The King's Duty

Jaina Proudmoore stood in the throne room, observing the assembled nobles, politicians, and delegations of other races. She couldn't help but recall a similar meeting she had held in Theramore.

The hall of Stormwind Keep was very large, but the attendees occupied all the space.

As the ruler of Theramore, Jaina was also invited to this important meeting. With the Dark Portal reopened, Stormwind City was pushed to an even more perilous edge, and many came seeking Varian's guidance on how he intended to handle the crisis.

Sylvanas stood beside the sorceress, her hunter-like eyes scanning the crowd, hoping to find a familiar face besides Jaina. Disappointingly, the leaders of the various races' delegations today were no longer faction leaders; they were representatives appointed by their respective leaders.

It's truly surprising that Magni, Mekkatorque, and Tyrande weren't present at such a crucial moment. Sylvanas knew Varian's personality well; would she be furious if she knew?

"Sylvanas, look there!"

The Female Elf gasped in shock at the sight before her. Following Jaina's directions, Sylvanas spotted a tall, unusual figure among the Night Elf delegation. This figure was always so different; he almost made Sylvanas draw her weapon, but as Female Elf reached for it, she remembered that her weapons had been confiscated upon entering Stormwind Keep.

"A demon!" Sylvanas stared at the creature and said viciously.

"No." Jaina covered her mouth, tilted her head back slightly, and whispered, "That's not a demon. That's a new race discovered by the Night Elf, and they might very well be new allies of the Alliance — the Draenei!"

"Draenei?" Sylvanas repeated the name, scrutinizing the Draenei once more. He did indeed resemble the Eredar of the Burning Legion, leading Sylvanas to wonder if the two were connected. Furthermore, the Draenei was clad entirely in heavy plate armor inlaid with purple gems; his jet-black hair suggested youth, while the tentacles on his jaw made him appear much older.

Sylvanas grew increasingly curious about what kind of guy this was.

Soon, the female Ranger's gaze fell upon an item on the Draenei's waist.

"A book?" she said.

A thick book with a leather clasp.

"Paladin?" Jaina spoke first.

Both of them were very surprised that this Draenei, who looked seven parts like a demon, was actually a Paladin!

"When I was very young, I had a friend who was a hero who participated in the Second War. I used to pester that friend to tell me the story of how Turalyon defeated Orgrim with the Holy Light. He told me that Turalyon believed that the Holy Light would only favor the people of Azeroth, and that the Orcs did not belong to Azeroth, so they were not accepted by the Holy Light."

"I'm afraid Turalyon will be disappointed," Sylvanas replied instinctively. "The Orcs have now established themselves in Azeroth, and..." the Female Elf stared at the Draenei, "A Paladin from outside Azeroth has now appeared."

"In any case, Paladin don't hurt people easily, right?"

Sylvanas wanted to use the Crimson Crusade to refute Jaina, but this was not the right occasion.

The people of Stormwind Keep have been waiting for a long time, but the person who should have appeared has not yet appeared at the center of power of the Stormwind Kingdom and on the renowned Lion Throne.

Sylvanas looked at the lions adorning the sides of the throne, each one so alert and powerful, as if ready to fight for the kingdom at any moment. Looking at the noisy crowd, the few who occasionally noticed the Lion Throne were only considering how much gold it would take to create such a masterpiece.

Ranger typically possess an enviable keen sense of perception; they can sense when something is amiss, just as a sense of fear and depression lingered over the Stormwind City nobles. Sylvanas quickly located the source of this unease within the crowd. It was a burly man, as robust as a bear, his gloomy face flushed, surrounded by a group of nobles and their representatives. Clearly, he was creating the tension, which in turn affected everyone in the room.

"Who is that guy?"

"Duke Greg Lescova of the Stormwind City Royal Library," Jaina introduced reluctantly, her brow furrowed. The nobleman had become completely unrestrained; even from ten yards away, they could hear King Varian's name mentioned repeatedly, his tone as if the name were poison he couldn't resist uttering. "A thoroughly nobleman, very powerful."

"I can see that," Sylvanas nodded, listening carefully. Some of the man's assessments of Varian were quite accurate. The King of Stormwind was indeed difficult to deal with; his violent temper meant he treated friends and enemies alike. However, the baron's other views irritated the Female Elf. He proclaimed that history might repeat itself, that another Horde would emerge after the Dark Portal and then crush Stormwind City, while Varian had done nothing about it.

"That's just alarmist talk," Jaina retorted. "I've heard from members of the Horde that there aren't many Orcs left on Draenor."

"But the threat still looms over this kingdom, Jaina," Sylvanas pointed out behind her. "Whether or not another Horde emerges, the Dark Portal remains a persistent shadow over the humanity that lives here."

"You're right, Sylvanas." Jaina sighed, but she was quickly filled with rage again. The Duke, who had just been boasting about the disaster, now had his gaze fixed on a voluptuous female politician present, scrutinizing her from head to toe. The Duke was dressed in luxurious silks and furs, but his lecherous eyes easily betrayed his elegant attire.

The duke hadn't finished speaking. After briefly losing himself in the beauty, he raised a swaying hand and continued, "Yes, the Dark Portal will harm everyone—the rich, the merchants, and us. But why has it come to this? What has our King done? He's been collecting taxes, filling the treasury with more and more money, while we're receiving less and less each month."

Sylvanas's eyes widened as she observed Jaina's perpetually expressionless and enigmatic demeanor. After a moment's thought, the Female Elf asked, "Has Varian decided to send an army to the Blasted Lands, and these nobles...?"

"They're holding us back." Jaina confirmed Sylvanas's idea, adding, "And not only that, I suspect Varian is about to make an even more insane decision that is worrying these people."

An even more outrageous decision, the Ranger wondered, what could it be?

An elderly but still strong nobleman walked through the crowd, shaking his head with a frustrated expression, and echoed Lescova: "We are tired of the Alliance warfare, which drains our money and blood. Reckless adventures and personal vendettas will only destroy the chance for peace and prosperity!"

Hearing this, Sylvanas covered her mouth and chuckled, "I thought the nobles were worried about Varian's inaction regarding what was happening in the Blasted Lands, but now it seems they both want King to spare them from suffering and to satisfy their material desires."

"They do absolutely nothing, it's just..."

"Moths?" Sylvanas raised an eyebrow. Jaina didn't finish her sentence; she raised her hand in a gesture of silence, as if she had seen something that made her so.

"No one benefits from endless war. I believe Varian should consider the interests of the vast majority. The true duty of King is..."

"What is it?" A deep, authoritative voice sounded behind the Duke. Everyone turned to look at King Wrynn, who stood in the doorway, their whispers fading the moment Varian spoke. "Please, Duke Lescova. Tell me, and let everyone hear, what the duties of King truly are!" Varian's gaze was piercing, fixed directly into the Baron's eyes. Lescova involuntarily took a step back in fear.