Shangke Manor was situated near Lordaeron's second most important city, Stratholme, in a beautiful environment nestled by mountains and water. Not only did his domain boast over ten thousand private soldiers, but in dire straits, he could even request aid from the king and call for reinforcements from Stratholme.
Over hundreds of years, the nobles had continuously intermarried, their relationships becoming a tangled, crisscrossing web so complex that even some families couldn't sort them out. It was possible that two noblemen fighting over a woman were actually relatives. This system of marriage alliances was both fragile and strong, making it nearly impossible to solve the problems of the nobility.
"Everyone, Prince Arthas is preparing to lead his army back to Lordaeron. You've all received the news, I'm sure. Hmph, His Highness the Prince is actually colluding with the Naga! Everyone, don't forget, our fleets suffer considerable losses every year because of those damned Naga! Sir Ball, your son died on the trade route to Stormwind, didn't he?
That was because the Naga attacked his fleet! Sir Tidon, I recall your two grandsons were also killed by murlocs at the seaside, and those filthy murlocs are servants of the Naga. Hmph, for hundreds of years, the threat of the Naga has never disappeared. His Highness the Prince is actually choosing to cooperate with such a vile race that everyone despises. This is truly heartbreaking for us!"
Sir Shangke had summoned a large group of friendly nobles to his manor for a meeting, along with many minor nobles who depended on him. Though these men held low titles, they were still lords. United, they could pressure the throne, and even King Terenas would have to take them seriously.
"Hmph! The Prince has been reckless!"
"We must never cooperate with the Naga! They must be eliminated!"
When these nobles became arrogant, they didn't discriminate by race. If it were the long-eared elves, they would be members of the Silvermoon Council! And now, these nobles actually had an issue with a prince leading an army, the sole crown prince?
"That's right, His Highness the Prince must give us an explanation. We can't let the foundation our ancestors worked so hard to build be ruined just like that. If we back down, will those Naga invade our lands? These are our lands, they cannot be handed over to the Naga!"
A gruff man roared through gritted teeth. This was Garithos. In the Blood Elf storyline, he had given the High Elf Prince Kael'thas a hard time, ordering him around like a dog, and it was he who forced the elves into rebellion.
Everyone was denouncing Arthas, with only a few clear-headed individuals not joining in. Among them were Baroness Anastarri and Countess Karandra of Hearthglen, the wife of Tirion Fordring, one of the five Paladins of the Silver Hand.
They remained rational. Their husbands were on the front lines fighting the Horde, while they stayed home to raise their children and protect their lands. They had accepted the invitation this time because Sir Shangke's influence was strong, and they needed to give him face.
Faced with the fanatical, incited nobles, their expressions remained unchanged, if not slightly disdainful. King Terenas had difficulty walking, a lingering effect from his many years of campaigning.
Otherwise, he wouldn't have had a child so late in life. It wasn't that he didn't want more, but that he was unable. But all that had changed. The Dragon ambassador brought by the Prince had healed the King's legs with a single spell. Furthermore, the Prince had brought good news of extending life and preserving youth.
For men, extending life was more important. But for women, the allure of maintaining a youthful and beautiful appearance, and the sense of superiority from watching their peers age while they remained young, was irresistible.
It was for this reason that most of the noblewomen remained calm, even if they were being incited against their will. Disobey? Then don't blame the lord for making things difficult for you.
On the outskirts of the Ghostlands, the Horde was being blocked by an invisible runic barrier. Here, the orc warlocks could not cast spells, and even the witch doctors' powers were suppressed. This made the orcs extremely uncomfortable.
"Have you figured it out yet?" Orgrim's gaze fell upon the burning elven camp in the distance. He had split his forces so many times precisely to circle around and attack Lordaeron, a plan he had never revealed in the slightest.
The signal he sent out was to rally more allies to fight the human Alliance. The enemy of my enemy is my friend—a saying that held true in any world.
"It's those runestones in the distance. I asked Zul'jin. They were placed by the High Elves when they first came to this land. As long as we dismantle these runestones, I can use the power contained within to strengthen the ogres.
They will surely help the Warchief conquer Quel'Thalas!" Gul'dan said in a humble tone. He had been waiting for an opportunity, and now it was within his grasp.
Orgrim glared at Gul'dan with eyes the size of copper bells. As the leader of the infamous Shadow Council, he didn't trust a word Gul'dan said. Sooner or later, he would kill Gul'dan. The day Lordaeron fell would be the day Gul'dan died!
"Then go do it. No funny business. I'll be watching you!"
"As you command, Warchief." Gul'dan bowed respectfully, but sneered inwardly. Foolish Orgrim, the men you sent to watch me are already under my control. Watch me? You're nothing but a pathetic pawn!
While the orcs and trolls worked together to dismantle the sturdy runestones, High Elf Rangers in the distance were still trying to interfere. But the distance was too great, and even with magical enhancements, the effect was minimal, only managing to kill a few careless orc soldiers.
With blonde hair, blue eyes, and a ranger's hood on her head, a graceful figure with a stunningly beautiful face filled with endless fury, the tall Ranger-General watched the orcs and trolls in the distance. She had never seen so many trolls, nor these strange orcs. Hundreds of rangers had already perished on the battlefield. The High Elf population was small to begin with, and now her hatred for them was bone-deep.
If Arthas were here, he would surely see the name above her head: "Sylvanas Windrunner, Ranger-General!"
The Ranger corps had always been under the control of the Windrunner family. Rather than being drawn to magic, they preferred nature and the bow. This didn't mean they couldn't use magic, just that they weren't as obsessed with it. Even without the Sunwell, they wouldn't feel too much discomfort.