Planning

I apologize for the delay; I was traveling home yesterday, so I wrote this chapter first thing this morning.

The courtyard behind the chapel was beautiful and serene, planted with towering oak trees of unknown age, their bright red new leaves shimmering with glints of light under the sun. The path of pale white gravel circling beneath the trees was kept immaculately clean, though a few stubborn blades of grass occasionally poked through the cracks, adding a touch of vitality to the courtyard.

Soft footsteps echoed continuously along the silent walkway.

"Abberton, let us go meet our great merchant Fizzle," Alvin said, his expression unusually grave. "May the Holy Light be with us; I hope they have prepared what I require. Also, bring the Shaman Logul along; I have prepared a surprise for him."

Although Abberton had successfully ascended to the rank of Paladin during this recent opportunity, his own convictions and loyalty had kept him from joining the Silver Hand, choosing instead to remain by Alvin's side.

The young man was likely the only one, aside from the two first-generation Paladins who had come from the Kingdom of Stormwind, to ascend to the rank of Paladin without swearing the oath of allegiance to the Kingdom of Lordaeron. However, because he was the Prince's trusted personal guard, few people paid it any mind.

The boy's gaze swept over the flourishing flowers and trees in the courtyard, yet his eyes held only endless cold. The Orcish Horde would soon arrive on this peaceful continent, and the flames of war would sweep across the entire kingdom; he wondered how many years it would be before such a warm spring could be seen again.

He would not pin all his hopes on the so-called game plot; at this critical juncture, he had to do something himself. For his current, still-young self, the only resources he could leverage were the Gnolls led by Logul and the trade he conducted with the Steamwheedle Cartel. As far as he knew, Goblins were the largest arms dealers in the world of Azeroth.

"Respected Prince Alvin, your most loyal servant Fizzle pays his respects to you. May the Holy Light be with you."

In the dimly lit study, a short, green-skinned Goblin spoke with an impure Lordaeron accent, bowing respectfully to the Prince sitting behind the desk, his every movement mimicking a true human gentleman.

However, now was not the time to consider how standard the fellow's etiquette was. Alvin gestured to the soft chair in front of him. "Our future Trade Prince, there is no need to be so formal. I believe you have received my message; I have summoned you here for a major deal."

A major deal! Alvin noticed that when he mentioned business, the Goblin merchant's slightly hunched back straightened, and his two large eyes began to gleam. The boy, familiar with his kind, knew that this was the faith belonging to gold coins and wealth.

For money, there was nothing these greedy and stingy creatures would not do. To most people, the moral standards of these green-skinned runts were simply appalling. For money, they would sell their own kin into slavery without hesitation; for money, they would incite wars that dragged in countless innocents without a second thought.

In the boy's view, if not for the food and warships the Goblins provided to the Orcish army, the Orcish Horde would never have been able to take the Kingdom of Stormwind so easily, let alone launch a surprise attack on Menethil Harbor, located north of Dun Morogh, by crossing the strait.

For this transaction, Alvin had specifically requested a large amount of financial support from the Stratholme treasury from Archbishop Faol. Fortunately, the boy's performance had always been exemplary, so the Archbishop had only hesitated for a moment before agreeing to his request. He trusted that with this large sum of gold in hand, these Goblins, already blinded by greed, would certainly take the bait.

Once the war with the Orcs was successfully concluded, I will eventually make these greedy fellows know the consequences of betting on both sides! But for now, I still need the help of this avaricious lot.

As his thoughts raced, he smiled calmly and said softly, "We had a successful cooperation before, and I was very satisfied with the gifts from the Steamwheedle Cartel. If the products you provide me this time have such remarkable effects, the Kingdom of Lordaeron would be very happy to accept a perfect commercial group as a long-term trade partner."

"Of course, I can guarantee it, noble Prince. Our explosives are absolutely the best. In all of Azeroth, only the Steamwheedle Cartel has the capability to provide the kind of heavy-duty goods capable of blowing up a hill. Those Gnomes who only know how to tinker with nonsensical inventions all day could never achieve this—"

"I trust your engineering technology just as I trust the Holy Light in my own hands," the boy said, offering a small compliment to prevent the Goblin merchant from continuing his endless rambling, before quickly changing the subject.

"In fact, I am worried about my soldiers, who do not know much about explosives. You know as well as I that no one can compare to Goblins in engineering. If they fail to use your products correctly, and something goes wrong..."

He shrugged, making an "you know what I mean" expression.

"So, I hope you can provide me with a few professional technicians. Of course, I will add a bonus that will satisfy you for these excellent technical talents. However, because this shipment involves my little secrets, I am afraid they will not be able to communicate with the outside world until the project is finished."

"That is only right. It is their honor to serve such a generous client as yourself. I believe they have long been prepared to work for such a noble Prince."

Seeing the money, the Goblin merchant's eyes had already turned into the shape of gold coins. He bowed to the Prince and said with a beaming smile.

"Very good," the boy nodded. "Abberton, take our great merchant down to settle the accounts."

After the royal guard led the grinning Goblin merchant away, Alvin turned his gaze toward the window and pondered for a moment. Not long after, the Gnoll Shaman pushed open the door to the study.

"Prince." Unlike the Goblin, Logul, who had staked his entire fortune on the boy, radiated true respect and obedience in his every movement, rather than mere imitation.

"Logul, although I have never asked for the details of why you fell into misfortune in Alterac back then, I can guess a few things. A high-ranking Shaman wandering in the wilderness with a portion of his tribe—there are only so many possibilities."

The boy's tone was filled with temptation and inducement.

In the eyes of the Gnoll Shaman, the young, benevolent Prince's delicate profile, cast in the shadows of the sunlight, looked like a devil inciting the hearts of men. "I will ask you only one question: do you want revenge?"