The Eve

Elune hung high in the sky, moving through a veil of thin clouds. Her cold moonlight washed over the land like clear water. After dinner, Alvin climbed to the top of the watchtower and gazed toward the campfires burning east of the fortress.

The chilly evening breeze swept across the tower, ruffling the boy's shoulder-length blond hair and clearing his head a little after he had sneaked a taste of Thunderbrew by the bonfire. That lone cask of Thunderbrew was a gift from the knights who had escorted the Gnoll prisoners to Northland Fortress—a fine brew they had specially set aside from Brewfest. It was a forty-five-year-old vintage, made by Dwarves with special hops and aged for years in a cellar.

Brewfest followed close on the heels of Harvest Festival each year. Alvin hadn't heard any reliable accounts of the holiday, nor had he found any solid records of it in the royal library.

People offered all kinds of explanations for the holiday's origins. The only halfway plausible story was also rather amusing—

They said that at a feast celebrating Harvest Festival, a Dwarf from Dun Morogh had argued with the local people of Lordaeron who were hosting the festivities over the taste of Thunderbrew and ale. In the end, everyone decided to hold a tasting contest after Harvest Festival.

The result was easy to imagine. The excitement of Harvest Festival had yet to wear off, and every participant at the tasting contest got thoroughly drunk, whether Dwarf traveler or human resident of Lordaeron. In the end, they called the contest a draw and agreed to hold an annual "exchange" of drinks on September twentieth. That, the story went, was how Brewfest began.

Before the army set out, the warriors who had been working tirelessly at Northland Fortress, their nerves taut, were finally allowed a celebration. Young soldiers gathered around the bonfires, their booming songs carrying across the fortress and reaching the boy standing atop the tower.

On the verge of marching into battle, they used this unusual way to release the uncertainty and fear in their hearts. No one knew whether they would make it out of that devouring forest alive, but the kingdom's call and their blood feud with the Trolls had driven them to join the war without hesitation.

Fortunately, when the war began, the warriors from northern Lordaeron would have plenty of Gnoll cannon fodder at the ready. This would tip the scales of war heavily in favor of the Kingdom of Lordaeron, while greatly reducing the odds of its soldiers becoming casualties.

A strategist had once said, "In war, tactics are one part, strategy another, and logistics the rest."

A massive army brought formidable strength, but it also placed an enormous burden on logistics. Though the Kingdom of Lordaeron had been preparing for the coming war since before summer, and Stratholme had stockpiled vast quantities of supplies, the sheer number of soldiers still put tremendous strain on the supply network.

Supplies for ten thousand people required a hundred wagons running back and forth without pause—and that was only what they needed each day. Fortunately, battles in the forest were fought mostly between infantry, so few cavalrymen would join the war. Otherwise, the burden of feeding the warhorses alone could bring the whole army to its knees. A fit warhorse consumed twelve times as much as an ordinary soldier each day!

To prepare for the war against Zul'Aman, shipments of food and supplies had been flowing from the other kingdoms of Lordaeron to Stratholme and Northland Fortress since summer. With the promise of gleaming riches before them, merchants from different kingdoms and even different races had thrown themselves into the task, bringing goods they had gathered from far and wide. By Harvest Festival, the steady stream of caravans had filled nearly every warehouse at Northland Fortress with food.

According to Archbishop Faol, the High Elf lords rooted in Ghostlands, led by the Windrunner Family, had traded a large number of enchanted items to the kingdom in exchange for a greater share of supplies from the humans. These High Elf-made items were all considered premium goods in the human world. Their value had eased the financial strain on the kingdom caused by its frequent logistical operations and the stockpiling of supplies this year.

Abundant supplies, plenty of Gnoll cannon fodder, and maps of the terrain provided by the Blackpaw Gnolls—all of it told Alvin that this would be a flawless victory. But the boy, who had never seen a real war, still couldn't be sure. Who knew whether the Mossflayer Trolls of Zul'Aman might seek help from the Amani Trolls?

After all, Zul'Aman wasn't far from Zul'Aman. Even traveling at full speed through the forest, the journey would take only about half a month. The two Troll tribes seemed to have little contact with each other, and the Amani Trolls were currently playing cat and mouse with the High Elf ranger units in Ghostlands. Still, it was a potential complication.

With the Orcish Wars about to erupt, Alvin didn't want Zul'jin and his Amani Trolls turning their attention from the High Elves to the humans. They had only just driven a hungry wolf out of the back garden, and now a tiger had leapt in. Not everyone would welcome that—especially with a prowling lion already at the front door.

This had to be a swift extermination campaign, a war fought and finished quickly. Otherwise, the enormous logistical burden and any unforeseen complications could push events beyond the Kingdom of Lordaeron's control. The boy narrowed his eyes, shivered in the cold wind, and turned to the guard behind him.

"Abberton, how effective was that sample the Goblin sent over?"

"Extremely powerful. A high-ranking warrior caught in the heart of the blast would still suffer minor injuries, while mid-ranking warriors and anyone below them would likely be badly wounded."

Good. Fizzle, the Goblin merchant Alvin had sent to contact the Steamwheedle Cartel, had brought back good news. According to him, the Steamwheedle Cartel was eager to establish trade relations with the Kingdom of Lordaeron. As a gesture of goodwill, the Trade Prince had even given Alvin a gift in his private capacity: enough high-explosive bombs to fill an entire wagon.

In Azeroth, Gnomes and Goblins were the two milestones of engineering. Small and frail, they knew they had no advantage over other races in physical strength. So most of them devoted their time to studying the arcane arts and divine magic. Those without a talent for the arcane, meanwhile, poured all their energy into the intricate science of engineering.

In every world, those who spent all day cooped up in their labs tended to develop all sorts of unusual hobbies. Gnome engineers loved tinkering with bizarre inventions that had strange effects. Goblin engineers, by contrast, had much simpler interests. Their dictionary contained only two words: profit and explosions.

These high-explosive bombs were a fine invention developed by Goblin engineers in Booty Bay. They had an effective blast radius of about ten feet, and the force at the center was enough to kill a low-ranking warrior. Even a mid-ranking warrior caught in the blast radius would be in for a rough time.