Sylvanas had brought 300 rangers with her this time, a quarter of the ranger corps' total strength. Together with the hundred-odd Farstriders already there, they made a substantial force.
In recent years, the high elves had kept the Amani Trolls firmly bottled up in Zul'Aman. Their numbers were even more pitiful than the high elves': their total population did not exceed ten thousand.
However, the proportion of class practitioners among the trolls was very high, reaching roughly one in ten. Only these trolls dared pursue such an excessively militaristic approach.
Every year, they launched invasions to expend their surplus population while plundering some resources from the high elves. Mustering over 700 trolls this time was already an undertaking rarely seen in recent years.
The trolls attacking the Sanctum of the Sun were the main force, numbering around 500. They had a full complement of spellcasters, including hexers and witch doctors, as well as numerous headhunters and warriors.
Only a little over 200 were attacking Farstriders Camp, mostly warriors, the cheapest troops among the trolls. Yet the sight of those warriors made Charlemagne deeply envious.
Tsk, if we had this many warriors holding the front line, why would we bother with guerrilla warfare? Couldn't we just stand our ground and slug it out?
Although the troll warriors were poorly equipped, their tall, powerful bodies were considerably more imposing than those of the somewhat slender high elves.
Under Sylvanas's leadership, the group skirted around the trolls blocking the entrance and entered Farstriders Camp.
An elf dressed as a ranger, his temples already touched with gray, was the first to rise and welcome Sylvanas back.
"Captain Sylvanas, you're back. Has General Lireesa arrived?"
"Yes. Mother has taken the main force to hold the Sanctum of the Sun. I brought some troops back to help defend the camp."
"Commander Skarren, has anything serious happened here? What have the trolls been doing?"
"Things have been all right. The trolls haven't made any moves since you left. They seem to have noticed the reinforcements arriving."
From the way Sylvanas addressed him, Charlemagne learned that this ranger showing signs of age was Skarren, the acting commander of the Farstriders.
While Sylvanas and Skarren exchanged intelligence, Charlemagne and Yawen expertly settled the rangers into camp, along with the five mages and eight priests.
The leader of the mages this time was none other than young master Xiao'en. Although he had looked thoroughly disgruntled throughout the journey, he had not voiced any complaints along the way after Lianda's reprimand before their departure.
Once they were settled, Liadrin quickly got to work with the seven priests under her command. Quite a few Farstrider rangers had been wounded in the earlier fighting, so the priests took this opportunity to treat their wounds with the Holy Light.
The Holy Light's luminous energy was exceptionally effective at treating external injuries. Before long, most of the Farstriders had removed their bandages and were moving their bodies with relaxed expressions.
However, the Holy Light's potent healing effects were rather helpless against internal injuries. Liadrin said there was nothing she could do for some of the Farstriders who had suffered internal injuries from the trolls' blunt weapons. For now, she could only ease their pain; they needed to leave the front lines and get proper rest.
"I told them to return to Silvermoon City to recover, too, but not one of them would leave. They insisted on waiting until reinforcements arrived. Ah..."
By then, Skarren had finished talking with Sylvanas and had come to the infirmary. The young men lying on the makeshift beds gave him a headache, but also made him proud.
Yawen stepped forward with a smile and bumped fists with Skarren.
"Still alive, old friend? Not thinking about retiring?"
Skarren shook his head helplessly. "I'd like to, old friend, but the Farstriders haven't found anyone suitable to be the next commander. We suffered heavy losses in that last big battle, too. Right now, the old guard is fading, and the new generation isn't ready..."
Although they belonged to different units, they had fought together against their enemies many times over the millennia. As fellow veteran rangers, they naturally got along well.
Yawen laughed heartily and patted Charlemagne's shoulder beside him.
"Haha, then let me introduce you to a fine young man. This lad is Commander Sigma's son, Charlemagne. He doesn't want to stay in the ranger corps. He wants to join the Farstriders with the general's eldest daughter."
Skarren's eyes immediately lit up at Yawen's words. "Oh? The eldest son of the Theron family? And that girl Alleria intends to formally join us, too? Wonderful! Now I won't have to worry about having no one to lead the Farstriders!"
He had long since heard about the two from his old friend: the astonishingly gifted Charlemagne Theron and Alleria Windrunner, who had already expressed an interest in joining the Farstriders. Both were ideal candidates to lead the Farstriders.
Charlemagne politely placed a hand over his chest and offered the high elves' customary greeting.
"Hello, Commander Skarren. Uncle Yawen has told me about you before. If you'll have me, I'll transfer to the Farstriders after this battle."
"Haha, good, good! Wonderful! I'll be waiting for you!"
Skarren let out a hearty laugh of relief and clapped Charlemagne firmly on the shoulder.
The lack of a successor for the Farstriders had weighed on his mind all along. This old ranger, who had spent his life fighting for the high elves, had been waiting for an outstanding newcomer to appear. This time, his wish had finally come true.
The ambush ten years earlier had also inflicted considerable losses on the Farstriders fighting alongside them. Their previous commander and the successor being groomed to take his place had both fallen in battle.
Although they had recruited new members after the battle, the Farstriders now had not a single advanced ranger besides Skarren himself. The strongest of the others was only at the upper level of the intermediate rank, and was already rather old, with essentially no hope of progressing further.
After giving vent to his joy, Skarren looked around in puzzlement.
"By the way, where's that girl Alleria? Didn't she come to take part in this battle?"
Yawen interjected with an explanation. "The eldest young lady accompanied Prince Kael'thas as a guard for the diplomatic delegation to congratulate the Kingdom of Stormwind on the birth of its young prince. She isn't in Quel'Thalas right now."
Although Yawen had guessed what his general had in mind, he had no intention of telling Skarren, an outsider. He only gave the ostensible reason for Alleria's departure.
Fortunately, Skarren did not press the matter. He laughed heartily. "Haha, I see. Then once she returns, she and you can discuss which of you will take over as commander, Charlemagne. I'll finally be able to retire and enjoy my remaining years."
"Heh, what's there to discuss? Those two are practically a married couple already."
Facing his old friend, Yawen wore a teasing smile rarely seen on his normally serious, composed face.
"Oh? What's going on? Let me hear it!"
The moment Skarren heard this juicy piece of gossip, his interest was piqued. He threw an arm around Yawen's shoulders, and the two began whispering together, occasionally letting out a few lewd chuckles.
"Hmph!"
Watching the two elders with their arms around each other's shoulders and the embarrassed Charlemagne beside them, Sylvanas, who was standing against the wall, could not help letting out a cold snort.
Alleria, just what are you thinking...
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(End of chapter)