Mardi, the Former Trade Prince

Among the vast lineages of trolls, only the Ice Trolls and Forest Trolls possess the natural green skin characteristic of their kind; beyond these two, no others exist. Both of these groups are renowned for their savage and brutal cannibalistic culture. The Goblins had initially hoped for saviors, only to realize upon closer inspection that they had encountered harbingers of doom.

"They don't seem very happy." Zul'ra watched with interest as the shivering, dark-green-skinned runts were hauled aboard. This was his first time seeing Goblins—these creatures with narrow noses, long pointed ears, and panicked expressions. They had four fingers and oily green skin, standing barely as tall as his waist.

"Just a bunch of greedy, ungrateful wretches." Malacrass looked at the bedraggled little men, his tusks curling in a grimace of disdain.

"Then what are we waiting for? Separate them and lock them up." Zul'ra waved his hand, ordering the sailors and soldiers in Common to keep the Goblins apart.

"Wait, wait! I am Mardi, Trade Prince of the Bilgewater Cartel! I demand fair treatment; I will pay in gold to ransom myself!" A fellow wearing a leather vest, fatter than the other Goblins and sporting brown hair tied in a ponytail, hurriedly shouted in Common, terrified that he might end up in a troll's cooking pot for speaking too slowly.

"If you still have any gold left." Zul'ra looked at the portly Goblin, then glanced at the fleet that had largely sunk to the bottom of the South Sea. It wasn't Gallywix's fleet, but who was this Mardi?

"However, since you've spoken up, keep him in solitary confinement. As for the others, separate them for interrogation. Whoever doesn't cooperate goes into the pot at noon." Setting aside his questions about the individuals and cutting off Mardi's excuses, Zul'ra ordered the sailors and soldiers to separate the thirty-two Goblins they had fished out, then pulled Haimuxi aside to whisper instructions.

"Tell everyone: do not actually treat these Goblins as food, and do not harm them without cause. Just find out their identities, their skills, and the current situation in Azeroth."

Haimuxi was a capable female troll who had worked with Zul'ra before and had been selected to go to Zandalar to study agriculture. She nodded and immediately went to make arrangements. As for Zul'ra, he personally took Mardi into the cabin for questioning.

"Name."

"Mardi. I am Mardi, Trade Prince of the Bilgewater Cartel. Respected troll, you look just like an elegant Elf." The chubby Mardi looked with slight astonishment at the troll before him—who had pale blue skin, hands clasped behind his back, an impossibly straight and tall posture, and thick, wild eyebrows that could only be described as heroic—and flattered him with exaggerated praise.

"Your words are very likely to send you into the pot." Zul'ra looked at the sycophant, rolling his eyes as he replied.

"Oh, you must be from Zul'Aman, right!" Mardi shifted his eyes, testing the waters with a probing question.

"Time is money, my Goblin friend. If you dare speak to me in that tone again..." Zul'ra loomed over Mardi, his voice slow and rhythmic as he cut himself off.

"Then you can wait to become a nice pot of soup. Or perhaps roasting you alive would be better!"

"..." Mardi looked at the calm, collected troll who spoke so casually of soup and roasting, and felt a chill run straight down his spine.

"Big guy, you can't treat me like this. I used to be a friend of the Horde." Mardi looked at the tall troll, attempting to sound tough.

"It seems you don't intend to speak to me properly." Zul'ra watched the stubborn fellow, narrowed his eyes, and turned to leave.

"Wait, wait! My name is Mardi, I am the Trade Prince of the Bilgewater Cartel! Whatever you want to know, just ask!" Mardi panicked as he watched the troll walk away.

"Who were you fighting earlier, and why were you attacked?" Zul'ra heard the voice behind him and turned around, his expression blank.

"It was Gallywix. That bastard... he wants me to have nothing." Mardi's face looked desolate, and tears even welled up in the corners of his eyes.

"Go on." Zul'ra watched the miserable, green-skinned, chubby man, not bothering to interrupt his performance, and clasped his hands behind his back to listen.

"I am the Trade Prince of the Bilgewater Cartel. As you know, we made a fortune in the war between the Alliance and the Horde. But, due to my negligence, my colleague Gallywix—that despicable villain..." Mardi recounted his origins and explained the cause of the previous naval battle.

Mardi was Gallywix's predecessor, the former Trade Prince of the Bilgewater Cartel. He was no longer in power because the fleet he used for business had been destroyed by his successor, Gallywix.

Amidst his teeth-gritting and long-winded complaints, Mardi described his relationship with Gallywix. Beyond being colleagues, Gallywix had been quite fond of his daughter, Nisha, and the two could have become father-in-law and son-in-law, but that relationship was now gone.

Because of Mardi's carelessness, Gallywix had bribed his subordinates, raised a mercenary army, driven him out of his villa, and overthrown his rule over the Bilgewater Cartel.

After his defeat, Mardi hadn't given up; he had tried to make a deal to earn enough money to buy back everything he had lost, but Gallywix hadn't let him go, destroying his fleet entirely in the South Sea.

"Who were you planning to sell to, and what were you selling?" Zul'ra frowned as he listened to Mardi's whimpering. So this Mardi really was Gallywix's predecessor, ousted by Gallywix himself.

"A shipment of vital supplies. I intended to sell them to the Kingdom of Stormwind to help them rebuild their homeland. My daughter, my dear Nisha, is still waiting for me." Mardi wiped his tears, looking heartbroken.

"You have contact with the Kingdom of Stormwind?" Zul'ra raised an eyebrow as he watched the man wipe his eyes. To be honest, he didn't sympathize with this Trade Prince, but he couldn't deny that the tears were real; losing such a massive amount of wealth and power was enough to make anyone's heart ache.

"Yes. The Horde fought bravely, but the Alliance ultimately had the last laugh. However, they paid a heavy price. Yes, you should know this—the Alliance captured many Orcs!" Mardi looked at Zul'ra cautiously.

"And then..." Zul'ra watched the wary Goblin, his thick eyebrows arching. This Mardi was quite fond of playing mind games.

"Those Orcs are big eaters. Of course, they can fight, and they're decent enough at manual labor, but I must say, sending them into the mines is far more sensible than keeping them in internment camps. Yet, the King of Lordaeron chose to keep them in camps and split the costs among the other Alliance nations." Mardi watched Zul'ra's expression as he described the political landscape of the Alliance.

"Gilneas, Stromgarde, and the Elves in the north are very dissatisfied with this situation. Oh, right, perhaps you don't know—the Orcs have returned from the Dark Portal. They erupted into a great war with the Alliance and even destroyed Dalaran. The Alliance is preparing to organize an army to counter-attack their world..."