Andy lay inside a tent the Elves had hastily put up, chewing on some nameless root as he stared at the tent roof. At first glance, he seemed to be daydreaming.
But that wasn't the case. Andy was studying the attribute panel he had conjured before his eyes. Though the Elves had been forced to retreat into Ashenvale after the battle at Azshara Beach, the Orcs hadn't come away unscathed either. Compared to Tyrande's injury and the complete collapse of the Orcs' magical forces, Andy was probably the only one who had gained anything tangible from the battle. He had earned a full forty attribute points. After adding them to his stats, his Agility had risen to sixty-five, and all his other attributes had reached sixty.
The more Andy looked, the more he felt like bursting into laughter. If the circumstances hadn't been so inappropriate, he might already have been beside himself with glee. Twenty Orcs—he had killed twenty of them! Compared to before, he could now clearly feel the strength in his hands and the lightness of his body.
Tyrande's injuries were rather serious, and lately she had been coughing constantly. Though she covered her mouth with a handkerchief, Andy could still see a faint purple stain on it. Andona had already been sent to the rear. His body had been extremely weak ever since that electric shock; forget leading troops into battle, he could barely even stand. His deputy, Major General Andrebos, was now in command. He was one of the few senior officers to survive the beach battle.
Andrebos had urged Tyrande many times to return to Darnassus and recover. But Tyrande couldn't put her mind at ease and continued to tough it out on the front lines. Her injuries wouldn't heal quickly. They weren't like ordinary physical wounds that responded to simple treatment. Hers were lingering injuries on a magical level. The only way to recover was to return to the waters of the Temple of Elune in Darnassus and bathe in the Moonwell, which would counteract the magical energy still ravaging her body.
Ten days later, Talendis Post, which had originally stood on the border between Azshara and Ashenvale, was moved entirely into Ashenvale, right along the border with Azshara. It was also expanded to the size of a Sentinel Unit camp. Earthen walls and those green plants that attacked on their own stretched along the entire Ashenvale border.
Andrebos had also gathered some intelligence on the Orcs over the past few days. Strangely enough, ever since capturing Azshara Beach, they had made no further moves. They had simply occupied a sizable village and turned it into their own camp, where they faced off against the Elves.
The Orcs' lack of aggression suited Andrebos just fine. It gave these Elven warriors, who were new to war, a chance to catch their breath. Who knew when those savage, fierce Orcs might attack again?
A month after the battle, Tyrande finally couldn't hold on any longer. She was coughing up blood more and more often, and at last she was escorted back to Darnassus. Before leaving, she forced herself to inspect the camp and rally the warriors. Then she left Andy behind and set off for home with Hilar. Her order to Andrebos was to have Andy, the only one familiar with the Orcs, help him defend Ashenvale.
Andrebos didn't seem to agree. Andy hadn't made a good impression on him, and he couldn't understand why Tyrande trusted a child barely into his teens so much. Andrebos had clearly seen Andy's performance on the beach, but he believed any of his own archers could have killed twenty Orcs. So after Tyrande left, he sidelined Andy, leaving him with nothing to do but stare at the tent every day. And he did that for half a year.
Over those six months, the Elves' camp was reinforced again. Tyrande also sent several of her own priests to make up for the shortage of magical forces in the camp. Two more Elven units were brought in from the heart of Ashenvale to bolster Andrebos's numbers.
Compared to the Elven camp, the Orcs' camp was far more primitive. They had cut down trees from the woods beside the beach and sparsely planted them in a ring as a fence. Wooden huts sprang up throughout the camp. The only structure that could be considered a proper building was a huge wooden fortress in the center.
Late one night, Andy was deep in a dream when the sudden commotion outside his tent jolted him awake. He hurriedly grabbed his weapon, threw on some clothes, and ran outside. He assumed the Orcs had attacked under cover of night after half a year of recuperation.
"Hey, look!" A group of Elven warriors, all disheveled, had gathered around a raised platform outside the tents, pointing and whispering.
"Brother, make way!" Andy twisted his way into the crowd. "Hey, brother, let me through!"
Andy wasn't short, but he was still much shorter than the Elven warriors. Once he reached the front of the crowd, he saw a vivid red glow in the distant night sky. Flames soared high, dyeing half the sky crimson.
"W-what is that?" Andy murmured.
"Maestra. That's Maestra Post," an Elven warrior beside him said quietly, folding his arms.
"What's going on?" Andy stared at the towering flames and thought of the worst. Of course, no one answered him. No one knew what had happened there; all they could do was guess.
"Everyone, clear out!" a stern shout rang out from behind the crowd.
"General!" Everyone turned and saw Andrebos approaching from the rear. They saluted him.
Andrebos paid them no mind and went straight to the front of the crowd. He, too, saw the fire at Maestra. Pressing his lips together, he frowned and looked over everyone before finally sighing. "Everyone, go back to your tents!"
Just as the crowd was about to return to their tents, a warrior suddenly shouted, "Look!"
Andy turned at the sound. The crimson glow on the horizon suddenly erupted in a deep green burst that shot into the sky. Then it burst apart like fireworks and rained down toward the ground. The earth seemed to tremble. Another blue flash erupted from the flames at Maestra, then slowly died away.
It was destined to be a sleepless night. When that green flame shot into the sky, Andy had wondered if his eyes were playing tricks on him. But the flame had been so conspicuous against the night sky! It made no sense. Maestra was deep in Ashenvale. How could this happen?
Andrebos stared gravely at the dying flames. After a long pause, he dismissed the onlookers and returned to his tent. But there was no chance he'd sleep tonight—just like someone else, he couldn't close his eyes.
A ray of morning sunlight shone into Andy's tent, but he was still in bed. Ever since Andrebos had sidelined him, given him no duties, and left him alone, he had grown slack over the past six months. Every day, he slept until well after sunrise.
"Andy, Andy!" Saria, the big, timid Elf, ran in to wake him.
"Saria, don't you know it's very rude to disturb someone's sleep?" Andy said, rubbing his bleary eyes.
"Enough nonsense!" Saria said anxiously. "General Andrebos wants to see you. If you don't want to get whipped, hurry to the main tent!"
Andy muttered something, got dressed, fastened his buttons haphazardly, and followed Saria to Andrebos's tent. Andrebos watched Andy stroll in lazily, his expression dark. "Take a look at yourself. What kind of state are you in? You haven't even buttoned your trousers!"
Andy glanced down at his unfastened fly and gave an awkward grin before hurriedly doing up the buttons.
Andrebos was furious, but in the end, he suppressed his anger and said, "Andy, you saw it last night. Something's happening over at Maestra. An order just came from Darnassus. The posts don't have many troops and can't handle unexpected incidents, so the main camp is to send someone to investigate what's going on at Maestra."
Andrebos glanced at the distracted Andy, displeased. "Are you even listening to me?"
"Oh, yes! Yes, I am. You want the camp to send someone to investigate what's happening at Maestra, right?" Andy said.
"The key is, I can't weaken the camp's defenses, so..." Andrebos looked at Andy. "That means I can only send you. You're the only one without a defensive assignment."
Andy suddenly raised his head and looked at the general before him. "Just me?"
"Of course not. There's a squad of scouts, too. You'll go with them!" Andrebos said.
"When do we leave?" Andy asked.
"Today!" Andrebos said with a sigh of relief. He had been worried Andy wouldn't want to go. If he refused, there wasn't much Andrebos could do.
"Fine!" Andy answered, then turned and left the tent to pack his things.
By the time Andy came out with his things, the squad of scouts was already waiting outside the tent, and their leader was clearly getting impatient.
"All right, we can go!" Andy called, heading toward an unoccupied Sabers mount.
The leader turned around, about to make a couple of sarcastic remarks, but froze in surprise. "It's you!"
Before you continue