Dense Fog

In the past, Frederick had never dared to walk alone through Maraudon's dark streets. Of course, there was no need to worry about danger in Maraudon.

But Frederick had not been among the first to join the Forsaken, nor was he truly Forsaken. Even his name was fake. Only a handful of people knew what he really looked like.

Precisely because he did not belong to this kingdom of the dead, he had to be extremely cautious. The Witherer's spies were everywhere.

He had put on this stinking shell to fool those people. He now served a new master. Having signed the contract, Frederick had to follow his master's orders. In return, he would gain reputation, protection, and power.

After leaving Maraudon's underground world, Frederick was met by a breeze carrying grit and waves of scorching air. He looked around, checking whether anyone might be following him. At Magnus Tavern, he had not told the truth: he had never been abandoned, nor did he hate humans, because he was not one of them. He did all this for the mission, and for revenge—revenge against The Witherer.

But he was far too weak. Left with no other choice, he had come to Kalimdor and struck a deal with someone.

Tonight, he had been ordered to go to the tavern and spread provocative words to stir up conflict. Before this, he had never dared approach such a place. Wherever people gathered, there were usually Darkblade Organization spies. He would rather stay far away, avoiding them at all costs.

Fortunately, the mission had been completed perfectly.

Before long, Frederick began casting teleportation magic in a secluded corner. Witherer's Fortress was heavily guarded, but most of the guards watched for disturbances in the desert. No one paid attention to what happened inside the fortress.