Renault's attempt to humiliate him had failed, and everyone's attention returned to Dick, who continued speaking confidently.
"The appearance of the Dreadlord is only one aspect. There's another: this outbreak of plague. Working with Lady Jaina again, I was fortunate enough to kill Kel'Thuzad, the renegade Archmage of Dalaran. Among his belongings, we found traces of a terrifying dark power!"
As he spoke, Dick opened his pack and took out the Cursed Staff he had deliberately kept-the one Kel'Thuzad had thrown to the ground when he picked up Xal'atath, the Blade of the Black Empire-and handed it to Uther.
As the leading figures passed the staff, which radiated sinister energy, among themselves, Dick continued.
"According to Kel'Thuzad, during the year he was missing, he went to an evil place where a terrifying dark power existed. Worse still, Kel'Thuzad's contact in Stratholme was the very Dreadlord who appeared beside Arthas that day! Darkness and demons joined forces while we were completely unprepared!"
Dick's expression was grave. As the staff passed through the hands of every attendee, the atmosphere throughout the hall grew heavy.
"Although we don't know what role Arthas plays in their evil plan, we can be certain that Arthas, Stratholme, and even we, the Order of the Silver Hand, are all parts of their filthy scheme. We still don't know the dark forces' objective, but I believe this outbreak of plague is only a prelude. We must take it as a warning and prepare for a bitter battle before the dark power truly arrives!"
"That is the most important issue facing us right now!"
The entire hall fell silent. There was no denying that Dick's reasoning was clear, and every piece of evidence pointed straight to the heart of the matter and could be traced. There was scarcely any need to worry that he was lying. Yet at this precarious moment, that very evidence led to an even worse conclusion, and the pent-up gathering could not help erupting.
Renault, that clown, was the first to jump in.
"Then, Knight Dick, since you've seen through this dark plot, surely you've already found a way to deal with it, haven't you?"
This time, the loathing in Renault's eyes was undisguised. He knew that, at heart, his father was an old nobleman with a deeply entrenched sense of class. He was even unwilling to let the Holy Light Monastery accept Paladins from commoner families, but pressure from Uther had forced him to compromise. Renault was therefore certain that, although his father admired Dick, it was nothing more than admiration. Dick's birth alone determined that he and the Mograine family had never stood on the same side.
Sure enough, after Renault spoke, Alexandros gave no response. Instead, the stern old knight studied Dick with an unusual look. But unlike the sordid matters occupying Renault's thoughts, Alexandros was considering something else.
Faced with Renault's provocation, Dick shook his head. He was no pushover. Renault's repeated provocations had already stirred a heartfelt loathing in him, so he decided to dig a deep pit for Renault.
Dick looked at Alexandros and suddenly spoke.
"Knight Mograine, I am preparing to gather Paladins willing to go to Stratholme in the near future and rebuild the abandoned city into an outpost against the dark forces. As it happens, I heard that your adopted daughter, Miss Whitemane, has become a Priest serving the Holy Light. Might I therefore ask you to transfer Miss Whitemane to Stratholme to serve as Archbishop of Alonsus Chapel?"
Everyone was stunned. The request seemed like a slap across Alexandros's aged face. Who did not know how dearly the old knight loved his adopted daughter? She was said to be the daughter of his deceased Squire, and the old knight had always treated her as his own.
How could he possibly send her to a dreadful place like Stratholme? But before Alexandros could grow angry, Renault jumped out first. No man could remain unmoved when it concerned a woman with whom he had already exchanged declarations of love.
"Shut up! You lowborn wretch! How dare you! How dare you defile Whitemane! You...!"
"Oh...!"
Dick uttered a meaningless interjection, then gave Alexandros a meaningful look. He trusted that the old knight would understand what he meant.
Renault's reaction was a little too agitated. Not only could everyone at the second table see it, but even Taelan Fordring, a fellow young man, could tell. He and Renault had been friends since childhood. Although they were no longer as close as before, he still did not want anything to happen to Renault.
But just as Taelan was about to rise, Ethan Rain, his face solemn, held him down in his chair. The next moment, Alexandros, who had always been extremely demanding of his two sons, turned a stern gaze on Renault.
Seeing his father's gaze, which seemed to pierce straight into his heart, Renault tried to put on an air of righteous indignation. But how could an old knight with decades of battlefield experience fail to see the panic in his eyes?
That was how things went in this world. Sometimes, even when something happened right under your nose, you simply failed to notice it. All it took was a gentle hint from someone else, and you understood at once.
Recalling the overly intimate behavior between Renault and Whitemane, Alexandros immediately understood. The rigid old nobleman looked ready to explode. He was just about to stand when Uther reached out and held him down in his chair. Only then did the old knight remember that this was, after all, a family matter. He could not let so many people watch him make a spectacle of himself.
So he took a deep breath and looked at Dick with a mixture of gratitude and hatred. Finally, he closed his eyes, nodded, and spoke in a voice devoid of sorrow or joy.
"Very well... I will have Whitemane and thirty Priests of the Holy Light hurry to Light's Hope Chapel as quickly as possible to join you!"
An uproar broke out!
This time, almost everyone present jumped out of their seats. Who did not love gossip? Paladins had a taste for it too!
But before everyone's astonishment could subside, Uther asked his question.
"You said you wanted to rebuild Stratholme. Is that your plan?"
"No, Knight Uther. I said I wanted to turn Stratholme into an outpost. In fact, I have always held the Five First Paladins and all the veterans present in great respect. But ever since I became a Paladin and faced those undead, one thing has puzzled me for a long time."
Dick spoke with a serious expression.
"Why must you make the process of training Paladins so complicated? Knight Uther, you should have seen it with your own eyes. Before, I was only an ordinary soldier. But when I summoned the courage to fight the undead, the Holy Light blessed me and made me its warrior. I don't believe I am the only person who awakened as a Paladin without rigorous training! Then why not spread the calling of the Paladin?"
Before Uther and Alexandros, whose expressions had shifted slightly, could speak, Dick turned to the attendees and raised his voice.
"The foundation of my plan is simple. Since the coming of the dark tide is inevitable, why don't we spread the flame of the Paladins? The Order of the Silver Hand currently has only 1,500 to 1,700 full-fledged Paladins on its rolls, most of them concentrated in Lordaeron. Even if we gathered together, how many undead could we kill? A hundred thousand? A million?"
Dick's voice grew increasingly impassioned.
"Brothers, open your eyes and look! Andorhal alone has nearly seven hundred thousand undead. If Prince Arthas hadn't burned Stratholme, that city would have had six hundred thousand undead as well. Clearing out those undead alone would take us two full years. But will the dark forces give us two years?"
No one spoke. More precisely, no one dared to speak. This question already touched upon the original purpose behind the founding of the Order of the Silver Hand. You readers only know that five knights were baptized in the first generation, but how many of them were of noble birth?
This question already touched upon royal authority. In a world with a system resembling the Middle Ages, but where the nobility was far more powerful than its medieval counterpart, this was a subject that could not be touched, at least for now.
The Order of the Silver Hand was, to be precise, an order of knights that served the nobility. Knights of common birth did exist, but they were far, far fewer than noble knights.
Although Uther himself had come from humble origins, he had now become a member of the nobility. Unless he had lost his mind, he would never take the initiative to agree with Dick. But Uther was, after all, a hero who truly cared for the people, and he did not want to see a promising young man like Dick ruined over this subject.
So he gave a light cough.
"Knight Dick, we can discuss this question later. Tell us your specific plan first."
"Phew..."
Dick looked with some disappointment at Uther and the grim-faced Alexandros. He knew he had failed. Although these men had seen the entrenched darkness under his guidance, they still would not believe that the Lordaeron Empire could be destroyed overnight.
When that time comes, the distinction between nobles and commoners-hah, what a joke. Will a Ghoul spare you because you're a noble?
Still, Dick calmed himself. He thought for a moment, then continued.
"Then my specific plan is this: use Eastweald and Andorhal as training grounds, and move the reserve knight training bases at Tyr's Hand and the Holy Light Monastery to the Kingdom of Stormwind in the south. We need more champions of the Holy Light to strengthen our forces now, so the recruits should put down their wooden training swords and use this lull in the darkness to learn how to fight the undead with the Holy Light!"
"Once the new Paladins have built their foundations in the Kingdom of Stormwind, send them to the battlefields of Lordaeron. We must increase the number of Paladins more quickly. By my estimate, a new group of champions could take to the battlefield in two months at most. Also, we can directly recruit sufficiently powerful warriors from among the mercenaries and grant them Seeds of Power from the Holy Light, allowing them to grow, step by step, into qualified Paladins through fighting the undead."
"Finally, although the Order of the Silver Hand will soon lose official support, I hope you can all hold on for three months. According to Lady Jaina's assertion, the dark forces will attack again within three months. By then, His Majesty Terenas will surely reach his final conclusion, and the Order of the Silver Hand will continue to exist!"
"Because we alone are humanity's sharpest sword against the dark forces!"
Dick voiced all his ideas in a ringing tone. He was doing everything he could to preserve a final few seeds for the Silver Hand. Although the Undead Scourge had ravaged the entire Northern Frontier, the Kingdom of Stormwind had remained peaceful. It was the ideal training base.
But before everyone could recover from Dick's succession of plans, the chapel doors were pushed open.
Falric and Marwyn entered the hall side by side, both wearing helmets, with fully armed Royal Guards following behind them. Looking at Dick, who stood at the very front, Falric fell silent for several seconds before speaking in an emotionless voice.
"Dick Tang, by order of His Highness Prince Arthas, you... you are under arrest! You are no longer a Paladin!"