Although Dick's plans and ideas struck everyone as somewhat unorthodox, even completely contrary to the founding purpose of the Order of the Silver Hand, neither Uther nor Alexandros could deny the affection and hopes for the Silver Hand they sensed in his words.
That alone was enough for them to count Dick, a Paladin with a bright future, among their own. So when Arthas's sudden arrest order arrived, everyone was furious.
Bang!
The moment Falric finished speaking, Alexandros slammed his fist onto the table, his heart full of fury. He rose and leaned forward like an old beast king defending his territory, staring hard at Falric and Marwyn.
"Get out! If Arthas wants to arrest someone from the Silver Hand, let him come himself!"
The Mograine family belonged to the traditional nobility. Alexandros would have behaved the same way even before King Terenas. There was nothing strange about that; his illustrious military record gave him the standing.
But what sort of man was Falric?
He was practically Arthas's shadow, a loyal servant who had devoted even his soul to Arthas. Faced with Alexandros's formidable presence, Falric did not waver. Instead, under the furious stares of every Paladin present, he stepped forward.
"The Order of the Silver Hand has been disbanded! Gentlemen, these are the Prince's orders!"
"Enough!"
This time, even the good-natured Uther could not bear it. He rose from his chair, and everyone present stood with him. The hostility of dozens of people converged, making even the fearless Falric find breathing difficult for a moment.
"Go back and tell the Prince that Knight Dick is a hero who turned the tide, not his prisoner!"
Uther was somewhat taller than Falric. He strode up to him and spoke with rare anger.
"As for the Silver Hand, it was founded by His Majesty Terenas and Lord Faol. A single order from Arthas cannot abolish it."
Falric said nothing. Marwyn stepped forward, his tone far more venomous than Falric's.
"Knight Uther, are you refusing His Highness Arthas's orders? Then we have no choice but to arrest you for treason!"
Marwyn waved his left hand forward, and dozens of soldiers carrying powerful crossbows appeared at the entrance. The knights seated nearest the outside could even see what lay beyond.
Troops. These madmen had marched troops into the sacred Light's Hope Chapel!
"Treason? You accuse us of treason?"
Alexandros strode over and stopped before Marwyn. Looking at him with undisguised disgust, he said loudly,
"Every person here gave everything for this country in Lordaeron's war against the Orcs. Every person here has more right than you to be called a hero. Before all these heroes, you accuse us of treason? You... say that again!"
"Clack..."
Marwyn involuntarily took a step back. As Alexandros challenged him, the knights left their seats one after another and gathered around Alexandros and Uther. Although they said nothing, their actions proved their choice.
In truth, faced with this scene, not only Marwyn but even the soldiers began to waver.
Less than two years had passed since the end of the Third War. Tales of these heroes were sung throughout Lordaeron. Now, with weapons in hand, they were about to arrest those heroes. Who would not be afraid? Whose heart held no fear?
In an instant, the atmosphere grew explosive.
Although the Paladins could protect themselves with the power of the Holy Light, a volley of crossbow bolts at such close range would certainly cause casualties.
Worse still, if a conflict really broke out between the Silver Hand and the imperial army, everything Dick had said earlier would become a joke. Who would place their hopes in an organization declared traitorous?
The Order of the Silver Hand was undoubtedly a powerful trump card Dick could obtain at present, and he certainly did not want it destroyed in his own hands. So, just as the tension became most oppressive, Dick pushed through the crowd and came to the front. He looked at Falric, whose eyes beneath his heavy helmet looked back at him. Dick sighed.
"I'll go back with you, but I need to speak with Prince Arthas face-to-face!"
"Dick! Don't go!"
Uther and Alexandros each gripped one of Dick's shoulders. Dick smiled at them and all the Paladins watching him.
"The Order of the Silver Hand has produced so many heroes. I cannot let it become a band of reviled traitors because of me. Trust me, everyone. I'll be all right!"
Surprisingly, after Dick finished, Falric, who had remained silent, spoke as well.
"I can guarantee that Knight Dick's life will not be in danger. In fact, the Prince has no intention of killing him!"
"Hmph! It had better be so!"
Alexandros gave Dick a complicated look, then reached out and patted his shoulder before returning to his seat. Uther did the same. This meeting was crucial. Dick had only proposed a rough framework, and far too many matters remained to be discussed.
What moved Dick was that every knight, whether he knew them or not, came forward of their own accord to greet him or offer him a blessing. That feeling finally gave Dick a sense of belonging.
Although Dick could not agree with the principles on which the Order of the Silver Hand stood, at least for now, it was unquestionably one of the most united organizations in the world. At the very least, it was far better than the Cult of the Damned or the constantly infighting Cenarion Circle.
"Let's go, Dick."
Falric patiently waited for everyone to finish their greetings, then spoke softly beside Dick.
Dick nodded. As he walked out of the hall, he suddenly remembered something and said to Falric,
"I want to attend the funeral for the knights who died at Stratholme. It's just behind the chapel. It won't take too long."
Falric glanced at him and nodded. Marwyn wanted to say something, but Falric stopped him with a look.
Only after two soldiers had followed Dick away did Marwyn speak quietly to Falric.
"Captain, why indulge this man so much? The Prince..."
Falric shook his head. Beneath his heavy helmet, a trace of conflict and gravity flashed through the eyes of this usually silent warrior.
"Say no more, Marwyn. We both know the Prince hasn't been quite himself these past few days. I think Knight Dick should be able to help him somewhat. Besides, even setting that aside, he saved both the Prince's life and ours. We have no reason to treat him harshly."
Of course, there was another reason Falric did not mention. His Highness Arthas had already decided to mount an expedition to Northrend and kill the true culprit behind the plague once and for all: Mal'Ganis, the Dreadlord who had appeared before the Prince again at the last moment.
Deep down, Falric always felt a faint unease about that decision.
Meanwhile, the two soldiers were nominally Dick's guards, but they did not restrict his movements. Dick stood silently in the crowd, watching Erigor, who wore a small white flower on his chest, and a black-robed priest preside over the knights' burial ceremony.
Because these knights had all died fighting evil, their bodies would be placed in the deepest reaches of the supreme Tomb of the Holy Light, where the remains of earlier knights who had likewise died fighting evil lay.
Under the silent gazes of civilians and knights, more than twenty armored knights carried the gray-white stone coffins step by step into the Tomb of the Holy Light.
This was not Dick's first funeral, but this time, as he stood among the crowd, the sorrow felt especially intense. These were all people who had fought alongside him, yet he had survived while these brave men had died. That powerful sense of déjà vu filled Dick's heart with hatred.
Hatred! This was an emotion that should never have arisen in someone who knew the course of history, yet there it was.
Dick would no longer view this world's unfolding events as a bystander. He had become a participant, truly regarding himself as part of this world, part of the Order of the Silver Hand.
"I'll turn all of this around... your sacrifices won't be meaningless!"
Dick placed his fist against his chest and struck it hard.
Four hours later, Dick saw Arthas on the Darrowmere coast. Dick was very familiar with this place as well. It lay northeast of Light's Hope Chapel. In the future, Acherus: The Ebon Hold, home to the elite Death Knight army, would stand here, firmly blocking the Paladins' advance to the northeast.
This was also where Arthas assembled every ship in Lordaeron. From here, he would set sail for Northrend.
Dick knew all of this clearly, yet he felt powerless, because he had no way to change any of it!
Alexandros would oppose his plans, and Arthas would not change his original intentions because of a few words from him either. This was the greatest difficulty in changing the world. The people here were not mindless NPCs. History's heroes were even cleverer than Dick, and clever people always shared one trait.
They trusted only themselves and never blindly believed others.
Under these circumstances, why should they believe Dick? Just because he knew the future?
What a joke. Anyone who had studied "time" knew that the future would never remain unchanging, so Dick's claim that he knew the future was itself the greatest joke.
"You're here?"
Dick entered the largest tent. With his back to him, Arthas was writing and drawing on a nautical chart. The Prince had evidently recovered well. Perhaps because he had finally settled on his plans, his complexion looked fairly good.
Yet Dick distinctly sensed the obscurity of the Holy Light within Arthas, as though a layer of gauze had been drawn across his eyes. The Holy Light was still there, but it was no longer as pure as before.
"I'm here, Your Highness!"
Dick stood where he was and said respectfully, "Have you finally made up your mind?"
At those words, the quill in Arthas's hand stopped. He turned to look at Dick and shook his head.
"Aren't you curious why I had you arrested?"
Dick shook his head, indicating that he did not know.
"Ah... Dick, you did what I wanted to do but could not. For that, I must thank you."
With that, Arthas actually bowed to Dick. The gesture startled Dick, and he hastily stepped aside. But when he saw Arthas's slightly reddened eyes, he immediately understood what was in the Prince's heart.
Yes, he had slaughtered a city... but that had certainly not been his intention. Dick had said as much at the meeting: had Arthas not burned Stratholme to the ground, the hundreds of thousands of undead pouring out of it could have turned all of Eastweald into a hell in an instant.
It was not that Arthas did not know there were innocent people in the city. But for the sake of the other innocent citizens, he had no choice.
He was the future king. Sacrificing one city to save millions of others was not a difficult choice to make. With Andorhal's lesson right before them, who would dare take that risk?
Dick finally understood why, in the original history, even after Arthas had fully become the Lich King, Jaina and Tirion Fordring were still willing to believe that kindness remained in his heart.
This prince had never been an inherently evil man. He was merely a pitiful man, a pitiful man trapped in a dark fate from which he could not free himself.