A Changed Course

Massive stone pillars, each wide enough for several people to embrace, supported the towering dome. White marble flooring stretched beneath their feet, and warm sunlight streamed into the hall through stained-glass windows.

In the chapel where the first Paladins in human history had been born, the Alliance's first Marshal was locked in a heated argument with Archbishop Alonsus Faol, the embodiment of the Holy Light in everyone's eyes.

"I can't guarantee Prince Alvin's safety on a brutal battlefield, Your Eminence!"

Looking at the infuriatingly mild-mannered archbishop and the seemingly well-behaved child beside him, the Alliance Marshal didn't know what to say. After watching his subordinate, Turalyon, become a Paladin, this serious-looking archbishop had actually asked him to take a child along with the army to learn! To hell with learning! Was the front line any place for a child?

The middle-aged warrior, who had lived through the Battle of Stormwind, knew how terrifying and savage the Orcs were. If the child fell into their hands, the bloodthirsty Orcs would show him no mercy. He had witnessed far too many tragedies with his own eyes.

"Alvin is a clever boy. You'll like him, I swear by the Holy Light." The old man smiled warmly, paying no heed to Lothar's complaints.

"As for your concerns about his safety, King Terenas has personally assigned a full company of royal knights to stay by Alvin's side. In addition, Master Antonidas's apprentice, the High Wizard Kel'Thuzad, will accompany him as well. You have nothing to worry about."

"My duty is to protect the prince. No one can get through my magical defenses and harm His Highness."

The haughty mage had finally found a chance to speak, but he clearly had little tact. He shut down any chance for Anduin Lothar to object the moment he opened his mouth.

Meanwhile, the center of everyone's debate, Lordaeron's second prince, Alvin, looked rather bored. Archbishop Faol had already told him about this decision the night before.

To be honest, given his current age and abilities, he didn't want to get too close to this brutal war between the races. Orcs who had drunk Demon Blood were damn strong. What could a little guy with arms and legs like his possibly do?

But this was the decision of his father, the king seated upon Lordaeron's throne. With Terenas, a man who never took no for an answer, a child like Alvin had no room to refuse.

Along with this unexpected decision, the archbishop had also told him something that could change the course of his future. Because of his performance in the campaign against Zul'Aman, his father had changed the plans he'd originally made for Alvin. He'd abandoned the idea of sending him to Northrend and instead decided to send him with a force to the largely unexplored continent of Kalimdor, where he would clear new land for the kingdom.

In other words, because the boy had performed so well, Terenas had raised the difficulty of his original easy-mode dungeon to heroic. Going from a second-generation heir with land to build on to an entrepreneur who had to start from scratch was a whole different level of difficulty.

Of course, that was only how the king and Lordaeron natives like Archbishop Faol saw it. To Alvin, this decision was fantastic news.

He didn't want to be halfway through farming in Northrend when he had to fight the Lich King's armies to the death—or even end up on their side. Hidden from everyone else's view, Kalimdor was a land of promise in the eyes of a boy who knew Azeroth's geography.

Theramore, the Barrens, and Mulgore, which would be settled by the Tauren only after the Orcs crossed west—though he'd have to contend with natives like the Quillboar and Centaur, he'd still rather face those living, breathing creatures than a horde of undead.

It was because Terenas planned for Alvin to lead an army into the perilous wilds of Kalimdor once he came of age that the king wanted his son to stay with the capable Marshal Lothar, learning the day-to-day workings of an army and how to become a competent commander.

"All right. I'll do it."

Surrounded by objections on all sides, Anduin Lothar, who had only recently received the Kingdom of Lordaeron's help, could do little but agree. "Tomorrow, I'll take His Highness and the Order of the Silver Hand to Southshore to set up defenses. I hope Your Eminence will watch over the rear. We need soldiers—an endless supply of them!"

At Lothar's request, the archbishop's expression turned serious. He replied in a low voice, "Don't worry. Every Lordaeron warrior is ready to fight for the kingdom. But before that, there's something we'd like you to look over."

With that, the old man gently patted the boy on the head.

"Marshal Lothar, Stratholme recently received word from the High Elves. They captured the leader of the Amani Trolls, but were ambushed on their way back. A band of strange, green-skinned creatures rescued all the Troll prisoners."

Alvin took a drawing from his jacket pocket and handed it to Lothar. "This was drawn based on the description of the unfamiliar creatures given by the elven ranger who was attacked. Do you recognize them?"

"These are... Orcs!"

The middle-aged man, who had been paying little attention, widened his eyes after just one glance. The flames of hatred blazed in them. "These vile assassins, these savage butchers—I'd recognize them even if they were reduced to ashes!"

"Orcs?"

Alvin put on a surprised expression and asked, "Does that mean they've already made their way around behind us?"

"No, they couldn't have gotten here so quickly! Even if they've captured Menethil Harbor, they would have needed a large fleet to transport their warriors in a surprise attack. Based on my calculations, their main force can have reached Ironforge in Dun Morogh at most. The sudden drop in temperature there and the Dwarves' sturdy fortifications should delay them for a while."

"So this is a small party, and they rescued the leader of the Amani Trolls?"

The boy began to steer the conversation deliberately. "If the Trolls and Orcs join forces... perhaps we should invite Quel'Thalas to join our Alliance once more?"

"I hope those arrogant Elves aren't that short-sighted." Lothar nodded. "I have to make preparations for the departure. I'll be back early tomorrow to take Prince Alvin south with me."