The Break at Stratholme's Gates

"I naturally haven't forgotten that. Listen, Uther. Now let me tell you about this terrible plague." Arthas began giving Uther a detailed account of the horrors of the Undead Plague.

The female mage cautiously moved closer to Rod and began asking what had happened between him and Arthas in Hearthglen.

"You're lucky you left early, Lady Jaina. Otherwise, you would have witnessed the outbreak of the plague firsthand.

"The villagers who ate that grain immediately turned into undead and began attacking the people around them." Rod held nothing back and told everyone everything that had happened in Hearthglen.

"This is truly horrifying," Jaina said, her face full of lingering fear.

After explaining the Undead Plague, Arthas went to inspect the city gates. There, he saw several crates of grain being transported. A dreadful premonition welled up within him.

He knew this grain all too well. It was the infected grain that had come from Andorhal.

"Oh! No! Damn it, we arrived too late!

"This poisoned grain has already been distributed to the townsfolk. They've already eaten food tainted with the Undead Plague!" Arthas said in unbearable anguish.

He knew perfectly well that once someone ate that stuff, there was no saving them. No one in the entire city could be saved!

"Calm down, child!" Uther said.

Arthas seemed to have made some sort of decision. If all the civilians in the city became infected and turned into Scourge undead, there would be an army of hundreds of thousands of undead. Such an army could drown all of Lordaeron in an instant and overthrow the entire Alliance.

As a prince, as this nation's future ruler, he had to do something for his people.

"Listen to me, Uther. They've already been infected. Though they still look normal on the surface, sooner or later they'll become undead. We must purge this city."

"What? Arthas, how could you entertain such an extreme idea?

"This violates our paladin oath! It also violates the teachings of the Holy Light! This is absolutely not a way to solve the problem!" Uther flatly rejected Arthas's demand to purge the entire city.

"Oaths? Teachings of the Holy Light?" Arthas let out a short, mocking sneer and suddenly pointed at Stratholme.

"When everyone in the city turns into walking corpses, when they rush at our soldiers and tear into the flesh and blood of the living, will your oaths and teachings stop them?

"Uther! Look at reality! Those who ate the grain are already dead!

"It's only a matter of time before they transform! If we don't stop this now,

"then when all of Stratholme's undead pour out, how many soldiers' lives will we have to sacrifice? The entire army of Lordaeron?"

"Arthas, this isn't purification. This is slaughter!" Uther's voice rose as well, filled with grief and fury.

"The Holy Light will never condone such actions! As your mentor and the leader of the Silver Hand, I urge you to stop this mad notion!

"We will seal off the city first and find a way to cure the Undead Plague."

"Unfortunately, Uther, it's already too late. In the name of the future king, I order you to cleanse this city," Arthas said.

"Child, you are not yet my king. And even if you were, I would not obey such an order," Uther shot back at once.

The Arthas of the past would never have dared speak to him like this.

"Then I can only regard your decision as treason."

"Treason! Arthas, have you gone mad?" Uther was utterly shocked. He looked at his disciple in disbelief, as though he could not believe those words had come from the mouth of the humble, courteous, cheerful student he knew.

"That's right! In my capacity as Crown Prince of Lordaeron, I hereby declare that Lord Uther is stripped of all his rights and positions in the Silver Hand," Arthas said firmly.

This decision stunned everyone present! Even the high elves and dwarves who had come to offer support stared at Arthas in utter disbelief.

What kind of joke was this? He was stripping the title of Uther the Lightbringer, one of humanity's five original paladins, a great hero of the Alliance who had rendered tremendous service in the Second War!

"Wait, Arthas, how can you do this?" Even Jaina was stunned.

"This is my decision. Whoever wishes to save this land, follow me. Everyone else can get the hell out of my way," Arthas said.

At this moment, he could not even listen to a word from the woman who had once been his childhood sweetheart and lover.

"Prince Arthas, I ask that you reconsider," Rod said from the side.

"Mage Rod, you joined my army as a mercenary. If you wish to continue this contract and continue serving me,

"then either follow me or leave." Arthas appeared utterly cold and ruthless.

It would have been one thing for the others to oppose him, but Rod had seen the horrors of the Undead Plague. How could he be like this too?

Even Rod felt somewhat uncomfortable hearing those words. What the hell was wrong with this kid? Just a few days ago, he had been humble and polite.

Why was he now lashing out at anyone who tried to persuade him? Was it truly inevitable that he would become the Lich King and fall into becoming a death knight?

Honestly, if he had been transported into this world a little earlier, if his bone dragon and his city had already been developed to their limits, and he had an army along with a group of loyal hero units, Rod would have tried to prevent the tragedy of Stratholme.

But now, forget anything he might say—even the words of his mentor Uther and his lover Jaina could not reach him.

To make an enemy of the prince, summon an undead army, and confront him head-on would undoubtedly be suicidal.

The five hundred skeleton soldiers he had would be torn to pieces by the human soldiers present, and if he summoned undead at a time like this, he would definitely be mistaken for a lackey of the Scourge.

As for staying here to help Arthas massacre the city—what kind of joke was that?

Others might not dare do anything to Arthas for massacring the city because he was a prince, but if Rod took part in it, he would definitely be held accountable afterward.

As for joining Arthas on an expedition to Northrend, Rod had no desire to court death. That was the Capitol of the Scourge.

"Unfortunately, Prince Arthas, our contract was for me to help you fight the Scourge undead, not to slaughter an entire city's civilians," Rod said.

Rod had no desire to do something so thankless. His top priority now was to lie low and build up his city.

"You haven't fulfilled our contract. I won't pay you a single gold coin," Arthas snapped.

"I don't care either! But Arthas, as a friend who has spent the past few days with you, I want to remind you not to fall into the enemy's trap." Rod deliberately emphasized the word "friend."

Arthas had changed so much that Rod could barely recognize him. Why had he changed so drastically in just half a day?