Llane and Lothar walked down the long corridor in gloomy silence. Neither the exquisite carvings inside nor the flowers vying for splendor outside could draw their attention.
The soldiers lining the corridor wore fiery red cloaks and gleaming armor. Such sights had occasionally caught their eyes on past visits, but now that Lothar knew the Stormwind Kingdom would no longer enjoy peace, he saw them only as hindrances on the battlefield.
Those impressive-looking cloaks would hamper the soldiers' movements in a fight to the death, getting in their way. The pristine, finely crafted armor bore not a single scratch, showing that these soldiers were nothing but raw recruits. They possessed combat skills but lacked the resolve to kill. As for the armor itself, it was lavishly decorated yet utterly impractical-a thin layer covered in ornamental patterns that an enemy could practically tear apart.
Seeing this, Lothar thought he would have to remind his friend to replace the Royal Palace guards with battle-ready veterans wherever possible.
They reached the depths of the Royal Palace and arrived at a fortress-like hall. Two Archmages radiating powerful magical energy murmured softly, and the great doors, which normally required fifteen or sixteen burly men to open together, swung gently apart. Llane led Lothar inside without hesitation.
The moment he entered, Llane slumped into a chair beside an enormous table shaped like a miniature map of the Stormwind Kingdom.
Lothar hurried forward and gently supported him. "Your Majesty!"
"Lothar, I can't believe Medivh would betray the kingdom like this. We've known him for more than thirty years."
Lothar looked with aching sympathy at his exhausted friend, the king to whom he had sworn his loyalty. His lips parted slightly. "Your Majesty, the kingdom is in imminent danger, beset by trouble within and threats without. You must