Encounter

The Horde's army arrived at the Dustwallow Marsh at Dusk three days later. The members of the Terror Totem that had been roaming the swamp were quickly cleared out, and their camp became the Horde's stronghold.

Jaina hoped that what she was seeing wasn't real. She even prayed so. But the magnified image through the telescope sank her heart!

"So many," she said softly. The Horde's camp was scattered all over the mountains, and a large number of trees had been cut down and used as materials to build their huts.

Both Baine and Tervosh looked through their binoculars, their expressions serious.

"There are nearly a hundred catapults," Baine said. "Garrosh is determined to win this war."

"The Stormwind City fleet won't arrive for at least another day or two," Jaina said somberly. "We must hold off their attack until the Seventh Legion arrives."

"Interestingly, they didn't seem to have any intention of attacking."

Tervosh put down his binoculars. "They're waiting for that bomb, that's for sure."

"Where is Sylvanas?" Jaina asked.

"I heard that she previously put an old man from the city on a transport ship bound for Stormwind City, and now she should be overseeing the fortifications at the city gate."

"You go help her too, Baine," Jaina continued, then turned to Tervosh. "You and I will contact Rhonin. We'll do everything we can to persuade him to support us."

Garrosh remained in the Great Chief's tent, refusing any requests for an audience. The Horde generals who accompanied him were all fiercely loyal to the Great Chief, but they had little patience. Complaints and questions arose throughout the camp—why hadn't the Great Chief ordered the attack yet?

"Shut those guys up." Grommash said in a deep, resonant voice, cutting through the roasting meat on the fire with a knife. "No one is to attack without my order."

Malkorok stood before him. The Blackrock Orc readily accepted the order, and before leaving, he reported, "Great Chief, Vol'jin and Baine have refused to come to the battle. You should give them a warning."

"Have their Warrior all arrived?" Garrosh showed no anger; instead, the roasted meat caught his eye.

"Everything has arrived and perfectly meets your requirements."

"What about the Blood Elf? And the Goblins? What's their situation?"

Malkorok stroked his chin with three fingers and said, "Windrunner hasn't arrived either. She only sent soldiers from three ships. As for the Goblins, Gallywix can't wait to see you."

"Ha." Grommash's knife pierced the flesh. "I don't want them to come either. The look of dejection and struggle on their faces after the war starts will only annoy me. Baine and Vol'jin are in cahoots; they only want a laughable peace. As for Alleria, that woman's sister is in Theramore, and she's an enemy of the Horde. I don't need them to show up; just provide the troops I need, and that will be enough."

"They know who they are loyal to. Everyone is here, just waiting for your orders."

"No." Grommash waved his hand in refusal, and Malkorok immediately looked disappointed. Garrosh smiled and said, "The time is not yet ripe."

"But intelligence indicates that Stormwind City's Seventh Fleet is approaching this area, and Darnassus has also sent reinforcements. If we delay any longer, their reinforcements will arrive."

Grommash laughed wildly. "That's even better!"

When someone feels weary, they always think of ways to relax. Sylvanas's way was to go alone to a quiet place for a while. Theramore was currently busy preparing for war, and there was no quiet place. The Horde could attack at any moment, Ranger-General bore a heavy responsibility in defending Theramore, yet she was surprised that she could convince herself to seek a brief moment of Tranquility. Even a breath of fresh air could help her. Once the war started, she would only be breathing in the smell of gunpowder.

Most of the Dustwallow Marsh is now teeming with Horde spies, but there's one place where Grommash's eyes and ears are nowhere to be found: Onyxia's lair, the Black Dragon Princess. Black dragons still roam here, so no one dares to venture into this place.

After ensuring there was no danger nearby, Sylvanas found a patch of dry grass and sat down. She told herself that she only needed a moment, perhaps just a few minutes, to be in top condition for a battle. In those few minutes, she wouldn't think about how to deal with the Horde, but rather about why she was fighting.

The answer to this question isn't because thousands would be slaughtered if the Horde took Theramore. It's about her own story, her own secret.

Sylvanas never imagined she would be attracted to a short-lived race, nor to her sister, both of whom fell in love with humans.

To be precise, they both fell in love with the same person—a wise and courageous human. But they also lost him at the same time. Nathanos Marius sacrificed himself in a battle that determined the fate of Quel'Thalas, allowing the children of the Windrunner family to survive. Sylvanas often felt deep regret; that war had nothing to do with him; he only wanted to protect the ones he loved. He succeeded, but at a high price. And that price continued even after his resurrection.

At Marius Farm, when he faced Alleria, Sylvanas couldn't bear to think about how desperate Nathanos must have been. Even if he didn't ultimately find peace, Sylvanas feared he would be swallowed by the Blackfathom Deeps of pain and hatred.

Because of this incident, her conflict with Alleria became irreconcilable. Her sister's actions shrouded her in a cloak of anger and frustration. She left Quel'Thalas and chose to stand against the Sin'dorei. Over the years, she had suppressed her resentment to its limit. Sometimes she even hated herself, thinking that if she had had more contact with Nathanos, perhaps she would have been the human's companion.

Upon learning that Nathanos was still alive, she could have sought him out, could have forced him to confront her, to explain whether he regretted choosing Alleria. But he didn't. She loved him deeply. Even as the hope of reuniting with him grew increasingly slim, she still clung to a sliver of hope.

The heat from the black dragon's lair sent a chill down the Female Elf's spine, even making her skin sting slightly. Then, her sense of smell detected a scent that didn't belong to the Dustwallow Marsh. A sudden thought seized her mind— Nathanos was here. She sensed him; he was right behind her.

"My informants told me you're here," a rough, dry voice came from behind her.

It sounded completely unfamiliar, yet it made Sylvanas's heart pound. She turned around.

When he removed his hood, the Female Elf realized what it meant for things to have changed beyond recognition. Nathanos bore no resemblance to his former self, and was vastly different from the appearance she had last seen on Mount Hyjal. Sylvanas painfully understood that it wasn't just death that had altered him. His missing arm, the scars on his face, and his emaciated body were all the marks of battle and the passage of time.

"Nathanos." Sylvanas took a deep breath. How long had it been since they last met? "You...I..."

Rather than her speechlessness, Nathanos was more like a diplomat, showing no surprise at the meeting. "I'm glad you look well and it's good to see you again."

What troubled Sylvanas was that she couldn't read anything in Nathanos's bloodshot eyes. "Me too, I have so much to say to you, but you..." she choked back a sob, "You don't look well."

The Witherer looked at his loose, empty sleeve with the same disdain as if it were a toy, and said, "It's nothing serious, at most I can't shoot arrows anymore."

"I heard you've already gained your own power," she said with a smile. "Congratulations."

"The Forsaken are orphans cursed with death," Nathanos replied. "We struggle to survive in the world of the living."

The smile faded, replaced by a somber expression. "No," Sylvanas shook her head. "Not everyone will reject you." She stepped forward, closer to Nathanos. "I firmly believe you are still you, you have always been you."

"Thank you, you're the first person to say that."

Sylvanas nodded. This was exactly what she feared, and it saddened her greatly. Aside from a few words of comfort, she could offer Nathanos no further help.

"Why did you suddenly come to see me?" she asked.

A fine wrinkle appeared between the Witherer's brows, stirring Sylvanas's emotions. "To be honest, I don't know either. The war that was about to break out had nothing to do with me." His voice became slightly sharper. "But I can't stand idly by. My father... and you, and Jaina once helped me... are all in Theramore."

"You've come to help us?" Sylvanas exclaimed in surprise, but quickly realized her lapse in composure and took a deep breath. "Is there anything you want to tell me?"

They looked at each other for a long time. To Sylvanas's surprise, Nathanos sat down on the ground and patted the spot in front of him, gesturing for her to sit down as well.

"The only help I can give you is an analysis of the current situation and a risky evacuation plan."

"You mean evacuate Theramore?" Sylvanas frowned slightly. She wanted to tell Nathanos about what Jaina had said earlier; the mage's attitude was somewhat resolute, and she was reluctant to give up her city.

"I know what you're thinking." Nathanos looked directly at her. "If we leave Theramore, Garrosh will use the bombs in other Alliance cities."

"You know all that?" Sylvanas was taken aback.

The Witherer chuckled. "I know everything the Horde does." He continued, "Grommash concealed his intentions from the other Horde members, wanting to destroy the enemy before him through such despicable means. But that is also his weakness. Thrall led the Horde for nearly twenty years, and even after leaving the Horde, his prestige still surpasses that of Garrosh. At this time, that Orcs has not yet fully secured his position Great Chief."

Sylvanas nodded. "Indeed, I've heard that the Tauren Great Chief Cairne once challenged his position."

"Among the current leaders of the Horde, apart from Gallywix, the others have all been influenced by Thrall to varying degrees. Their desire for peace is unlikely to change overnight, or to put it bluntly, it is fundamentally unchangeable. Therefore, Grommash and they have never been on the same side. The Great Chief wants to start a war, and as followers of the Horde, the other members have an obligation to follow Great Chief. However, more important than the Great Chief's Will is the ability to distinguish right from wrong. What is wrong and what is right is a matter of honor. The one who slaughters an entire city with a single bomb may achieve victory, but he will inevitably be questioned by the other members of the Horde."

Sylvanas remained expressionless, listening quietly. "But Grommash doesn't care Horde of the Horde thinks."

"He cares," Nathanos retorted. "Of course he cares, otherwise he wouldn't be hiding his intentions. The current Horde dynamics are such that many still admire Thrall's leadership. Grommash wants to do is destroy Thrall's influence within the Horde. He will use war to motivate his followers and use victory to overturn everything Thrall has done. Taking Theramore is just the first step. Once he has enough support, he will no longer need the other members of the Horde."

"You mean he'll abandon the Horde's allies?"

"Who would want to keep someone who makes them unhappy around? Cairne Bloodhoof and Vol'jin are the best examples. Even Thrall is probably not favored by Grommash now. For a long time, they have been almost like guardians. Garrosh will not tolerate the existence of puppeteers who manipulate him. What he wants is to forge the Horde into a sword, and he is the master of that sword."

"He has proven what you're saying with his actions," Sylvanas said angrily. "In just a few months, he has completely destroyed the peace between the Alliance and the Horde that Jaina and Thrall had worked so hard to build."

"His face isn't Thrall's green skin," Nathanos joked. "And don't expect him to suddenly realize his mistake. As long as there's someone in the Horde who still harbors some inexplicable adoration for that peace-loving Shaman, he won't stop. Unfortunately, Theramore is the first victim!"

Sylvanas nodded slowly; the movement revealed her pain.

"The first step towards a goal often fuels our fighting spirit," Nathanos cautioned. "I want to remind you that even if that bomb doesn't achieve the desired effect of Grommash, he will still do whatever it takes to win."

"We will fight to the death."

"It's pointless." Nathanos's words stunned Sylvanas. "Theramore will fall. What you should be thinking about now is how to minimize the losses."

"This is not the kind of thing I know Nathanos would say." The Female Elf smiled bitterly. "The Nathanos I know only thinks of ways to defeat the enemy and achieve victory."

How do you know that retreat is not a victory?

In a daze, Sylvanas seemed to see once again the human from many years ago who could accurately predict anything, and that confidence amplified the hope in the Female Elf's heart infinitely.

"What I'm going to talk about next is how to solve the Theramore Dilemma, and I'll make sure it works."