The atmosphere in the hall was tense. Everyone held their breath, their eyes fixed on the commander standing in the center.
"According to the information from Ironforge and the intelligence we obtained from the pirates, the Orc army is ready to move in the Wetlands."
Lothar studied the map spread across the table. The sparse red markers in the Wetlands had now filled the open ground south of Menethil Harbor and the Thandol Span.
"The Orc fleet has been moving frequently of late. I suspect they may well attack us by sea." As he spoke, the Alliance marshal raised his head and looked at Daelin Proudmoore across from him.
The proud admiral did not disappoint. He saluted and promised everyone present, "My fleet will show those green skins what a true naval battle looks like. The sailors of Kul Tiras will bury them beneath the sea forever!"
"Excellent!"
The middle-aged man nodded with satisfaction and continued with the arrangements. "Our Wildhammer Dwarf friends will support you from the air. The supplies from the Kingdom of Lordaeron have also been allocated. Together, let us prepare to celebrate the Alliance's first victory."
"Victory to the Alliance!"
Led by Anduin Lothar, all the Alliance soldiers present raised their right hands and shouted their pledge of victory.
More than a month later, autumn had deepened. The cool fall winds had turned the Hillsbrad Foothills golden. Nearly all the idle civilians had been evacuated, and large numbers of Alliance soldiers had taken over the farmers' work, busy harvesting crops in the fields.
The year's weather had been as favorable as ever, but with no one to tend and watch over the crops, the harvest was at least twenty percent smaller than usual. Even so, the additional food would give the soldiers more confidence as they