Wither Council

Several years had passed since his last visit to Maraudon, Nathanos was eager to know what the base in Wailing Caverns looked like. He had asked Belmont several times, and the Forsaken had provided as much detail as possible.

"So far, only the Mage District is missing a supervisor, Master."

"Let's put this issue aside for now," Nathanos waved his hand. "What about the other areas? Are they functioning properly?"

"Everything is fine, Master, everything is fine." Belmont smiled. He could see Nathanos' excitement. Although the Witherer's face was always cold, a person's mood could be seen from their words.

Is there anything unusual about the Wailing Caverns?

"No, Master. While we were away, Veronalara and the others were not idle either. Instead, they led trained soldiers to clear out threats in the territory. I believe she will not let you down."

"Hopefully they won't attract the attention of the Horde and the Alliance while they're on their way."

Belmont nodded, hoping so too. The voyage took a full two weeks, the ship moving slowly due to its single sail, but they should reach their destination safely. Perhaps because this time it wasn't a night voyage, Belmont saw desert and some pyramids in the desert along the way. He asked the Witherer what that place was, but the other didn't answer verbally, instead pointing to the sky. Belmont looked up but saw nothing.

The morning mist dissipated automatically as the sailboat drew closer to its destination, and the veil of veil finally fell.

"Listen, Master."

Even without Belmont's words, Nathanos heard the sounds coming from behind the fog, and he didn't even realize he was smiling. The sounds were deep and slow, carried by the wind, echoing in the fog, making it impossible for him to tell where they were coming from. Was it from inland or from the sea? Were they large waves, or the sound of seawater crashing against the fog? Nathanos listened intently, finally confirming that the sound was coming from the ocean before them. He was approaching the shore, trying to find the answer through the fog: what was this sound, and what did it signify?

They continued to approach, the thick fog around them carrying away the sound, which grew stronger until they finally broke through the "barrier" obscuring their view. It was ships—small transport vessels and simple cruisers. They were moored at a makeshift dock, and several other ships awaiting assembly were stored in factory buildings on the shore.

It seems they didn't disappoint him.

Nathanos's doubts gradually dissipated. "Belmont, raise the banner of the Forsaken, tell them we're home!"

Logged in!

Nathanos leaped ashore, where he was greeted by the Fleet Commander, Tatsel, a Forsaken woman wearing a black captain's hat, her face bearing some bluish tinge from her long stay at sea.

"It is an honor to have you back, Master."

"I have indeed returned!" Nathanos began to examine every Forsaken he could see, as if they were all looking at him.

"How is the progress of the Shadow's End Fortress?"

Upon hearing the Witherer inquire about the progress of the work, Tatsel smiled and said casually, "I believe what you see is better than my words, Master."

Nathanos glanced sideways at the towering fortress. He had already seen it from the ship; its imposing front gate appeared small compared to the high walls of Gilneas, yet the entrance was large enough for four or five ships to pass through simultaneously. Furthermore, the thick outer walls and sturdy architectural style earned Nathanos's nod of approval.

"Some cannons or ballistae are also needed on the high walls."

"You're absolutely right, but those weapons are very valuable, so we've installed them all on our cruisers."

Precious means scarce. Nathanos has returned this time to resolve the remaining issues.

"I want to take a good look around here, Tatsel. I need you to inform all the regional commanders and generals that I am going to hold an important council."

Nathanos suddenly found himself attending a council once more, just like years ago when he and Uther stood in the Lordaeron Throne Room. But this time, he was no longer an observer; he was the initiator of the council. The council, named the "Wither Council," was a meeting of key figures within the Forsaken to decide on Forsaken strategic objectives.

There were no ornate decorations or comfortable seats, only temporary benches and the sound of the waterfall inside Maraudon.

"Everyone's here, very good!" Nathanos nodded in satisfaction. "Then let's begin! Who would like to speak first?"

Belmont had already taken a step, but someone else reached Nathanos before him.

Instructor Rassuvios, clad in blue armor and with a menacing expression, looked as if he were preparing to duel Nathanos, but the Military District commander merely gave his leader a standard salute.

"Reporting to you, Master. The Military District is operating normally, and the Fear Guardians I trained for you are ready to be deployed to the battlefield at any time."

"I saw it when I passed through the Military District. You did a good job, Rassuvios. However, the purpose of holding the 'Wither Council' is not to test the results, but to discuss the problems. Are there any difficulties that need to be resolved in the Military District?"

The instructor lowered his head, a gesture that indicated a problem needed to be addressed.

"Speak!"

"Yes, Master." Rassuvios bowed. "There is only one problem that needs to be solved: our weapons are too outdated, and we need an arsenal."

"Very good, next." The Witherer nodded slightly to Rassuvios. He needed this feedback.

Nathanos had never had any patience for politics. Whenever he thought back to the early days of the Alliance, Nathanos had a headache. In his opinion, if the rulers of the various kingdoms had been able to work together and form an alliance more quickly, the war against the Orcs would not have been so difficult.

There can be debates, but those who debate must never be thinking only of their own interests. Nathanos vowed that his Wither Council would not become a place for infighting.

"Master of the Witherer." Belmont stood where Rassuvios had just spoken. He seemed annoyed that he was the second person to speak. "The intelligence organization 'Shadowblade,' which is absolutely loyal to you, is basically operational. Its members are all carefully selected and will never betray you. The problem is that we are still short-handed, and we have too few spies in various regions."

"Intelligence work in the Shadow District is very important to us. Your question is good. You may leave now."

The third person to come up and report was Veronalara, which surprised Nathanos, who had thought the Dark Ranger wasn't enthusiastic about the meeting.

"I'm glad you're back, Lord the Witherer. What I want to report now concerns only the Dark Ranger forces loyal to you. Our problem isn't weapons or manpower, but the environment. The Wailing Caverns only has sand, which isn't conducive to Ranger recruits. We need more diverse environments—forests, plains, even highlands."

She left after speaking, without waiting for Nathanos's response.

Nathanos disliked looking down on others, but Gizzlok, the supervisor of the Artisan District, forced him to do so; this Goblins was supposed to be the only living being in Maraudon.

At that moment, he grinned at the Witherer, and Nathanos had a vague feeling that he had come to ask for money.

"Master of the Witherer." Gizzlok addressed him very respectfully, but if given enough money, he would call him "father" as well. "The Artisan District has ample funds and plenty of manpower, there's just one problem..." He began to stammer.

"Explain!"

"Yes, yes!" the Goblins nodded hurriedly. "It's just that I need more subordinates who understand engineering and architecture. Training apprentices takes a lot of time, so... so I'm asking you to let me recruit my own kind..."

"Absolutely not!" Nathanos's command echoed like a stern dogma. He set aside the questions raised by the other supervisors for the time being, intending to discuss them later, but Gizzlok's question overlooked a crucial point: the Forsaken must never be exposed to the world. Recruiting those Goblins meant telling them this secret, and Nathanos had no belief that Goblins could keep it a secret.

Gizzlok's ears drooped, and he shrank back to his previous position. Nathanos sighed; his tone had indeed been too harsh.

"However, I can allow you to start your own company outside."

The gloom on the Goblins craftsman's face turned into surprise in a second.

"Master!" Belmont exclaimed in confusion, but before he could ask a question, Nathanos stopped him.

"However, there are a few requirements: First, you cannot reveal information about the Forsaken to your employees, nor can you easily expose your identity. Second, your company must not only be responsible for providing the Forsaken with what they need, but also secretly seize resources controlled by the Alliance or the Horde."

"No problem, no problem!" Gizzlok quickly returned to his position, afraid that Nathanos might suddenly change his mind.

Goblins artisans were pondering what to name their company, Nathanos had already set his sights on the last person. He sat beside Gizzlok, head bowed and silent.

"Nathos?" Nathanos called his name, and the man immediately looked up. "Don't you have anything to say?"

Nathos Abraham has relinquished the title of "Plaguebringer," but he cannot escape the fact that he was once a member of the Scourge. Other members, such as Veronalara and Rassuvios, have been quite unfriendly towards him.

"There are indeed some problems in the Alchemy District, sir."

Tell me about it.

"Materials, and books. There are too few herbs to gather in Maraudon, and alchemy books are scarce here."

"This is a problem that needs to be addressed immediately," Nathanos nodded. The Witherer's eyes swept around; apart from the Mage District, which was not yet fully operational and had no supervisor, all the other areas had reported on their progress.

Despite Nathanos's best efforts to prevent it, it happened anyway. They then discussed how to resolve the issue, but unfortunately, they initially only spoke about their own regional interests. For example, Rassuvios suggested establishing an armory in the Military District, Veronalara argued that the Dark Ranger shouldn't be confined to the Wailing Caverns, and Gizzlok repeatedly emphasized the issue of funding. Nathos was the least vocal, only expressing a desire for a plot of land with a suitable environment to cultivate the herbs he needed.

It seems that all the managers feel their needs should be met.

Nassamni observed these discussions with a mixture of amusement and respect, often finding himself drawn into their debates. Sometimes he was seen as someone familiar with such situations, other times he was expected to offer advice as an observer, and still other times he was cunningly suggested that as the leader of the Forsaken, he had the right to make certain decisions.

"Alright!" Nathanos shouted, and the conflict was finally over. "Very well, now it's my turn to speak."

All the members of parliament nodded.

"I anticipated this argument would erupt between you, and I knew you couldn't resolve it, because when someone puts their own interests first, they will never back down." Nathanos walked to the center of the council. "I hope you remember that solving problems alone is not enough. Rassuvios said he needed an armory, so the Artisan District's abundant equipment and resources can meet your needs. Veronalara wanted the Dark Ranger to go out and train, so they can gather herbs along the way while they're out there... You can seek help from your colleagues for all your needs, but all I see is you arguing."

Nathanos stared at Nathos. "If we cannot trust each other, the Forsaken's path will be extremely difficult." He turned and leaned forward towards Veronalara. "You all must understand this. We are not merely bloodthirsty Undead, nor are we scheming living beings. We are the Forsaken!" His last words were spoken with great emphasis, filling the council with silence as everyone awaited Nathanos's guidance. "Compared to the Scourge, we lack numerical superiority; compared to the Horde and the Alliance, we find it difficult to obtain help from other races. We can only... rely on ourselves."