Across all the battles in Azeroth, two dragonflights had suffered the most casualties: the Blue Dragons and the Black Dragons. The Black Dragons went without saying. They were enemies of the entire continent, so their heavy losses were understandable. But the Blue Dragons' losses really pissed Patrick off. He knew their history very well. They were a race whose tragedy could not possibly have been greater.
They loved meddling, were impulsive and quick to anger, and liked drawing blades at the slightest disagreement. Even after being sold out, they would still help their betrayers count the money. Mati'gosa, Sindragosa, Saragos, Azuregos, Sapphiron (Sapphiron), Arcanagos, Siannegos, Tarecgosa, Tarecgosa, Kyrissa... the list went on. The Blue Dragonflight's powerful members who had met tragic ends were too numerous to count.
If Dalaran could do this, why couldn't the Arcane Pact? Weren't you so good at invoking the greater good? Weren't you so good at saying one thing and doing another? Why should I sacrifice selflessly for Dalaran? Did you really think everyone in this world was a puppet in your hands, yours to manipulate as you pleased?
Here, Patrick's words had already made his meaning clear. Don't judge me by your standards. What I do is my own business. Those who casually judged others by their own standards were all failures.
"Dalaran has always been neutral. We are not members of the Alliance." Rhonin had picked up on part of what he meant.
"Then why don't you let members of the Horde enter and leave Dalaran? Why are you in league with the Alliance? Don't spout that self-deluding nonsense. The other powers aren't blind." That was enough, and Patrick had no intention of fanning the flames any further. "In the future, there will have to be a reckoning between us. Whether you owe