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(A/N: Chapter 122 will soon be on Patreon!)
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After the trial, everyone dispersed from the main hall to get some much-needed rest. The trial proceedings had taken place almost immediately after most of the Alliance leadership had arrived, and many of them were exhausted from both the journey and the war.
As a result, all further discussions were postponed until the next day.
Daelin left to arrange lodging for the influx of guests, accompanied by his wife, Katherine.
Jaina and her brothers were promptly dragged into helping their parents.
Calia, as the reigning Queen of Lordaeron, had official matters to attend to—matters that had become even more important now that the war had ended.
Alleria, Sylvanas, and Vereesa were also absent, having reunited with their parents. Lireesa and Verath were now fully healed and awake, and suffice it to say, it was an incredibly emotional reunion for the entire family.
Alastor would have liked to visit them as well and congratulate them on their recovery, but for one, he was tired, and for another, he felt this was a moment the sisters and their parents deserved to enjoy together first.
As for Tyrande and Alexstrasza...
He honestly had no idea where they were.
Perhaps they were both with Isha.
Rhonin seemed to have disappeared as well...
Which was slightly worrying.
<----------------------------------------->
Alastor dropped backward onto the large bed in his temporary room. Having returned to his mortal size, he let out a long sigh of relief.
Ironically enough, most of the people he knew were busy with one thing or another—especially the women closest to him—while he, who normally always had something to do, was apparently the only one with a completely free schedule.
"For fuck's sake... I sound like a workaholic."
Rolling onto his side, he stared out the window at the star-filled night sky, lost in thought.
His mind drifted back to the brief meeting he had with the Naaru after the fighting in Silvermoon had ended.
He also recognized them as the radiant figures he'd seen when he was made a Saint of the Light at the Chapel of Light in Lordaeron City.
The Naaru he had spoken with was named A'dal, and honestly...
As far as first impressions went, Alastor liked him.
Although their meeting had been brief, A'dal had made it clear that the Naaru stood alongside the mortals of Azeroth. More importantly, he displayed none of the arrogance or overbearing attitude one might expect from such seemingly divine beings.
That alone earned him several brownie points in Alastor's book before the Naaru departed in flashes of radiant light.
Now if only those Harlequins would finally show themselves.
He knew they were allies, but he would have appreciated at least one meeting by now.
Perhaps Tyrande had been right when she said the Harlequins were an elusive bunch.
If they hadn't revealed themselves directly, it was either because they had a good reason...
Or because they were deliberately pulling his leg.
Considering they were talking about Cegorach and his followers, it was always a coin toss between those two possibilities.
Or somehow...
Both at once.
Alastor closed his eyes and steadied his breathing.
Maybe some sleep would do him some good.
Tomorrow would be another long day filled with rebuilding efforts, necessary political measures, and planning for the future.
Knock! Knock!
Alastor opened his eyes and sat up with a confused look.
Who could that be?
"Come in."
The door opened, revealing a Stormwind Royal Guard, who bowed respectfully.
"My lord, apologies for disturbing your rest, but you have a visitor sent by King Magni."
"Oh?"
Alastor raised an eyebrow.
"Send them in."
The knight nodded before stepping aside.
A stocky dwarf entered the room and bowed deeply.
"Lord Alastor! King Magni's askin' fer ye in 'is courtyard right now! Says it's burnin' urgent!"
Alastor frowned slightly.
He couldn't think of anything that could possibly be urgent now that the war had ended.
Still, he respected Magni and considered the Dwarven king both a trusted ally and a good friend.
So he nodded.
Without transforming into his Primarch form or even taking any armour or weapons, Alastor followed the dwarf out of the room and through the city toward Magni's own temporary residence.
As they walked through the capital of Kul Tiras, Alastor couldn't help but smile.
The city was alive.
People went about their business.
Children played in the streets.
The entire atmosphere was festive as everyone celebrated the end of the war.
Good.
This was how things should be.
The citizens who noticed him looked upon him with respect, admiration, and awe.
Men and women stopped what they were doing to bow with genuine respect and reverence.
Patrolling soldiers saluted by placing a fist over their hearts.
The children, however, simply stared at him with bright, excited eyes.
They had all heard stories from their parents about the hero who had saved their world and ended the war.
Alastor smiled warmly at them and gave them a playful wink.
The children burst into laughter and waved enthusiastically.
Spotting a nearby vendor selling ice cream, Alastor flicked a gold coin toward the stunned merchant before gesturing toward the children.
Realisation dawned on the man.
Moments later, every child on the street was happily enjoying a free frozen treat...
Courtesy of the Hero of Azeroth.
<-------------------------------------->
When Alastor finally arrived at Magni's residence, his guide bade him farewell.
None of the Dwarven guards stopped him as he made his way inside.
Then he froze.
Sitting beside Magni and Brann was someone he, like many others, had believed to be dead.
Muradin Bronzebeard.
"Muradin!? For Light's sake, you bastard, I thought you were dead—"
Alastor stopped mid-sentence as he noticed the black eye and the unmistakable bruises covering Muradin's face.
"...What the fuck happened to you?"
His eyes then shifted toward Magni and Brann.
"...And what happened to you two!?"
It wasn't just Muradin.
Magni and Brann sported similar bruises across their faces, yet none of the three looked the least bit bothered by them.
"What d'ye think, lad?" Magni huffed. "We were just as shocked to find him alive and breathin'."
Brann burst into hearty laughter.
"So we had to teach this fool a lesson fer makin' us worry."
Muradin laughed just as loudly.
"I deserved that! But I never said I wouldn't hit back, ya fraks!"
Alastor stared blankly at the three Bronzebeard brothers for a moment before slowly nodding.
"...Seems reasonable."
Honestly...
He knew that if something similar happened to Varian, he would undoubtedly avenge him.
But if it later turned out Varian had been alive the whole time...
He'd punch him a few times himself for making him worry so much, regardless of the reason.
Eventually, the brothers stopped horsing around and took their seats.
Alastor casually used the Holy Light to heal the bruises on their faces.
Otherwise, it would have been rather distracting to hold a serious conversation while all three of their faces looked like ugly bruised potatoes.
"I heard everything that happened while I was on my way here," Muradin began. "I also happened to run into Queen Calia, and she filled me in on what happened to Arthas."
A deep sadness crossed Muradin's face.
Learning everything that had transpired during his absence—the destruction, the countless deaths, the siege of his homeland, and the truth behind what had become of his old friend—had been a heavy blow.
He also couldn't help but feel guilty for not being there to fight alongside everyone else.
That earned him a smack upside the head from both of his brothers.
"That damn fool..."
"I understand how you feel, Muradin," Alastor said quietly. "It was a shock for me as well when I found out Arthas had been just as much a puppet of Chaos as so many others."
"Bah! Enough with all that sappy talk!" Magni interrupted with a dismissive wave.
"There was a time fer mournin', but the dead are dead. Spendin' too much time broodin' over it won't do anyone any good. If anythin', it'd be an insult to those who've already passed on."
Muradin blinked before bursting into laughter.
"Aye... you're right, brother."
He slammed a fist onto the armrest of his chair, accidentally shattering it.
"Ah... whoops."
Neither Magni nor Brann even reacted.
Apparently, this wasn't the first time.
"So!" Muradin turned back toward Alastor with a wide grin.
"Let's talk about somethin' a lot more interestin'!"
"I saw that towerin' flaming bird from miles away as I was making my journey back!"
"Then I started gettin' visions of it!"
"And then I find out..."
He pointed dramatically at Alastor.
"It was YOU!"
"Ya crazy bastard!"
"Don't ye feel ashamed fer lyin' straight to our faces all this time about not bein' a god!?"
"Bah! Turns out those fanatics were onto somethin' after all!"
Muradin laughed uproariously alongside Magni and Brann.
Meanwhile...
Alastor nearly choked.
The Bronzebeard brothers knew that any suggestion connecting him to divinity was a particularly sensitive subject.
One that always received the exact same response.
He.
Was.
Not.
A.
God!
Unfortunately for him...
After what had happened on the Isle of Quel'Danas, most people had all but accepted it as undeniable fact that Alastor Wrynn was, in reality, an incarnated god.
Apparently, transforming into a towering cosmic phoenix...
Erasing every trace of fel corruption across an entire planet with a single thought...
Shattering Warp storms...
And thoroughly kicking the Chaos Gods' metaphorical asses...
Was a surefire way to convince people you were in fact a god. Who knew! Am I right?
...
And yes, I, the narrator, am being sarcastic.
"Can we please not talk about that!?" Alastor practically begged, burying his face in his palms.
He had also realised that, after everything that had happened, it would be even harder to convince the people to abandon that line of thinking.
He wasn't a god!
Just the spiritual child of a cosmic entity embodying Life, Death, and Rebirth, who also happened to be the nexus of all psychic energy within her native multiverse.
While the DNA and blood flowing through his veins belonged to a godlike human psychic that lived for tens of millennia.
See?
Definitely not a god!
"Alright, lad, I'll stop." Muradin grinned mischievously.
"How about we talk about the fact that, despite all yer fancy new powers, they still didn't stop ye from bein' a lightweight!"
Muradin regretted nothing!
He barely had time to blink before Alastor practically teleported in front of him and grabbed him by the throat.
"I'LL FINISH WHAT ARTHAS COULDN'T, YOU ALE-OBSESSED HALFWIT!" Alastor roared with a crazed look in his eyes.
"L-Light...weight..." Muradin wheezed with a shit-eating grin, even while being strangled.
Alastor answered with something that could only be described as the roar of a deranged beast.
He proceeded to shake Muradin back and forth like a ragdoll while unleashing a torrent of curses so creative that would make even the most dirty-mouthed sailor w.
Magni and Brann immediately rushed over in a futile attempt to pry him off their brother.
Of all the things Muradin could have said...
It just had to be the one thing Alastor couldn't fix, no matter what he tried!
Fuck!
Even the Phoenix flames, absurdly enough, couldn't help!?
Despite all his newfound power, he still couldn't drink more than three pints of alcohol before becoming completely wasted.
The dwarven guards stationed outside quietly peeked through the doorway.
After taking in the scene...
They silently closed the door again and returned to their posts as though they had seen absolutely nothing.
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Once everyone had finally calmed down, Alastor and the Bronzebeard brothers resumed their seats.
This time, however, the mood had become noticeably more serious.
Especially Muradin.
"Alastor..."
"I nearly died on Northrend after surviving the shockwave caused by Arthas drawing Frostmourne."
"If I hadn't been found and cared for by others..."
"I wouldn't be standing here today."
Alastor nodded solemnly.
"Who were they? and are they here?"
"They deserve to be rewarded for saving your life."
In fact, Alastor fully intended to reward them himself.
Muradin was a dear friend, just like Magni and Brann.
The fact that these mysterious individuals had saved his life made Alastor genuinely grateful.
Money.
Land.
Jewels.
Favours.
Hell, he wouldn't even mind granting them the title of Viscount, along with all the privileges that came with it.
Even before the war, he had possessed the authority to bestow such rewards.
Now...
With his current prestige and influence...
It would be even easier.
However, Alastor paused as he noticed the complicated expressions spreading across Muradin's face.
It wasn't just him.
Magni and Brann suddenly looked rather awkward as well.
"They aren't exactly what ye'd call..."
Muradin coughed into his fist.
"...Normal."
Alastor raised an eyebrow.
"We already have humans, dwarves, elves, gnomes, dragons, werewolves, and literal beings of living Light on this planet."
"What exactly could be stranger than everything we already live alongside?"
He paused.
"...Wait."
His eyes widened slightly.
"You weren't saved by orks, were you?"
Brann immediately choked on the ale he had been drinking.
Meanwhile, Magni and Muradin stared at Alastor with utterly incredulous expressions.
"No!"
Muradin exclaimed.
"Oh, by the Maker's balls, NO!"
He shook his head so vigorously it looked like it might fly off.
"The ones who saved me didn't ask fer much in return."
"Even when Magni offered 'em an entire mountain o' gold an' gems."
"The only thing they wanted..."
"...was fer me to put in a good word with ye."
"And arrange a meetin'."
Alastor blinked.
"That's all? Then of course. I'd actually like to meet them myself."
"If nothing else, I want to thank them personally."
Alastor understood that, given his current position, obtaining a private audience with him was considered an enormous favour unless someone belonged to royalty, prominent nobility or held a similarly prominent position.
This, however, was personal.
After everything the world had endured during the war...
Friends and loved ones had become more valuable than their weight in gold.
The three Bronzebeard brothers exchanged a glance before quietly nodding behind Alastor.
"Hello, Mr. Alastor. It is a pleasure to finally meet you."
A feminine voice spoke from somewhere behind him.
Alastor was surprised.
He didn't expect someone to enter the room whilst they were in the midst of their talk, but since his senses didn't go off that meant whoever they were weren't hostile.
Not wishing to be rude, he stood and turned around.
"I should be the one saying that."
"I sincerely thank you for everything you did regar—"
His words abruptly stopped.
He blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Alastor considered himself a fairly open-minded individual.
After meeting so many different races over the years, it took quite a lot to genuinely surprise him.
A floating white sphere...
Roughly twice the size of a basketball...
With a glowing blue iris at its centre...
Definitely qualified!
Slowly, he turned his head toward the Bronzebeard brothers.
His expression clearly asked:
'Would one of you kindly explain this!?'
The three dwarves merely shrugged.
Truthfully, they knew little more than he did.
Besides...
Immediately interrogating the very beings responsible for Muradin's survival would have been incredibly rude.
The dwarves were stubborn, yes.
Not unreasonable!
Alastor looked back at the floating sphere.
He coughed lightly into his fist before regaining his composure.
"My apologies."
"It's not every day I receive visitors in the form of floating spheres."
"I'm Alastor Wrynn, May I ask whom I have the pleasure of speaking with?"
He finished with a wry smile.
"Greetings."
"I am BE-C35."
"Multi-Purpose Automation of the Men of Iron."
"We've been waiting for a very long time to finally meet someone like you, Mr. Wrynn."
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