Release

Lordaeron was wild. Nathanos bound Grot's hands with a rope, then led the way, pulling on the other end. To prevent any accidents, he also gagged the Orcs. They marched all the way to the eastern part of Tirisfal Jungle, where Nathanos could see the battlefield. The situation in Lordaeron was dire; the corpses piled up beneath the city walls were as high as a small mountain. As Nathanos surveyed the scene, a burst of laughter suddenly came from behind him. It was clearly Grot. He squinted, his mouth gagged, yet he continued to laugh, though it sounded strange, and he seemed oblivious to how foolish he looked.

"They haven't breached the walls." Nathanos's words were like a bucket of cold water poured over him. "The Alliance can still get here in time."

Grot made a buzzing sound and shook his bound hands behind his back. Nathanos guessed he was saying something about the Alliance's inevitable defeat, so he ignored him.

He calmly analyzed the current situation. 'Strange, Turalyon's army set off several days ago; why haven't they arrived yet? Are they waiting for an opportunity?'

Nathanos stroked his chin, then nodded. The Alliance must have arrived in this area, but the Horde didn't know they were there. This might be an advantage, allowing them to trap the Horde in the middle.

"But the premise is..." he said, frowning.

Alliance Camp

Turalyon and Khadgar were discussing something. Unbeknownst to them, Nathanos was pondering the same question.

"But the prerequisite is that the King knows we are here, so that we can cooperate effectively, and he will also know that he is not alone," Turalyon said to Khadgar.

Kurdran frowned and added to the Paladin's words, "And we can't use Gryphon to deliver messages. If the Horde sees Gryphon in the sky, they'll immediately know that Alliance troops are behind them, and they'll launch a siege against us."

Turalyon nodded; it was the truth. His eyes were fixed on the overwhelming horde of Orcs below. "No one can pass through these Orcs unharmed, not even the Elf."

Below was an open plain, with nothing to offer as cover. Charging in would be suicide.

Khadgar, standing beside Turalyon, gave a strange smile. "Leave it to me," he assured him. "It's too easy."

Within Lordaeron

"His Majesty!"

Terenas looked up. A soldier shouted, pointing upwards along the city wall. Terenas was already thinking about another possible Orcs attack when he looked in that direction. Terenas gasped in fright at a black figure flying towards him.

"Archers, prepare!" he shouted, his eyes fixed on the shadow. "Shoot only on my command." This thing looked odd. With thousands of Orcs charging the walls below, why send something like this out of the blue? A scout? A spy? Or something else entirely? Or perhaps, not even from the Horde?

The archers stood in their positions, longbows drawn taut, waiting silently. The uninvited guest's feathers remained unilluminated even in the moonlight, its entire body as black as an abyss. Suddenly, its bird-like head turned, its wide-open golden eyes surveying its surroundings.

Terenas stared at him; it was a black raven. Then the bird shimmered, and Terenas shielded his eyes with his hand, letting out a sigh of relief when he saw the purple garments. It wasn't armor, but a robe—which meant one thing.

"Drop your weapons!" he shouted to the archers. "This is a mage from Dalaran!"

The soldiers laid down their weapons, and with a gesture from Terenas, they returned to their posts.

"You've come just in time, Khadgar," Terenas said, stepping forward. He remembered the mage who had always followed Lothar.

"Thank you, Your Majesty." Khadgar bowed to him immediately after transforming, having only just gotten used to Atiesh's raven form. "Please forgive me for meeting you in this way, but the situation is urgent."

Terenas waved and shook his head. "I understand, but I want to know if reinforcements have arrived. The Horde's attack is very swift, and we have already suffered heavy casualties, I'm afraid..."

"I've come to tell you some good news," the seemingly old mage replied with a smile. He looked tired but was in good health. "Turalyon and his troops are now on the other side of the northern valley. Elf reinforcements are also on their way." He told Terenas, gratefully accepting the parchment of water offered by Morlev, and gulped down several mouthfuls. "We will attack from the rear of the Horde and force them toward you."

"Excellent!" Terenas clasped his hands together, feeling happier for the first time in days. "With the help of these Alliance armies, the Orcs will face a pincer attack!"

"This is exactly Turalyon planned," the mage agreed happily. "I am glad to have told you all this."

"Come this way," Terenas said. "Let's talk about Turalyon's next move, so those despicable Orcs will regret their audacity in invading our city."

In the eastern jungle, Grot turned his head away from the water Nathanos offered him, shouting, "You will fail! That city is crumbling!"

"If your Great Chief had siege equipment, he could have breached Lordaeron in a single day. Now, he's lost thousands of soldiers and still can't break through the defenses. Every second wasted diminishes the Horde's chances. While you still hold a significant advantage, you've lost your initial edge." Nathanos put away his water pouch and waited for his opportunity. He knew what Turalyon was planning, but the Paladin seemed to be oversimplifying things. With Turalyon's current forces, a Charge against the Horde could temporarily disrupt the Orcs' formation, but the disparity in strength was immense, a fact Orgrim knew well. He only needed to rouse his soldiers to counterattack, Turalyon would surely fail. This wouldn't save Lordaeron; it would put him in danger. Nathanos clenched his fist silently. What he was about to do would completely disrupt Turalyon's plans, without causing the Horde too much damage, but ultimately, Orgrim would choose to retreat. Nathanos calculated his chances of victory and turned his gaze to Grot.

Do you know why I brought you here?

The Orcs looked at him. Indeed, it was strange that Nathanos had brought him here. Why would he do this? The human immediately answered his question, "Because I want you to witness the Horde's defeat firsthand."

"What?" Grot's eyes widened, then he burst into laughter. "You think I'd believe your nonsense? I'm not blind. Lordaeron's defenses are about to crumble. You, and all the other humans, will be prisoners." He spat on the ground.

"Really? You don't know yet," Nathanos said, then pointed to the mountains north of Lordaeron. He had observed them for a long time and believed that was the most likely place where Turalyon was hiding his army. "There, beneath the calm of those mountains, the Alliance army has been hidden, the army that retreated from Quel'Thalas. The Horde has been surrounded, and your Great Chief is still completely unaware of it."

Grot's smile vanished instantly! How could this be? The Orcs's eyes darted back and forth between the mountain range and Nathanos. He couldn't believe it; this must be a conspiracy by Nathanos.

"You certainly don't believe me, do you?" The human smiled slyly. "I came back from Quel'Thalas. Before I left, the Alliance army was already on its way. It's impossible that they haven't arrived here yet. The fact that they're not on the battlefield can only mean that they're hiding and preparing to deliver a fatal blow to Orgrim when he's completely unprepared."

"Hmph! So what? The chief will definitely kill you all."

"You're really stubborn and naive. No matter how strong Orgrim is, he can't possibly take on dozens or even hundreds of people by himself. You're doomed to lose."

Grot fell silent, pondering how to shut the human up. But Nathanos's next action astonished him. The human actually released him from his restraints and returned his battle axe to him.

"What are you going to do?" Grot looked at him in surprise.

"I'll let you go," Nathanos replied succinctly.

The Orcs couldn't believe his ears. When Nathanos captured him, he thought he was doomed, but the humans spared him. Now, however, they were offering to release him. Grot gripped his battle axe, wary of Nathanos. He wanted to attack, to salvage his honor with victory, but he knew he was no match for Nathanos; otherwise, he wouldn't have been captured. He retreated step by step, while Nathanos stood motionless. Only after retreating twenty yards did he turn and run desperately towards Orgrim's stronghold. Nathanos could attack him, could even kill him outright, but he didn't. He knew this Orcs was the key to changing the tide of battle; if his plan succeeded, the Horde, while not necessarily retreating, would certainly not continue their attack on Lordaeron.

"Don't disappoint me, Grot," Nathanos murmured, the moonlight shining directly on his head. "You are a... Dragonmaw Orc."