Thrall Rescued

The cold wind howled, lashing every face like steel blades cutting flesh. All eyes watched the center of the battlefield anxiously. Beneath the feet of the gray-blue dragon, the Warchief of the Horde was personally mediating the dispute. Would it be war, or peace?

Before everyone's eyes, Zul'ra arrived on dragonback. As the mediator, he successfully intimidated both sides, and everyone behaved reasonably well. They had no choice but to—Brann and Moira were uncle and niece, while Magni and Muradin were truly dead. Only the two of them remained of the Bronzebeard family in this world.

The murder of Magni and Muradin had been ordered behind the scenes by the Dark Iron Dwarves' elders and carried out by assassins. The assassins were now dead, and Moira was willing to hand over the Dark Iron elders to satisfy her uncle Brann's demands.

"Then, Brann, do you have anything else to say?" Seeing that Moira understood the situation, Zul'ra turned to ask Brann.

"Magni and Muradin were my brothers—your father and uncle. Did you really know nothing about their assassination?" Brann stared intently at Moira, tears in his eyes.

"I swear in the name of the mountains that I knew absolutely nothing." Moira neither dodged nor flinched as she met her uncle's questioning gaze. She truly had not known about it. Perhaps there had been some signs, but at this point, she could only insist that she knew nothing.

"I have nothing more to say." Seeing the firmness in Moira's eyes, Brann looked away. He glanced at the countless Dwarves from both armies confronting each other before Ironforge's gates, then ultimately chose to yield a step rather than let war begin.

"Then what about Ironforge?" Falstad asked gruffly. Moira herself was a Bronzebeard, but she had already become the queen of the