Daphne's troops had already charged through the enemy lines—genuine Frostsaber riders, fast and powerful. That was the Frostsabers' strength, and why Azar had chosen them as mounts for his cavalry. Charge, punch through the formation, Rupture, pursue: that was the style Azar had set for his cavalry. They struck like fire and moved like the wind. Of course, the Zandalari were the ruling class of the Dark Empire, and it was only natural that they had some tricks up their sleeves. Just when everyone thought the battle was all but won, trouble broke out on the left flank!
A vast bank of dark clouds appeared in the sky, hanging over the army on the left. No—that wasn't a cloud. It was the Zandalari's Bat Legion! Their sudden appearance caught the Elven troops off guard, inflicting heavy casualties and leaving the front line on the verge of collapse.
"Azar, what do we do?" Queen Azshara had also grasped how dire the situation was. She sent the question to Azar in a quiet thought-whisper.
"Good! I've been waiting for you to show yourselves!" Azar reassured his wife with his actions.
"Legolas! It's up to you!"
"Yes, Your Highness!" a clear voice answered.
"Brothers and sisters, it's time to show them what we can do."
Mages had enough range to hit airborne targets, but their attack speed was a serious weakness. Archers were just the opposite. The Zandalari had capable commanders, too, and knew how to make full use of their numerical advantage by striking at the enemy's weak points. But today was destined to be the day Legolas and his Elven Sharpshooter Corps made their name. Ground forces would defeat an air force, breaking the old record of never winning against one. In the past, if they couldn't win, they could always run. Today, they couldn't even escape. No one knew what sort of weapon the enemy was using, but it was fast and accurate. Rows of Night Elves raised their weapons toward the sky. They barely seemed to move, yet a moment later, bats began falling from the sky in droves. They'd fallen from such a height; surely they were dead. And even if a few were lucky enough to survive, with the ground below packed full of troops, how could they possibly live?
"Azar, what kind of weapon is that?"
"Mother, I know! It's a gun! The Mage Research Institute's newest model. It has a long range and packs a punch." Sophia answered before anyone else could.
"Oh? How does it hurt people?"
"You can think of it as an iron ball wrapped in Arcane Magic. The principle is complicated. I'll explain it when we get home." Sophia watched the battlefield, excited, and had no interest in giving a fuller explanation.
The couple exchanged a glance. They both read the same message in each other's eyes, nodded in perfect understanding, and dropped the subject. What were they doing? The sort of thing any parents would do, of course. Sophia had remained calm even at the fiercest point of the battle, so why had she stood up and started paying attention as soon as Legolas appeared?
The Zandalari's last resort had failed as well. When their leader, Zul'Krak, saw the final bat fall, he knew their cause was lost. The Zandalari era was over; the Night Elves, the Kaldorei, would rule from now on. There was no point in continuing the fight. It would only make the Zandalari people shed more blood. So they raised the white flag, and the Trolls surrendered. The victors' cheers rang across the sky. The defeated could only accept this humiliating reality, lay down their weapons, and form up in silence to surrender.
"Zul'Krak, Jin'rokh, welcome." Azar bowed to the two representatives. As the victor, he had no need to bow, but Azar believed it was a mark of civilization. Civilization was the future; war was merely a means of bringing it about. He wanted to proclaim the Kaldorei's success through civilized customs unlike those of the past, and he had successfully convinced everyone. So today, he would bow first. The two Zandalari envoys were bewildered. What did this mean?
"Don't misunderstand. The battle's over, but you are still the Zandalari chief and general. You deserve the proper courtesies." Azar saw their confusion and explained.
The two men felt a little more at ease. It was recognition of their status, and an accepted custom among the nobility. Nobles could fight. If you were stronger and won, I would admit defeat, but I would still be a noble. Rulers were nobles, too, so the same rule applied.
Negotiations were dull, all give and take in pursuit of self-interest. In the end, the Zandalari handed over all their texts, including those on witchcraft, geography, and history, as well as their collection of Mogu writings, and disbanded their army. The great Elven queen allowed the Zandalari to remain, recognized Zul'Krak as their chief, and granted them the land south of the Zandalari Mountains to live and multiply. Defeated, the Zandalari Trolls began their migration. They would go to Gurubashi territory, carrying deep-seated hatred in the heart of every Zandalari Troll. As victors, the Night Elves gained everything: land, wealth, and knowledge. Their doctrine of racial purity gained further ground, and they began to rule the world. At the same time, they had to take on the responsibilities and duties of a ruling class: exploring the world and protecting it.
Toward weaker races, they showed their peaceful and gentle side: Faerie Dragons, Chimeras, Dryads, and others. With the powerful yet gentle Pandaren, they pursued all-around diplomatic cooperation, forming an alliance to jointly guard against a possible counterattack by the Insectoids. War filled the world with vitality. But peace could do the same. The Kaldorei entered a long era of peace, yet they remained eager to explore, reaching into every corner of the world and continuing to improve themselves. They needed time to address their greatest problem: a shortage of population.
Azar and Queen Azshara had reconciled, to the delight of all Kaldorei commoners. Azar returned to the capital, and almost everyone came to welcome the great Prince back. They knew that it was thanks to him that the empire had gained its second jewel, Eldre'Thalas; that it had a steady supply of menial laborers in the form of Quillboar and Centaur, as well as Troll prisoners of war; and that it had ultimately won the decisive battle against the Zandalari. The Amani giants, too, had been driven back into the forest to lick their wounds. In the Kaldorei realm, if Queen Azshara embodied beauty and wisdom, then the Prince embodied strength and victory. Now he had returned and taken up residence in the queen's bedchamber. With him there, the empire's rule was as solid as a rock. He and the queen personally hung Quel'Delar and Quel'Serrar, symbols of sovereign power, from their daughter Sophia's waist. This marked the beginning of Sophia's rule over the entire Kaldorei Empire and the dawn of a new era. They, too, would embark on new pursuits: one would study Arcane Magic, the other seek enlightenment in the martial path.
After dinner, Azar sat before the fireplace, engrossed in a new book by Saruman. Azshara brought him a glass of Morning Dew Wine and sat beside him, reading along. Sophia came over, too, and sat on the floor like a little girl, resting her chin on her father's thigh as she gazed up at her parents with a smile. Flames danced in the hearth, their warmth enveloping the family. Azar looked up at his wife, then at his daughter, and smiled. Happiness could be this simple.
If I could, I would ask time to stop at this very moment. I would pay any price for it—even my life!
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