It had already been a day since they had passed through Darrowshire again. Dick had taken the time to visit Little Pamela and Captain Redpath. Andorhal's fall had abruptly heightened tensions in Darrowshire, but the saying about finding it hard to leave one's homeland held just as true in this world.
Redpath had been training the militia to deal with any trouble that might arise. Dick had told him to take the villagers to Tyr's Hand or Light's Hope Chapel as soon as he discovered any sign that the undead intended to attack, and Redpath had agreed.
As for Dawi, the young man had already gone to the barracks at Tyr's Hand for paladin training. Barring any accidents, he would become a proud paladin of the Silver Hand by this time next year.
Now Dick rode beside Jaina's carriage as her nominal guard, toying with a silver insignia bearing the image of a clenched fist.
This was the insignia of the Order of the Silver Hand, the symbol of Dick's membership in the order. It was the reward he had received for completing "Uther's Predicament," a high knight's insignia personally presented to him by Uther.
Although Dick still had to undergo a complicated ritual and pass the order's internal martial training to truly become a high knight, his feat of single-handedly holding off an undead squad in Andorhal had evidently been enough for Uther to acknowledge his ability and qualifications.
In truth, Uther did not know that Dick was only that formidable against creatures outside order. In terms of actual combat strength, Dick might not even be able to defeat a low-ranking knight.
Since they intended to draw on Light's Hope Chapel's strength, Uther had brought only a hundred knights who still had the strength to fight. That number was not to be underestimated. In the full fourteen years since paladins had first appeared, their total number, even counting those from the other six kingdoms, certainly did not exceed three thousand, and the Order of the Silver Hand had only fifteen hundred paladins.
Against the sea of millions, perhaps nearly ten million undead that would be created a year later from all the living beings in the entire empire of Quel'Thalas and the whole Darrowmere Region, such a small force would struggle even to hold its ground.
This was also why the Order of the Silver Hand ultimately fell. The first paladins, led by Uther, placed too much emphasis on quality and neglected quantity. Even if all fifteen hundred had been legendary paladins like Tirion Fordring, what choice would they have against nearly ten million undead other than to die fighting?
This was not a game. Having enough health and mana did not mean someone could keep fighting like a perpetual-motion machine. Even the toughest warrior could not escape the great problem of exhaustion.
But Dick's words carried little weight at present, so naturally he would not simply march up to Uther and discuss these problems. He merely followed Jaina's carriage in silence, occasionally exchanging playful looks with the young lady when she lifted the window curtain.
Near noon, the distinctive spire of Light's Hope Chapel appeared before them. Since becoming a paladin, Dick could sense the different kinds of energy drifting around him. Even now, with nearly a thousand meters still separating them from the chapel, the presence of the Holy Light in the air suddenly grew much denser.
Even the Holy Power slowly recovering inside Dick began to replenish faster. The Warhammer of Fire of Justice on his back seemed to awaken and began actively absorbing the power of the Holy Light like a greedy child. Dick could even sense the artifact's jubilant cheers.
Dick's eyes narrowed. No wonder Light's Hope Chapel had managed to hold out for several years while the Scourge ravaged the world. With this concentration of Holy Light alone, he reckoned that no undead could even approach unless the Lich King came in person.
"Look, Light's Hope, the holy sanctuary of the Holy Light."
Seeing the astonishment on Dick's face, an old knight could not help saying to him,
"Most paladins came from here. Frankly, I've never seen the Holy Light favor anyone so much. Mr. Dick, you may well be a born paladin."
Dick felt a little embarrassed by this. He looked at the knight, who was not actually all that old, and smiled as he thumped his chest. Among orcs, this gesture conveyed respect. In the human kingdoms, it also expressed goodwill between warriors.
"My name is Erigor, a high paladin. Thank you and Lady Jaina for saving us."
The old knight was in a talkative mood. He controlled his warhorse's pace as he chatted with Dick,
"You don't look much like a local."
"Uh... actually, I was born in the Kingdom of Stormwind."
Hearing the name sent a jolt through Dick's heart. Erigor, a famed champion after Uther's time, was also a hero granted the surname "Dawnbringer." During those years before Tirion Fordring returned, he had been one of the leaders of the otherwise leaderless Argent Dawn.
Looking at the knight's curious expression, Dick tried hard to recall his memories from before his transmigration,
"Sixteen years ago, my parents brought me, then five years old, to Lordaeron with Lothar and Prince Varian. I grew up here and eventually became a soldier of the Kingdom of Lordaeron. After retiring, I served as Darrowshire's sheriff for three years. Later, I met Lady Jaina and became her squire. Come to think of it, Lordaeron counts as my homeland too."
"Ah, I'm actually from the Kingdom of Stormwind as well. I was born on a small farm in Westfall, but life is unpredictable. Now I wander Darrowmere, fighting those evil undead. Come to think of it, I haven't been back in over a decade either."
It was rare for Erigor to meet someone from his homeland in this foreign country, and his manner immediately grew warmer. The two got along very well. After they entered Light's Hope Chapel, which was like a small town, Erigor enthusiastically promised before they parted that he would teach Dick some basic paladin combat techniques when he had time.
That was an unexpected gain, but before Dick could celebrate, he saw a somewhat familiar figure staggering toward them from the roadside outside the town. Apparently too exhausted, the man fell to the ground after only a few steps.
Dick hurriedly dismounted and ran over to help the exhausted traveler up. Once he saw the man's face clearly, his own expression changed drastically. He hurriedly shouted to Uther and Jaina, who were exchanging greetings with a fully armed middle-aged knight,
"Prince Arthas is in trouble! Hurry, revive him!"
His ringing voice immediately drew everyone's attention. Even the utterly exhausted Falric could not help tightening his grip on Dick's hand. He could no longer speak, but that did not matter. Dick had already shouted what he wanted to say.
Fifteen minutes later, Uther and Alexandros, along with six hundred fully armed paladins and squires, marched out of Light's Hope Chapel in force. Guided by Falric, who had barely recovered, they headed straight for Zul'Mashar.
Meanwhile, deep within Stratholme's Old Town, a purple spatial rift was slowly opening. Small bolts of lightning raced across its surface, and together with the black void within, the sight was enough to make anyone retreat several steps in fear.
Before the spatial rift stood a human noble in his thirties, toying with the Lord's Signet on his finger. He wore magnificent black robes and had golden hair, clearly marking him as a pure-blooded noble. His finely featured face was expressionless, but a closer look revealed a glimmer of excitement and distortion deep in his eyes.
This was Baron Rivendare, the de facto ruler of the Eastweald, a collaborator who secretly funded Kel'Thuzad's Cult of the Damned, and the Lich King's first follower in the Eastern Kingdoms. For that reason, the Lich King had also bestowed power beyond mortal reach upon him through Kel'Thuzad.
Slash!
A hideous claw adorned with purple jewels and flowing blood-red light pierced the spatial rift, followed by another. With a forceful tug, the two claws tore the entire rift apart as casually as an ordinary person might tear something open, though mortals would not have dared approach it.
Rampaging energy swept wildly through the entire room. Several cursed mages, exhausted from conducting the summoning ritual, died instantly in the surge. Rivendare merely raised his left hand before his eyes in a defensive gesture.
Green and black energy formed an Anti-Magic Barrier before him, effortlessly blocking the rampaging energy.
The baron narrowed his eyes slightly, examining the creature that had appeared before him.
It stood four meters tall, with purple-black bat wings and a pair of long, curved demonic horns atop its head. Its head and face closely resembled demons from myths and legends. It also had a pair of backward-bending, hooflike feet. Its magnificent armor was entirely blue and purple, but the energy flowing around it felt just like what he had sensed during their earlier mental communication.
Hmm, it seemed this demon was indeed the mysterious Lord Mal'Ganis.
"You're Rivendare?"
After appearing, the hideous demon immediately shrank, then settled into a chair in the room with practiced ease. He pointed at Rivendare with a claw resembling a ghoul's, tipped with long, slender, blood-red nails. Although demons generally wore hideous expressions, Rivendare still detected a hint of mockery in this one.
But he did not grow angry. He respected power, and this demon could clearly bring him greater power. In that case, there was nothing wrong with showing him respect.
"Yes, Lord Mal'Ganis. I am Rivendare, a follower of the Lich King."
"Oh, yes, I know you. That fool Kel'Thuzad died unexpectedly... tsk, tsk, what a pity."
Mal'Ganis spread his claws and put on a regretful expression.
"You've done very well taking over his work. A little late, but that's no great problem. Where is our little prince? I hear you've kept him trapped for three whole days. Tsk, tsk, tsk, quite a bold fellow. I hope you won't regret it when you learn what he'll become. Hahahaha!"
Rivendare did not answer that question. Instead, he waited until Mal'Ganis finished his wild laughter, then asked calmly,
"Then, Lord Mal'Ganis, all preparations are complete. When do we carry out our great master's orders?"
Whoosh!
Rivendare's body slammed straight into the wall behind him as though struck by a mountain, but he did not fall. Having returned to his original size, Mal'Ganis gripped Rivendare by the nose with his claw and pulled him toward his hideous face,
"He is your master! Remember that, little insect. Ner'zhul may be powerful in your eyes, but before me, who serves true power, he is nothing but a lowly prisoner. So I don't need you telling me what to do. Do you understand?"
The dreadlord patted Rivendare's face with his other claw, its sharp tips leaving several deep, bloody gashes. But Rivendare neither struggled nor protested. Instead, he asked with difficulty and respect,
"Then may I ask what we should do next, Lord Mal'Ganis?"
"Tsk, tsk, an interesting little insect. I like your humility. Go, carry out Ner'zhul's instructions. Leave the little prince... to me! Hahahaha!"
Answers to questions:
Regarding population, I saw some of you discussing the number of undead in Hadohal, so let me explain where Andorhal's nearly one million undead came from. First, I read on Baidu Baike-don't laugh, it's my only source-that in the early Middle Ages on Earth, around AD 1000, during Charlemagne's time, Europe already had nearly thirty million people. In the High Middle Ages, its population even reached one hundred million at one point!
Earth's Middle Ages were an ordinary civilization. Azeroth's human political structure has traces of the Middle Ages, and it is an arcane civilization. But even with an arcane civilization, I won't increase the total population for now. The Eastern Kingdoms make up one-quarter of Azeroth's land and cover a much larger area than medieval Europe, but we'll still calculate using a population of one hundred million.
Humans have lived and multiplied for nearly three thousand years, spreading across two-thirds of the Eastern Kingdoms. The Kingdom of Lordaeron is foremost among the Seven Human Kingdoms. As everyone knows, under medieval conditions, a great power would necessarily have the largest population and territory. So assigning fifteen to twenty million of those one hundred million people to Lordaeron shouldn't be unreasonable, right?
Lordaeron possessed three core territories: Tirisfal, West Darrowmere, and Eastweald. It also jointly administered the Hillsbrad Foothills with the Kingdom of Alterac and held partial governing rights over the Arathi Highlands administered by Stromgarde. But those familiar with Warcraft history know that the Kingdom of Alterac was dissolved for its betrayal after the Second War, and Stromgarde had long since declined. So here, we'll treat Lordaeron as having five major administrative regions.
The Darrowmere Region was Lordaeron's heartland. Under a typical political structure, it would necessarily have a larger population, but we'll still divide it evenly. That gives each major region a population of around three million!
Actually, I already answered this question at the end of yesterday's chapter, but I'll repeat it here. After the plague broke out, the Order of the Silver Hand, Hearthglen, and the West Darrowmere garrison joined forces to eliminate some of the wandering undead, but Araj gathered all the rest into Andorhal. That's why I set the number at "nearly one million." Strictly speaking, this number isn't exaggerated at all. On the contrary, I reduced it considerably for the sake of plausibility.
That said, my method of calculation isn't scientific in the first place, and I'm no sociology whiz, so I hope everyone can overlook these little issues that don't affect the reading experience.
Oh, and I saw someone mention that Warcraft's official lore says only fifty thousand died in the Northern Expedition. That official figure is actually geared toward the game. Too many NPCs would burden the servers and hurt the gameplay experience, which is why we get the bizarre situation where the human capital, Stormwind City, has fewer than ten thousand NPCs in total. If that were reflected in the real world, Stormwind City and Theramore, as the human faction's only two major cities, simply could not survive in this danger-filled world.
In my opinion, although it may not sound very nice, humanity's greatest advantage, the reason it can become Azeroth's main protagonist, is actually its numbers and extremely rapid reproduction!
All right, we'll leave that question here~~~ I originally put this in the author's note, only to discover that it allows at most five hundred characters, so I put it here instead. Fortunately, the book isn't monetized yet, so you won't be charged. I hope you'll bear with me!
Finally, let me ask for some votes. Recommendations or anything else, feel free to throw them at me. Don't go easy on me! The same promise as before: if I'm lucky enough to make it onto the new-book rankings during the new-book period, I'll thank all of you with at least ten updates!!!