A Card

The sound of waves crashing against the rocks reached his ears. Damp sea wind, heavy with the salty tang of the ocean, filled his nose. Everything felt so real, without the slightest hint of anything out of place.

Greymane Manor stood atop a towering hill. Its oak-and-stone construction lent it a solemn air; even the red roses beloved by the people of Gilneas couldn't make the manor seem welcoming. The grounds were unusually quiet just then. Even the servants walking through them seemed unusually cautious, afraid to disturb their young master.

Liam Greymane sat atop the manor's outer wall. He drew his gaze back from the sea, his numb expression easing as he looked down at his arm in confusion.

A parrot with a scarlet body and soft golden-yellow feathers on its belly sat obediently on his arm. It leisurely pecked at an acorn held in its claws.

The parrot was named Coral. It had been a gift from a traveling merchant when Liam was ten. At the time, Coral was still an egg when it was presented to Genn Greymane, King of Gilneas and Liam's father. His father then gave it to Liam as a birthday present that year.

They said there wasn't another parrot with such pure coloring anywhere in the Eastern Kingdoms or Kalimdor. The bird's mysterious origins made it exceptionally rare, and the gift had always been called one of a kind.

Liam no longer doubted that claim in the slightest. A panel of light was now clearly visible above the parrot's head. Its text belonged to no race in Azeroth, yet he could easily understand what it said.

[Name: Jeweled Macaw]

[Status: Creature, Loyalty 90]

[Origin: The Jade Forest, Pandaria]

[Type: Minion, Beast]

[Rarity: Common]

[Attributes: Attack (1), Health (1), Mana Crystal Cost (1)]

The parrot did have mysterious origins, but it certainly wasn't one of a kind—its rarity was only common. It was obvious that common wasn't a color that meant exceptionally rare.

"Pandaria... The Jade Forest..." These words had once been completely unfamiliar, yet they now appeared clearly in Liam Greymane's mind. They belonged to the memories of a young man from a world called Earth. And there were many more memories like them: stretching back hundreds of thousands of years to the dawn of creation, and forward decades into the future, to the moment when Azeroth stood on the brink of destruction...

But Liam was one hundred percent certain that he wasn't in some sort of game. He and Coral were flesh and blood, and the world around him felt utterly real.

The tangled memories made Liam's mind increasingly muddled, and he couldn't yet sort them out. Fortunately, that hollow feeling in his head had finally gone away. At last, he could turn his attention to thinking carefully about his own future and that of his kingdom.

He turned his palm over, and a card about half the size of his hand appeared in it. Its background was golden yellow, with a silver dragon embossed around the edges. Made of neither gold nor jade, the card looked extravagantly luxurious, and exuded an air of mysterious power.

[Name: Prince Liam]

[Status: Card]

[Origin: Kingdom of Gilneas]

[Type: Minion]

[Rarity: Legendary]

[Attributes: Attack (?), Health (?), Mana Crystal Cost (5)]

[Skill: Grants a minion with a Mana Crystal Cost of (1) a special ability, allowing it to transform into a random Legendary minion and gain most of that Legendary minion's abilities.]

"This must be the color that really means one of a kind. Prince Liam... Does that mean me?"

As he stared at the orange gem embedded in the center of the card, Liam silently recalled what had happened. Ever since he'd found the card, his memories had been in disarray. He'd sat on the wall in a daze all afternoon, and it wasn't until the sun began to set that he'd finally regained a little clarity.

"Eighteen more years? I'll be thirty-two by then. I wouldn't exactly have died young..." Liam shook his head with a bitter smile, unsure whether he should feel relieved or heartsick about his future.

In his memories, the Dark Portal opened in year 28. Eighteen years from now, the Kingdom of Gilneas would be attacked by the Forsaken, and even its capital would briefly fall into enemy hands. Liam would lead the charge in the battle to reclaim the city, rallying the people of Gilneas to drive back the invaders. But he would die on the spot after taking a poisoned arrow meant for his father.

That battle would turn his isolationist father from a cautious dove into an aggressive hawk. He would join the Alliance and, for a time, become its blade, clashing with Sylvanas again and again in a series of battles that ended without a victor.

"Even after all those years, I'm still this weak? I can't even protect my own country and people! Is this really the only ending for a prince who tries to serve his people well?"

Liam thought of Arthas. They were both princes of human kingdoms, both loved their people deeply, and both had been entrusted with heavy burdens in a crisis. And when a great enemy appeared, both could only lament their lack of strength. How alike it all was!

Perhaps the only difference was that Arthas was born a prince of the powerful Kingdom of Lordaeron, the picture of a wealthy, handsome heir, while Liam had been born in Gilneas—a kingdom squeezed dry and forced out of the Alliance. Unless he "died for his country," he would be nothing more than some forgotten prince from the back alleys...

But Liam wouldn't follow the same path now!

If Arthas had seen the future decades ahead while standing before the gates of Stratholme, just as Liam had, would he still have chosen to burn the city and gone all the way down the road to ruin?

"But there's one way we're different." Thinking of Arthas, who had been born the same year as him, Liam's lips curled into a faint smile.

"I still have more than a decade. If I'm strong enough, the kingdom won't need to rely on the Worgen to defend the Greymane Wall... No, that's not right! The Greymane Wall and Biting Reef are both chains clamped around the kingdom's neck. They've suppressed the wolfish nature hidden in the blood of the Gilnean people! My father's like that, Uncle Crowley's like that, and so am I. Even... Uncle Godfrey's the same, really..."

Thinking of Vincent Godfrey's "betrayal," Liam felt a pang of regret.

Genn Greymane, Vincent Godfrey, and Darius Crowley were like the three legs of a tripod supporting the Kingdom of Gilneas. The two lords, one a man of letters and the other a man of arms, supported Liam's father, and their strength certainly didn't rank near the bottom among the Seven Kingdoms... No, there were only six kingdoms now.

It was a shame that Vincent Godfrey and Darius Crowley, two men of equal talent, were like opposite poles that couldn't coexist. That was one of the causes of Gilneas's later tragedy.

Vincent Godfrey was like the "humanity" Genn displayed to the world: level-headed, cautious, restrained, firmly committed to the supremacy of humankind, and forceful in his treatment of other races.

Darius Crowley was like the "wolf" Genn kept hidden inside: wild, ambitious, resolute, and concerned only with the interests of the people, without regard for race or class.

People like them were never going to coexist, just as Genn's contradictory nature meant that one upheaval could make him change completely, never to turn back!

With the Alliance of Lordaeron pressing from outside and the kingdom unstable within, King Genn still lacked the strength and iron will to keep the different factions firmly in check... Liam realized he no longer objected quite so strongly to his father's isolationist policy. On the contrary, he even admired that streak of ruthless determination.

Anyone with eyes could see that the cost of building the Greymane Wall wasn't much less than the aid demanded by the Alliance of Lordaeron. In the end, all it amounted to was a few shoddily built internment camps and a modestly sized Watch Keep.

What the Greymane Wall was really meant to protect was the lives of the people of Gilneas. Without it, they would have become a buffer and cannon fodder between the Alliance of Lordaeron and the Horde.

But good intentions hadn't led to a good outcome. The Scourge invasion and the Worgen curse struck one after another, splitting apart the last unspoiled land in Gilneas. Its common folk were driven from their homes and lost everything.

Gilneas was a country of extremes.

It had the strongest people, yet its people were at constant odds because they belonged to two opposing schools of thought. They only stood together when facing an outside enemy. Brothers fighting within the family—that was exactly the kind of situation they were in.

It also had the best location and a natural harbor. To the north lay the Kingdom of Lordaeron, with its plains ringed by mountains. Gilneas could have been the largest port on the northern continent, but Biting Reef prevented large ships from freely coming and going, robbing the kingdom of its leverage over Lordaeron.

It had powerful heroes, but the three finest among them didn't count... All right, there was only the madman Arugal left. Liam felt a little uneasy thinking about that. He couldn't honestly argue the point: what Gilneas lacked most now was top-tier power, and that was the greatest tragedy of the kingdom!

In a time of chaos, without powerful fighters to deter others, a country could only become prey in their eyes!

It was a shame that Genn Greymane wouldn't truly understand this until more than a decade later, after losing both his son and his country. Only then would he transform into the true Wolf King...

But Liam wouldn't wait. He was a wolf, born one. He might only be a cub, but he would never be anyone's prey!

He'd once tried to suppress the resentment in his heart, but merging with another person's memories had awakened the wolf in his blood. He would no longer cling to old ways and let his homeland be destroyed by war.

He turned his gaze to the distant, heaving sea and murmured under his breath.

"The Greymane Wall can't be stopped from being built now, so I'll make this sea part of my territory! One day, I'll tear down that wall and lead the people of Gilneas out—never as refugees!"