Fortress

The carriage wheels rolled steadily along the stony road outside the city, making a soft rattling sound. The carriage was moving quickly, but after the mage cast a spell to cushion the bumps, Alvin could barely feel the jolting he would normally have expected. It was as if the entire carriage were floating, with not a hint of vibration beneath his feet.

Summer had ended, and September was turning cool, but the midday sun still radiated plenty of heat. The procession had been traveling for over an hour since setting out from the East Wall Gate, and even inside the carriage, the boy felt a little stifled. He carefully opened the window beside him and leaned halfway out to feel the cool breeze.

The fields beyond the city had already been dyed gold by the autumn wind. Barefoot farmers in short tunics were doing the last bit of work in their fields for the year. News from distant Stormwind City did nothing to unsettle these commoners, who had never seen a real war. Nearly everyone was immersed in the joy of the harvest.

As the convoy continued onward, signs of human activity began to dwindle. Houses with smoke rising from their chimneys and golden fields gradually disappeared, replaced by a stretch of barren, ocher-colored wilderness. Though the land was reasonably fertile, no one was willing to live so close to the forest.

Although Stratholme was already overcrowded, and there was still uncultivated land beyond the city, Trolls from Zul'Aman occasionally ventured out of the forest. As a result, large numbers of commoners had been forced to retreat to areas where the town guards could protect them, leaving a vast, uninhabited buffer zone outside the city. It was a paradise for all kinds of carnivorous beasts, and Gnolls sometimes wandered through as well.

This tremendous waste of land was probably one of the reasons Archbishop Faol was so determined to target Zul'Aman. The newly built Northland Fortress would expand the area Stratholme's soldiers could protect, allowing the town's excess population to spread into this wilderness and cultivate more land.

It took the convoy several hours to reach its destination. A tall tower built of white stone stood in silence atop a small, treeless hill. At its summit, a flag embroidered with a blue double-headed eagle snapped in the howling mountain wind.

Surrounded by the knights, the carriage slowly began its ascent up the hillside road. To make surprise attacks more difficult for the enemy and open up the view, every tree on the hill had been cut down. They had been used to build houses and defenses, or simply as firewood. All that remained along the way were bare stumps and scattered weeds.

Unlike the single, isolated tower in the game, the complex before Alvin could almost be called a small fortress. Under Archbishop Faol's supervision, the Kingdom of Lordaeron had invested considerable resources in this place—

The thick granite outer wall stood about twenty feet high, completely enclosing the hilltop. Fully armed soldiers from several squads patrolled along its top. Around the wall, a watchtower rose at regular intervals.

A two-meter-wide moat had even been dug outside the wall. Countless enormous wooden stakes, sharpened to points, had been planted upside down at its bottom, like spears aimed at the sky. The only way into the fortress was a drawbridge, currently raised. Behind it stood an iron portcullis that could only be opened by several strong warriors operating a winch.

"Is this the Northland Watchtower—or should I say, Northland Fortress?"

When the carriage stopped in front of the gate, Alvin's face was full of astonishment. But a moment later, he thought of something. "Isn't this a bit excessive, just to deal with those Mossflayer Trolls holed up in the mountains and forests?"

The archbishop didn't answer the prince directly. Instead, he shook his head with an air of mystery and pointed north.

"The Amani, or Quel'Thalas?"

Intrigued by the old man's behavior, Alvin considered the question briefly, then dismissed it. In his memory, neither the Amani Trolls to the north nor the High Elves had launched a large-scale invasion of Lordaeron. The most important thing now was to deal with the Gnolls and the threat lurking in the forest: Zul'Aman.

They didn't linger long. After the leading knight stepped forward to verify their identities, the drawbridge was slowly lowered, and the large escort of knights quickly led the carriage across it and into the fortress.

Inside the gate, identical-looking houses lined both sides of the road. Built from timber and leftover stone, the dwellings put practicality above all else. They lacked the bright colors of city buildings, offering only solidity and simplicity.

Every building in the fortress was arranged around the white tower at its very center, which stood more than fifty feet tall. Beneath the tower, built from the finest dressed stone, the Gnoll Shaman waited anxiously under the close watch of a group of soldiers for the person who would decide his fate.

Although Logul had been the driving force behind the younger generation of Blackpaw Gnolls rising up against their elders and pledging themselves to humanity, making him a figure of great merit, most ordinary soldiers were still wary of Gnolls.

To prevent the beasts from suddenly turning violent, the fortress's acting commander had placed the Blackpaw Clan's camp on the eastern side of the hill, some distance from the fortress. He had also strictly decreed that Logul was the only Gnoll allowed inside Northland Fortress for the time being.

Moreover, many ordinary soldiers who had once encountered Gnoll warriors near human settlements weren't friendly toward these newcomers. They wouldn't go out of their way to provoke them and break military discipline, but their everyday wariness and undisguised hostility were unavoidable.

"Stay still!"

A soldier who looked far too young was growing increasingly irritated by the Gnoll, who kept looking up toward the fortress gate. At last, he lost his patience and shoved the Gnoll hard in the back, shouting, "Stop looking around, you beast!"

The Gnoll Shaman stumbled from the shove but didn't fight back. He only turned and gave the soldier a long, penetrating look, as if etching the young man's face, twisted with irritation, into his memory. His blood-red eyes fixed the soldier with a cold stare, and a chill inexplicably ran through the inexperienced young man.

"You bastard!"

Realizing he had shown fear under the Gnoll's glare, the young man grew angry with embarrassment. He reached his right hand toward the sword at his waist, ready to teach the uncouth beast a lesson and make him understand his place.