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"I and my brothers have travelled far and wide across the lands and waters of Azeroth, child of Llane."
"While we wouldn't say we have uncovered all the mysteries of our world, what we can say is that our current knowledge already runs very deep."
Brontes stopped speaking as Arges stepped forward and continued where his brother left off.
"Everything in existence has a 'root', child — a point from which it came into existence, derived from the concepts that birthed it."
"Whether living or inanimate, everything has that root from which it was conceived from the metaphysical realm."
"So everything ultimately came from the Warp?" Alastor asked with surprise, but this time it was Tyrande who answered.
"No. There are other realms and planes that overlap and interact with our own plane of realspace. It is just that the Warp — or rather the Aether, as most of us know it — has the most direct interaction with realspace."
"Existence itself overlaps with many such dimensions, known and unknown to us. While the Warp is the dimension of souls and thought, it is not the cradle of creation."
Steropes nodded gruffly at Tyrande.
"The knife-ear is right, lad."
The two sentinels behind Tyrande glared at Steropes for what he called their leader, only to be ignored by the old dwarf.
"And this fire of yours — or rather whatever power you were conjuring — has no such 'root' linked to our reality."
Steropes stroked his long white beard with a thoughtful frown.
"Yet despite that, it isn't in conflict with the laws of realspace. Rather, it meshes with them as if it had always been a part of it. Interesting."
Brontes gave Alastor a deep look.
"Son of Llane, this is the most we can offer you. But if I may give you some advice — you may heed it or dismiss it as the ramblings of an old dwarf. The choice will be yours."
"Power does not have views or principles. It simply is, and always will be, a tool. If your power does not harm you, then you have no reason to be wary of it."
"As for answers? Sometimes it is best to let them come to you, rather than searching endlessly without success."
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"Alastor!"
Alastor came back to reality as he turned to see Varian looking at him with a frown.
Their allied army had left Ironforge a few days ago and had begun their march north to link up with the Northern Alliance.
The two Wrynn brothers were a short distance away from the army encampment. Well, technically it was Alastor who had walked away to be alone with his thoughts, and Varian had followed after him, noticing how quiet his little brother had been lately since they left Ironforge.
"Al, what's the matter with you? I've been calling your name for quite a while."
"I'm sorry, Varian. It's just..." Alastor didn't finish as he sighed.
"Brother? Do you wish to talk about it?" Varian asked, seeing that his younger brother seemed to have a lot on his mind.
Recently it had normally been Alleria who stayed with him as both companion and listener.
But ever since they had departed from Stormwind City, everyone had been busy with their duties — so much so that even Alleria could not always remain by Alastor's side.
Alastor was about to say he was fine, but when he saw the slight worry in Varian's eyes, he instead decided to be honest.
"It's just everything!" Alastor growled as he struck the boulder he had been leaning on, causing cracks to form where his fist hit.
"This war, father's death, mother's coma, my friend becoming a monster, and the utter lack of answers."
Ever since the war had begun, Alastor had felt his patience and tolerance slowly being chipped away by everything that had happened.
He already felt immense guilt at not being able to save his adoptive father, and seeing his adoptive mother in a coma left a part of him blaming himself — believing that if he had only arrived sooner at the capital, things might have been different.
Yet he had to bury that guilt deep within his mind, because at that time Stormwind — and by extension Azeroth — needed heroes and leaders to guide them through this dark time.
Then he had suddenly gained this new ability to conjure and control strange new "flames", and he didn't know what to think of them.
Yes, he felt no threat from them, but it would have been nice to have SOME context. What if they contained some hidden trap that would activate in the future?
Or what if they were secretly insidious in nature while merely appearing helpful?
Alastor instinctively knew that whatever these flames were, they were in fact not a threat to him or those around him.
Instead, he got this strange feeling that these flames....were always a part of him.
But then, why hadn't he known about them before?
And why only appear now?
Varian understood where Alastor was coming from. He felt somewhat similar due to the recent events. Not to mention he was still getting used to being the King of Stormwind without either of his parents present to guide him through the transition.
"Sadly, I can sympathize more than I want to, Al."
Then he chuckled.
"Remember all the times we used to annoy mother and father all those years ago when they were working?"
Alastor couldn't help but feel his lip twitch as his mind drifted to old memories.
"Aye, I remember. I would always pester mom to read me stories about different heroes, and if not her then I would go to dad and ask him to tell me about his adventures when he was young."
"And dad would always look like he took a punch in the gut due to me indirectly calling him old."
Varian laughed as a smile spread across his face.
"I wasn't much better. Yet we always did it when they were busy working on one thing or another."
Back then they had little understanding of the duties and burdens of being a monarch.
In fact, they had once thought their parents exaggerated how difficult their work was.
Now?
By the Light, they wanted to apologize for all the times they had disturbed them not to mention the trouble they caused especially Alastor.
Suffice it to say, they now understood just how much work went into being effective rulers — not to mention the countless troubles that came with the position.
Both brothers fell into a comfortable silence as they recalled happier times, back when the world had seemed so much simpler.
For the moment, Alastor felt a much-needed lightness in his chest.
So he decided to follow Brontes' advice and let the answers find him instead.
But then his expression became more serious.
"I don't know how I'll face him."
Varian didn't need to be a genius to know who Alastor was talking about.
Arthas Menethil — once the Crown Prince of Lordaeron, now the one being called the Lich King.
"No… rather, I know what I have to do. It's just…" Alastor hesitated. "How did it even come to this?"
"Arthas...he was once an easy-going and kind-hearted man, not to mention a good friend. But it's like in no time he became someone or rather something completely different."
Varian gained a complicated look as he glanced at Alastor.
He had only met Arthas a few times before his corruption, but Varian — unlike his brother — had a more nuanced understanding when it came to deeper emotions. Because of that, he had caught the slight flickers of envy in Arthas' eyes whenever Alastor's achievements were mentioned or when he was praised.
And then there were those looks of jealousy Arthas used to have whenever Jaina did something particularly intimate with Alastor.
But regardless, Arthas would always catch himself and dispel such thoughts. Because of that, Varian hadn't thought much of it. With his brother's powers and skills, it wasn't surprising that feelings of envy, inferiority, or jealousy might arise in others.
But then the Winter Veil festival in Lordaeron happened.
Even if Jaina had not been engaged to Alastor at that time, the way she looked at him as they danced across the ballroom floor told anyone with a functioning pair of eyes who the genius princess of Kul Tiras had ultimately chosen.
And that was perhaps what broke the camel's back, as the relationship between Arthas and Alastor slowly began to grow distant.
And the once good friends became estranged and then...
All this happened.
Varian took a deep breath before beginning to speak as he collected his thoughts.
"Alastor, you need to understand. You're a very extraordinary person, brother. And it's exactly because of that that those without sufficient mental fortitude would—"
"MY LORDS!"
Varian couldn't finish as someone shouted.
The brothers turned to see Gavinrad and Alleria running toward them with grim expressions.
"Sir Gavinrad, what is it?" Varian asked with a confused frown, while Alleria came to stand beside Alastor, a worried look on her face.
"We just received a magical distress signal along with a message."
"A large host of undead, led by the Lich King Arthas himself, is approaching Dalaran."
Alastor and Varian stared in shock as they heard the report.
"Has the fallen prince also lost his marbles?" Varian muttered. "Daring to attack Dalaran is no different from suicide for most armies."
Gavinrad shook his head as he relayed the rest of the news.
"With the way things are, he has a valid reason to attempt it."
"It was discovered that there are traitors within Dalaran who successfully sabotaged the city's floating arrays, causing the city to crash near Fenris Isle, close to Gilneas."
"With the city grounded and the condition of a significant portion of its magical defenses unknown, the Lich King is personally leading a host to attack it."
Alastor felt dread settle into his chest as he thought about Dalaran.
He had nothing but fond memories of the mystical city and had made many friends during his time there.
Antonidas — his master in the arts of magic.
Rhonin — his best friend.
Jaina — one of the women he loved.
And many more who were now in danger.
Alastor quickly slipped into his commander's mindset and turned to Gavinrad.
"Give me the status of Gilneas and the Northern Alliance. What actions have they taken?"
Gavinrad straightened before answering.
"Supreme Commander, unfortunately the Northern Alliance forces will not be able to provide short-term aid to Dalaran. They are currently facing the main bulk of the Scourge, as well as large hosts of daemonic forces led by powerful daemons."
"Because of this, many of their generals and commanders cannot divert their attention without leaving themselves open to attack."
"As for Gilneas…" Gavinrad hesitated.
"I'm sorry, my lord, but I do not understand it myself. Three weeks ago we lost contact with Gilneas for unknown reasons. We do not know why or how."
"The last information we received was that Gilneas had repelled a large attack by Beastkin and undead before all communication went silent."
Varian grew angry as he heard this.
"Is Genn Greymane playing charades?" he snapped. "This is total war we are fighting, and his actions are completely intolerable."
While Alastor himself felt a surge of annoyance at hearing about Gilneas' sudden silence, he remained much calmer. In truth, he found the situation strange.
Especially since he knew from firsthand accounts by trusted people that Genn Greymane— despite his stubbornness and occasional recklessness — was actually a good ruler who cared deeply for his people.
There was clearly something they didn't know, A piece of information they were missing.
Something they would eventually find out in the future.
But for now…
"Varian!"
"Go! The army and I will catch up to you as soon as possible."
Varian knew what Alastor intended to do and gave him a firm nod.
Alastor pressed a button on his vambrace to call White Glint, while also activating his commlink to order the AC pilots to quickly assemble at his location.
A minute later, Alastor's personal AC, White Glint, came racing toward them, gliding across the ground using the boosters mounted on its legs and back, having been summoned remotely by Alastor.
It stopped in front of them, and soon dozens of AC units followed, coming to a halt behind the white machine, their pilots awaiting further orders.
Alastor and Alleria were about to enter White Glint when it bent down onto one knee to allow them access to its core cockpit.
However, two unexpected individuals suddenly approached them.
Tyrande and Aegwynn.
Both insisted that Alastor take them with him so they could provide high-level support.
"I guarantee you that you will find our assistance valuable when you arrive at Dalaran," Tyrande spoke first.
"There is wisdom in having others support you at times, especially when the stakes are high," Aegwynn added.
Alastor didn't actually mind them coming along. From what he had seen, they were not only highly skilled but also extremely powerful.
There was just one problem.
"I would love to, my ladies, but my AC only has two seats installed in its core. The other ACs only have single-seat cockpits."
"Just that? That is easily solved."
Aegwynn raised an eyebrow at him as Alastor looked at her in surprise, curious to hear that she already had a solution.
But when he thought about it, he shouldn't have been surprised. There was a reason she was perhaps the most renowned female mage in the world. Of course she would have ways to solve problems that others might not even consider.
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Alastor sat in his AC's pilot seat with a blank expression, while behind him in the second chair sat Aegwynn, wearing a serene smile.
Why did Alastor look like that?
It had everything to do with Aegwynn's "solution."
On his left thigh sat Tyrande.
On his right thigh sat Alleria.
Despite the serious situation, Alleria looked greatly amused.
Aegwynn appeared like a composed elder who was mentally patting herself on the back for her "wisdom."
Meanwhile, Tyrande sat wide-eyed, a faint blush on her face due to the position she was currently in. She honestly wondered how Aegwynn had managed to convince her to go along with this in the first place.
And Alastor?
'3.1415926535897932384626433832795...'
The poor Primarch was silently reciting Pi in a desperate attempt to keep his mind focused on the task at hand rather than on the two very beautiful women whose rather seductive and voluptuous bodies were pressed against him.
Yet he persisted, fully believing that Pi would not let him down.
Sadly — or perhaps not — Pi did end up letting him down.
Just not in the way he had hoped.
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