Resolution

As the sun set and the stars shifted, the blue moon of the twin moons leapt gently into the sky, while its white counterpart shyly held back, its cheek not yet fully emerged from behind the mountain peaks. Azeroth welcomed its beautiful, luminous night.

Thanks to the radiance of the twin moons, there was almost no need for artificial light here; while reading in the wild would still be a struggle, the visibility was quite expansive.

The orc encampment beneath Blackrock Mountain fell into silence. Most orcs clutched their weapons, collapsed onto the ground, and were soon snoring loudly in deep sleep.

However, some orcs remained awake.

Beside a bright bonfire, a dozen orcs sat in a circle. Behind them, several orc warriors stood with weapons in hand, keeping a vigilant watch over their surroundings.

This was the camp of the Bloodfang Clan. Those gathered here were all members of the Bloodfang, led by their chieftain, the aged and cunning Kilrogg Deadeye.

Every chieftain of the Bloodfang Clan sacrificed their left eye to the spirits of their ancestors; through this ritual, they could foresee the future of their clan and their own fate.

Kilrogg was no exception. He wore a black eyepatch over his left eye, while his right eye shone with a soul-piercing, blood-red light.

Though Kilrogg was old now, no orc chieftain dared to underestimate him, not even Orgrim Doomhammer.

This chieftain of the Bloodfang had been ruthless in his youth, having even killed his own father.

"This matter cannot just be left as it is. The Trolls must pay the price!"

A Bloodfang orc declared.

"That's right. Orgrim wants to shield those Trolls, but we absolutely do not agree!"

Someone responded.

"Let's go and slaughter every last one of those Trolls!"

A young Bloodfang orc shouted excitedly.

"Keep your voice down! Slaughter all the Trolls? No, Orgrim will not allow it."

Some of the Bloodfang orcs still possessed a shred of reason.

"Pah, Orgrim isn't our chieftain."

That hot-blooded Bloodfang orc seemed to hold Orgrim in utter contempt.

"Wiping out all the Trolls is unlikely. We are only one clan, and those Trolls... they are powerful."

Some Bloodfang orcs analyzed the feasibility of "slaughtering the Trolls" based on strength.

"We could ask other clans for help."

Some Bloodfang orcs suggested.

"Ask who? The Dragonmaw Clan are all a bunch of stubborn old fossils. As for those two brats of the Black Tooth Grin Clan... Orgrim killed their father, yet they obey his every word."

A Bloodfang orc said bitterly.

"How about asking us, the Burning Blade Clan?"

A voice abruptly interrupted the conversation of the Bloodfang orcs.

"Who goes there!"

Kilrogg barked sharply.

Previously, the old chieftain had been listening to his clansmen argue, accustomed to finding the support he needed within their disputes.

However, this sudden voice made Kilrogg wary—he was familiar with every Bloodfang orc present, yet this voice...

"Kaldara, what are you doing here? This is the camp of the Bloodfang Clan."

Kilrogg stood up and shouted toward a patch of shadows.

The other Bloodfang orcs rose as well, blocking the path in front of Kilrogg—regardless of what other clans said, they respected their chieftain and were willing to shield him from attack.

"All of you, stand aside!"

Kilrogg shouted.

As the chieftain of the Bloodfang Clan, he did not engage in brawls lightly.

The fate of Blackhand the Destroyer was not enough of a lesson for Kilrogg; in his long life, he had seen too many wise chieftains ruined by impulsive actions.

Yet, a truly excellent chieftain would not hide behind his clansmen when danger arrived, especially since they were not facing an enemy, but another orc.

"This is the camp of the Horde, Kilrogg. Ever since Blackhand established the Horde, there has been no distinction between clans. So, I come and go as I please."

Kaldara stepped out from the shadows, his sturdy, tall figure casting an even larger shadow under the combined light of the bonfire and the moon.

"If there is no distinction between clans, then why do the Blackrock orcs live in tents, while my clansmen must sleep on the open ground?"

Kilrogg dismissed Kaldara's words with contempt.

There were many ambitious men who wanted to unite the orcs, but who could truly do it? Blackhand the Destroyer could not, Gul'dan could not, and Orgrim Doomhammer could not.

"What does that matter? It isn't going to rain here."

Kaldara said.

"If you came here to tell jokes, you can go back now."

Kilrogg pushed past his clansmen and stood opposite Kaldara.

"I certainly did not come here to tell jokes. I came to help you solve your problem."

Kaldara spoke.

"How shall we resolve this?"

A red glint flashed in Kilrogg's single eye; he knew exactly what Kaldara was referring to.

Could it be that the Blademasters were going to interfere in the internal affairs of the Horde?

"We resolve it with this."

Kaldara's hand reached toward his waist.

The Bleeding Hollow Orcs tensed up instantly, raising their weapons in unison.

Yet, Kaldara remained unmoved. He calmly unhooked something from his waist and tossed it at Kilrogg's feet.

"What is this?"

Kilrogg frowned as he looked down, only to freeze in place.

The old chieftain of the Bleeding Hollow Orcs looked up in disbelief, glanced at Kaldara, and then lowered his gaze back to the round, rolling object.

Finally, Kilrogg chose to crouch down. He picked up the object, examined it in his hand, and then stood back up.

"A Troll's head."

Kilrogg said in a low voice.

He was speaking for the benefit of his clansmen.

"What?"

"A Troll?"

"This thing... could it be that..."

The Bleeding Hollow Orcs began to murmur, and the scene descended into chaos.

"Shut up, all of you!"

Kilrogg's command silenced the Orcs, though a few of the younger ones still snuck glances at the Troll head in his hand.

"Hold this."

Kilrogg casually tossed the Troll head to one of his clansmen and then stepped forward.

"We have things to discuss. All of you, fall back."

Kilrogg said to his clansmen without looking back.

Some of the Bleeding Hollow Orcs were worried for Kilrogg's safety, but under the old chieftain's orders, they could only retreat while clutching the Troll head.

"What is the meaning of this?"

Kilrogg stood opposite Kaldara and asked sternly.

Despite his advanced age, Kilrogg straightened his frame, appearing no shorter than Kaldara.

"I killed him and cut off his head. If you like, you can even peel a piece of skin from it. Isn't that how he treated your clansmen?"

Kaldara said with ease.