For a moment, the entire Royal Palace buzzed with discussion. Nehil II gently rubbed his brow. With the Stormwind Kingdom's fate serving as a warning, he could hardly blame the nobles for panicking. After careful consideration, he decided to follow his son's advice.
"Enough! Everyone, do not rush to a decision before we understand the situation. Arthas, go to the Holy Light Grand Cathedral and invite Archbishop Faol here so we can ask him."
"Yes, Father!" Arthas bowed slightly, then strode out of the Royal Palace. The nobles fell silent as well, their expressions shifting as they pondered the matter.
Deathwing, in his guise as Prestor, had regained his composure. He had every reason to believe that, after hearing what he had just told them, the nobles would inevitably come into irreconcilable conflict with that powerful human faction. Sometimes, the desires and ambitions in people's hearts were just that straightforward. When their own interests were threatened, all their talk of honor and etiquette was nothing but bullshit.
Only naked bloodshed and fire could settle the dispute, until one side was destroyed.
Time slipped quietly by as everyone waited. Before long, two sets of heavy footsteps sounded outside the great hall, and the nobles turned their eyes toward the entrance.
Beside the young prince walked a man with gray-white hair and a beard, his eyes revealing wisdom and resolve. A few wrinkles marked his face, bearing witness to the years he had lived and the wisdom he had accumulated. Dressed in magnificent archbishop's robes and holding a Magic Staff, he carried himself with solemnity and sanctity in every movement.
The moment Faol entered the great hall, he sensed that something was wrong with the atmosphere. The nobles who had always been so devout in his presence now looked at him with