Women, Elves, and Dwarves

This place was unfamiliar to him. By comparing the roads on the map, Belorell could only confirm that he had not gone the wrong way, but he had no idea how much longer he would have to walk.

Adventurers in Silvermoon City's inns and streets all said that the Eastern Plaguelands were a place full of terrifying creatures. Belorell was prepared to face anything. He repeatedly reminded himself not to be afraid of anything he encountered, after all, he had seen dragons. But when he saw the Scourge carrion worms roaming the lifeless jungle and the Scourge hounds covered in sores, his legs seemed to want to turn back against his will. It was his will that kept him in check.

Belorell swallowed hard. The mingled smells of burning and smoke in the air tormented his throat. The Elf boy wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.

Belorell untied the cloth bag from his back and felt something cold inside. Among his mother's collection was this—a metal arrowhead. It was rusty, ancient, and not of Elf craftsmanship, but rather human. Belorell couldn't help but wonder where his mother had obtained it.

The sound of wheels rolling made Belorell freeze in place. He looked up and saw a carriage loaded with goods approaching, with a middle-aged human woman sitting inside.

Belorell suddenly felt breathless. Was it someone from the Alliance?

The people in the carriage had clearly seen him standing by the roadside. The horses pulling the carriage neighed harshly and stopped. Only then did Belorell realize that the middle-aged woman was wearing a red hood and dressed simply, appearing neither threatening nor hostile. He was relieved.

The woman suddenly spoke to him, but Belorell couldn't understand her words. Her speech sounded unfamiliar, with a strange accent. Was it human language? Belorell averted his gaze, trying to recall what he had learned.

The woman narrowed her eyes, cleared her throat, and repeated, "Where to, child?" This time her tone was less clear, but Belorell understood; it was Sauras language.

"You can speak the language of Elf?"

He received no reply. The woman turned her head and knocked three times on the carriage door with her left hand. A few seconds later, Belorell heard two other people stretching.

One was Dwarf, his rough throat gurgling as if he were about to spew wine. The other made Belorell gasp for breath, like a drowning man surfacing. He saw one of his own kind, a Blood Elf Paladin.

"Tarenna, we need you here," the woman said. Belorell's heart tightened. In his memory, women's voices were always gentle, but this woman's tone carried a hint of mania.

The Blood Elf approached; it was Tarenna. "Why did you stop, Fiona? Who is this child?"

"Obviously you'll have to ask him; I only speak some Sauras language."

The thought of being woken up just to deal with a child made Tarenna's face slightly displeased. He cleared his throat and said, "Alright. Tell me, child. Who are you? What are you doing here? Don't you know the Eastern Plaguelands are dangerous?"

The other person's accent had a pleasant rhythm, completely different from the driver's rough voice. Belorell's tongue no longer wobbled; after a moment's hesitation, she spoke, "I am... an adventurer."

Tarenna and the woman both narrowed their eyes.

"You're from Quel'Thalas?" the Paladin asked again. His expression could be that of someone who had just woken up or someone who found it amusing; Belorell couldn't tell which was it.

"Yes."

The two men listening to him exchanged glances. Just then, the Dwarf who had jumped down from the back of the carriage with Tarenna walked over, pulling up his trousers. Such an unseemly gesture clearly indicated what he had been doing.

"Oh, a little girl," the Dwarf said to Belorell with a smile. The boy was annoyed that Belloril could also speak Sauras language.

"Be serious, Jidwen," the woman scolded. Then she gestured for Tarenna to continue.

"This is not a place for you to take risks, child. You don't even have a weapon to defend yourself. If you get into danger, you could die. Go back to your family."

"I'm here to investigate something very important," Belorell emphasized, the suspicion in the eyes of the people in front of him making him extremely uneasy. The boy tried hard not to let anger get into his voice, because he couldn't tell whether these people were friend or foe. "I'm not going back."

"Stubborn little fellow," Jidwen said.

The woman interrupted the Dwarf, glanced at the sky, then looked away. "Enough, let's not waste any more time. It's getting dark, we need to hurry to the chapel." She asked Belorell, "Whatever you're going to do, at least you need a place to sleep tonight. Get in the carriage and come with us."

Belorell wanted to say she was in a hurry, but what came out of her mouth was. "Why are you helping me?"

Tarenna and Jidwen were back in the car. The middle-aged woman patted the empty seat beside her and gave a brief smile. "The Argent Crusade never ignores anyone in need."

Sitting in the bumpy carriage, Belorell felt much better. He watched the road rushing past beneath his feet and momentarily forgot why he had come there.

"Tonight I'm going to have two big barrels of ale."

"Last time, half a barrel of wine was enough to knock you out."

"Nonsense, that was clearly you."...

The two people behind the carriage were teasing each other. Belorell found it strange that the Elf and Dwarf, two races with completely different worldviews, chatted like old friends.

"Ignore those two idiots behind you." The woman's voice drew Belorell back to reality. The boy swore he'd smelled an indescribable scent on the woman when he turned around, a scent that made him uneasy. "My name is Fiona. What's yours?"

Belorell then realized that he hadn't introduced himself. He replied, "My name is..." But then, thinking that Tarenna might have heard of him, Belorell quickly changed his words: "My name is Alavi."

"It doesn't sound like an Elf's name."

An awkward expression appeared on Belorell's face. Fiona flicked the reins. The carriage crossed another lake and continued towards the end of the road. Since the route was on a main road, Belorell could already see neat rows of military tents.

There are no bolts on the gates here. The two Argent Crusade soldiers on heavily armored warhorses serve as the bolts.

"We've arrived, Alavi," Fiona said in a relaxed tone. "Welcome to Light's Hope Chapel."