Dick looked at Whitemane and the young commanders glaring at him around her, then mocked them mercilessly,
"Did you know that everything I just said was meant for you?"
"Do you have any idea what two million undead means? Your fathers, your mentors, with the combined strength of the entire Silver Hand and even every army in Darrowmere, still haven't retaken Andorhal after two months! That number is four times the undead in Andorhal! High Knight Alexandros was grievously wounded after only a brief encounter!"
Dick's voice grew louder and louder, until he was almost roaring,
"Do you really think the Order of the Silver Hand is invincible? Go ask Uther, go ask Dathrohan-how many undead could they kill even if they fought themselves to death? Ten thousand? A hundred thousand? Even if every last member of the Order of the Silver Hand died fighting in West Darrowmere, we still couldn't save the remaining citizens! Once we fall, the innocent will become the Undead Scourge's next targets. Who will protect them then?"
"You say I'm mortgaging the Silver Hand's future? Yes, I am! But if we can't bind these nations to our war chariot this time, what will you use to protect the civilians behind you? Your honor? Bullshit! It isn't worth a damn compared to the lives of Lordaeron's three million remaining citizens!"
"Tell me, Miss Whitemane! If it were you, how would you get those nations to help? Get on your knees and beg?"
Faced with Dick's roar, Whitemane paled and took a step back. She was not the only one. Whoever Dick turned his ravenous gaze upon could not help retreating, because Dick now resembled a lone wolf truly driven into a corner.
"Wake up, you idiots! Lordaeron has been destroyed! Lordaeron has fallen! We're homeless now! You want to keep your honor, your dignity? Fine! Keep them."
Shaking his head, Dick turned to leave. His icy words reached every young person's ears,
"Leave these things that would stain your honor to someone like me, who has no need for it. I'm a man. I'm a warrior. I will never kneel and beg someone else to let me live. I'll win my survival with my own fists, or die in a battle for survival."
"If you still can't understand your situation, then we have absolutely nothing to discuss. Don't show yourselves before me until you've thought it through!"
Dick turned and walked into the hall. No one dared stand in his way, including the ambassadors who had glared at him earlier. They feared him. Someone with nothing was the most frightening of all, because they had no ties. Someone driven into a corner was frightening too, because every time they fought back, they staked their life on it.
Erigor and Herod followed firmly behind Dick. Even Miss Abbendis, who had originally intended to have a heart-to-heart with her close friend Whitemane, hesitated for a few seconds before following Dick back into the hall.
The young people, however, looked like frost-wilted eggplants. They thought Dick's actions were wrong, especially those threats, which completely contradicted the knightly code. Yet his final, thunderous words left them unable to argue.
They even felt that the civilians and knights around them were looking at them differently. Those looks made their faces burn and left them wishing they could sink into the ground. They wanted to flee, but the moment they turned, a tall figure blocked their way.
It was Uther, along with the still somewhat pale High Knight Alexandros and Grand Knight Dathrohan.
"Father!"
Whitemane looked up blankly. With two voices clashing inside her, she wanted an answer from her father. Alexandros looked at his daughter. The stern old knight shook his head,
And let out a long sigh. "Ah, I protected you too well... Go to the battlefield, Whitemane. You'll find answers to your questions there. And the rest of you, get yourselves onto the battlefield, every last one! I don't care who your fathers or grandfathers are. That young man was right. The moment Lordaeron was destroyed, fighting was all we had left!"
"Remember this!"
Alexandros Mograine had suffered defeat in an ambush by Arthas's Nerubian army, and he was seeking a counterattack, even going so far as to take a route through Silverpine Forest into Darrowmere. His presence was at its sharpest now. He was like an unsheathed longsword, its edge making every young person instinctively stand straight.
"Dignity is won through fighting, not handed to you by someone else! The dignity you have now was earned for you by us. Now it's time you earned your own!"
Uther's words were gentler, but that gentleness was more like a dull blade cutting flesh, making it all the more painful.
"Look. Look at how the civilians and knights look at Dick. He cast aside his honor for them, but those following him will pick it up for him and lift him to an even higher position. You're always questioning why I gave Knight Dick so much authority and let him command a warband of his own. Do you understand why now?"
"Because he is a true champion, while you have yet to deserve that name!"
Dathrohan delivered that brief conclusion, then entered the hall alongside Uther and Alexandros, who had returned. Whitemane wiped her eyes. This beauty renowned throughout the Order of the Silver Hand had cried... Stubbornly, she followed her adoptive father into the hall. She wanted to see exactly where she fell short of this Dick whom everyone praised.
Yes, Whitemane would no longer compare her former lover Renault Mograine to Dick, because that would be nothing but inviting humiliation.
An hour later, Dick appeared at the podium again, while almost all the attendees in the front row had been replaced.
From left to right sat Grand Knight Uther, Highlord Alexandros, Archmage Antonidas, and Quel'Thalas's Ranger-General Lor'themar Theron. The Wildhammer Dwarves had even sent Highlord Falstad Wildhammer himself. Beside him sat Gilneas's young prince, Liam Greymane. Accompanying him was a Gilnean lord who would later nearly change history, Baron Vincent Godfrey.
At the end of the first row sat a tall figure wrapped entirely in a black cloak. Dick knew who he was.
Aliden Perenolde was the rightful heir to the now-fragmented Kingdom of Alterac, the son of Aiden Perenolde, the betrayer of the Second Orcish War, and the leader who single-handedly founded the Syndicate, the rogue organization that would later occupy more than half the Arathi Highlands.
The people who had come this time were all truly important figures. The vast majority of them each held sway over the course of their nation's history.
This was Dick's first time facing such a grand gathering as well. He took a deep breath and said,
"Good. It seems all the decision-makers are here. Then let's not waste time. Let's get down to business."
"Wait... I have serious doubts about Knight Dick's sincerity in presiding over this conference. Given certain earlier remarks of yours that violated the rules and the knight's handbook, I believe you had best offer the Kingdom of Gilneas a proper show of sincerity!"
Baron Godfrey, with his typically aristocratic pallor, interrupted Dick. The man resembled a tall, skinny bamboo pole, but there was no denying that Godfrey was an accomplished politician and an absolutely formidable hunter. Had his luck not failed him later, he might well have ended the life of the Northern Frontier's overlord ten years hence with a single shot: the leader of the undead, the Banshee Queen Sylvanas Windrunner, who had captivated countless players.
But Godfrey had not yet reached the level he would attain ten years later. Though his words were biting and his opening tone aimed to put Dick down, the instant he finished speaking, a thought-provoking smile appeared on Dick's face.
"Oh, you must be Baron Vincent Godfrey, the 'Grey Wolves' lord from Gilneas. I don't know what sort of sincerity you want, but I think I've already shown plenty. At least I haven't mentioned your secret plans for the 'Greymane Wall' to resist the undead, have I? Or has your king truly decided to fight Arthas with those monsters the mad Archmage Arugal summons from dreams?"
Dick smacked his lips. "I advise you not to do that!"
With just those words, all the pride and reserve vanished from Baron Godfrey's face. He felt as though Dick had seen straight through him. The still very young Prince Liam was also nowhere near as mature as he would later become. He stood and shouted,
"Where did you get this top-secret information? Knight... No, you accursed spy! Thief!"
But Dick was no longer paying them any attention. Looking at the grim-faced Baron Godfrey pressing Liam back into his chair, Dick dropped his smile and turned his gaze toward the Wildhammer Dwarf highlord seated in the middle, Falstad Wildhammer. This fortunate fellow would become one of the three kings of all Azeroth's Dwarves ten years later.
Falstad's square face bore a relaxed smile, but Dick no longer intended to keep up these polite pretenses.
"If the Wildhammer Dwarves are confident that the Toxic Fog Canyon in the Hinterlands can stop the undead advance, you're welcome to sit out this battle too. We'll withdraw all the soldiers from Chillwind Camp. After all, the entrance to Toxic Fog Canyon beside Lake Darrowmere is so hard to find. Perhaps the undead won't find it either!"
"You... You actually know about Toxic Fog Canyon!! Enough, say no more! The Gryphon Squadron will help you! But you must swear on your faith not to tell anyone else where Toxic Fog Canyon is!"
Falstad's relaxed air vanished completely. Ordinary people knew of only two routes into and out of Aerie Peak, the Wildhammer Dwarves' home in the Hinterlands. One passed through the Dwarven tunnel from the Arathi Highlands; the other followed the hill road from the Hillsbrad Foothills. But only the Wildhammer elders knew that a huge boulder stood beside Lake Darrowmere, and that hidden among the steep peaks behind it was a canyon leading straight to Aerie Peak: Toxic Fog Canyon. This was practically one of the Wildhammer Dwarves' greatest secrets.
Dick gave the decisive Falstad an appreciative glance, then turned toward Archmage Antonidas, who had been stroking his beard all along, and the Young Lady beside him, who kept blinking. Dick broke into a brilliant smile.
"Honored Archmage, we hope to receive help from Dalaran."
Antonidas stroked his beard, his tone easy.
"The Kirin Tor Council will dispatch battle mages. But I am actually quite curious-what do you know about Dalaran?"
Dick rubbed his chin and spoke with a reminiscent expression. "When I left the army three years ago, I met a down-and-out old gentleman in Andorhal. After I gave him a large mug of ale, this gentleman, whose name was Daio, told me a story about 'Ebonchill.'"
At those two names, Antonidas's hand froze against his beard. He took a deep breath and looked gravely at Dick.
"After the war, you must come to Dalaran!"
At this request, Dick shrugged to show he understood. Then he turned his gaze to the prince of Alterac, who had remained silent throughout, and asked softly,
"Prince Aliden, would you like to know where I got this information? I hear some people have been looking for you lately. They come from... Oh, right, Ravenholdt Manor... I think I..."
"The Syndicate is willing to help you... But we need somewhere to hide!"
Aliden was in the most reduced circumstances, but, as expected, he was also the easiest to negotiate with. At this request, Dick swept his hand.
"Stratholme welcomes you!"
When Dick turned his gaze toward Lor'themar Theron, the important figure who would later become regent of the rebuilt empire of Quel'Thalas watched him through narrowed eyes.
Just as Dick opened his mouth, he raised a hand and interrupted him.
"Before I came, Prince Kael'thas had already sent the Ranger Corps to support the Order of the Silver Hand. In return, we hope the Silver Hand can help train a group of elven paladins for us."
Dick glanced at Uther, then nodded.
"Agreed! That's fair!"