At Waycrest Manor, Marshal Everit Reed, leader of the Order of Embers, arrived in the courtyard requesting signatures for a batch of official documents. Ever since Lord and Lady Waycrest had been purged for selling their souls to the Shadowlands—turning into monstrosities that were neither dead nor alive—the territory had been under the direct governance and administration of their daughter, Lucille.
The witches of Drustvar had been hunted down almost to the last; any remaining survivors could only shiver in fear, hiding in the darkest, most wretched corners. Today, the region had been restored as a vital resource hub for Kul Tiras, and Kul Tiras itself had formally integrated into the Lordaeron Empire, becoming an inseparable province of the realm.
Among the four great ruling houses, House Stormstout had been thoroughly exposed for conspiring with an Old God and was naturally eradicated. Now, only three of the great houses remained: House Proudmoore, House Ashvane, and House Waycrest. With all three universally consenting to the integration, there was simply no one left to oppose it.
The pirates that the nation used to rely upon were nothing short of a joke before the might of the Naga. No matter how seasoned a sailor was, no mortal could outlast the depths of the ocean; once a man tumbled into the water, he was merely another dish on a Naga's menu.
"Pardon me, where might the Lady be?"
"Ah, Mistress received an invitation from Lady Jaina and departed shortly after," the maidservant reported honestly. "She stated that all immediate affairs are to be overseen by your Excellency. Should you encounter any pressing difficulties, you are to consult either Grand Admiral Katherine or Minister Nalice directly."
The maidservant remained internally bewildered as to why her mistress had suddenly taken such a keen interest in applying cosmetics and dressing herself in exquisite attire. She hadn't looked as though she was attending a formal gala either, given that she wasn't wearing traditional court garments. Instead, it felt distinctly like she was heading out for a date—though as to who that date might be, it remained entirely a mystery.
As a Lady who held absolute domain over the entire Drustvar region, whichever man managed to secure her hand in marriage would be blessed with exceptional fortune.
Unfortunately, before an asset of such premium caliber, outsiders could only watch with envy, utterly powerless to intervene.
Coincidentally, Taelia, who was currently studying in Kul Tiras, had also received an invitation to depart. The moment she received Jaina's magical message, she skipped her classes entirely, rushing straight back to her quarters to change into fresh attire before stepping out the door with a blissful smile. In this day and age, studying hard meant very little compared to securing an exceptional husband.
In Gilneas.
The Wolf King, Genn Greymane, conducted his daily patrol of his domain. Ever since their formal reincorporation into the Alliance of Lordaeron, the impoverished livelihood of his territories had finally begun to improve, and even localized insurgencies had decreased significantly.
Walking closely beside him was his son, Liam. The future King of Gilneas was already contemplating how to properly integrate the nation into the Empire once he assumed the crown. If they remained merely an independent kingdom, systemic economic suppression was a mathematical certainty. Even now, Gilnean laborers traveling to Lordaeron for work received only a third of the wages of a native citizen—yet even that meager third was vast compared to remaining idle in Gilneas.
Lordaeron's justification was ironclad: such benefits were strictly reserved for imperial citizens, a policy enacted entirely to safeguard the domestic population. Furthermore, because Gilneas did not officially belong to the Lordaeron Empire, raw materials and artisanal crafts produced within its borders were purchased at a mandatory half-price. The explicit rationale was to protect imperial industries and prevent external dumping from undermining domestic markets.
This state of affairs was profoundly frustrating; with Gilneas's minuscule production capacity, how could they possibly compete with the monolithic economic engine of Lordaeron?
Dumping goods? You actually need the underlying capital to achieve that first!
Even this half-price rate was granted strictly out of consideration for their status as Alliance members; otherwise, their goods would be acquired at a mere third of market value. This economic reality wasn't targeted solely at Gilneas—it applied universally to any race or faction that chose to remain outside the formal borders of the Lordaeron Empire.
Any resources they exported were heavily marked down, while any essential supplies they attempted to import were drastically marked up. Normally, merchants had to rely on smugglers and black-market scalpers to secure goods, but that was hardly a sustainable long-term strategy, as these smugglers were frequently apprehended by the Dragonkin Inspectorate and subsequently imprisoned for life.
No sane merchant dared to snatch bread from a dragon's jaws; to the Great Dragonflights, gleaming coins were held in higher regard than life itself. Should anyone dare to steal from them, the Dragonkin units would swiftly and brutally teach them a lesson in compliance.
Princess Tess accompanied them on the patrol, her previously listless demeanor instantly transforming into vibrant excitement the moment she received a prompt over her magical communicator.
"Jaina has invited me out to enjoy ourselves! Father, Brother, I shall take my leave first."
Whenever an affair involved the crown of Lordaeron, neither father nor son possessed the leverage to intervene. In truth, they deeply pinned their hopes on Tess successfully marrying into the imperial lineage as a royal consort; at the very least, it would alleviate Gilneas's precarious position.
Liam belonged to the younger generation; to him, bending the knee was simply bending the knee—it was no great tragedy. As long as the citizenry could live and work in absolute peace, he considered his duties as a sovereign thoroughly fulfilled.
But the Wolf King was different. He was a veteran warrior of the old guard; to abandon the independent crown of Gilneas and allow his nation to become a mere province on an expanding imperial map felt like an unforgivable betrayal of his ancestors—a profound dishonor. Thus, he continued to stubbornly hold the line.
"Very well. Ensure you communicate frequently with Lady Jaina. If you can manage to negotiate a slightly better profit margin on our trade trade allocations, it would be for the best."
Princess Tess waved her hand dismissively, her tone laced with a hint of playful exasperation.
"I understand. But Jaina doesn't oversee commercial affairs. Furthermore, Onyxia is currently taking a leave of absence, and the former Black Dragonflight Ambassador, Nalice, has assumed her duties. You would find it far more effective to discuss trade with her directly."
They soon arrived at the domain of House Crowley, which bordered Lordaeron's Southshore region. Compared to the staunchly conservative Wolf King, the local lord, Darius Crowley, was exceptionally progressive—essentially playing with his hand completely face-up regarding integration with Lordaeron. This was evident from the fact that his local magistrates and grassroots law enforcement positions were entirely staffed by personnel dispatched from Lordaeron, and a detachment of the imperial army was permanently garrisoned within his territory to coordinate mutual defense.
Regarding formal integration into the Lordaeron Empire, the populace was universally supportive. With concrete, material benefits sitting squarely on the table, what fool would willingly cast them aside?
As for the abstract glory of an independent kingdom?
Apologies, but the common subjects on the ground harbored no such grand illusions. To them, securing a full meal, warm clothing, and stable wages to sustain their households was what truly mattered. Such abstract notions of sovereign honor were luxuries contemplated strictly by highborn rulers who had far too much free time on their hands.
Lorna Crowley stepped forward clad in the distinctive uniform of a professional marksman, a pair of custom pistols slung neatly at her waist and a runic, mithril-forged magical rifle strapped securely across her back. While she didn't excel in direct hand-to-hand combat, her latent talent for long-range precision shooting was undeniable.
"Father, I am setting off then. See you around."
"Excellent! Go out and enjoy yourself thoroughly. You needn't return tonight; stay out for a few days if you can. Do not worry about affairs at home; everything is perfectly taken care of. Go on, go on—do not keep Lady Jaina waiting."
Darius was exceptionally open-minded, making absolutely no effort to conceal his aspirations of marrying his daughter to Arthas. To ascend to the status of father-in-law to the Emperor of the realm was a profound achievement in its own right!
The probability of success for this endeavor was remarkably high. He had maintained excellent relations with Lordaeron since the early days, frequently drawing sharp criticism from Gilnean hardliners who accused him of turning coat. To serve as a high lord of Gilneas while harboring a heart aligned with Lordaeron was, in their eyes, an act of pure treason.
Yet looking at the reality today, no one dared to raise such complaints. Lordaeron had successfully risen to absolute hegemony; even after enduring the devastating onslaught of the Scourge, it stood completely unyielding. Furthermore, having forged a legendary reputation at Mount Hyjal, numerous prominent races maintained exceptional diplomatic ties with the throne.
Even the long-eared Blood Elves, acting under the direct decree of their Prince, Kael'thas Sunstrider, had completely abandoned the sovereign Kingdom of Quel'Thalas, dissolving their state apparatus entirely to merge into Lordaeron. From that alone, one could deduce the sheer magnitude of the Empire's overarching influence. This didn't even account for the formal integration of the Naga—the absolute sovereigns of the oceans. Anyone wishing to navigate the high seas had to show due deference to the Naga, lest their vessels find themselves barred from exiting port—or worse, sunk straight to the ocean floor within the harbor itself due to sudden structural breaches.
The integration of the Night Elves had likewise allowed the scarred lands to fully heal, restoring them into incredibly fertile soils that produced bountiful crops to sustain the entire Alliance.
The Wolf King watched as his daughter met up with Darius's daughter, the two subsequently opening a shimmering conjured portal and stepping through. He could catch a faint glimpse of an exceptionally picturesque landscape on the other side—a region that looked completely unlike Lordaeron, populated by plump, black-and-white furry Pandaren.
"Where exactly are they heading?"
"Ah, to Pandaria," Darius replied smoothly. "A massive continent shrouded in dense mists, completely isolated from the rest of the world for millennia. Lordaeron recently made landfall there, establishing strategic outposts to extract specialized materials. Rumor has it these resources are required for the resurrection ritual of the Night Elves' Wild Gods. Needless to say, that continent is immensely wealthy."
Darius possessed far greater intelligence regarding global affairs than the King himself, entirely because Lorna kept him thoroughly informed. Tess, conversely, preferred to spare the Wolf King from unnecessary stress, choosing to withhold the details entirely, leaving him effectively in the dark.
"Pandaria? A new continent?"
The Wolf King felt a sudden surge of ambition, though it quickly faded into somber reality. He lacked the functional capacity to act; the Gilnean navy had been utterly annihilated during their desperate struggles against the Scourge. Before they could even deploy their fleet, a calculated ambush had resulted in their ships being seized and their sailors slaughtered to be raised as mindless undead.
"Indeed. His Majesty's profound foresight is far beyond what we can comprehend; our sole responsibility is to follow his decrees to the letter. The invasion of the Burning Legion will not be the last, and crushing them permanently will prove exceptionally difficult, even with the current strength of the Alliance. This is not merely a human affair, nor does it belong to any singular race—it is the collective obligation of all living things."
"Only by aligning under a unified banner can we weather these cataclysms together. The current era is merely a post-war interlude; we are far from achieving absolute security or permanent peace. One must always prepare for peril during times of tranquility, Wolf King. We are old; we can no longer match the stride of the younger generation. It is time for us to step back into the shadows and fulfill our proper responsibilities."
Darius spoke with deep nostalgia. They had once fought side-by-side during the Second War against the Orcish Horde, yet now, with the rapid passage of time, they found themselves struggling to keep pace with the era. That bygone period had been defined strictly by sword and sorcery, whereas the world had now ushered in an era of advanced technology.
The legendary powerhouses of the old world remained formidable, yet technology possessed the unique capacity to drastically close the gap between common soldiers. A Paladin who had trained relentlessly for a decade could potentially be eliminated on the battlefield by a rifleman with a mere three months of basic drills; that was the stark reality of the shift.
Of course, technology posed no genuine threat to true divinity, ensuring the fundamental hierarchy remained unmarred.
Hearing these words, the Wolf King remained silent for a long time, his countenance locked in somber contemplation. It was an incredibly difficult reality to accept, let alone endure. Yet facts were absolute, remaining entirely unaffected by an individual's subjective preferences.
One either adapted to the change or faced absolute obsolescence; there was no middle ground.
"Perhaps... it truly is time to make a change. I am weary, Darius. It has been far too long since we sat down together over fine liquor; tell me of your perspectives regarding the future. Liam, sit with us and listen closely. The future belongs to you young people; observe well, and learn well. I am old, and the era has outpaced me."
The Wolf King's voice carried a hint of desolation. In this singular moment, his internal resolve was genuinely shaken, and the prospect of retirement took firm root in his mind. Stepping away entirely to secure peace of mind seemed an appealing path; while time permitted, he could travel to visit old friends and veteran comrades-in-arms—though few who had survived those grueling wars remained alive today.
To cast aside the crushing weight of a crown and return to the status of an ordinary man, enjoying the simple pleasure of raising future grandchildren—that, too, was an exceptional way to live out his remaining years.
The spring day was bright and beautiful. The warm breeze of the Valley of the Four Winds carried the sweet fragrance of ripening rice and blossoming flora, sweeping across the cobblestone paths of the Halfhill Market.
Arthas walked clad in a set of elegant, silver-white casual attire, having completely shed the chilling aura of the Lich King. His left arm was wrapped gently around Jaina's shoulders; her milk-white mage robes beautifully complemented her increasingly soft, radiant features as her fingertips occasionally brushed against the cascading wisteria blooming along the path.
Beside them, Queen Azshara strode in a majestic, sea-blue gown embroidered with intricate wave patterns. Though her innate royal majesty remained impossible to conceal, the depths of her eyes held a genuine, childlike curiosity toward the exotic flavors and bustling energy of this foreign market.
Tyrande wore a pristine, moon-white cloak, her silver hair ornaments clinking softly with every step. Her heightened druidic senses caused her to occasionally pause, observing the Pandaren working diligently within the sprawling farmlands below.
Alexstrasza and Ysera walked shoulder-to-shoulder. The Red Dragon Queen's crimson-gold tresses gleamed radiantly beneath the midday sun, while the Green Dragon Queen wore an elegant emerald gown, a faint, soothing fragrance of fresh vegetation trailing lazily in her wake.
Onyxia had discarded her draconic form, her sleek black combat attire accentuating her sharp, athletic silhouette as a characteristically lazy smile played at the corners of her lips. Sylvanas walked in an elegant, silver-gray robe, a white ribbon fluttering softly in the wind against her tresses; though she had endured profound hardships in her past, her brow now held a tangible sense of relaxation and peace.
"I have long heard that the Valley of the Four Winds is the premier culinary paradise of Azeroth, particularly the six grand master chefs of the Halfhill Market, each possessing peerless techniques," Jaina remarked with a soft smile, her voice exceptionally gentle. "To be able to visit this place today alongside you and the sisters is truly wonderful."
Arthas looked down at her, his eyes brimming with tenderness: "You have always possessed a fondness for regional delicacies; today, we shall sample every single one of them, ensuring we do not squander this beautiful spring season."
Azshara raised a hand to elegantly brush back a stray strand of hair from her temple, her tone dripping with natural refinement: "The culinary arts of the Pandaren were whispered about even during the ancient era; today, I intend to judge their merits thoroughly."
Tyrande nodded in agreement: "The bounty of nature sustains all living things. The Pandaren's unique understanding of fresh ingredients may well reflect a distinct wisdom from our own."
At that moment, a shimmering conjured portal flared to life, and Taelia, Lucille, Tess, and Lorna emerged together—four young, breathtakingly beautiful maidens appearing in unison.
Lucille remained attired in the elegant garments of a highborn noble lady, her eyes holding a distinct glint of resilient strength. Her capacity to successfully inherit and manage an estate as monolithic as House Waycrest proved definitively that she was no mere ornament, making her an exceptionally valued assistant to Jaina in administering the complex administrative affairs of the Alliance.
Taelia wore a set of structured training armor, having dedicated her studies to the path of the Holy Light. While she technically should have pursued her training within Lordaeron, she had been sent to Kul Tiras during the height of the crisis to seek safe refuge. Though her current combat prowess wasn't tier-one, it remained more than sufficient for practical deployment.
Princess Tess was likewise attired in refined noble garments. Having witnessed the devastation of the Scourge alongside the chaotic internal upheavals of the Worgen curse, she had provided immense assistance to the Wolf King, enduring profound trials that lent her the most mature and seasoned aura among the four newcomers.
Lorna Crowley was by no means outshone, her avant-garde rifleman attire presenting a striking visual that instantly drew the eye. A woman required not only physical beauty but a distinct, captivating presence—and a refined mastery of stylistic presentation. There was a definitive, underlying reason why specialized ensembles like flight attendant uniforms, nursing scrubs, and clinical coats held such universal appeal!