Conflict

Alaric Hawkins paced back and forth in his secluded chamber, or rather, an external consciousness controlled the body of the Death Killer. His steps, if strung together, resembled a scale, tilting left and right with his movements.

He was weighing the pros and cons. The task Salen the Songweaver had given him was not yet complete. This meant he would disappoint the Horde's Great Chief; without the Horde's support, he had no control over the Forsaken. Unless he could find out the whereabouts of the Witherer.

He attempted to overcome Belmont's formidable obstacle. Realistically, of the three who knew Nathanos's whereabouts, only Belmont seemed to offer a sliver of hope. As for the other two, Meryl was difficult to approach, and being a powerful mage, he could easily see through any disguise. As for the Twilight Dragon, 'Alaric' didn't even dare to consider it. He could only be thankful that Onyxian wasn't in the Forsaken's city; the dragon's whereabouts remained unknown.

Belmont, the remaining leader, greatly disappointed him. The Shadowblade leader was far too loyal; Nathanos must have instructed him not to tell anyone where he had gone, so Belmont refused to utter a single word. 'Alaric' feared that further probing would arouse suspicion.

What should we do? How can we find out where Nathanos is?

The Death Killer stopped, stopped in the middle. Why did he need to know the answer to this question? Wasn't it enough to convince the Horde that Nathanos wouldn't interfere with their plans? If they acted quickly enough, once he seized power over the Forsaken, what could the Witherer do even if they returned?

Ratchet, a neutral city built on trade and profit, welcomes members of all races. Some of this trade is legal, others less so. Through its partnership with Booty Bay, Ratchet imports goods from Azeroth and exports to Kalimdor, a mutually beneficial relationship. For adventurers seeking to make money, Ratchet offers a wealth of opportunities.

Moreover, Ratchet has become even busier since the Battle of Theramore.

As seen on the map, Ratchet is located precisely on the southernmost border of Durotar, and is also the closest port to Theramore. Now that Theramore is gone, it has become the only port.

The Alliance no longer had reliable ports in southern Kalimdor, a critical issue for some merchants. Fortunately, the Goblins, a race not widely accepted by most, perfectly solved this problem. They offered a service for ships to dock, albeit at a slightly higher price.

In the past, Gazlowe rarely returned to his city when Great Chief Thrall. But things are different now. The Horde has undergone a complete transformation, and the new Warchief is eager for war. This means that everyone must choose to be loyal to the Horde or stand against Horde.

Rather than making a decision, Gazlowe prefers to maintain his business. If he pledges allegiance to Grommash, he will become an enemy of the Alliance, and he will lose at least half of his customers on the trade route.

Fortunately, after the Battle of Theramore, some merchants from the Alliance and the Eastern Kingdoms still chose to believe him. For one thing, Ratchet's long-standing neutrality has won the approval of many.

Gazlowe has always remained a bystander in the conflicts of the continent. As a result, the city is teeming with visitors of all sorts of races: Elf, Dwarf, humans, Troll, and Ogre, and even the occasional Gnome. It's practically a grand marketplace of Kalimdor. Watching the trade between different races is one of Gazlowe's greatest pleasures, whether it's humans selling grain to Elf, or Elf selling jewelry to humans...

Recalling all this, Gazlowe suddenly realized that he hadn't seen Orcs in the city lately. He had already heard about Grommash's conscription order, which required all Horde members to undergo combat training against the Alliance.

"This is insane. The Horde's trade is completely doomed." Gazlowe cursed under his breath. He didn't say this because no one in the Horde was willing to fight for gold coins anymore, but because this lucrative job had been taken over by a greedy and shameless fellow, the Trade Prince Gallywix. Just thinking about him sent chills down Gazlowe's spine.

"Boss!" The office door was suddenly pushed open, slamming against the wall with a loud bang. Gazlowe was startled, and upon closer inspection, he saw his assistant Skagit, standing breathlessly in front of him.

"Skagit, I've told you so many times, come in quietly. My door is getting replaced in a few days."

The assistant raised a hand in apology, looking as if he'd just finished a marathon and needed a glass of water as a reward. Gazlowe sighed, kindly poured him a glass, and seeing the assistant's hurried manner, guessed something had gone wrong again.

"What happened?" Gazlowe asked, watching the water in his glass disappear.

Skagit shook his head wearily. "Something's happened, boss. There's a fight going on, and you'll have to go see for yourself this time."

Ratchet has always been somewhat unsettled, especially with constant friction between the Alliance and the Horde. Gazlowe is already quite used to it. He has always been very confident in his interpersonal skills. Ratchet is a neutral port, Goblins have never taken sides, so he has hired many security guards and thugs within the city. He first tries to mediate with words, and if that fails, he forcibly separates those troublemakers.

"My friend, didn't I teach you how to mediate disputes? Polite words, net guns, fists, whatever can settle things, as long as no one dies."

"No, this time it's not that simple; the old methods won't work."

Gazlowe paused for a moment. The conflicts that broke out in Ratchet were at most heated arguments or physical fights. Were there any different times?

"You have to see for yourself," Skagit once said.

"I hope you're not wasting my time," Gazlowe complained, though he knew in his heart that Skagit wouldn't be so flustered for no reason; perhaps something really serious had happened.

They arrived at the northernmost part of the Ratchet docks, where there were twenty berths. Gazlowe saw that three-quarters of the berths were already full, and everything was peaceful. He breathed a sigh of relief. The warm sunlight shone on his green cheeks, and his body gradually warmed. Perhaps today would be a peaceful day.

In no time, just a few minutes, this thought vanished like the sun being suddenly obscured by dark clouds.

Just as he reached the end of the dock, he heard a heated argument. A large crowd had gathered to watch. Mazzekorank was extremely displeased with this scene. In the volatile days of war, heated arguments usually ended in violence.

He moved a little closer, thinking that the Alliance and the Horde were probably arguing over a place to moor their ships. But the clearer the noise became, the more uneasy Gazlowe felt. He glanced back at Skagit. His assistant shrugged helplessly.

"Damn it," Gazlowe said. A hoarse, grating voice came from the crowd, and Gazlowe immediately recognized it as belonging to one of the Forsaken.

No wonder Skagit said this time was different. The Forsaken never cause trouble in Ratchet; they always back down at the edge of conflict.

"Make way, make way, Boss Gazlowe is here."

All sounds ceased abruptly as the crowd made way for Gazlowe.

The Goblins looked up at the two who were exchanging barbs. He recognized one of them as Captain Harkel of the Forsaken 'The Witherer, a regular customer of Ratchet with impeccable credibility. The other, Gazlowe, frowned; he was a human whose face showed nothing but smugness.

Who is this guy?

"Guys, my city is for doing business, not for you guys to talk nonsense. Skagit, what's going on here?"

The assistant whispered in his ear, "Boss, Harkel needs a batch of crude copper ore produced in the Burning Steppes. That man is the seller."

Gazlowe nodded. Trade had always existed between the Forsaken and many races. Although they always bought cheap goods at high prices, so what? Money had little value to the dead.

"So you're arguing about the price?" Gazlowe hoped so, at least he was good at mediating business deals, but the murderous intent in Harkel's eyes told him that things weren't that simple.

"Boss Gazlowe, please take a look at his things!"

The Goblins turned his head towards the berth; a human transport ship was docked between two berths. The ship was heavily drafted, indicating it was packed full. Gazlowe saw a mound of earth and rocks about the height of a small hill, containing the reddish hue of copper ore, as well as some strange things, like coal. Gazlowe also saw black.

He sighed. It seemed today wouldn't be peaceful.

Harkel stomped his foot angrily and shouted, "You idiot who's lying through your teeth! How dare you say this is high-quality copper ore!"

"What can we do if you don't admit it?" the human continued with a barrage of sarcasm. "The money of the dead is covered in the stench of decay; you can smell it even if you stuff it in your bag."

Then came a burst of laughter from the onlookers.

"I've had enough. Why should I stand here and be insulted by a human being?"

It was only then that Gazlowe noticed that Harkel only had a few dozen crew members with him, while behind this human was his ship, with at least a hundred people.

A chill ran down the back of the Goblins's head.

"You maggot-covered Undead! You only deserve to be..."

No matter what the human wanted to say, he had lost his chance. Harkel suddenly tackled him to the ground, drawing her longsword from her waist. The two wrestled on the dock. Although Harkel was a woman and didn't seem to have much strength, her fists rained down on the human like a storm.

Gazlowe was trying to figure out how to separate the two when a bigger problem arose: a group of humans surrounded the one who had mocked Harkel, intending to help him. However, the Forsaken acted quickly, stepping forward to stop them without warning. The brawl ensued. Gazlowe tried to shout for them to stop, but he was repeatedly bumped into; since the fight wasn't his problem, he was the first to be kicked out of the crowd.

Skagit quickly helped him up.

"In the name of gold coins, this is my city. Skagit, call all the security guards over," Gazlowe said.

The assistant, on command, drew the signal flare. A red signal flare rose into the sky with a sharp, piercing burst of fireworks.

Gazlowe shouted at the crowd, "Enough! Stop! All of you stop right now! Otherwise, you'll face the consequences, understand?"

Harkel, who was about to throw another punch, stopped herself, fixing her gaze on Gazlowe. This Goblins had ruined her; the Forsaken were willing to accept Ratchet's control, but the humans she fought wouldn't. She'd been knocked to the ground by a single punch, and many of her brethren had suffered the same sneak attack. The Forsaken were already outnumbered and were quickly overwhelmed.

"I said, stop!" Gazlowe exclaimed. Fortunately, the security personnel who saw the flare immediately gathered around, and he was now able to handle the chaos in front of him.

"Arrest them!"

"He hit me first!" The human's voice sounded very strange because of his injured nose.

Gazlowe ignored him and was even angry with him. He said directly to the group of humans, "This is Goblins territory. Everything here is my doing, understand? Now I'll give you two choices: either stop immediately and surrender obediently, or my men will teach you a lesson with clubs and stun guns."

Skagit stood at the back; the boss wasn't bluffing, and he spoke in a low voice. He knew that if this human and his Forsaken continued to ignore his warnings and fight the Forsaken, the Ogre guards of Ratchet would make them pay.

The situation was quickly brought under control. However, the Forsaken suffered heavy losses. Several Undead lay motionless on the ground, some lost arms in the chaos, some had their jaws dislocated and dangling, and Captain Harkel knelt on the ground with a dazed look in his eyes, seemingly tormented by pain.

Gazlowe knew she had struck first, but the primary responsibility didn't lie with her. While the Forsaken appeared to be the most dangerous group in Ratchet, they adhered to a principle of avoiding trouble and only engaging in trade. Today was the first time this had happened.

The Goblins boss walked over and saw that Harkel's arm was showing signs of breaking, perhaps even in the next second. He said with regret, "I'm so sorry, the Forsaken have always been Ratchet's valued customers."

"This is not over!"

Gazlowe was stunned. Harkel looked up, glaring at the human who had narrowly escaped death. "The Forsaken will make you pay!"