The net cafe.
After the Second Legion departed, both the cafe and the world of Uncharted Waters IV returned to their usual states. The shouting of orders and the fierce rivalry between officers vanished, replaced once again by the relaxed, leisurely atmosphere of individuals enjoying their own games.
Over the past few days, Miller had been quietly observing Tirion Fordring's behavior.
The old man had fully accepted the name "Arcturius" or simply "Arthur." He would respond with a nod but rarely spoke. Aside from Arator proactively seeking him out for guidance on the Way of the Light, only Tess managed to exchange a few words with him—mostly about the taste of the food or whether his room needed extra amenities.
Otherwise, Fordring remained silent, often pulling his hood down to mask his eyes and nose during the day.
Miller had invited him into The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. After completing the opening sequence and witnessing the dragon's destruction of Helgen, Miller took him to Meridia's shrine for the "Dawnbreaker" quest.
It had to be said that the name "Tirion Fordring" alone was enough to make all manner of evil tremble. Even dressed in starter gear and wielding a simple two-handed greatsword, he demonstrated to Miller the pinnacle of combat technique. Even enemies many levels higher than him were systematically dismantled under his exquisite offense and defense.
Before becoming a Paladin, he had always been a powerful warrior. It was this strength, combined with his unwavering faith in the Light, that led to him being chosen as one of the original five Paladins of humanity. Even today, his movements carried traces of warrior skills; when facing monsters, he still preferred to charge forward and cut them down with a decisive strike.
The two carved through the dungeon like a hot knife through butter until they reached the end. The necromancer Malkoran became like prey, with Miller and Old Fordring competing to see who could deal more damage. The dungeon boss lost all his dignity in their presence. Ultimately, Miller's higher level and superior gear allowed him to land the killing blow.
The shrine's mechanism activated, and the Dawnbreaker appeared "once again."
Miller: "Senior, care to try it?"
Tirion Fordring walked forward and pulled the sword from the pedestal. Like other Paladins, a spark of light flashed in his eyes, but unlike others, that spark quickly faded.
A faint smile touched his lips. "It is indeed very similar."
He didn't finish the sentence, but Miller knew the missing half: But it is not the Ashbringer.
Miller laughed at himself. "It seems I still underestimated the vision of the High Lord."
Tirion Fordring: "I thank you for your kindness. The Ashbringer is a legend to others, but I am one who witnessed its birth and heard of its fall firsthand. Although I never had the honor of wielding it myself, I saw it in Mograine's hands, making the Scourge tremble in fear. The power of this sword is far inferior to the Ashbringer."
Miller: "Senior, have you ever thought that you might actually have the chance to hold that divine blade?"
Tirion Fordring sheathed the Dawnbreaker and glanced back at Miller. "I am now just a lonely old man. I don't know how many years I have left. If Stormwind ever remembers me, perhaps I can serve as a common grunt on the front lines, killing some undead or Nerubian filth. But the Ashbringer..." He shook his head at that point.
Miller thought to himself that this was likely the first time in days Tirion had spoken so much. This sword was indeed a perfect conversation starter.
He spoke softly, "Senior, you are not alone."
By now, the two had been teleported out of the shrine and stood on the slopes of the snowy mountain. The mountain wind, laden with snow, whipped against their faces. Tirion didn't know what to feel.
"Thank you for your care these past few days. This place of yours is quite interesting. However, young man, the cruelty of war is not something these entertaining tricks can compare to."
Miller: "Senior, have you heard of the black dragon Onyxia?"
Tirion remembered Eitrigg mentioning this to him. "I have heard that you drove back a black dragon single-handedly. But that is like the naval battle those officers had yesterday for the sake of their pride. Without the risk of life and death, such a battle is not worth mentioning."
Miller felt a strong sense of "disheartened exhaustion" emanating from this legendary figure. Although Tirion still silently helped passing adventurers and had come to the net cafe out of curiosity, it wasn't enough to reignite his fighting spirit to take up arms for Azeroth once more.
However, Miller calculated the dates. According to the plan, those five in the Eastern Plaguelands should already be inside Stratholme. If everything went well, they might have already secured the three items and returned to Light's Hope Chapel.
Miller: "Senior, you can choose not to believe the rumors, but you cannot lie to yourself. Your heart has not yet let go of its burdens—your concern for this world, and your concern for your son."
Miller's words seemed to strike a nerve. Tirion's brow furrowed instantly, and he fixed Miller with a gaze that was both alert and threatening. "What are you talking about?!"
Miller remained calm. "Taelan Fordring, leader of the Scarlet Crusade, and your only son."
Tirion raised his sword, pointing it at Miller. "I don't know how you learned of this, but I warn you: do not try to threaten me."
Miller: "Your son is in grave danger. I have already sent people to save him."
The pupils of Tirion's eyes dilated. He lunged forward, grabbing Miller by the collar. "What nonsense are you talking about?! Do not think that providing me a room, food, and these hollow illusions entitles you to coerce me with such lies. I am indeed an exiled criminal, but I have no value to Stormwind. Do not dream of trapping me; even if you delivered me to Varian, it would bring you no benefit."
Miller didn't fight back. This was a game; no action by Tirion could actually harm him.
He slowly listed several items: "When he was seven, you gave Taelan a hammer. It was a replica of your own warhammer. After you were exiled, your wife told Taelan you were dead, and that hammer was buried in a grave that contained nothing at all. Although you left, you never stopped caring for Taelan. In Lordaeron, when he was still a knight of the Order of the Silver Hand, he held back the Scourge at Northvale.
But with the death of High Lord Mograine, the Order collapsed. Taelan gave up his resistance and threw that banner—the symbol of his honor—into a lake. From then on, he joined the Scarlet Crusade, and you lost your way of knowing his status. But you know he is just a puppet. Because he inherited your title as High Lord of Mardenholde Keep, those controlling him gave him a leader's title in Hearthglen. Among them was your former comrade, Saidan Dathrohan. But you are one of the very few who knows Dathrohan died long ago, and the monster there now is not him."
"You remember an oil painting. It was a family portrait commissioned from an artist named Renfray when the three of you went on a trip. You have spent years trying to find it, only to find it missing. Because of your status as a traitor, you didn't want to involve the artist, so you never sought her out yourself."
As Miller spoke these words one by one, Tirion's grip on his collar tightened, yet his hands began to tremble uncontrollably. To the old knight, the young man before him seemed to have mind-reading abilities, completely piercing his inner thoughts and even revealing secrets known only to his family.
Impossible. Absolutely impossible. He must have interrogated Taelan, or perhaps his wife Karandra before she passed away. And likely, the interrogation wasn't friendly.
Tirion leaned in close, his voice a lethal whisper. "What have you done? You have crossed the line, young man. I am a traitor, and though I value honor, no one touches my family. Once, for the sake of the values I held dear, I was willing to bear the name of a traitor. Now, for the sake of my son, I am willing to wear the shackles of a butcher."
Miller looked Fordring straight in the eyes without a hint of retreat or fear. "Did you know? In this place, I have not only driven back a black dragon but also sent a Bronze Dragon away empty-handed. That was because I saved Marshal Windsor, who was destined to be killed by a black dragon in the flow of time. Now, I am doing the same—changing fate, trying to save your son so you two can be reunited. And then, I will watch the Paladin whose name makes even the Lich King tremble rebuild the Order of the Silver Hand and lead this world to wipe out the Scourge!"
Tirion knew of Windsor; he had heard the story from Eitrigg. But he hadn't known Miller was involved. At this moment, the words "reunited with your son" stirred a spark of hope in his heart. He had wanted this for years but knew that even with his strength, he couldn't face the Scarlet Crusade alone. What could this kid possibly do?
He slightly loosened his grip. "What does this have to do with those three items you mentioned?"
Miller: "Those three items are what you care about, and they are also what your son cares about. To this day, even if he doesn't know you are alive, he still views you as the hero he admires most in his heart."
Tirion let go completely. At the very least, he saw no flickering, hesitation, or deceit in Miller's eyes.
Just then, someone tapped Miller on the shoulder. Miller immediately took off his VR glasses. It was Rainier.
"Miller, we've entered Sovngarde, but for some reason, we can't dispel the mist to make Alduin appear."
Miller coughed twice, pulling himself out of the intense emotions from his conversation with Tirion. "Alright, I'll come take a look."
He sent Rainier back first, then walked into the luxury box on the second floor and handed something to Tirion Fordring.
Tirion recognized it—it was an exceptionally common teleportation rune, something almost every low-level mage kept in stock. However, this stone had the name "Marlin" carved on it.
As he was wondering about it, Marlin stomped into the room, sat down opposite him, and started swearing. "That brat Wayne is a real piece of work!"
Tirion was stunned by the sudden outburst. Marlin didn't recognize him and started shouting at him too. "That kid didn't even tell me! He tricked my daughter into going to that barren wasteland in the Eastern Plaguelands to save your son! Look at you, you're quite old yourself—why should you care about your son while I have to watch my precious daughter take risks?!"
Tirion began to understand, but his mind became even more chaotic. Is this another actor hired to play a part? Or are they really going for Taelan...
Before he could finish the thought, Marlin slammed the table. "I'm talking to you... your name is Arthur, right? Are you a mute? If anything happens to my daughter, I'm not just finished with that kid, I'm finished with you too!"
Tirion nodded. As a fellow father, he didn't think Marlin's expression and emotions were an act.
Marlin: "I'm telling you, watch this stone. Keep your eyes glued to it. If this rune glows blue—even a little bit—you call me immediately! Understood?!"
Tirion nodded again. He placed the teleportation rune on the table in front of him, staring at it while trying to untangle the knotted mess of thoughts in his mind.