Silver Arena (I)

Having experienced many wars, I deeply understand the importance of tactics and strategy. The horror of war lies not in the magnitude of the losses inflicted, but in the difficulty of predicting the enemy's actions. Conversely, if one can accurately foresee the enemy's movements, then such a war cannot be lost.

I firmly believe this.

Garrosh frowned, gazing into the distance. He always seemed to be frowning. "I don't understand, Great Chief," he said in a gruff voice. He reached out and gripped the handle of his axe, rubbing it nervously.

When Thrall arrived at Warsong Fortress a week earlier and announced to Grommash that the Horde would participate in that damned Silver Tournament, Garrosh, like the Alliance, harbored no goodwill towards the Argent Crusade. He despised even more the Horde members who joined the Argent Crusade, who had chosen to submit to a white-haired old man who had built an arena, claiming it was to train the strongest warriors in all of Azeroth in order to fight the Lich King.

Bah! The warriors of the Horde don't need to accept any challenges; the spirit of the Horde is enough to break down the walls of Icecrown Citadel.

Although he couldn't explain why, Garrosh suddenly became excited when Thrall stood in his usual battle-commanding position and explained the situation. The Silver Tournament was nominally such, but it was an opportunity to teach the Alliance a lesson in the arena and prove the Horde's strength. The thought of his weapon bringing defeat to the Alliance almost made Grommash laugh out loud.

"Then let it be as you say, Chief."

"I must remind you!" Just as Grommash was feeling smug, he heard a voice he didn't want to hear. High Overlord Varok Saurfang stood right behind him, and the battle-hardened Orcs easily saw through Garrosh's thoughts. "The whole world is watching the Silver Tournament; we absolutely cannot afford to have a direct confrontation with the Alliance."

Garrosh gritted his teeth and said angrily, "There's no such thing as life or death in the arena, Saurfang! If the Alliance dares to challenge me, I will..."

"Stay calm, Garrosh!"

"The Great Chief?"

The commander of the Warsong Expeditionary Force looked at Thrall again.

"Varok is right. And in the arena, we're not facing the Alliance, but all sorts of beasts captured by the Argent Crusade."

"Beasts?" Garrosh could no longer conceal his displeasure. The Horde's warriors weren't dying gloriously in battle against the Scourge, but instead wasting their precious lives dancing with a bunch of beasts. "Are all your Warrior hunters, Chieftain?"

"Don't underestimate those monsters!" Thrall had had enough of Grommash's provocation. Garrosh had been a member of Horde for less than a year, yet he had already become the person with the deepest conflict with Thrall himself. The two often disagreed, and Thrall would always forgive and forget, citing Grommash's youth as the reason. But patience has its limits. "Have you seen those beasts trapped in their cages? Do you know how many men the Argent Crusade lost trying to capture them? I can tell you, Garrosh. Any one of them is larger than a grown mammoth, and their Bloodlust nature rivals that of the Scourge. No one in the Alliance can guarantee they can defeat them, and neither can the Horde."

In Garrosh's eyes, Thrall's words had no effect whatsoever; on the contrary, they had the opposite effect. He saw the chieftain's weakness once again. Thrall simply didn't understand that no matter how ferocious the beasts were, they posed no threat to the Horde. Only the Alliance, only the ancient enemy, remained constant. Therefore, every Alliance dog killed made the Horde a little safer.

Are you questioning the Horde's power?

"The chief must lead the Horde based on the facts!"

"The truth?" Garrosh repeated Thrall's words. "The truth is that you sent our Warrior to fight a pack of beasts for the Alliance to watch; the truth is that you repeatedly emphasized that the Warrior should rest, yet you pushed them into the arena while they were exhausted from fighting the Old Gods; the truth is that you can't see the truth, Thrall!"

The young Orcs's words were almost suffocating, and what was even more terrifying was the lack of remorse in Garrosh's eyes. He didn't believe in the need for respect for the chieftain. If the chieftain had made a mistake, then someone more capable should take responsibility. He had challenged Thrall in Orgrimmar and won. Had it not been for the Scourge's sudden attack on the capital city, he should be the one giving orders in the Horde now.

Thrall remained Grommash for a long time, leading the latter to believe he had won. But who knew...

"You have disappointed me greatly, Garrosh."

These words made Garrosh grit his teeth.

"We are honored by your presence at the Silver Arena, Your King." The one in charge of receiving the Alliance members was the Holy Light Warrior, Kolfax. The Alliance representatives arrived with surprising speed, and the King was accompanied by two others: one was a young female mage whose attire seemed somewhat out of place in the frigid Icecrown Glacier. Kolfax judged her to be a mage specializing in frost magic. The other was taller, her demeanor a perfect blend of elegance and wildness, highlighting all the virtues of High Elf.

Varian's eyes swept across the towering stone walls of the arena, past the large tents on the perimeter, all the way to the port from which they had just arrived, and finally landed on Kolfax, who was also staring at him.

"It reminds me of Durnholde Castle," Varian said. "It's very impressive."

The roles of Kolfax and the sorceress had abruptly reversed. The King's moods weren't just expressed on his face; sometimes, Varian's words were sharper than his sword. Everyone knew that an Orcs chieftain had been born in the arena of Durnholde Castle, and that chieftain had led his people to raze Durnholde to the ground. Varian seemed to be intentionally reminding the Argent Crusade that they might very well repeat the same mistake.

To ease the awkward atmosphere, the female mage spoke up, "In any case, Lord Tirion decided to build this arena in order to reduce casualties and defeat the Lich King faster. I believe that countless miracles will happen inside."

"The Holy Light will guide us, madam." Kolfax bowed deeply. "Your resting place is ready. Please follow me..."

"Wait a moment," the Female Elf dressed as Ranger interrupted the Paladin.

"Is there a problem, ma'am?"

"Theramore has also received an invitation, Champions of the Holy Light," she said, completely ignoring Varian's annoyed gaze. "Does this mean Theramore can also send members to participate in the competition?"

The two figures beside the King of Stormwind are no longer a mystery. Jaina Proudmoore, the ruler of Theramore, and Sylvanas Windrunner- Ranger-General Sylvanas the Silver Covenant —while the Argent Crusade has little direct contact with that sea city, it doesn't mean they're completely unaware of each other's presence. They both possess a certain level of knowledge about one another.

"The Highlord decrees that all who receive an invitation may send warriors representing their respective factions. Theramore is no exception."

Sylvanas nodded in response and said to Jaina, "It seems the Argent Dawn members who stayed at the docks will have a purpose."