The troops Sylvanas led soon reached the edge of Ban'dinoriel. After meeting up with the patrolling Farstriders, she immediately used a magical communication device to contact Lor'themar, who was still up ahead.
"My lady, have you arrived?"
"Lor'themar, I'm back. Have everyone get ready and wait for my orders."
Not long after she spoke with Lor'themar, Arthas appeared in her field of vision. He galloped toward her and soon reined in his horse in front of the barrier.
"Are you hurt?"
As Arthas dismounted, Sylvanas noticed the vicious claw marks on the back of his armor.
"By the Holy Light's grace, no." Arthas tossed Halazzi's head onto the ground. "A 'lynx' I just hunted. Unfortunately, I smashed his body to pieces."
Sylvanas looked at their formidable enemy's head and nudged it with her foot, sounding rather surprised. "You killed that priest? How did you do it?"
She believed that even at full strength, she could only hold her own against this divinely blessed priest in the dark jungle. To kill him, she would have needed to lay traps beforehand and make thorough preparations just to stand a chance.
Yet a paladin who wasn't particularly fast, and should have been little more than a sitting duck, had actually turned the tables and killed him? Sylvanas couldn't understand it.
"He was pretty fast, but he couldn't take much punishment, so I found a way to slow him down," Arthas explained casually. "You can tell the frontline troops to retreat now. Hurry-the trolls should already know their priest failed."
"Of course." After sending Lor'themar the order to withdraw, Sylvanas lifted the troll priest's head. "This is a great achievement. We haven't killed a high-ranking priest of the loa in thousands of years. I think even the Silvermoon Council will have to be generous with their rewards when they see this."
"Unfortunately, I'm not a ranger of Silvermoon City, so I can't claim that reward," Arthas joked. "And I don't make a habit of collecting my enemies' heads."
"Nor do I make a habit of stealing other people's trophies." Sylvanas took a long spear from one of her subordinates, impaled the troll priest's head on it, and planted it atop the fortress's high wall. "But this fellow's head should teach those trolls a lesson. Let's leave him hanging here for now."
"But I won't let your efforts go unrewarded. Once the battle is over, I sincerely invite you to visit Windrunner Manor. Even if the Silvermoon Council gives you no payment, I'll offer you some personal thanks and compensation."
An unusual gleam shone in Sylvanas's eyes-this human prince was just her kind of person. How long had it been since she had met a human so interesting and powerful? Five hundred years? A thousand?
And he was a prince, too. Perhaps this could provide an opening for the elves to rediscover the world?
Sylvanas had long since grown tired of the elves' arrogance and pride. Although many of their more open-minded members, herself included, felt that teaching humans magic all those years ago had been a mistake, times had changed. The elves no longer stood above everyone else.
"Once we've made those troll scum pay, I'll accept your invitation, my lady."
While they waited for the troops to withdraw inside the Ban'dinoriel Barrier, Arthas discarded his torn blue-and-gold cloak and took a spare suit of armor from the Space Pouch hanging from his belt.
Space Pouches were a prized creation of the mages. Making one required exceptional mastery of both enchanting and spatial magic, so they were expensive.
Their storage capacity wasn't especially large, though. Most held only a few cubic meters and couldn't accommodate anything too big.
According to the mages, too much space would make a pouch unstable. If you didn't want your belongings transported to some strange corner of the Twisting Nether, you shouldn't make the pouch too large.
It was also best not to put dangerous, unstable magical items inside. Otherwise, all your personal possessions might be annihilated in a magical explosion.
Right, a typical magical creation: useful, mysterious, and dangerous.
There was also the spatial folding technology used by goblins and gnomes. Who knew how they had developed such advanced technology in an era when even steam technology had yet to become widespread-but the risks of those containers were probably a dozen or more times greater than those of magical creations.
After changing into fresh armor, Arthas entered Farstrider Hold's command room, where Sylvanas was making strategic preparations.
When she saw Arthas arrive, she nodded in acknowledgment. "You're here. Our scouts just sent word that the trolls are gathering an army, roughly eight thousand strong."
"It looks like the trolls want revenge for their high-ranking priest."
Arthas wasn't surprised. Having paid such a heavy price, Zul'jin certainly wouldn't give up until he either achieved his objective or suffered devastating losses.
Over eight thousand trolls was a sizable force, but it wasn't their full strength, which meant Zul'jin didn't intend to fight to the death. If he truly staked everything on this attack and sent an army of tens of thousands, their garrison of just over two thousand would have little chance of survival, even with the Ban'dinoriel Barrier.
The Ban'dinoriel Barrier would greatly weaken enemy spellcasters and other supernatural powers, but it wasn't a magical wall. It couldn't keep the trolls out entirely, and their ordinary troops would still be able to fight after entering it.
Still, this should be Zul'jin's final attempt. He was surely still busy rebuilding his Troll Empire. If his losses grew too great, the tribes he had worked so hard to gather might abandon him again.
If they could deal this troll army a crushing blow, Zul'jin's prestige would certainly suffer, forcing him to spend more time consolidating his position.
Arthas's plans for the next few years didn't include a mutually destructive war with the Amani Trolls. Killing one of their high-ranking priests this time was already an enormous gain.
Now, as long as he helped the elves withstand the trolls' assault, he could continue laying his plans in the Eastern Kingdoms and prepare for another crucial matter.
After helping arrange the defenses, Sylvanas sought out Arthas alone. "I think it's time to deal with my curse. I don't want to sit around in the rear while the Farstriders fight for their lives."
"I'll do my best, my lady, but the process probably won't be very easy."
Arthas tried to explain to the Ranger-General how painful dispelling a demigod-level curse could be, but Sylvanas seemed utterly unconcerned.
"The Windrunner family has never feared a little pain, Your Highness. Go ahead with the treatment."
-Half an hour later, Sylvanas regretted it.
"Damn it! Are you still not done?!"
The elegant lady couldn't stop herself from swearing. Arthas's methods were simply too brutal. Compared with that of other priests and paladins, his power of the Holy Light was like a sharp knife, forcibly scraping the curse off her bit by bit.
"Relax, my lady."
"How much longer do you need?!"
"Maybe another hour?" Arthas frowned as he studied the traces of the curse. Even Holy Light of this purity can't erase it quickly?
So he increased the concentration of his holy light a little more.
"Aah!!! Are you sure you're dispelling the curse and not trying to kill me?! This is even worse than before!"
Cold sweat covered Sylvanas's forehead. That searing, tearing sensation even surged into her heart, locked in a tug-of-war with the curse. She couldn't understand why Arthas's holy light felt like raging fire, without the slightest hint of gentleness.
Arthas wasn't having an easy time either. He had to control his power with extreme care to avoid actually turning Sylvanas into a Light Elf. If he did, she would surely come after him with murderous intent.
Fortunately, apart from being "somewhat" painful, the entire process caused no more serious side effects.
When Sylvanas heard Arthas say it was over, she practically melted into her chair. With difficulty, she raised a hand and pointed at him. "I... I'm never coming to you for any kind of healing again... This was nothing short of torture."
Arthas gave a slightly awkward smile. "Actually, if this curse hadn't been so difficult to dispel, it wouldn't normally hurt this much."
Sylvanas rolled her eyes. She would never believe Arthas's nonsense again. She felt as though she had just walked out of an archmage's Flamestrike. This fellow is actually a mage specializing in elemental magic, isn't he?
"Rest for a while." After confirming that the curse was completely gone, Arthas beat a hasty retreat. Why stay here and put up with Sylvanas's scowls?
Before you continue