A Special Meeting

The apothecary Nathos didn't miss sleep. He only realized this after death: in life, he spent a full third of each day in bed. That proportion was staggering. Now, as the dead, the Forsaken with their freedom, he could make the most of that time for anything. He could choose to read, wander around, or chat with others. Even worse, he could simply while away a few hours on a cold stone bed. However, most of the time, Nathos focused entirely on his work. His work was repetitive, day after day, almost a complete repetition of the same routine. If he were still alive, he would probably have grown tired of this life long ago. But not in death, because having something to do was far better than having nothing at all.

"The materials you requested are all ready, Grand Apothecary." The speaker was his assistant, Vesetus, a very fortunate Forsaken. He awoke with both consciousness and body intact. Nathos had chosen him as his assistant not only for this reason but also because Vesetus had been a nimble servant before his death. When he was resurrected, his consciousness followed his former habits—serving others. This was what he excelled at.

Nathos is conducting a new drug experiment that can anesthetize the Forsaken, causing them to fall into a coma.

Are they all fresh?

"They're all freshly picked. Absolutely no problem," Vesetus replied. Nathos simply responded with a satisfied hum and continued working. At this point, Vesetus knew he could leave; the Grand Apothecary wouldn't speak for the next few hours. But he didn't. He stood there, seemingly wanting to say something, yet he hesitated.

Nathos noticed his assistant was still beside him and asked, "Is there anything else?"

Vesetus hesitated for a moment, considering that if he said he was fine, he would be immediately kicked out by the apothecary. He then said, "I have a question I would like to ask you, Grand Apothecary. It won't take up too much of your time."

"You're already wasting my time. Just say what you have to say."

The questions Vesetus wanted to ask had been troubling him, and he would sometimes subtly inquire of other Forsaken. He discovered he wasn't the only one with these doubts.

"As you know, I died in Lordaeron. When Arthas returned, I was cleaning at my employer's house." Vesetus paused, considering why he was saying these things, but thankfully, Nathos didn't seem annoyed and wanted to send him away. "I longed to see that beloved Paladin and his glorious triumphant procession. But then Arthas raised that evil sword, committed patricide and regicide, and slaughtered the entire city's inhabitants. I was not spared either."

Nathos began to slowly pack the crushed herbs, one portion at a time, into several identical bottles.

"I died in utter despair, and now I think I was terrified—terrified of death. I still have family and friends in this world, and I was afraid I'd never see them again. When I awoke, I was a Forsaken. After making inquiries, I discovered that my wife and children hadn't perished with me. I'm very glad about that." The assistant paused again, this time realizing something was amiss. Nathos's wife, Farina, had been a member of the Cult of the Damned and was the one responsible for turning Nathos into Undead.

The pharmacist's expression didn't show any particular discomfort or agitation. Vesetus continued, "I thought about going to them. But others told me that going to former relatives now would only break both sides' hearts. My wife believes I'm dead. In the end, I decided it was better to leave things as they are. I've also come to terms with it; she's a kind and gentle person, and she should find another living husband and continue living."

"I believe my thinking is correct. But I'm also gradually becoming confused; I'm not quite sure what my value is now. Please don't misunderstand, I'm not dissatisfied with working for you. I know a friend, Telfered, who is also a Forsaken. He's a nice guy and works as a blacksmith. It's hard work, and the hours are long. You know, swinging a hammer can easily strain your skin. Forsaken skin doesn't heal itself. It requires stitches, transplants of new muscle, tendons, and skin, and sometimes even magical potions. Once he got a new arm. I joked that his muscles wouldn't grow back. His face immediately fell."

Nathos immediately stopped what he was doing. Vesetus's suspicions vanished; the apothecary's actions proved he had indeed been listening to his assistant's rambling. "What exactly are you trying to say?"

"I just want to know why I'm living in this body," Vesetus said. "In time, we will only... gradually perish. I choose to accept this body. But I know some people refused. At the time, I thought they were fools. And now, I'm not so sure what's right anymore. I know the Witherer Ones have been fighting for our continued existence. But what if we shouldn't exist in the first place? How much more do we have to do to survive? How much longer do we have to endure?"

Nathos thought to himself that Vesetus, as an assistant, truly possessed the philosophical mindset of a philosopher. However, Vesetus wasn't the first, nor would he be the last, to discuss this topic with him. As more and more people began to share the same idea, the leaders of the Forsaken realized they could no longer choose to ignore the issue.

He didn't answer his assistant's question immediately, because he didn't feel lost. Compared to the Forsaken idle and aimless, he was exceptionally fortunate. The work of restoring the bodies of the Undead constantly fueled Nathos's thirst for knowledge in potions. Moreover, Nathanos valued his work highly, which further inspired him to dedicate himself to researching how to ensure the vitality and health of the Forsaken, maintaining their mental and physical integrity.

He wanted to speak, at least to say something to get rid of his assistant, but at that moment the two heard another voice: "Grand Apothecary".

Nathos and Vesetus both looked toward the alchemy room entrance and saw a tall, robed Undead.

"Lord Xie Feng, what brings you here?" Nathos asked, putting down the medicine bottle in his hand.

Meryl nodded to Vesetus, then answered Nathos's question, "There's a meeting tonight, and you'll be attending."

"A meeting?" Nathos was surprised by the word. "Only the master has the authority to convene Withering Council, and he has been missing for several days."

"No, it's not the Withering Council." Meryl apologized for not explaining clearly. "It's a meeting between several leaders of the Forsaken, and it's not open to the public."

Who are they?

"You'll find out when the time comes," the mage said, turning and leaving without elaborating. North's intuition told Nathos this was a bad omen; perhaps the meeting was discussing something heavy.

"I'd like some moonberries and a little yogurt," Sylvanas said, paying before leaving. The reconstruction of Theramore was far from complete, and the sacrifices made by the Silver Covenant in the Battle of Theramore had not yet been recovered. At this time, she should be fully focused on her work. However, the Ranger-General wanted to seize this opportunity to visit Stormwind City.

A month had passed since the war began, and as the Alliance's supreme leader, Varian was eager to learn the details of the Battle of Theramore. He invited some of those involved to Stormwind City for further discussion. Apart from the members of Dalaran, everyone, including Jaina and Sylvanas, accepted the invitation and came to the Alliance's political center. However, the Ranger-General was happy to leave all this diplomatic work to Jaina. Whether the mage was present or not was less important when she was debating in the King's chambers.

The Mage District is the quietest place in Stormwind City; aside from its pleasant environment, it's generally safe. Perhaps because she had said the same thing to Jonathan before, Sylvanas found the door ajar when she arrived. This was a residence she had purchased in Stormwind City. Before the Battle of Theramore, she had sent Nathanos's father Bred Marius, here.

He will likely have to live here until Theramore is rebuilt.

The room was clean and tidy, but the furnishings were extremely simple. The Female Elf quietly placed the gifts she had brought on the only wooden table. Bred shouldn't be asleep at this time, but there was no trace of the old man in the entire room.

It wasn't until she saw the coat hanging on the wall hook and a few seeds scattered on the ground that Sylvanas remembered there was an open space behind the house. The figure was squatting on the soft mud, tending to the flowers and plants.

"Old sir," Sylvanas said softly.

The figure hesitated for a moment, then slowly stood up and turned around. Bred was a tall, imposing man, but Sylvanas noticed he had become noticeably thinner recently. He was always gentle in speech and manner, displaying an aloof attitude, but hidden beneath this facade was a stubborn heart. So many changes had occurred, most of them far from good, Sylvanas thought, yet Bred remained steadfastly alive. By human lifespan, he was quite old.

"A good girl?" The old man smiled genuinely. Bred seemed somewhat excited, as if it were a rare sight to see someone he knew.

"Good girl" was his special nickname for Sylvanas. The Female Elf sometimes wondered if Bred remembered her name, but seeing the old man's happy expression, she didn't care whether he knew who she was or not.

Sylvanas gave a simple bow. "I'm relieved to see you're safe and sound."

"I should be the one saying that," Bred said, wiping the sweat from his brow. "I've heard you've been through a terrible war."

The Female Elf smiled wearily at Bred after hearing this. "War is never without its horrors." She wanted to express her gratitude to the old man, for it was his son who had saved her and the entire city. But this was also a troublesome matter; shortly after the war ended, a terrible rumor spread from Quel'Thalas — that the Forsaken leader, the Witherer, was actually the former Alliance hero Nathanos Marius.

Alleria had absolutely no reason to spread such rumors; after all, she was the one who first wanted to erase all information about Nathanos. Sylvanas was also shocked when she heard the rumor, and at the same time, she considered that this might be Nathanos's own choice. He decided to stop hiding and suddenly reappear in people's sight, catching even her off guard.

"How is Theramore? I miss the sea breeze there," Bred said, having unknowingly walked five steps away from the Female Elf. "How is Lady Jaina?"

"Theramore is fine. Jaina is here in Stormwind City too, but she's currently meeting with the King." Sylvanas pondered how to tell Bred about Nathanos, or whether she should tell him at all. The Female Elf didn't want to hide it, because he was Nathanos's father, but his current condition... although he seemed quite robust, what if he couldn't accept the truth?

"Rulers always have a lot to worry about," Bred shook his head. Beneath his serene exterior, he seemed unaware of the rumor.

Sylvanas breathed a sigh of relief. Strange rumors circulated daily in Azeroth, some mere tavern gossip, others serving as starting points for more serious conversations, rarely questioning their veracity unless the person involved was connected to the rumor.

Most people have heard of the Forsaken, but they are so low-key that they rarely do anything that would cause a stir in the world, except, of course, for the Battle of Stromgarde, but that happened a long time ago. The Alliance has not explicitly stated that it will reclaim the lost territory of that kingdom. The Horde is also indifferent to it, so people don't discuss the Forsaken much, let alone who their leader is.

"Even ordinary people don't necessarily have such a leisurely life," Sylvanas replied, helping Bred back to the residence. "Are you settling in well here?"

"It's very quiet. My nephew knows I'm in Stormwind City and has come to see me a few times."

Bred's nephew, who is also Nathanos's brother? Sylvanas remembered that the man's name was Stephan Marius. When SI:7 sent people north to besiege Nathanos, this guy seemed to have provided a lot of intelligence.

"I've hardly ever heard you mention your nephew."

"We've had little contact since the destruction of Lordaeron. The last time he came to see me, he was to tell me about the passing of his father, who was also my brother. Another loved one is gone, and in the end, I may be all alone." The old man's voice became heavy.

"Life isn't just about family," Sylvanas said to Bred in a comforting tone. "What makes you happy?"

"Yes." Bred turned to look in the direction of the open space. "When I plant flowers, I think of my children."