Dawn

One week later, the Battle of Stratholme ended...

Maxwell Tyrosos and Rebrath Earthshaker stood waiting in the Light's Hope Chapel.

Those awaiting them emerged nimbly from the edge of the horizon. Rhine walked ahead of them. They wore close-fitting protective gear and weapons suited to their respective professions, weapons that seemed tailor-made for them. Maxwell was stunned by the appearance of the two Undead. What puzzled him most was the change in their eyes; no longer the eerie blue burning with evil and hatred, they were calm and wary, displaying an intelligence and wisdom that was utterly unlike their own.

The Argent Dawn members held their breath, making sure not to make any unexpected moves. Judging from that bottle of Holy Water, those Undead might have already broken away from the Scourge; they might even have their own civilization, hiding somewhere and carrying out their own business.

Finally, they arrived before the Paladin. Rhine smiled at Maxwell and then stood next to Rebrath. The leading Undead, a Warrior, stiffly touched his forehead with his fingertips before speaking first, "Is this how you pay your respects?"

Maxwell took a breath and calmly made the same gesture. "Welcome." He didn't know their names yet, only that Rhine had mentioned a woman among them named Lilian Voss, but she didn't seem to be here today.

"My name is Rennid Basalome, and this is my friend Rupert," Rennid introduced. "It's an honor to meet you, Baron Maxwell Terosos. You look... not very well."

The Paladin composed himself slightly upon hearing this, and spread his hands, saying, "Please forgive me, this is only my first time speaking so closely with Undead. May I ask, are all your companions able to speak so clearly?"

Rennid looked at the others around him and nodded somewhat awkwardly. "Yes."

Maxwell closed his eyes and thought for a moment. "Looks like I've been too narrow-minded," he said calmly, using a smile to ease the awkwardness. "Then please follow me. The Light's Hope Chapel is just ahead, and many brothers and sisters are waiting for their new companions."

Brothers and sisters? Rennid and Rupert stared intently at the Paladin. Those four words were utterly foreign to the dead. "I hope others will accept us as you have, Maxwell. But we still want to know how things are progressing with Stratholme?" Rennid narrowed his eyes. "Is the campaign on Isle of Quel'Danas going well?"

The Paladin's jaw nearly dropped, astonished that the other party knew about what had happened in Quel'Danas, something even the Argent Dawn had only heard of.

"I've looked into it," Maxwell said, his voice heavy with doubt. He saw the guards along the road harden their guards, bracing their weapons. Clearly, they were wary of the Undead behind their leader, but at least not hostile. Paladin didn't know, however, was that Rennid and his companion met the cruel gaze with ease. "I heard the Sunwell has been reborn; I wonder if it's true."

"So it seems Stratholme and Rivendare are both going to hell," Rennid said, his tone clearly tinged with amusement.

"No, you're not entirely right. Stratholme has indeed been recaptured, and the Brotherhood of the Light Erigor is there cleaning up the mess, but Rivendare has not been destroyed."

"Is our Holy Water not working?" Rupert asked skeptically.

Maxwell met the Undead's gaze calmly. "No, your potions played a decisive role in this operation, proving that you defied the Lich King. What I mean is, Rivendare escaped; to be precise, he wasn't even in Stratholme."

"The Scourge commanders will absolutely obey the missions assigned to them by the Lich King. Rivendare's disappearance can only mean he's received a new mission," Rennid said. He looked at the faces of the Argent Dawn members around him, searching for further confirmation. None of them were his friends or acquaintances from his previous life.

Meanwhile, Maxwell was pondering Rennid's words. The Undead were reminding him that the Scourge might have new plans. He would have preferred to see Rivendare simply run away, but that possibility was extremely slim.

"The Light's Hope Chapel is just ahead!" Maxwell said proudly, not caring at all whether it was too shabby for the guests. Rennid saw that there were no strong defenses outside the chapel, only tightly packed tents set up by the Western Zhou, where people of various races had gathered.

Rupert glanced to the side at the guards around him; their eyes no longer held the same wariness as the soldiers had shown earlier. "It's unbelievable that you've managed to hold this place. Truly remarkable."

The Paladin nodded sadly. "The chapel has suffered several large-scale attacks from the Scourge, and each time we lost many of our finest brothers. Their remains lie beneath this land; with their spirits protecting us, we will be free from the Lich King's persecution." This sounded like a military secret, but Maxwell told them frankly.

"You mean the Heroic Spirits?" Rennid was somewhat surprised. He and Rupert were also Undead, but they hadn't been attacked by the Heroic Spirits when they entered this place. He looked up at the chapel, which wasn't very large. He vaguely remembered a time when he had visited a similar building to pray, but back then, those sacred structures didn't bear any signs of battle or ashes. "It's well known that the Lich King kills powerful beings and resurrects them, making them part of the Scourge. Did he order the attack here also for those Heroic Spirits?"

Maxwell nodded in agreement. Rupert and Rennid exchanged a glance, both thinking that this place would soon become a battlefield.

They stopped in front of the chapel. Maxwell turned to face the others, and some members of the Argent Dawn slowly approached. It was a simple ceremony, yet extremely important.

"Welcome, Rennid and Rupert. Welcome to the Argent Dawn."

Rhine, Rebrath, and several other members gathered around, eager to celebrate the new members and welcome them to the Silver Hand.

Maxwell prayed silently to the Holy Light when, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a familiar figure moving through the crowd. This tall, seemingly unremarkable man wore a green cloak. But Maxwell would always remember that white-haired man's sharp, piercing green eyes, no matter where he was. A few seconds later, his eyes met those of the stranger.

"Tirion," the Paladin whispered, holding his breath.

The stranger smiled knowingly at him, raised an aged hand in a respectful military salute, then pulled his hat down over his face and quickly left.

Maxwell placed a hand over his heart, becoming increasingly convinced that this was true.