang believed that every action in the world could be explained as a transaction. He didn't know why the prince, whom he had never met, had saved him, but he knew that if the prince had some other purpose in mind, his chance to make a comeback had arrived.

If he could get in the prince's good graces, all his current troubles would be resolved, and his dream of becoming a wealthy magnate like Lord Gazlowe would be within reach. Just imagine: with the most powerful human kingdom, the Kingdom of Lordaeron, backing his business, he might even become a Trade Prince like Lord Steamwheedle!

And so, the boy sitting across from him was no longer just a little fellow with the title of prince. In Fizzlebang's eyes, he was piles upon piles of gold coins, and the key to the seat of Trade Prince. At what might be the turning point of his life, Fizzlebang had to present himself perfectly and win the prince's trust. That was the first step on the road to success.

The Goblin merchant was deferential, every gesture in keeping with human etiquette. But to Alvin, the bandages hanging from the Goblin and his oversized green head, which looked out of proportion with his body and was covered in large scorch marks, made him look like a clown. It was hard not to laugh.

The prince pressed his lips together, restraining himself from laughing aloud. He turned away, trying not to look at the pretentious Goblin across from him, and shifted the conversation to what mattered to him. "You said you're from Ratchet, in Kalimdor?"

"Of course! I sailed aboard the Wavebreaker from distant Kalimdor to this continent. On the way, I crossed the vast Great Sea, witnessed the splendor and terror of the Maelstrom, and endured the merciless storms of the ocean."

Fizzlebang seemed to recall something terrifying. His body began to tremble, and his voice grew shriller. "Fierce winds whipped up monstrous waves, and the swirling water formed a column that reached the heavens. No ship could have come through that unscathed. I was one of the few lucky survivors..."

Fizzlebang had fallen into his old habit. Once he started talking, he couldn't rein in his tongue, and went on and on, as if he were pouring out all his troubles.

"Wait!"

Alvin raised a hand, cutting off the Goblin merchant's tale of woe. He had summoned the fellow for a reason, not to hear a down-on-his-luck merchant's life story. The boy tapped the table and asked the question that mattered most to him. "If I wanted to establish a partnership with the Steamwheedle Cartel, could you contact them for me?"

"Of course!"

Though he didn't know where this precocious prince had heard about the Steamwheedle Cartel, and had never met anyone from its upper ranks himself, the Goblin merchant knew one thing for certain: opportunity didn't knock twice! If he let this chance slip by, who knew how long his success would be delayed?

At the thought, the Goblin merchant, who had been pouring out his troubles moments ago, suddenly put on a confident face and thumped his chest, making a promise. "Rest assured, Fizzlebang never disappoints his clients!"

Alvin knew Goblins had a reputation for being unreliable, but he believed the shrewd merchant before him wouldn't pass up the chance to get on the Kingdom of Lordaeron's good side. Even if the Goblins in Booty Bay might be doing business with the Orcs, those greedy Goblins would never pass up a chance to bet on both sides and come out ahead!

Satisfied by the merchant's promise, the boy nodded. Then he pulled a bulging purse from his pocket and tossed it gently into the Goblin's palm. "Your travel expenses. I hope to hear good news from the Steamwheedle Cartel as soon as possible."

The study was quiet, and the sweet fragrance of dodder flowers drifted through the air. Sunlight streamed in through the window and fell at an angle across the desk. In the middle of the open map lay a small ship model, placed crookedly by a northern port marked as belonging to Lordaeron.

Alvin's guess had been right. When Terenas received word from Archbishop Faol at the palace, the king, renowned for his wisdom and kindness, had indeed been intrigued by the unexpected idea.

In response to Stormwind City's plea for help, Terenas had sent messengers to inform every human kingdom on the continent of Lordaeron except Dalaran. The results had been disappointing. Apart from Duke Barov of the Kingdom of Alterac, the upper nobility of the other kingdoms showed little interest in the Orcs who might soon arrive—

A stretch of water separated the Arathi Highlands from the Wetlands to the south, and the Thandol Span was the only route between them. It was easy to defend and hard to attack. To the west of the Arathi Highlands stood the Wall of Thoradin, whose unshakable fame had been forged in Troll blood more than two thousand years ago. With two lines of defense at their disposal, Stromgarde had little to worry about. Whatever happened, they could simply sit back and watch the clouds drift by.

Kul Tiras was built on an island, and its mighty navy could sweep almost the entire Eastern Kingdoms. That was enough to let the kingdom advance or retreat as it pleased, whatever the circumstances, and ensure its own safety.

Gilneas, which had already begun pursuing isolationism, simply didn't care about enemies who might land in the Hillsbrad Foothills. In Genn Greymane's view, Gilneas, whose territory lay mostly on a peninsula, had no reason to get dragged into the quagmire of war.

As for Alterac, whose strength was near the bottom among the kingdoms, the royalists around Aiden Perenolde had the natural defense of their mountainous terrain. Only House Barov, whose members were at odds with the royal family but held vast lands in the Hillsbrad Foothills, had taken the Kingdom of Lordaeron's warning seriously.

The true threat had yet to arrive, and no one capable of uniting the kingdoms had emerged. Terenas could find no reason to persuade those proud kings to gather and discuss a response.

This state of affairs left the kingdom deeply worried. Although the Kingdom of Lordaeron had vast territory and a large population, nearly all the important cities directly controlled by the royal family lacked natural defenses. Thus, if war broke out, the kingdom would face immense pressure. If Alvin's far-fetched plan succeeded, it would greatly ease that pressure. But as his father, Terenas wouldn't let his son get dragged into needless trouble for it.

"My son really knows how to keep me on my toes. Let's see how far you can go, Alvin." After reading the report, Terenas's lips curved upward, but there wasn't the slightest hint of a smile in his eyes. Instead, they were full of concern.

After a moment of quiet thought, the king looked up and rang the bell beside him, summoning his captain of the guards. "Cyril, send someone to inform the mage Antonidas in Dalaran that I may need to honor our agreement ahead of schedule. I want Alvin's bodyguard at his post within ten days."

Terenas leaned back in his soft chair, tapping his fingers rhythmically on the desk. His eyes gleamed with wisdom, and his voice was light but authoritative. "Also, convey this message to Alvin: Dalaran's mages are preparing to conduct a study of Gnolls in Lordaeron. I expect him to cooperate as best he can. The boy knows what to do."

Terenas watched the guard captain turn and leave to carry out his orders. Then he leaned forward, resting his chin on his left hand, which was propped against the desk, and murmured so quietly it was almost inaudible, "You're even more capable than I imagined. But that will only make things worse for you, my son."

At the same time, the king, whose temples had already turned gray, raised his wrinkled, withered right hand and gently moved the ship model on the map from Northrend in the north toward the edge of that little-visited continent to the west.

"Kalimdor, land of eternal starlight..."