Taelan Fordring took a letter tube from his magic pocket. He tossed it into the air, and it floated as if supported by an invisible hand, coming to rest in Uther's hands.
Uther's expression shifted. The move was just like Turalyon's back in the day—an exquisite mastery of the Holy Light. He opened the tube and found two letters inside, each sealed with a family crest.
Barthilas felt as if a mountain were pressing down on him. The legendary's restraint left him unable to say a word. He stood there, drenched in sweat. Deverlin, who had been standing beside him moments ago, immediately took two steps away.
It was all over!
Those two letters had fallen into his hands! They bore the family crest, and didn't just record the suspension of trade—they also contained a plan to establish a new kingdom.
King Terenas might tolerate Tirion Fordring's dereliction of duty, but he would never forgive Barthilas for defecting to Alterac. Especially not at a time when fires were breaking out everywhere.
Why had my father been the one to die back then, instead of Tirion? Why did he have such a powerful son?
As long as he brought Tirion down, he would have a chance to take the post of garrison commander at Mardenholde. He might even become the town mayor. Now he had nothing!
Tirion Fordring, you and your son drove me to this. You cut off my family's livelihood and cost me my chance to rise higher. Otherwise, why would I have chosen to take part in the Syndicate's plan?
He had so much he wanted to say, but couldn't utter a single word. So this was how terrifying it was to be beyond legendary. The Holy Light was not merciful.
He didn't even need to lift a