Fulfilled

Inside the Alliance's main command tent, the events from earlier had left the atmosphere strangely tense.

"Do you really think Nathanos was talking nonsense, Marshal?" Khadgar, who had remained silent until now, asked.

Lothar merely glanced at the mage before returning his gaze to the map of Hillsbrad. "Then what do you think?"

"Perhaps I should not say any more, but Nathanos's concerns are not without reason. If Orgrim truly marches that way, we should make preparations in advance." Khadgar tried to persuade Lothar.

Alleria, standing nearby, countered, "You would rather believe him than trust an Elf's insight?"

"Lady Alleria, I am merely stating my personal opinion. I trust your Rangers, but that does not mean I will completely dismiss that young man."

"Enough." Lothar rose to stop their argument. "I will handle this matter. Nathanos has his reasons for thinking as he does, but we cannot make a huge fuss over a single remark from him. Besides, the Horde is far less likely to travel by sea than to attack Stromgarde directly by land. We cannot divide our forces."

Lothar's words were reasonable, and no one present refuted them. Uther wanted to speak up for Nathanos, but the chance to earn forgiveness was actually in Nathanos's own hands. He only needed to admit his mistake. At that thought, Uther could not help feeling afraid. Nathanos was his apprentice, and he knew the boy well. Intelligent, insightful, sharp-minded—his only flaw was his stubbornness. His different way of viewing things meant he would never apologize or yield to anyone, because from his perspective, every explanation he gave had some truth to it, just like his understanding of the Holy Light.

Horde

Doomhammer gathered everyone and delivered a speech. They had assembled before the fortress known as Blackrock Spire, a massive structure built from black stone. It stood atop Blackrock Mountain, towering over the highest peaks of the Burning Steppes. Zuluhed, chieftain of the Dragonmaw Clan, had once come here and sensed the power buried deep within the mountain. After dealing with the few Dwarves living here, the Horde seized the place. Orgrim then chose it as the Horde's base, drawn by its terrain and natural defenses.

Below him stood Orcs from every clan, eagerly awaiting the Great Chief's words. They had thoroughly conquered this continent. There was better prey here than in their homeland, as well as richer land, yet it was still far from enough to accommodate all of them. There was also the matter of retaliation—the humans had been driven from this land, but that did not guarantee they would not return with reinforcements or allies. Doomhammer was not worried. He knew the Alliance was preparing, but the Horde had not been idle during this time either. Now, they were ready.

"My people!" he roared, raising his warhammer high. "Hear me." The Orcs fell silent, every face turned toward him. "We have taken this land, and that is good!" Cheers erupted at once. Doomhammer did not continue until they had died down. "This world is well suited for life. We can rebuild our home here!" Another wave of cheers rose. "But first, we must deal with the natives! The humans are powerful and skilled, and they will surely try to reclaim what once belonged to them."

Sounds of agreement spread throughout the Horde. Many Orcs who had fought humans before agreed with him.

"We must continue our conquest!" Doomhammer told his people, pointing his warhammer north. "Beyond this land lies Lordaeron, another powerful human kingdom. It is not far from here. Once we take it, we can settle down and begin building our home. But first, we must seize it from human hands. And this time, they will not surrender easily." A mass of shouts merged into a single roar, displaying the Orcs' thirst for battle. Doomhammer raised one hand to silence them.

"I know you are all strong," he told them. "I know you are all warriors, never showing cowardice in war. But the humans are numerous, and this time, they will be prepared." He leaned against his warhammer. "But they are unprepared for our allies."

He gestured behind him, and someone nearly as tall as Orgrim stepped up beside the Great Chief, facing the tide-like Horde army below. Zul'jin stepped forward. The leader of the Forest Trolls had brought over a hundred of his people to this gathering. They stood behind him and Doomhammer, raising their axes, shortswords, and spears. "These are Forest Trolls," Doomhammer introduced them to the Orcs below. "They are now part of the Horde and will fight alongside us. They possess great strength and human cunning, and no one can defeat them in the forest! They will be our guides, our scouts, and our forest warriors!"

Zul'jin stepped forward, his long red scarf rippling like waves in the wind. "We swear loyalty to the Horde," he declared. Though cloth covered his mouth, his voice remained clear. "We will fight beside you. Together, we will destroy humans, Elves, and any enemy that may stand in our way." The Orcs and Forest Trolls began cheering. Before stepping back, Zul'jin nodded to Orgrim.

"They are not our only allies," Doomhammer announced. He turned around, and a group of Death Knights strode forward. Their faces were covered to hide their hideous features, heavy cloth wrapped around their heads and faces so that only their eyes could be seen. Yet the Horde could see their broad shoulders and chests. The leader of the Death Knights raised his short staff high, the gem on it shining so brightly that it rivaled the sun. Gul'dan had promised Orgrim he would create an army that would obey him absolutely, and now he had done so. At least for the moment, Orgrim was satisfied.

"We are Death Knights," the leader of the knights said in a drawn-out voice. His unfamiliar voice seemed to carry an icy wind. "We swear loyalty to the Horde and to the Great Chief. We will fight as any of you would, and erase every enemy of the Horde from this world!" They had once asked Doomhammer not to let the other Orcs know their true faces, and Doomhammer had agreed. Many would not be pleased to learn that these new warriors wore human faces. The warlocks of the Shadow Council whom Orgrim had killed had been subjected to Gul'dan's magic, their souls placed inside dead human bodies.

"The Death Knights will become our cavalry and our vanguard," Doomhammer shouted. "They are powerful and swift, capable of unleashing dark magic to tear apart our enemies' defenses."

He paused. "We may soon gain another ally," he admitted. He wished that thing could be ready now, but Zuluhed, chieftain of the Dragonmaw Clan, had told him more time was needed for preparation. Still, for now, this was enough.

"March north," Doomhammer told his people. "Cross this land and enter Kaz'Modan. Our soldiers have already taken the rich mineral deposits there. We will advance by sea. Those arrogant humans think we will only attack once we are fully prepared, but they are wrong." Orgrim let out a mighty roar. "In three days, our vanguard will use the sea fog to launch a surprise assault on Hillsbrad. We will land in the west and strike back from behind them, shatter their defenses, and in the end, we will rule that land. This world will become ours!"