"Leylin, Rommath seems quite unhappy that you and Alleria brought the human townspeople into Quel'Thalas." Ever since Leylin walked out of Silvermoon Council Hall, Aminel had been muttering about this matter behind him.
Leylin said indifferently, "Although I am a member of the Silvermoon Council, I don't need to listen to Rommath on most decisions. My mentors, Grand Magister Belo'vir and Magister Nallorath, support me in doing so."
Hearing Leylin's words, Aminel frowned. She continued, "Let's put that aside for now. What about that elven girl? What's she doing with you?"
"She's my assistant, a very clever elven girl," Leylin replied calmly.
Aminel clenched her fist and followed behind Leylin, saying, "I think she's a very beautiful girl, isn't she?"
"Yes, as beautiful as you." Leylin said.
A slight blush crept onto her fair face. Aminel kneaded her skirt with both hands and said, "You're getting more and more talkative."
"Have you read the mission objectives and plan?" Leylin took out a special plan document from his pocket. It was a document given to him by his mentor, Magister Nallorath.
"Of course, I finished reading it last night. But this time, there won't be another ranger general refusing to let me join you on this mission, right?" Aminel complained to Leylin, while also subtly mocking the ranger general.
Leylin suddenly stopped, turned naturally, and patted Aminel's shoulder, saying, "Alright, stop nitpicking like a little girl. We're heading to the Ghostlands tomorrow for defense. Instead of complaining, we should prepare properly. That way, our chances of survival will be much greater."
Actually, this guy knew everything, but he just wouldn't say anything. Feeling Leylin's concerned gaze, Aminel nodded obediently and said, "Alright, let's go prepare the supplies that we need now."
According to intelligence from elven scouts hidden in northern Lordaeron, the forest trolls and Horde armies had entered the region. They had encamped in the forest and were preparing their attack.
Within three days, the Horde army would enter the Kingdom of Quel'Thalas.
With war approaching, the dragonhawks and hawkstriders of Silvermoon City were frequently traversing the Ghostlands. The noble lords began to gather their forces, and under Commander Thalorien, large armies were redeployed to the Ghostlands.
Peaceful times are always fleeting, and these three days were no exception.
"Several trolls have brazenly emerged from the forests of northern Lordaeron." Tyr'ganal's [Far Sight] detected their presence.
"Not just these trolls, the orcish Horde is here too." Leylin said, standing atop the highest point of the mountain, overlooking the forests of northern Lordaeron.
Tyr'ganal knew his leader's magical capacity far surpassed his own. He nodded and hurried back to the defensive camp.
Grand Magister Belo'vir and Magister Nallorath were also there. As magisters of Silvermoon City, they were curious about what kind of tribe was invading their kingdom.
Soon, the green, surging orc army gave the magisters their answer.
They were war machines; in these greenskins, the magisters seemed to see the shattered future of Quel'Thalas.
Leylin was right; the Horde was stronger than they had imagined. The orc war drums sounded, and orcish forces surged towards the elven kingdom from all directions.
However, the magisters wouldn't allow these beasts to enter Quel'Thalas so easily. Under their control, the purple arcane barrier began to function.
The energy of the Sunwell was converted into defensive power, resisting the orcish attack. Could a mere barrier, a seemingly transparent purple barrier, really stop the surging orc army?
The orc soldiers' bloodlust and rage drove them to recklessly ram into the barriers, but the arcane energy amplified their attacks, holding them back. Furthermore, the exploding arcane energy posed a threat to the orcs themselves.
In the first phase of their invasion, the orcs felt immense resistance. Meanwhile, the elven defenses to the north remained resolute, unleashing hundreds of arcane bombs from the sky.
To allow these bombs to pass through the barriers, Leylin and Nallorath manipulated the barriers' arcane energy, temporarily opening a section and letting the bombs explode amidst the charging orc army.
This arcane barrier was a source of pride for the mages. The orcs were temporarily helpless against it.
However, this temporary victory did not lull the elves into complacency; they had witnessed the orcs' true nature and fighting prowess. If this arcane barrier were lost, would they achieve victory?
In the Warchief's tent,
Orgrim Doomhammer roared, "Where is Gul'dan? Bring him to me!" He stomped on the map of the elven kingdom given to him by the trolls.
Ten minutes later, a slightly weary Gul'dan entered Orgrim's tent.
"You were the one who suggested attacking this land first! Produce your solution, warlock!" Orgrim had witnessed firsthand the elves' strange power that day. This thing called magic had caused his soldiers heavy losses.
Although the number of soldiers lost was relatively small, the one-sided deaths brought no glory to the soldiers!
Gul'dan pulled back his tattered hood: "Warchief, I've investigated. These elves are using energy drawn from a magical well within their kingdom, an energy containing a large amount of arcane magic. Although it seems quite troublesome, I have a way to deal with it."
"What's the way? I've had enough of your warlocks' nagging. I need your solution." Orgrim was responsible for his soldiers and people. After so long of campaigning, he needed to give the orcs an answer, to prove that they had found a new home in this new world.
Gul'dan nodded, his wrinkled hands trembling uncontrollably. Soon, a green flame emerged from his palms.
Gul'dan's eyes gleamed with an unsettling confidence as he gazed at the swirling, ethereal energies that danced before him. "A certain power tells me this is the nemesis of arcane energy," he murmured, voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and menace.
His fingers traced the air, feeling the strange and volatile nature of these otherworldly forces. These ethereal powers—had the warlocks gone mad?
Or perhaps, they had simply delved too deep into forbidden knowledge, chasing power beyond mortal comprehension.
Gul'dan's mind was a hive of dark thoughts as he contemplated the dangerous potential of these energies.
"I don't care what this is," he declared, voice resolute and cold. "I want you to dismantle this barrier and harness its energy to fulfill your promise to me. Remove these, and the Horde will raze this place to the ground!"
His command echoed with the weight of impending destruction. Orgrim's Doomhammer, the symbol of the Horde's might, slammed heavily onto the map of Eversong Forest, a fierce reminder of the brutal campaign that was to come.
The warlock withdrew his hands from the swirling energies, which flickered and pulsed in response to his will.
A dark grin spread across Gul'dan's face as he spoke again, voice low and filled with ominous promise. "Warchief, tomorrow I will breach this barrier. I will corrupt it with the darkness I once obtained from the void. This pure arcane energy fears nothing more than the power I wield—an ancient, terrible force that can reshape realities."