On the road from Zul'Mashar to Stratholme, the group traveled in silence. Uther's and Alexandros's faces were grave and composed. Darion and the other youngsters sensed the oppressive atmosphere too, keeping their heads down and not daring to speak. In the middle of the group, Jaina and Dick were whispering together.
"Arthas is being driven to the brink of madness..."
Lowering his voice, Dick said to the thoughtful Young Lady,
"I'm very worried about what terrible things he might do under these circumstances!"
"He only wants to protect his people in his own way. He was born a prince; this responsibility isn't something he can escape. Ah, how pitiful."
Jaina looked up at Arthas at the head of the group. Those three days under siege seemed to have honed the proud prince to an even sharper edge. In his pale blue eyes, Jaina saw a fire, one that could burn his enemies to nothing, but might just as easily burn him to ashes.
Arthas was practically gritting his teeth as he pressed on. Invincible's death had added a grief to the Prince's heart that he could not let go of, but it had also strengthened his resolve to "purify" Stratholme. He rode stubbornly on a warhorse, gazing at Stratholme shrouded in green mist, the light in his eyes growing colder.
Marwyn, the other captain of the guards riding beside the Prince, could not help recalling the task the Prince had privately assigned before they set out.
"Falric... go do something for me!"
"Yes."
"Leave the group and take my insignia. Muster every soldier from the three nearby barracks at Crown Guard Tower, Northpass Tower, and Eastwall Tower, and head to Stratholme. I'll wait for you there."
"Your Highness, we already have six hundred paladins. That's enough to take Stratholme and rescue your people. The troops stationed at the nearby towers are only ordinary soldiers. Against the undead, they'll be almost no use!"
"Enough! Falric! Do as I command. These paladins won't obey all my orders. They have their own rules for doing things. Go, my brother."
"As you command... Your Highness!"
Standing nearby, Marwyn had seen the cold gleam on the Prince's face. Even this veteran of many battles had shuddered despite himself. He dared not imagine what cruel measures the Prince would ultimately employ if things really were as bad as that demon had said.
But his loyalty to the royal family forced Marwyn to keep this secret to himself. Prince Arthas had hurried to Stratholme as quickly as possible after receiving his letter, only to encounter a terrible ambush. Although Marwyn was not responsible for that, the veteran would not allow himself to make another mistake.
So he had finally decided that, whatever the Prince's orders might be, he would follow His Highness to the very end.
Having made up his mind, Marwyn did not actually know that Dick, who had been secretly watching him and Arthas, had seen every change in his expression.
"Jaina, I remember you once told me that before you left Dalaran, you met a man in black who could turn into a raven, right?"
Dick suddenly turned to the Young Lady. The question made her frown.
"Did I tell you about that?... Well, I suppose I did. That man in black came to see my mentor. He was like a ghost; even Dalaran's wards couldn't stop him. He called himself the 'Prophet' and warned my mentor that dark powers had already reawakened in Northrend and would soon threaten the entire Northern Frontier. He told my mentor to prepare, saying that only by going to Kalimdor could we finally find peace."
Jaina told him what she knew, but when she finished, even she was astonished.
"Oh, heavens,
"What that man in black said was true! Dark powers... isn't that the Lich King or whatever behind Kel'Thuzad?" Dick nodded. He looked around, and only after making sure no one would overhear their conversation did he speak.
"I've actually met that Prophet too..."
"What? Even you..."
"Don't be so surprised, sweetheart. If it weren't for him, do you think I'd know so much? A Titan artifact! He told me all of that. He also gave me similar warnings. Now that I've seen Arthas like this, I'm starting to think his prophecy was right. We should prepare early!"
Dick's "sweetheart" immediately made the Young Lady blush, but she cared more about the serious matter he was discussing.
"But my mentor doesn't believe him. He called him a 'fraud.' Although I'm my mentor's student, I can't influence Dalaran's decisions..."
"No, sweetheart, I'm talking about something else. If certain major things happen today, we should start thinking about how to get to Kalimdor. We'd have to cross the entire Great Sea, and only Kul Tiras's Invincible Fleet can do that. I need you to contact your father. Something isn't right with Arthas. We need to prepare in advance!"
"Have you discovered something?"
"I..."
"Knight Dick, the Prince asks you to come over!"
The messenger's voice interrupted what Dick had been about to say. He clenched his fists, glanced at Jaina, and nodded slightly, then urged his warhorse forward and followed the messenger toward the head of the group.
By then, Stratholme's main gate was visible in the distance. Across the moat, several thousand mustered Lordaeron soldiers, led by their respective officers, had tightly surrounded it. They could be seen setting up defensive lines. Black smoke was already rising inside the once-prosperous Stratholme, and the tremendous clamor could be heard clearly even from across the river.
Arthas swung down from his warhorse and stumbled as his feet touched the ground. Dick hurried to steady him, and the Prince smiled at him. After Dick and Jaina had killed Kel'Thuzad, saved Falric, brought reinforcements, and exposed the Dreadlord's illusion, Arthas had naturally counted him as one of his own.
The Prince walked up to the defensive line, with Uther and Alexandros following behind. The paladins dismounted as well. Through the city gate, they could clearly see the chaos inside. Monsters that had just transformed into undead were hunting down citizens who had not yet been infected. Amid the confusion, the sickening stench of blood and plague practically hit them in the face.
"This..."
Uther and Alexandros exchanged a glance, each seeing the gravity in the other's eyes. Neither had expected Stratholme's condition to deteriorate this much in just three days.
"I will purify this city!"
Arthas spoke. His voice was weak, but full of strength and resolve. He turned to Uther and Alexandros, pointed at the scene beyond the gate, and demanded,
"If we wait for the acolytes to finish setting up their magic circles, what will be left of this city?"
"My student, what concerns me is this purification you speak of... what exactly is it?"
Uther had already seen ominous signs on Arthas's face. He met Arthas's gaze without fear and demanded,
"Don't tell me you intend to destroy this city with your own hands!"
"This is exactly what happened in Andorhal. The undead poured out of the city and scattered elsewhere, turning all of West Darrowmere into hell. I cannot let Eastweald suffer the same thing. I... I will eliminate every potential danger that could threaten the entire kingdom!"
Arthas spoke with difficulty, but as soon as he finished, even the ever-staid Alexandros could not help stepping forward to remonstrate with him.
"Your Highness, you cannot do this! There are still citizens in the city who haven't been infected by the plague. You cannot choose to kill them all merely because they might become undead! Your father would never agree to such reckless murder either!"
"Murder? You say I'm committing murder?"
Arthas stared at Alexandros, who wore silver armor and carried a greatsword on his back. His anger and pent-up frustration reached their peak at that moment, and his voice grew more furious.
"I'm saving my kingdom! I'm saving other innocent people! Look at them! They can't escape! Only paladins and priests can tell whether they've been infected by the plague, but there are six hundred thousand people in this city! We have fewer than ten thousand paladins and priests. How long would it take us to identify the innocent?"
"If even one or two slip through, can you bear that responsibility?"
"We cannot refuse to act just because it's difficult! Arthas, you're too hasty. There are six hundred knights here. We can certainly save some people!"
Uther stepped forward and rebuked him,
"You're choosing to give up while we can still hold on. Are you going to abandon the people who respect and love you? Have you forgotten the oath you swore when you became a paladin?"
"Enough! Sir Uther, I have no time to argue about these things with you. As the prince of Lordaeron and its future king, I command you to purify this city!"
Arthas turned toward the inner city, which had already become a slaughterhouse. Dick stood beside him. From his position, he could see that there was nothing living left along the entire avenue leading from the gate. It was filled with moving undead, wandering aimlessly. The pitiful dead lay in pools of blood, their eyes still open as they looked at the soldiers, as though asking why they had not come to save them.
Dick saw that Arthas's eyes were already red. Clearly, the prince was not as resolute as he appeared.
Faced with Arthas's coercion, Uther's anger surged as well. He stopped Alexandros, who wanted to restrain Arthas, and said, stressing every word,
"You are not my king yet, boy. Even if you were, I would not accept such an order!"
Arthas sneered. He seized the knight's badge on his chest and hurled it at Uther's feet, saying coldly,
"If you and your knights cannot obey my orders, if you cannot make the sacrifices this kingdom demands, then the Order of the Silver Hand has no reason to exist!"
"Sir Uther, I hereby declare you suspended from duty for treason! By my authority as heir to the throne, I relieve you of your command. The Order of the Silver Hand is hereby disbanded!"
Bang!
Uther's warhammer slammed into the ground. This knight and paladin, who was always so unhurried, finally could no longer contain his fury. He glanced at Arthas, shook his head, and kicked open the defensive line the soldiers had built. Then he waved and shouted,
"Paladins, follow me! We will save this city our own way!"
Alexandros looked at Arthas with an unfathomable expression.
"Your Highness, you have made the wrong decision. May your soul not be tormented by it!"
Then the Highlord was the first to follow Uther into the city, which had already become a hellish slaughterhouse. The other paladins silently crossed the defensive line and rushed into the city too.
Dick held Erigor and Darion back, then stopped the other paladins he knew. He looked at Arthas, at the trace of expectation amid the coldness in the Prince's eyes, and sighed. He knew that Arthas, who had fallen out with almost all his friends and mentors, desperately needed approval now. So he bowed and made a promise.
"Your Highness, please forgive me for being unable to accompany you deeper into the city. My friends and I will help you hold Stratholme's rear gate. We won't allow a single infected person to get past our defensive line! Please rest assured!"