The Eastern Kingdoms were now dotted with countless internment camps for Orcs. Aside from Durnholde Keep, where the "World Shaman" was raised, one of the most notable was the Lordaeron Internment Camp, built not far outside Dalaran.
The camp fell under Dalaran's jurisdiction. Though it was small, it was one of the finest "research institutions" for Orcs in all of Azeroth. It would later lie abandoned for a time because of Thrall's campaign to free the Orcs, but flourish again with the emergence of the new species known as the Forsaken.
Keeping large numbers of prisoners of war right on their doorstep for "research"—Dalaran's mages were the very definition of people who brought disaster upon themselves.
With memories of the next thirty years now in his mind, Liam most wanted to see the Orcs who would shape the course of history. He had lived nearby for years. If he didn't take the chance to see the Orcs at their lowest, then what was the point of spending three years in the Hillsbrad Foothills?
So, more than a year ago, when Liam and Wilton were granted permission to travel for training, the first thing they did was visit Durnholde Keep, the closest internment camp to the manor.
It was every bit as impressive as its reputation suggested. Built with all the resources of the Alliance of Lordaeron, it was no exaggeration to call it the most impregnable fortress around. And under Blackmoore's scheming tutelage, the Orcs there weren't nearly as listless as the stories claimed. In some ways, they resembled the warlike Orcs Liam remembered.
The two of them even saw the legendary Thrall. The ten-year-old Orc boy showed none of the "Chosen One" aura or "Warchief of the Horde" presence he would later have, leaving Liam thoroughly disappointed. Wilton, who had come along with him, was utterly bewildered. He couldn't understand why Liam was sighing and shaking his head at an Orc child, looking so dejected.
After accompanying Liam to Durnholde Keep once, Wilton lost all interest in the Orcs. His curiosity had come and gone in a flash. He flatly refused Liam's invitation to visit those "weak" Orcs, saying, "I've seen the best. That's enough."
The scars the Second War had left on Azeroth were gradually healing. The Orcs who remained in Azeroth now really were as listless as animals in a zoo. It was no wonder Wilton had lost interest after seeing those "green monsters who no longer posed a threat" just once. It was a common belief among the humans of Azeroth: "The Orcs are finished."
Hard as it was to believe, the Orcs—the most aggressive race on both Draenor and Azeroth—had now lost all desire to fight. This strange phenomenon had baffled many people, leaving the leaders of the Alliance of Lordaeron completely at a loss.
The Orcs' decline wasn't just due to the shadow of defeat or their circumstances as prisoners. The biggest problem was the aftereffects of the Blood of Mannoroth on the Orc people!
At first, some people thought a strange disease that infected only Orcs had made them so drowsy and lethargic. But Antonidas, the leader of Dalaran, saw things differently. He believed the Blood of Mannoroth was only the outward sign of a deeper problem: the Orcs might have been tainted by demons as early as the First War. That was why, even as they gained immense strength, they had also become more violent and cruel.
Taking advantage of the nearby Lordaeron Internment Camp, Antonidas and his apprentices began studying the Orcs' "illness." Once started, the research continued for years.
But Antonidas couldn't find a way to treat the Orcs' condition. Many of his apprentices, along with some prominent leaders of the Alliance, believed that searching for a cure for the Orcs was a dangerous undertaking. Some even resented Antonidas for "squandering the people's resources."
In the end, even Antonidas himself gave up on trying to cure the Orcs' "illness." After repeated failures, even the wisest Archmage came to believe the Orcs were beyond saving. The only way to heal them might be through some kind of "spiritual" force.
When it came to the Orcs, Liam felt like the only sober person in a world of drunkards.
There might never be anyone else in the world who had more faith in the Orcs as a people than he did. Even Orgrim Doomhammer, who was currently in hiding and plotting his return, couldn't imagine how mighty the Orcs would become in the future.
With that in mind, Liam was determined to visit all the internment camps. So, naturally, the Lordaeron Internment Camp was his second stop.
By then, Liam had been training for more than a year, and his Stealth skills were exceptional. His visit to the Lordaeron Internment Camp went smoothly. As Dalaran's major research site, it was certainly not somewhere outsiders could enter freely. But for a rogue, taking a look around the perimeter wasn't much of a problem.
Under cover of night, Liam made a full circuit of the already small camp. Just as the rumors said, the Orcs there were all terribly listless. Even the young and strong moved like they were pushing ninety, looking as though they had one foot in the grave.
After making the rounds and seeing everything he needed to see, Liam was about to leave when he spotted a solitary figure on a small hill outside the camp. A blonde girl in a pale purple mage's robe sat on the grass with her knees drawn up, staring into the distance at the Orcs in the camp.
This was what Jaina Proudmoore had looked like the first time Liam met her, more than a year earlier.
"What are you looking at?" A voice from behind Jaina startled her.
The girl quickly turned toward the voice. A boy in the uniform of an internment camp guard stood there. His black, shoulder-length hair and rugged features gave him a somewhat heroic air. He didn't look like a bad person.
Of course, Jaina didn't judge people by their appearance. She still had to be cautious.
"Are you a new guard? I haven't seen you before." Ever since she'd seen the Orcs at an internment camp on her way to Dalaran to study, Jaina had liked to visit when she was in a bad mood. She brought things for the elderly and frail Orcs, or those with children. Seeing their grateful smiles always lifted her spirits.
After taking care of that, she liked to watch these "people" who were so different from her from afar, observing their lives and every little thing they did. She could never understand how these frail, feeble people could have committed so many bloody atrocities.
Kul Tiras's fleet... her brother... her father, blinded by hatred...
The question had troubled her for a long time, but she had never found an answer. It wasn't until Arthas had brought her to this internment camp last time that she began to suspect the answer lay within this little camp, even though she couldn't help feeling repulsed by it.
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