Break

Meryl wondered why he had been summoned. He sensed that Nathanos had a task for him, but anything saved for last was rarely a pleasant assignment.

Yet Nathanos had been telling everyone else what to do, showing no intention of acknowledging him.

Judging from his deployment, Meryl could not see why he had been called here.

"I have a question, my lord," Veronalara said. "It is clear this operation is imperative, but why are there only us? Some Forsaken leaders, such as Prefist and Orisus, do not seem to have been assigned any tasks. I do not think they want to sit idle."

Nathanos fell silent for a moment. He saw similar confusion on the others' faces. He had not intended to reveal this so early. "No one will be idle," he said. "Because the Forsaken's operation is not limited to Orgrimmar."

His only hand reached toward Belmont. "A map of the Eastern Kingdoms."

The Shadowblade leader summoned two guards. Nathanos knew them: Sansa and Malcolm. Each held a corner of the map and carefully laid it out before Nathanos.

"It is time." His finger pointed to a red cloth-marked region in the north of the Eastern Kingdoms.

"Lordaeron?"

"The Crimson Crusade should have disappeared long ago." The Witherer tapped the map with his index finger, as though tolling the death knell of the Crimson Crusade. His expression was solemn. "Take back Lordaeron."

You must be insane! Meryl thought. He struck the deck with his staff, and the clack finally ensured he would no longer be ignored.

"How long has it been since you last went to Lordaeron, Nathanos?"

Meryl challenged him without the slightest restraint. His reaction was entirely within the Witherer's expectations. "The Crimson Crusade has brought that land back to life." The mage stepped toward him, visibly