Andorhal, to the left of the Lake Mirondal bridge.
"Kel'Thuzad! You will pay for what you've done!"
Fully armored, Arthas swung his warhammer and smashed aside the ghoul blocking his path. Blazing Holy Light burst from his palm, burning the filthy, evil monster to ashes.
He charged bravely toward Kel'Thuzad alone, like a sword drawn from its sheath, but countless undead waved their arms around him, forming a terrifying "human wall."
These withered undead had still been living residents of Andorhal that morning. But at noon, the mists that had shrouded Andorhal since the beginning of the year suddenly thickened. In just three hours, Andorhal went from the largest city in eastern Lordaeron to a true hell.
Arthas had brought nearly a hundred paladins, all the troops that could be drawn from the Bulwark.
After receiving the findings of his most trusted guard captain, Falric, and learning that Kel'Thuzad had returned to Andorhal from Brill, Arthas had immediately marched out with every paladin.
Yes, Jaina had lied to Dick. The young lady had never told Arthas about her and Dick's whereabouts. She had merely stolen Arthas's insignia, a bold act that had nearly cost her her life.
At present, however, Arthas knew none of this. He only knew that Jaina had left Crusader's Hold with Dick, but he had no time to look for that playful young mage. He had something more important to do: save his people. As the future king of Lordaeron, Arthas was unquestionably a worthy ruler in this respect.
But this was also his greatest weakness, and unfortunately, the masterminds behind the scenes had already discovered it.
Leaning on his staff, the Cursed, Kel'Thuzad stood expressionlessly in the square at the center of Andorhal. As he watched Arthas struggle to "charge" through the undead, a trace of disdain flashed in his eyes.
He did not understand why the great Lich King had chosen this feeble paladin as his left hand. He could easily kill this paladin, this foolish prince, with only half his strength. Nor did the mage quite understand why he had to "die" at this fellow's hands.
But Kel'Thuzad took his work very seriously. Since his all-powerful master required it, he would do it, for the sake of gaining greater power and researching more profound magic.
Kel'Thuzad moved the fingers of the hand behind his back slightly, and a narrow gap suddenly appeared among the undead that had been tightly blocking Arthas outside.
"Holy Light, grant me strength!"
Arthas seized the opportunity keenly and raised his warhammer high. He called upon the power of the Holy Light, and as energy from an unknown being poured into him, pure golden light of justice began surging over his entire body.
To the undead, this Holy Light was like sunlight melting ice.
With a light sweep of his warhammer, wrapped in Holy Light, Arthas widened the gap before him considerably. On either side, undead wailed as they turned to gray ashes within the barriers formed by the Holy Light.
"Your punishment has come, Kel'Thuzad!"
Arthas charged valiantly up to Kel'Thuzad, whose "expression changed dramatically," swinging his warhammer. A light knock sent the Black-and-Red Staff in Kel'Thuzad's hand flying aside. Before the second blow arrived, Kel'Thuzad abruptly spat out a mouthful of blood, and the glow of the spell he was preparing dissipated with it.
At the sight, excitement appeared in the prince's eyes.
He was no fool ignorant of magic. Clearly, controlling this army of undead had tied up so much of Kel'Thuzad's arcane power that, once Arthas broke through, he could not even defend himself,
and could only grit his teeth and sever his control over the undead. He was going to run!
How could Arthas allow Kel'Thuzad to escape? He swung his warhammer in a full arc and brought it down on the mage's body. The blow struck Kel'Thuzad's back, sending him staggering. Kel'Thuzad fell awkwardly to the ground and shouted at Arthas in "terror,"
"Don't get so smug, Prince! In Stratholme, my allies are creating an army powerful enough to destroy the entire kingdom. You... you will all be... Aaargh!!!"
Before Kel'Thuzad finished his wail, the warhammer fell again and utterly crushed his heart. Black blood stained the surrounding ground black. Arthas glanced at Kel'Thuzad's corpse in disgust, then raised his head and surveyed the undead around him, which had reverted to a disorganized rabble without anyone controlling them.
Recalling Kel'Thuzad's final cries, a trace of weariness appeared on Arthas's resolute face, only to turn to determination. That stubborn look was enough to send a chill through anyone who saw it.
"Falric, burn this body and bring the ashes. We're going to Stratholme!"
Falric carried a great shield in one hand and a war axe in the other. He turned and cut down a ghoul attempting a sneak attack, then hurried over to Arthas. Another paladin quickly filled his place.
"Your Highness, should we rest for a day? You look exhausted!"
"No! Straight to Stratholme. My people are suffering. I must save them from the darkness!"
Arthas's voice was firm. Together with the look in his eyes, it left absolutely no room for anyone to doubt his words. At his declaration, determination appeared in the eyes of the surrounding paladins. Their morale soared, and they soon used Holy Light to tear a path of ashes through the utterly unorganized undead.
Arthas personally led the way, swinging his warhammer. Falric followed with a small cloth bundle on his back, and the other paladins followed behind him.
They were like champions defying death, leaving purified undead wherever they passed. In silence, the champions plunged into the mists and soon vanished from sight.
This should have been an epic tale of justice triumphing over evil, of champions slaying the fallen. But to Dick and Jaina, standing beside the tower at Andorhal's highest point, it was nothing short of a joke! Like a badly acted stage play.
"That arrogant idiot! Doesn't he stop to think? Is an archmage really that easy to deal with?"
Jaina cursed in exasperation at his failure to do better. But her body had just endured the torment of four curses, and this young mage was not yet the leader of mages she would become ten years later. So even with the curses lifted, she was still very weak, and even needed to lean on her staff to move.
Yet that weakness only stoked her anger further.
"Stratholme-that's obviously Kel'Thuzad's trap! And he just jumped straight into it without a backward glance! What a... cough, cough, cough."
Her anger strained her still-fragile body. Together with the heavy Anti-Magic Shackles on her hands and feet, it nearly sent her frail figure toppling to the floor.
Dick hurried over to support her, but the young mage slapped his outstretched hand away. Jaina's eyes made no attempt to conceal her disgust and contempt for Dick.
"Get away! You lowly coward!"
Dick's outstretched hand froze in place. Though he had done his best to hide it, the Cult of the Damned insignia on the back of his left hand was still so conspicuous.
He pressed his lips together, trying to convince himself to ignore Jaina's misunderstanding. But when he saw the look in her eyes, as though she wanted to kill him, Dick finally buried the concern in his eyes deep within them. He gave the stubborn Jaina one last look, then turned and left the completely undefended top floor.
"Go on, go find your dark master! Thank him like a dog for sparing your life!"
His body stiffened briefly as he descended, but Dick soon returned to normal. He went straight down the stairs, leaving Jaina alone on the top floor.
The rare, vicious expression vanished from Jaina's face. Leaning on her staff, she slowly crouched down against a filthy corner and tried to curl herself into a ball. She wrapped her arms around her knees and buried her head.
A few seconds later, sobs rang out in the dim space on the top floor.
"I'm sorry... sob... I'm sorry... Arthas... if it weren't for me..."
Her voice was faint, but loud enough for Dick, secretly hiding in the darkness nearby, to hear. When the name "Arthas" reached his ears, Dick fell silent.
Hidden in the darkness, he watched the sobbing young lady, watched that ever-proud young lady show such fear for the first time, as fragile as a little girl afraid of thunder.
He quietly walked away. This time, he did not look back.
"I'm sorry... Dick... if I hadn't dragged you out... I shouldn't blame you... I'm sorry..."
Unfortunately... there was no one left around that corner.
Below the tower, Dick slouched in a chair, staring blankly at the cobwebs in the dark upper reaches of the tower. He watched a fist-sized black spider, infected by the Scourge plague, labor to spin its web. He had once wanted to be a spider too, spreading his web across the entire world and watching the ugly spectacle of prey struggling with all their might to break free.
But yesterday and today, he had clearly seen two fools who thought themselves hunters plunge headlong into a larger web. Though they desperately wanted to break free and escape, their strength did not even qualify them to tear through the web.
Wisdom, memories-when faced with true power, these things were often as worthless as bubbles in water.
Power! Power...
"Oh, look who this is... a little rat pondering life. How ironic."
Someone Dick had never seen before entered through the door and sat straight down in the seat of honor before him. Although his appearance had changed completely, and even his voice was different, Dick knew that inside this body was Kel'Thuzad, who had just died, that clumsy second male lead.
Dick looked at him, very intently,
"Why do you find it ironic?"
Kel'Thuzad looked back at him with eyes that had also changed completely. For the first time, this arrogant fallen mage spoke to Dick as an equal. A mysterious smile appeared on the face of this shell.
"Because I discovered that a lowly commoner actually sees this world more clearly than a noble prince. I just reviewed all your movements. You came to Andorhal a month ago and rescued a girl from a village on the outskirts, didn't you? You also advised the owner of Gahrron's Withering to throw away our Plague Cauldron. Unfortunately, that fool didn't listen to you."
"So I'm very curious. How did you deduce the Plague Cauldron's purpose before any of this happened? Why didn't you report your discovery to the king? Isn't that a sheriff's duty?"
For the first time in five days, Dick's signature narrow-eyed smile appeared on his face again,
"Take a guess."
"Bang!"
Dick paid for his flippancy. Despite changing bodies, Kel'Thuzad's control over arcane power had not diminished. A single Lich Palm sent Dick spinning twice through the air before he fell to the ground.
"The Tirisfal Brotherhood has sent word. We leave tonight. Also, little rat, you'd better behave yourself! You may not fear death, but you still have to think of others, don't you?"