Windsor's expression was solemn. Behind him, the soldiers, now numbering nearly fifty, glared angrily at the men blocking their way.
General Marcus Jonathan, Stormwind City's supreme defense commander, sat astride his warhorse. Behind him, several hundred guards stood in battle formation, firmly blocking the road from the Valley of Heroes into Stormwind City's Trade District.
"Reginald, my brother, I'm sorry. You know I can't let you through!"
"Get out of the way, you lackeys! Can't you see what Stormwind City has become?"
Duhan shouted at them. In the past, he would never even have had the chance to meet someone so important, but the frustration of these past few months, and his helplessness as bandits invaded his home, had driven the dutiful sheriff completely over the edge. Marshal Windsor was about to turn this whole wretched situation around, yet now these important men had jumped out to stop them. It enraged not only Duhan, but the soldiers as well.
The sound of weapons being drawn rang out without pause. How could these "ceremonial troops," responsible only for guarding the capital, withstand the veterans' murderous aura? Unease stirred among the soldiers behind General Jonathan. Jonathan, also middle-aged now, had a flicker of sorrow in the eyes beneath his helmet. But a moment later, he raised his warhammer and shouted,
"Don't force my hand, old friend! Guarding this place is my duty! If you insist on passing, you'll have to step over my corpse!"
"Enough, Marcus!"
Marshal Windsor stepped forward and raised a hand. The soldiers behind him immediately fell silent. The old marshal strode up to Jonathan, spread his arms, and stood there.
"You must do what you believe is right! Marcus, my old friend. We once served together under General Turalyon. His words, deeds, and teachings made us both who