By the roadside in the Ghostlands, after the sun rose, its warmth gradually dispersed the mist. Dick picked up longswords with a distinctly High Elf design from several elven soldiers' bodies and dug graves nearby. Although he had never known them, he still felt it was better to lay these soldiers, who had remained faithful to their duties, to rest.
While Dick worked, Liadrin leaned on her staff, her face sorrowful as she offered final prayers for the soldiers who had died protecting her.
The two who had met on the road exchanged few words. Although Dick had recognized Liadrin, he did not consider her any nobler than anyone else. In fact, after meeting Jaina, Uther, and Arthas, he no longer felt much novelty at encountering these famous figures from history.
But his lack of curiosity did not mean Liadrin was not curious. High Priests like Liadrin, who had lived through the Second War, valued life greatly, but they were also more pragmatic. After finishing the prayers for the dead, the exhausted Liadrin sat on the ground nearby without regard for appearances. Watching Dick cover the graves with earth, she asked,
"What is your name, human knight? Why are you in the Ghostlands?"
Dick glanced at her and pointed toward the nearly buried knights.
"Do you have any holy water?"
"...Uh, yes!"
Liadrin took three large, exquisitely decorated crystal bottles from the Bag of Holding on her finger and handed them to Dick. People said the High Elves lived in luxury, and this time Dick saw it firsthand. Even bottles used to hold holy water had been adorned by High Elf artisans with phoenix emblems fashioned from gold leaf.
Dick shook his head. He simply could not understand such meaningless extravagance. Unscrewing the bottles, he poured the holy water, shimmering with specks of light, over the bodies. After emptying all three large bottles, he nodded in satisfaction and returned them to Liadrin.
"From now on, you'd better make a habit of this. Sprinkle holy water over every corpse."
Dick continued shoveling earth with the sword, turning to speak to Liadrin. She froze for a moment, a trace of puzzlement appearing on her beautiful face.
"Why?"
"Phew... Do you know what's been happening in Lordaeron lately?"
After covering the graves with the last bit of earth, Dick put his pipe between his teeth and sat beside Liadrin. Blowing a smoke ring, he told her,
"Evil spells have given the corpses the ability to move again. Led by their villainous master, they've begun marching against the world of the living. This was originally just a matter for the human kingdoms, but the worst part is that their villainous master is now heading toward Quel'Thalas to carry out an even more evil plan."
Dick looked at Liadrin curiously, a trace of teasing on his face.
"What will you do?"
Faced with Dick's question, Liadrin did not doubt his words. As a Paladin, he could not lie. Still, she smiled easily.
"They can't enter Quel'Thalas. The Defensive Runes will keep them outside our borders. Quel'Thalas will never fall!"
Dick shrugged. He had expected this journey to be difficult, but judging by the utterly genuine pride on Liadrin's face, the belief that the Defensive Runes' magic could never be breached had already become part of how the High Elves thought.
Of course, they had reasons to be proud.
Neither the terrifying Trolls nor the ferocious Orcs had ever set foot on the soil of Quel'Thalas. Even the Amani Trolls' former sacred ground had become present-day Silvermoon City. As long as no problems arose within Quel'Thalas, this city of magic was invincible.
The 18,674 Defensive Runes built around Quel'Thalas guarded this land firmly. They had become one with the land itself, and even an Archmage like Antonidas could not unravel their mysteries.
Unless the land of Quel'Thalas was completely destroyed, there was simply no way to breach this colossal defensive magic circle. Dick would not waste his breath telling Liadrin that their Silvermoon Councilor, Archmage Dar'Khan, had already betrayed them. It would be a thankless task. Now he only hoped to meet King Anasterian, or the wiser Kael'thas Sunstrider, and hoped that the vision of those truly at the top had not yet become so limited. Otherwise, it would only be a matter of time before Arthas and his undead army conquered this magical kingdom.
"Let's go. I'll take you back to Deatholme, then I'll head for Silvermoon City."
Dick held out his hand to Liadrin. The elven lady looked at Dick, who had put on his silver helm, and hesitated a little. In the end, she placed her white, jade-like fingers in his hand.
Of course, before leaving, Dick did not forget to collect his spoils. The greatest disappointment was that Zul'jin's lynx incarnation had failed to trigger a quest. But after Dick cut open the belly of the astonishingly large purple lynx, he still found something good.
"Sylvanas's Lost Pendant" "Green" "Description: A jeweled pendant engraved with the Windrunner family crest. Its owner is Sylvanas Windrunner, the current Ranger-General of Quel'Thalas. She presumably lost it during her battle with Zul'jin years ago. Thank this crazed lynx-it has brought you a personal 'treasure' of the future queen!" "Spirit of the Beast-Lynx" "Blue" "Use: Attempt to perform 'Imbuement' on a weapon." "Description: Spirits of the beast are relics of Druids and certain Troll tribes. They are almost everywhere, but they cannot appear out of thin air and require vessels. Living creatures are the most suitable, which is also the direction of Zul'jin's research. But what the Amani Chieftain does not know is that another excellent vessel for a spirit of the beast is a weapon!"
Dick rode with the slightly flushed Liadrin in his arms. A pendant without any attributes now hung around his neck. Although he had mainly played Alliance in his previous life, Dick was actually a "queen fan" too.
As for the constantly twisting ball of light in his storage pack, although he had the Fire of Justice on hand, Dick would not use his artifact to try "Imbuement." If anything went wrong, it would not be worth it.
As the well-fed, sturdy silver warhorse walked slowly onward, Deatholme soon came into Dick's view.
Compared with its rather paltry size in the game, the real Deatholme looked like a proper fortress. But perhaps the High Elves truly had too much time on their hands, because as he drew closer, Dick discovered that skilled artisans had even painted two enormous Phoenix Insignias on its towering walls.
This was the national emblem of Quel'Thalas as well as the Sunstrider family's crest. These intricate, beautiful images could be seen almost everywhere in this land.
"You can let me down now, Knight Dick!"
After they approached Deatholme, Lady Liadrin spoke softly to Dick, her cheeks flushed. She did not want rumors about her and this human knight flying everywhere. For the High Elves, who had enjoyed peace ever since the Second War, there was hardly a better way to pass the time than gossip.
Dick acknowledged her and helped Lady Liadrin down from the horse with great courtesy. Then he followed her, leading his warhorse by the reins. Although High Elves possessed "devilish" figures and lovelier faces than human women, Dick's heart already belonged to someone. So even when facing a beauty like Liadrin, rare even in Quel'Thalas, he looked at her only with appreciation.
"Lady Liadrin is back!"
"Open the gates!"
Elves generally had good eyesight, so as Dick and Liadrin approached the walls, a sentry called out the news. Soon, Deatholme's heavy gates were pulled open.
This was Dick's first time entering a High Elf city. Although it was only a military city, it still could not conceal Quel'Thalas's prosperity: towering cylindrical buildings with pointed tops, corridors that seemed to float in the air, scouting and teleportation orbs slowly circling the towers, elven soldiers moving back and forth along the streets, and the civilians living in Deatholme.
All of this allowed Dick, who had nearly forgotten normal life during the war against the undead, to savor peace once again.
"Few people aren't awed by Quel'Thalas. Even Deatholme is like a miniature Quel'Thalas!"
After reporting the attack to Deatholme's commander, Liadrin volunteered to act as Dick's guide, leading him around the fortress city. Since it was close to Eastweald, the elves here were no strangers to humans. But the arrogance in their blood kept them from greeting Dick of their own accord. Liadrin, by contrast, was practically the most popular person here.
Beautiful, wealthy, mature women with gentle, intellectual personalities were always sought after. That was true in any world.
"All right, Lady Liadrin. Thank you for showing me around, but I have to go!"
An hour later, after replenishing a little holy water and some supplies and sampling two servings of High Elf cuisine, Dick stood at Deatholme's gates. He tapped his fist against his chest and prepared to mount his horse and head toward Quel'Thalas. Although he did not know where Arthas was now, he knew that this King of the Death Knights would not remain quiet for long.
"May the Holy Light bless you, kindhearted knight."
Liadrin placed a hand over her full chest and bowed slightly to Dick. He smiled and raised his riding crop. His warhorse neighed, and soon Dick disappeared beyond Deatholme's gates.
Watching the Paladin disappear, Liadrin frowned slightly. She hurried back to her office, wrote a brief report, and handed it to the elven mage responsible for sending messages.
Only after watching the letter disappear in a violet magical glow did Liadrin's brow relax. She disliked owing favors, especially for having her life saved. Dick had come with good intentions, but his claims about an "undead invasion" would find absolutely no acceptance in Quel'Thalas. It was easy to foresee that even after reaching Quel'Thalas, he would meet obstacles at every turn.
So she intended to use her network of connections to give Dick some help, repaying a little of her debt for saving her life.
At that moment, on a large island off the coast of Quel'Thalas proper, a fierce battle was underway. On one side was the well-equipped Ranger Corps, their resolve to fight unwavering. On the other were the silent, deathly still enemies of all life-the undead!
"Multi-Shot!"
The valiant female general raised her War Bow high, standing in the center of the already chaotic battlefield of undead. Her cold gaze swept over the enormous number of undead Risen. She drew three silver arrows from the quiver on her back, nocked them on her War Bow, and, with a sharp cry, sent them flying!
The silver light swiftly split apart. Three arrows became nine, and nine became silver streaks filling the battlefield. A single strike wiped out a fifth of the undead. Yet this offensive, powerful enough to break any army, failed to stir even the slightest ripple. The undead continued lunging toward the hard-pressed Ranger Corps.
What most shattered the soldiers' morale was that their comrades killed by the undead would soon join the undead ranks, their archery scarcely weaker than it had been in life. As one side dwindled and the other grew, even with the female general struggling to hold the line, the undead had already amassed sufficient strength, and her killing could not come close to keeping pace with their replenishment.
"Enough! Retreat! Rangers, retreat! Fall back inside the Defensive Runes!"