Changed Trajectory

Massive stone pillars, thick enough for several men to wrap their arms around, supported the soaring vaulted ceiling. Beneath them lay a floor of pristine white marble, while warm sunlight streamed into the hall through stained-glass windows.

In this chapel, the birthplace of the first generation of paladins in human history, the Supreme Commander of the Alliance was locked in a heated debate with the man everyone regarded as the living embodiment of the Holy Light—Archbishop Alonsus Faol.

"I cannot guarantee the safety of Prince Alvin on the brutal battlefield, your Excellency, most respected Archbishop!"

Looking at the Archbishop, against whom he could not muster a shred of anger, and the boy who appeared so docile, the Alliance Supreme Commander was at a loss for words. After witnessing his own lieutenant, Turalyon, become a paladin, this seemingly upright Archbishop had actually requested that a child be allowed to join the army to learn! To hell with learning! Was the front line any place for a child?

The middle-aged warrior, having survived the Battle of Stormwind City, understood just how terrifying and savage those Orcs were. If this child fell into their hands, the bloodthirsty Orcs would show no mercy; he had already witnessed too many tragedies with these very eyes.

"Alvin is a clever child; you will grow fond of him. I can swear it by the Holy Light," the old man said with a beaming smile, completely unfazed by Lothar's complaints.

"As for your concerns regarding his safety, King Terenas has personally dispatched a squadron of Royal Knights to follow at Alvin's side. Furthermore, Archmage Antonidas's disciple, the high-ranking mage Kel'Thuzad, will also accompany him. You have absolutely no need to worry."

"My duty is to protect the Prince's safety. No one shall be able to pierce my magical defenses to harm His Highness."

The arrogant mage finally found an opportunity to interject, though he clearly lacked social tact. His words were absolute, leaving no room for Anduin Lothar to offer any further excuses.

Meanwhile, the center of everyone's debate, the second prince of the Kingdom of Lordaeron, Alvin, felt rather indifferent. Archbishop Faol had already informed him of this decision the previous night.

To be honest, given his current age and physical prowess, he had no desire to rashly involve himself in this brutal racial war at close range. The combat power of Orcs who had consumed demon blood was legendary; what could his own small, frail limbs possibly amount to?

However, this was a decision made by his father, the monarch seated upon the throne of Lordaeron. In the face of the uncompromising Terenas, he, still a child, had absolutely no room to refuse.

Along with this unexpected decision, the Archbishop had revealed something that would alter his future destiny—because of his performance during the previous campaign against Zul'Aman, his father had changed the original plans for him. He had abandoned the intention to send him to Northrend, deciding instead to have him lead a force to the continent of Kalimdor, a land rarely visited by humans, to cultivate a brand-new territory for the kingdom.

In other words, because the boy had performed well, Terenas had increased the difficulty of his "dungeon" from Easy to Heroic. Transitioning from a second-generation noble with established lands to a self-made entrepreneur starting from scratch was, of course, a completely different matter.

Naturally, this was only the perspective of the King himself and the locals of Lordaeron like Archbishop Faol. For Alvin, such a decision was absolutely fantastic news.

He had no desire to be farming in Northrend only to end up in a life-or-death struggle with the Lich King's army, or worse, becoming a member of their ranks. In the eyes of the boy, who was well-versed in the geography of Azeroth, Kalimdor—a place far from everyone's gaze—was an absolute treasure trove.

Theramore, The Barrens, and Mulgore, which would only be occupied by the Tauren after the Orcs crossed the sea—even if he had to face indigenous Quillboar and Centaur, the boy preferred to fight these flesh-and-blood creatures rather than that army of the undead.

It was precisely because Terenas envisioned Alvin leading an army to the perilous Kalimdor upon reaching adulthood that the King wanted his child to shadow an excellent commander like Lothar, learning the daily routines of the military and how to become a qualified leader.

"Very well, I agree."

Faced with the pressure from all sides, Anduin Lothar, who had only just received the grace of the Kingdom of Lordaeron, could only reluctantly concede. "Tomorrow, I shall depart with His Highness the Prince and the Order of the Silver Hand to establish defenses at Southshore. I hope your Excellency can keep a close watch on the rear. We need soldiers—a constant stream of soldiers!"

At Lothar's request, the Archbishop's expression turned solemn. He replied in a deep voice, "Rest assured, all the champions of Lordaeron are prepared to fight for the kingdom. However, before that, we have something to show you."

Having said this, the old man gently patted the boy on the head.

"Commander Lothar, Stratholme recently received news from the High Elves. They captured the leader of the Amani Trolls, but they were ambushed on their way back, and all the Troll captives were rescued by a group of strange, green-skinned creatures."

Alvin took a sketch from his coat pocket and handed it to him. "This is an image of those strange creatures drawn based on the accounts of the ambushed Elven Rangers. I thought perhaps you might recognize these fellows?"

"These are—Orcs!"

With just a glance, the previously indifferent man's eyes widened sharply, and the flames of hatred burned fiercely within them. "These despicable assassins, these vicious executioners—I would recognize them even if they were reduced to ash!"

"Orcs?"

Alvin feigned surprise and asked, "Could it be that they have already bypassed our lines?"

"No, they could not have moved so quickly! Even when they occupied Menethil Harbor, they relied on a massive fleet of ships to transport their warriors for the raid. According to my calculations, their main force has at most reached Ironforge in Dun Morogh. The plummeting temperatures and the sturdy fortifications of the Dwarves should be enough to delay them for a while."

"So this was a small squad that rescued the Amani Troll leader?"

The boy began to consciously guide the conversation. "If those Trolls and Orcs were to join forces... perhaps we should once again invite Quel'Thalas to join our Alliance?"

"I hope those arrogant Elves are not so shortsighted," Lothar nodded. "I must go and prepare for our departure. I will return tomorrow morning to collect His Highness Prince Alvin and head south."