White Pawn

When Shaw returned to Stormwind City, it was already night. He was told that the King had gone to bed, so he had to go back to the SI:7 headquarters in the Old Town and write a detailed report on the Redridge Mountains incident in his office.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Master Spy."

Shaw looked up to see his office door open to a Goblins. The Goblins was saluting him, his hand on his brow.

The newcomer was "Razor" Regik, a short Goblins. Unlike other organizations in the Alliance, SI:7 recruits Goblins and High Elf in addition to humans, Dwarf, Night Elf, and other races.

"What is it?" Shaw asked as he continued writing his report.

"Here is a secret letter from the King, which he requests you to deliver to him immediately upon your return."

"A letter from the King?" Shaw put down his pen, walked up to Regik, and took the small envelope.

The image is intact and has never been opened by anyone. It can be opened now.

Shaw quickly scanned the text line by line, and after reading it, he threw it into the brazier.

When was this letter delivered?

"This afternoon."

The spymaster frowned. Half a day had already passed...

Is Admiral Taylor still at Stormwind?

Regik thought for a moment and replied, "No, he's not here. He left at two o'clock this afternoon with several dozen warships, heading towards Kalimdor in three directions. My lord, what happened?"

"The White Pawn are returning; the King has sent men to meet them."

"Bai... White Pawn!" Regik's eyes widened. Only a handful of people in Stormwind City knew who this name referred to.

"So what should we do?"

"Contact your spies in Kalimdor immediately and have them keep an eye on the Horde navy's movements. Be quick."

"Will this method even work?" Calila asked skeptically, her eyes fixed on the entrance to the prison tunnel. "That's not real human blood."

"Nathos assured me there wouldn't be any problems," Veronalara explained softly. "It's a blood substitute."

"I have a feeling that this plan was a bit rushed."

Shh, they're coming!

The lurking Dark Ranger fell silent.

Someone arrived at the prison, and two soldiers guarding the gate stepped forward to question him. Before long, they heard a thud as someone fell to the ground.

Veronalara gripped her weapon tightly. The prey had taken the bait.

The one who slowly walked over was just an ordinary Forsaken, but he was able to take down the prison guards.

The several Dark Ranger hiding in the shadows exchanged a few hand gestures, indicating that they did not recognize this guy.

Disguised as an ordinary person, she infiltrated the Forsaken to gather information. Veronalara recalled that this was the method the Witherer used when they established their intelligence network.

"Fresh blood." The Forsaken's amused tone made Veronalara shrink back.

He squatted down, sniffed carefully, and without thinking why there would be a bucket of red liquid in the prison.

Under the watchful eyes of several people, the 'prey' began to greedily devour the delicious food before him. Initially, he displayed an attitude of great enjoyment, feeling a surge of power within him, an urge to release it impatiently.

Veronalara still remembered the bloody battle against the Vampyr at Icecrown Citadel. She had lost many Dark Ranger in that fight. The Vampyr' power would surge several times over upon contact with blood. Their weakness was their inability to resist the allure of blood. Now she hoped that Nathos's potion would work as he had described.

"It's working," Calila reminded her.

The disguised Vampyr began to sway, as if he were drunk. He sensed something was wrong and wanted to leave.

"Grab him!" Veronalara shouted.

The words were still echoing when several sharp arrows were shot out. Before Vampyr could react, she was pierced through the arm and leg, and frozen to the wall. The Dark Ranger surrounded her.

"Remove his disguise."

A Dark Ranger nodded and then sprinkled a vial of potion onto the captured Undead. Vampyr struggled desperately, her outer skin peeling away to reveal the inner, intact, yet still dead skin.

Veronalara was somewhat disappointed; the Vampyr she had captured was not the highest-ranking Blood Prince, but an ordinary priest.

"It's clearly not their leader," Calila said from the side.

"But he must know who that person is!" Veronalara walked up to the prisoner, pressed her sword against his neck, and asked, "You'd better confess everything before I bleed you."

Vampyr's face twisted into a grotesque smile, and her shrill voice was completely devoid of the elegance she possessed when she was alive.

"You'll never know that the Forsaken will crumble from within."

"Thank you for your honesty." Veronalara tightened her grip, and dark blood spurted from Vampyr's throat. All the Dark Ranger stepped back to avoid being tainted by the filth.

The sword strike did not kill Vampyr immediately. Veronalara controlled the force perfectly, intending to let this Abomination creature die slowly in the most agonizing way.

"It looks rather cruel." Calila turned to look at her leader. "The Forsaken have no precedent for executing prisoners."

"Then let's break this routine today. Locking these vampires up will only create more trouble." Veronalara stared at the blood on her sword. "Find all the Vampyr and let the mastermind know that even if they hide in the shadows, fear will find them."

"I still don't understand what you're saying, ma'am."

Inside the mayor's residence in Southshore, Sylvanas stood by the window, gazing out at the sea.

The speaker was Henni Mareb, the mayor of Southshore. Jaina and her six-person team had arrived an hour earlier, but had been unable to persuade him.

Henni Mareb, a short, stout man with a thick beard and a hat, sat lazily on a small chair in the middle of the room. He told Jaina that Southshore was calm and there was nothing unusual.

"What I'm saying is that a Forsaken fleet is heading here. They are fully armed, and you should get the civilians out of here immediately."

"Why did you run away?" Mareb asked, looking bewildered.

Jaina blinked, hardly believing that this needed any explanation.

"Marshal Rend, please tell Ms. Proudmoore about the defenses of Southshore."

A tall soldier walked in; he looked like a mercenary.

Sylvanas turned around. She had heard the name Rend before, within the Argent Crusade— an officer stationed in Darrowshire. But that Rend was dead; the man before her was his blood relative.

"I am Marcus Rend, in charge of the defense of Southshore."

As he made this introduction, Sylvanas and Jaina both rolled their eyes. The moment they heard the word "defense," they knew Mayor Mareb's attitude towards the impending attack.