Sylvanas's proposal caused the tension thick in the canyon air to ease slightly, though Straker's face remained an unreadable mask.
The current situation was delicate, and Sylvanas believed Straker was smart enough to recognize that.
If they had been able to kill Arthas here, he wouldn't have been able to return to Northrend to reinforce the Lich King. Without him, the Lich King might have fallen, and every creature in the Scourge would have regained its freedom.
That would be a gargantuan force that neither the Alliance nor the Horde could easily handle. In that scenario, they could act with impunity. But right now, they only had the small forces under their immediate command.
The Scourge still held Naxxramas, the eastern capital of Stratholme, and the Plaguelands. Their visible forces numbered in the hundreds of thousands; given enough time, the Lich King could raise a new army at a moment's notice.
Under these circumstances, an alliance was the best choice. Sylvanas had even temporarily abandoned her plan to kill Straker—mostly because she wanted to investigate whether Arthas's claims about "Rhodes" were true. While she had dismissed the idea to Arthas's face, she intended to dig deep in private.
"Co-rule? High Deathlord?" Straker mused. He actually wanted to refuse; what was the point of sharing power with Sylvanas?
*"Do not refuse, Straker. This is a perfect opportunity,"* Rhodes spoke privately through the system's link. *"If you break with Sylvanas now, the free undead will split into two factions. An internal war would only allow the Dreadlords and the Scourge to swoop in and finish you both."*
It was true. The lands of Lordaeron were currently a mess of undead factions. Some were still controlled by the Dreadlords—demons of the Burning Legion who originally hailed from the Shadowlands.
Their magic could easily enslave the dead. In the original timeline, after the ambush on Arthas, the Dreadlords would approach Sylvanas to recruit her, attempting to bring the liberated undead back into the Legion's fold.
Sylvanas, of course, would refuse; the Burning Legion was the mastermind behind everything—her death, the fall of Quel'Thalas, and Arthas's corruption. She would choose war with Varimathras without hesitation.
"I understand, Master," Straker signaled back.
*"I trust your strength. Form the alliance and play the long game with her. Let's see who ends up sidelining whom. Even if you lose the political game, it doesn't matter—you have me,"* Rhodes said with a smile.
Straker accepted the command. "Sylvanas, your proposal sounds reasonable—certainly better than having some self-important prince riding over our heads. You rule the Banshees and the Dark Rangers. I will rule the Death Knights, the Abominations, and the Zombies. As for the skeletons and the rest... let them follow whoever they prefer."
"Then it is settled. I have finished training your special units; you may take them now," Sylvanas said, gesturing toward the Banshees converted from Wights.
During the battle, these special units had used their *Banshee Wail* and magic-siphoning abilities to wreak havoc on the enemy Liches, even affecting Kel'Thuzad. Without that mana drain, the Archlich—who held a massive numerical advantage—wouldn't have retreated so easily. A mage who has 80% of his combat effectiveness stripped away by mana theft is a vulnerable mage.
Truthfully, Sylvanas was loath to let them go. These hybrid Wraith-Banshees were incredibly powerful. However, during her days training them, she realized they possessed no individual consciousness.
They followed a collective hive-will. Perhaps Arthas was right—the Titans had used some technology to create a "primordial" undead race. It was terrifying, but it gave Sylvanas an idea. Researching these self-repairing, mana-devouring spirits had already benefited her; while her own Banshees hadn't yet mastered these powers, she intended to keep a close eye on Straker's future "projects."
"You are a woman of your word, Banshee," Straker nodded, waving his hand to recall his Wight-Banshees.
"I am always faithful to my allies," Sylvanas replied.
Straker added, "I agree, Sylvanas. But we must set clear rules. we each govern our own armies, and major decisions require mutual consultation."
Sylvanas sneered inwardly. *A typical martial brute—his first thought is to divide military jurisdiction.* But this suited her perfectly; she excelled at operating in the shadows. Separating their forces would allow her to consolidate her power without worrying about Straker's infiltration.
Rhodes, watching from the sidelines, smiled. Straker was powerful and ambitious, but in terms of intrigue, he was a step behind the Queen. *A woman who has lived thousands of years is never easy to handle,* Rhodes thought, eyeing Sylvanas's Dark Rangers. These units combined the wails of a banshee, the marksmanship of a ranger, and the lethality of an assassin.
During the ambush, Rhodes's system had gathered a wealth of resources and unlocked a special building: the Homestead. This was a Sylvan (Rampart) structure that allowed the summoning of Wood Elves.
In the game, they were competent archers, but their upgrade—Grand Elves—was one of the top-tier ranged units, surpassed only by Gelu's Sharpshooters. If a massed group of them focused fire, the game was essentially over.
Rhodes considered how to use them in Azeroth. His first thought was to have Night Elves train them, but system units (aside from Heroes) were essentially mindless puppets. Explaining their origin to the Night Elves would be a nightmare. But here was a perfect candidate: if these Wood Elves or Grand Elves could be converted into Dark Rangers, they would be perfect. However, getting Sylvanas to train a private army for him would be difficult. Defeating her was easy; making her submit was a task even the Jailer struggled with.
"Fair enough, High Lord Straker. Now we need a base—a place where all our brothers and sisters who have escaped the Lich King's grasp can gather. Do you have a suggestion?" Sylvanas asked.
"Lordaeron City is currently infested by Dreadlords and chaotic undead, and the human remnants are watching it like hawks. It's a crossroads of war—not an ideal choice," Straker said.
Sylvanas rolled her eyes. She wanted the capital, but he was right. Taking it meant fighting the Dreadlords and the humans simultaneously. "Then what is your suggestion, High Lord?"
"Stratholme," Straker answered. "The city is vast, and its defense is thin, held only by Baron Rivendare. Together, we can take it easily and use it as our base of operations."
"Stratholme? Not a bad choice," Sylvanas agreed after a moment's thought. It wasn't as grand as Lordaeron, but Rivendare was a manageable target.
Over the next two days, the undead forces began to mass. But just as the two leaders were preparing to march, a bald, bat-winged demon arrived at their camp: the Dreadlord Varimathras.