Quel'Thalas

By early the next morning, Arthas and Uther were already on their way to the High Elven kingdom of Quel'Thalas.

As he admired the beautiful scenery and local life along the way, Arthas asked Uther, "Teacher, how many troops from the Ranger Corps will be fighting in Quel'Thalas?"

"They didn't say, but I doubt it will be more than two thousand." Uther offered a fairly conservative estimate.

"No more than two thousand?" Arthas rubbed his chin. "According to our current intelligence, at least five thousand trolls are invading Quel'Thalas."

"That's right, but fortunately, most of them fight as separate clans. Once their casualties grow too high, they'll break and retreat sooner or later."

Uther had fought trolls before and knew something about these savage monsters. Had there not been so many attackers this time, Prince Kael'thas would never have swallowed his pride and asked Lordaeron for help.

Arthas keenly picked up on the discrepancy. "Teacher, doesn't something seem wrong to you? How did the trolls manage to gather so many fighters?"

Uther shared Arthas's doubts. "I find it strange too. In past years, they fielded about two thousand at most. This time, there are more than twice that number."

"Could there be a famine back home?" Arthas joked. Teacher and student exchanged a smile, knowing that was impossible. Trolls did not live by farming, but by fishing and hunting.

All of Quel'Thalas lay beneath a runic barrier called Ban'dinoriel. Not only did it effectively repel foreign invaders, it also suffused their woodlands with the magic of the Sunwell, the source of the High Elves' magical power, keeping their lands fertile, peaceful, and springlike throughout the year.

This was Quel'Thalas, the forest of eternal spring.

After their defeat by the combined human and elven armies, the trolls had retreated into the endless forests. Even so, they still periodically made trouble for the Farstrider rangers patrolling the woods.

For all its power, the Ban'dinoriel barrier had one weakness: it required enormous magical Rune Stones as anchor points to connect to the ley lines, and such precious stones could hardly be placed in every corner of the forest.

As a result, although elven magic and human valor had driven the trolls back toward the mountains deep within the forests, they could still always be found within Quel'Thalas's territory.

This time, however, Arthas found their numbers suspiciously high.

Arthas might have known more about the trolls as a people than some trolls themselves. These forest troll tribes all belonged to the Amani Trolls, who had lived for generations in the forests and foothills of northern Lordaeron. Strictly speaking, the elves were the invaders.

But humans and elves were on the same side now, and these savage forest-dwelling peoples had caused both of them enormous trouble.

That was why humans and elves had first allied to drive the trolls into the deepest reaches of the forest. Yet the trolls had never abandoned their dream of restoring the Amani Empire.

Their former leader, Zul'jin, had lost an arm during the war to retake Quel'Thalas. Later, he had served as a guide for the orcs invading the Eastern Kingdoms, only to disappear into the forest again after another defeat.

All Arthas could say was that these fellows were truly relentless. More than six thousand years had passed since the Troll Wars, and they still had not learned from their repeated failures.

These forest trolls grew weaker with each generation. They might once have been a mighty empire ruling the northern forests, but now they could only hide in their wooden huts day after day, serving their feeble loa.

Their blind worship of gods had often brought enormous trouble to Azeroth.

Trolls did not care whether a god was benevolent or evil. As long as it blessed them and granted them power, they would worship even the Old Gods.

They could even summon evil gods from beyond Azeroth. Faced with such fearless fanatics, what could Arthas do but send the trolls to meet their damned evil gods?

The march from Stratholme to the border of Quel'Thalas would take roughly two days. Apart from the rations and tents they carried, the reinforcements needed no additional supplies.

Once they reached the border checkpoint in Quel'Thalas, the two mages accompanying the army would use the teleportation array there to bring the supplies straight to them.

The advantage of a world with magic was that baggage no longer limited an army's marching speed. The elite reinforcements under Arthas's command, in particular, could reach the border of Quel'Thalas by midnight that very night if they began a forced march at sunrise.

But Arthas was in no hurry. If the elves could not hold out for even two days, sending his small force over would only get them killed.

In truth, the situation might not have been as urgent as Kael'thas's appeal for aid suggested. The Farstrider Ranger Corps really was receiving no support from Silvermoon City, their royal capital, but they were frontline troops who had fought trolls for thousands of years. If they could not withstand an attack by a few thousand trolls, Silvermoon City would long since have become an altar where trolls worshipped their evil gods.

How could Arthas fail to see what the elves were plotting? Prince Kael'thas might genuinely have grieved over the rangers' casualties, but the lofty councilors in Silvermoon City would have been delighted to see the Farstriders suffer even greater losses. That would further weaken their influence at the Silvermoon Court.

Kael'thas's father, the Sun King of the Quel'dorei-the High Elves-was also being kept in the dark by that rotten council. The councilors reported only good news and concealed the bad. His Majesty Anasterian had ruled for thousands of years and was nearing the end of his life, leaving him with little energy to spare for a small band of invading trolls.

Otherwise, Prince Kael'thas would never have traveled all the way to Dalaran, the human kingdom of magic, to "further his studies." That was the official explanation, but in reality, the Silvermoon Council had sidelined him, leaving him no choice but to go to Dalaran.

He was utterly sick of those useless councilors and their constant arrogance. Kael'thas was an exceptionally accomplished mage. Had his position as prince not made it inappropriate for him to become too involved in politics, he would have turned the tables on those councilors long ago.

But he was, after all, the prince of the Quel'dorei. Those councilors cared only about their own interests and could disregard whether the Farstriders lived or died. He could not.

The Farstriders, led by the Ranger-General, made up a large part of Silvermoon City's military strength. If they all lost faith in Silvermoon City, the trolls might truly fight their way to Shepherd's Gate one day!

So he appealed to Quel'Thalas's ally, Lordaeron, for aid. In King Terenas's eyes, this letter from the High Elven prince became an opportunity for his own son to make a name for himself among the kingdoms.

The old king knew his son's abilities well. Arthas lacked nothing except an opportunity like this.