Northrend

"Arthas actually asked me to come in person. There's still so much to deal with in Stormwind City, and then he went and ran off to Northrend himself?"

Varian shook his head. He was so busy he hardly even had time for his wife and child, but he had promised Arthas a few favors. Besides, this was primarily a mission to forge an alliance, so there was nothing wrong with his serving as its representative.

Jaina stood on the bridge, leaning on her staff and facing the salty, faintly fishy sea breeze, her thoughts a mystery.

"Jaina?"

"Ah! Sorry, Varian. I was a little distracted," Jaina answered apologetically.

"I bet you're thinking about someone," Varian teased. He was eager for a chance to poke fun at Arthas. "He's certainly irresponsible, running off on his own and leaving us to handle his troubles."

"I don't know, either. But honestly, I have a lot of questions about what Arthas is doing this time." Surprisingly, Jaina did not protest, simply voicing her thoughts quietly. "You should know Northrend isn't a pleasant place."

"The lass is right. Northrend's colder than Dun Morogh, and fierce beasts are everywhere. There are even flying dragons I've never seen before." Muradin moved to one side, holding on to the railing. Despite all his voyages, he still had not grown accustomed to traveling by ship.

"Ah... those are the least of our worries, Muradin." Jaina sighed. "What Dalaran's records say about Northrend can essentially be summed up in a few words."

"Such as?" Varian's interest was piqued. As a king, he had far less experience adventuring than Muradin or Jaina.

"Dangerous, cold, and eerie. Apparently, some mages have even sighted dragons there. Even the Kirin Tor's finest mages are unwilling to spend a single day in that frozen land."

Muradin nodded. "Jaina's right. I went there once with a few old friends-and we came within a hair's breadth of all vanishing into the ice and snow."

"Could you tell me what you saw? As you both know, I was crowned king in my teens, so I've hardly ever gone adventuring. At most, I've hunted around the outskirts of Lordaeron and Stormwind City." Varian hoped their stories would bring a little entertainment to the dull voyage.

"Of course! What are adventures for if not sharing? Though the lass has probably only read about it in books, never actually stood on the snowfields of the far north."

Jaina nodded. Although she knew something about the place, she had never been there herself.

"Then let's start with our landing. We'd barely stepped ashore, before we'd even found a place to camp, when naga attacked us..."

"Your Highness, look over there." Thassarian handed Arthas his spyglass. "I've never seen buildings like those. Are they what we're looking for?"

"Those are ancient elven ruins, lad!" Brann declared bluntly before anyone else could answer. His personal spyglass was far better than Lordaeron's standard-issue model. "Legend has it the elves ruled this continent in ancient times. Even now, we can glimpse a little of their ancient empire's glory."

"Elves? The Quel'dorei of Quel'Thalas?" Before becoming a soldier, Thassarian had been nothing more than a farm boy, and he knew little of such secrets.

"To be precise, the original owners of these ruins were the ancestors of today's high elves." Arthas took the spyglass and looked. Along the coast stood numerous marble structures covered in seaweed and starfish, with seabirds and penguins perched on these white "rocks."

Brann swept his spyglass wildly about, muttering, "Elven ruins on this scale are truly rare in the Eastern Kingdoms. Arthas, how about we..."

"Don't even think about it."

Arthas immediately put an end to Brann's wishful thinking. "Take a closer look. What else is on the shore besides penguins and gulls?"

"Ha! What else could there be? Sea snakes? By Ironforge, there are bloody naga here too?! Do they breed everywhere like trolls? How hasn't this cold weather frozen them to death?!"

Brann spat. Naga, dangerous, intelligent creatures of the deep, often came ashore. To land-dwelling creatures, these powerfully built beings with a talent for magic were nothing short of a disaster.

Naga were also among the things Brann hated most. They were troublesome, exceedingly so, and could send the risks of an expedition soaring.

"Enough, Brann. You promised not to cause me trouble. If we really provoke those naga, our little force will have more than it can handle." Arthas had no desire to antagonize these dangerous amphibious creatures. What he had come to do was dangerous enough already.

"All right, but let me mark it on my map first. Once I've helped you finish your business, I'll come back and see what treasures are waiting for me." Sitting astride his riding goat, Brann scribbled on a map.

"You can do as you please then."

Unable to withstand Brann's endless pleading, Arthas had reluctantly agreed to bring him along just as the poor old dwarf was on the verge of clinging to him and bursting into tears. He had also laid down a rule: under absolutely no circumstances was Brann to go stirring up trouble on his own.

Brann was unlike his elder brother Muradin. When Muradin encountered something dangerous that he could not fathom, he generally remained cautious and observed. Brann, however, lived up to his reputation as an archaeologist. His greatest specialty was, "Oh! Perhaps I should press this button?"

A reckless urge to tempt death burned fiercely in the youngest Bronzebeard brother's heart. The most incomprehensible part was that, in a certain sense, he was actually the hardest of the three brothers to kill.

After all, as far as Arthas knew, there were only two people in all of Azeroth who could blunder into so many "traps," provoke so many "monsters," and still run around full of life.

And even the other one, with his "May the Jade Serpent guide you," fell a little short of Brann.

"Your Highness, we're about to enter the snowfields. The scouts report signs of undead activity deep within them," Thassarian reported to his superior.

Arthas nodded. "Pass the order down. Find somewhere to make camp, and investigate the undead positions thoroughly. Don't venture too far in without knowing what's ahead."

"Speaking of making camp, that's something I'm good at. Why not let me pick an excellent campsite for you?" Brann eagerly tried to show off his skills.

"No, Brann. Thank you for the offer, but the scouts from the Bay of the Sheathed Dagger Fortress have spent years exploring these snowfields. They know where we can find safe shelter."

Arthas tactfully declined Brann's suggestion. He did not want Brann choosing where his troops would camp. They might very well end up pitching their tents right over a crypt fiend nest.

Some things simply had to be believed. The world was just that strange.

After spending an hour establishing a temporary camp, Arthas sat in his tent, carefully studying the map drawn by the scouts.

He already had a rough plan in mind. Once they pinpointed Mal'Ganis's location, they could begin.

Brann Bronzebeard quietly crept up to Arthas's tent. There was something he had been wanting to say, but he had not found an opportunity to bring it up without making the prince's subordinates think he was trying to lead Arthas astray.

The dwarven explorer tiptoed into the tent. Before he could speak, Arthas said, "Brann, there's no need to sneak around like that if you want to see me."

"I just didn't want everyone knowing about it," Brann said, awkwardly rubbing the back of his head. How are this paladin's senses even sharper than an elven ranger's?

"Was there something you wanted to see me about?" Arthas pulled over a chair for Brann, then bent over the sand table and map again.

"You came to Northrend to hunt down a nasty demon, didn't you? I was thinking I might have some information you could use."

Arthas paused. He raised his head and looked at Brann. "What information?"

"Well, I wasn't the one who found it. The last time Muradin came to Northrend, his party ran into trolls and undead too. By a stroke of luck, they captured a troll priest who spoke Dwarvish," Brann explained. "They learned something from that troll-something about a powerful weapon."

Arthas raised an eyebrow. A stroke of luck? He found that rather hard to believe.

"The troll said a powerful artifact lay buried in an ancient cave somewhere in this land. Perhaps it's the key to defeating that demon?" Brann chuckled dryly. "Your warhammer broke, didn't it? I thought that with a suitable weapon, you might be able to beat that Nathra-whatever."

"Nathrezim," Arthas corrected. After hearing Brann's explanation, he joked, "I think you're only telling me this because you want to see an ancient artifact for yourself."

Brann faltered. With Arthas exposing his motives on the spot, he simply stopped worrying about it. "You could say that, sure, but I've got a point too. Let me take you there for a look. Who knows? We might find just what you need to win."

Arthas shook his head with a quiet chuckle. "It's a trap, Brann. One set by that very Nathrezim and his accomplices."

"Huh?"