Preparation

The town hall of Andorhal, in the study frequently used by Mayor Martin.

The room was furnished simply. A square wooden table sat in the center, surrounded by a few high-backed chairs; the strategic map that should have occupied the tabletop had already been tucked away into a drawer. Aside from a short, solid wood bookshelf and a set of standard-issue sword and shield, the walls were decorated with several taxidermied animals—a stag with massive antlers, a lifelike squirrel, a snow-white fox, and even a standing grizzly bear.

Alvin kept his round little face stiff, staring silently at the wretched-looking Goblin merchant across the table, whose body was wrapped in bandages. His gaze drifted slightly.

"Respected Highness, Fizzlebang of Ratchet pays his respects to you."

After receiving proper treatment at the guard station, the Goblin merchant, who had nearly been roasted alive, had managed to cling to life. Once Fizzlebang learned from the guards that he had been saved solely due to the Prince's mercy, he had been waiting for the Prince's summons.

As a Goblin merchant with the nature of trade etched into his very marrow, Fizzlebang believed that every action in this world could be explained through a transaction. He did not know why this Prince, whom he had never met, had saved him, but he knew that as long as the other party had an ulterior motive, his chance for a comeback had arrived.

If he could just latch onto this person's coattails, all his current difficulties would be solved, and his dream of becoming a tycoon like Gazlowe would be within reach. Just think: if the Kingdom of Lordaeron, the most powerful of all human kingdoms, became his commercial backer, he could even become a Trade Prince like the leaders of the Steamwheedle Cartel!

Therefore, the boy sitting at the table was no longer just a little kid with the title of Prince in Fizzlebang's eyes; he was piles of gold coins and the key to the throne of a Trade Prince. At this potential turning point in his life, he had to perform perfectly and gain the other party's trust; this was the first step toward his success.

The Goblin merchant acted with extreme deference, every gesture conforming to the etiquette of human society. But to Alvin, the bandages draped over the Goblin and that oversized green head—which looked disproportionate to his body and bore large, charred marks—made him look like a clown, appearing both ridiculous and comical.

The Prince pursed his lips, restraining himself from laughing out loud. He turned his head, trying his best not to look at the posturing Goblin, and steered the conversation toward the topic he cared about. "You said you come from Ratchet in Kalimdor?"

"Indeed. I traveled from distant Kalimdor to this continent aboard the Wavebreaker. During the voyage, I crossed the vast Great Sea, witnessed the majesty and terror of the Maelstrom, and felt the ruthlessness of the storms upon the ocean."

Fizzlebang's body began to tremble as if recalling something horrific, and his voice grew shrill. "Violent gales whipped up towering waves, and the swirling water formed pillars that reached the sky. No ship could remain unscathed in such conditions. I was one of the few lucky survivors..."

Fizzlebang fell into his old habit; once he started, he couldn't control his tongue, rambling on and on in a manner that sounded quite like he was pouring out his grievances.

"Wait!"

Alvin raised a hand to interrupt the Goblin merchant's complaints. He hadn't gone through the trouble of finding this fellow just to listen to the life story of a down-and-out merchant. The boy tapped the table and asked the question he cared about most: "If I want to establish a partnership with the Steamwheedle Cartel, can you help me make contact?"

"Of course!"

Although he didn't know how this precocious Prince before him had learned of the Steamwheedle Cartel, and he had never actually met the true upper echelons of the organization, the Goblin merchant knew one thing clearly: opportunity knocks but once! If he missed this chance, who knew how long his success would be delayed?

Thinking of this, the Goblin merchant, who had been complaining just moments ago, suddenly changed his expression. He patted his chest with full confidence and gave his guarantee: "Please rest assured, Fizzlebang never lets his clients down!"

Although he knew Goblins were notorious for being unreliable, Alvin believed this mercenary merchant would not pass up an opportunity to get involved with the Kingdom of Lordaeron. Even if the Goblins of Booty Bay might have dealings with the Orcs, those greedy Goblins would never give up a chance to bet on both sides and win it all!

Having received the guarantee, the boy nodded in satisfaction, then pulled a bulging coin purse from his pocket and tossed it gently into the Goblin merchant's palm. "Your travel expenses. I hope to receive good news from the Steamwheedle Cartel as soon as possible."

In the quiet study, the faint fragrance of dodder flowers drifted through the air, and the sunlight streaming in from the window slanted across the desk. On the map spread out in the center of the desk, a small model ship was placed crookedly at a port in the Northlands marked as belonging to Lordaeron.

Alvin's guess was correct. When Terenas in the royal palace received the message from Archbishop Faol, the King, known for his wisdom and benevolence, was indeed intrigued by this unexpected idea.

Because of the plea for help from Stormwind City, Terenas had already sent envoys to notify the other human kingdoms on the continent of Lordaeron, excluding Dalaran, but the results were disappointing. Aside from Duke Barov of the Kingdom of Alterac, the upper-class nobles in those kingdoms were not particularly interested in the potential arrival of the Orcs—

The Arathi Highlands were separated from the Wetlands to the south by a strait, with only the Thandol Span as a passage, making it easy to defend and hard to attack. To the west of the Arathi Highlands stood the Wall of Thoradin, which had earned its legendary reputation in the blood of Trolls over two thousand years ago. With these two defenses in hand, Stromgarde could be said to be sitting securely, able to watch the world go by regardless of the situation.

Kul Tiras was built on an island, and its powerful navy, capable of sweeping the entire Eastern Kingdoms, was enough to ensure they could advance or retreat at will in any situation, with more than enough strength for self-preservation.

Gilneas, which had already begun to pursue isolationism, simply did not care about enemies who might land in the Hillsbrad Foothills. In the eyes of Genn Greymane, there was no need for Gilneas, with most of its territory on a peninsula, to be dragged into the quagmire of war.

Looking at Alterac, whose strength was nearly at the bottom of the major kingdoms, the royalists surrounding Aiden Perenolde sat amidst the natural defenses of the high mountains. Only the Barov family, who were at odds with the royal family but held vast territories in the Hillsbrad Foothills, truly took the warning from the Kingdom of Lordaeron seriously.

The real threat had not yet arrived, and no figure capable of uniting the strength of all the kingdoms had emerged. Terenas could find no reason to persuade those arrogant kings to gather and discuss countermeasures.

This fact left the kingdom deeply worried. Although the Kingdom of Lordaeron occupied a vast area and had a large population, almost all the important cities directly controlled by the royal family lacked natural defenses. Therefore, once war broke out, the kingdom would face immense pressure. If Alvin's whimsical plan succeeded, it would greatly alleviate the pressure on the Kingdom of Lordaeron. However, he, as a father, would not let his son get involved in unnecessary trouble for it.

"My son is truly a handful. Let me see just how far you can go, Alvin." Terenas curled the corners of his mouth after finishing the report, but there was no hint of a smile in his eyes, which were instead filled with gravity.

After thinking quietly for a while, the King raised his head, shook the bell at his side, and summoned his captain of the guard. "Cyril, send someone to notify Archmage Antonidas of Dalaran. The agreement between him and me may need to be fulfilled ahead of schedule. I hope Alvin's guards can reach their posts within ten days."

Terenas leaned back in his soft chair, his fingers tapping the desk rhythmically. His eyes flashed with wisdom, and his voice was light yet maintained its majesty. "Also, take my words to Alvin: the mages of Dalaran are preparing to conduct research on Gnolls in Lordaeron, and I hope he can cooperate as much as possible. That child knows what to do."

Watching the captain of the guard turn and leave after accepting the order, Terenas leaned forward, resting his chin on his left hand as it propped up the desk. He whispered to himself in a voice barely audible, "You are even more outstanding than I imagined, but that will only make your situation worse, my son."

At the same time, the King, whose temples were already tinged with gray, raised his slightly wrinkled and withered right hand and gently pushed the model ship on the map from Northrend in the north, slowly moving it to the edge of that western continent where humans rarely ventured.

"Kalimdor, the land of eternal starlight..."

PS: Thanks to book friends Nuhuqiliu, Ji-Yuehuazhishang, and Infinite for their 100 Qidian coin tips. Thank you all for your support!