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(A/N: Chapter 105 will soon be on Patreon!)
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(Now back to the story!)
When the main army of the Alliance finally reached the city of Lordaeron—or rather, the ruins of Lordaeron—the sight before them was far from pleasing.
The once-grand capital of the largest human kingdom in Azeroth, after its fall and corruption by the Scourge, now resembled a collection of eerie, frozen ruins.
A perfect breeding ground for the undead.
The people of Lordaeron were especially angered, but even more saddened, to witness the state of their capital and the "pride" of their kingdom.
Despite that, they still harbored great hope that after this day they would not only reclaim their capital, but would soon begin purifying it of the accursed taint of the undead and start rebuilding what had been lost.
Thankfully, like the previous Scourge pockets encountered by the Alliance on their march here, the majority of the undead were now completely disorganized.
Most of the high-ranking undead capable of acting as commanders—such as Death Knights and Liches—had been killed, as the vast majority of them had been present during the Siege of Alterac.
Those who remained, if they had not already surrendered themselves to be purified by the Holy Light and allow their souls to finally pass on, were far less inclined to work together. Instead, they had formed their own isolated groups, which were steadily picked apart by Alliance forces.
However, Alastor's army was not alone in the task of retaking the city.
General Abbendis had also arrived with his army of the Scarlet Crusade to participate in the operation.
Though Alastor would have preferred it if the man hadn't literally gotten down on his knees to greet him, treating him not only as the Supreme Commander but also as the living embodiment of the rumors claiming he was an incarnated God of the Light.
'THEY'RE STILL BELIEVING THAT HOGWASH!?'
Alastor was utterly flabbergasted.
Nevertheless, he quickly used his telekinesis to pull Abbendis back onto his feet and informed him that, as a renowned and loyal commander, he had no need to lower himself to such a degree before him, even if Alastor was technically his superior.
Unfortunately, that only seemed to make things worse.
Not only Abbendis, but also the high-ranking members of the Scarlet Crusade accompanying him, looked at him with even greater admiration in their eyes.
'As expected of the mortal incarnation. His humility and compassion are the exact embodiment of the tenets taught by the Church!'
Alastor wanted to repeatedly slam his face into the ground hard enough to cave it in.
While he couldn't read their minds, he had a very good idea of where their thoughts were heading.
Bloody fucking Arda!
He would have thought that, by now, people would be done with this nonsense about him being some incarnated God of the Light!?
And why the hell were his companions giving him either deadpan or exasperated looks!?
Varian rubbed his forehead and decided that at some point he needed to pull his little brother aside and teach him a very important lesson about how he had a habit of saying one thing while doing another entirely.
It was well known that Alastor was a prodigious mage, scientist, and inventor.
He was someone who had been elevated to the status of a Saint of the Light during his very first visit to a church.
Not to mention that throughout the war he had proven himself to be a capable general, knight, leader, and administrator.
He had also shown remarkable resilience in the face of tragedy while upholding honor, loyalty, and kindness without allowing those virtues to make him weak or a pushover.
He had quite literally turned hopeless situations around, saved kingdoms, united nations, and ultimately became the Supreme Commander of the Alliance and a symbol of hope for all the people of Azeroth.
And the fact that he was seen flying through the sky multiple times looking like a wrathful angel of justice and war before swooping in to in to destroy said fel enemies in droves most certainly did not help his objections to the godhood allegations.
<-------------------------------------->
It was decided that Abbendis would attack from the northern side of the city with the Scarlet Crusade, while the main army would launch its assault from the south.
Alastor entrusted command of the main army to Alexandros, who throughout the course of the war had become both one of his most trusted advisors and one of his finest generals.
As for Alastor himself, he would be joining the vanguard forces and carving a path through the city for the bulk of the Alliance army to follow.
Joining him would be Anduin and Rhonin, though they would not be the only heroes spearheading the assault through separate entry points.
Others would be doing the same.
For example:
Aegwynn and Tyrande would form one pair.
Uther and Malfurion another.
And so on and so forth.
Similar arrangements had been made for the other heroes of the Alliance. This would allow Alliance forces to establish multiple entry points into the city and begin the first phase of the purge with greater safety and efficiency.
The Armored Core units would act as "spearheads" following the initial assault by the heroes. They were tasked with shattering any lingering defenses and resistance while providing cover for the advancing ground forces alongside the Alliance's other armored units.
The aerial forces were given only one objective:
Clear the skies of all hostile aerial threats and maintain air superiority at all costs.
Should the need arise, they would also provide close air support to the ground forces below.
Some of Alastor's commanders felt the plan was somewhat excessive.
The strategy itself was excellent.
It was methodical, comprehensive, and left enough room for operational adjustments should unforeseen circumstances arise, allowing for flexibility and adaptation.
If such measures were being used against another formidable enemy force, no one would question them.
However, with the death of the Lich King and the destruction of Frostmourne—which was yet another piece of excellent news for the Alliance—the Scourge had lost the supreme authority that had once bound them together into a cohesive and terrifying force.
Now, with their forces shattered and fragmented into smaller groups, they were far easier to deal with, especially with the combined might of several kingdoms bearing down upon them.
But Alastor quickly shut down that line of thinking.
He reminded his commanders that allowing arrogance to take root, even in the final stages of the war, would create a chink in their armor that they simply could not afford.
Especially now, when victory was finally within reach.
Alastor's most trusted generals—Anduin, Turalyon, Alexandros, Varian, Kurdran, Genn, Thoras, and Uther—completely agreed with his assessment.
Without hesitation, they moved to put the plans into motion.
<----------------------->
"You know, I never asked, but who taught you to wield a sword?"
Anduin casually asked Rhonin, which would have been considered perfectly normal if one ignored the fact that he was quite literally blurring through multiple undead like a human shredder with Quel'Zaram.
The sword itself moved so fast that it appeared as multiple arcs of silver light, cutting through undead flesh, bone, and armor without resistance.
"Oh, this? I learned the basics back in Stromgarde from my instructor, along with my siblings, but I never finished the training."
Rhonin replied just as casually while launching an Arcane Barrage, followed by a wind spell that shredded the undead around him.
"Then it was discovered that I was a mage (Psyker) and when I wanted to study magic, my family disowned me. We were Stromgarde people, and over there we'd rather be warriors."
"Long story short, I just used whatever I knew and whatever I saw to build my swordsmanship before travelling to Dalaran. When Al and I met, he all but forced me to train with him and helped me develop my style into what it is today."
A large horde of undead was charging toward them through the streets of Lordaeron when, suddenly, Alastor descended from the sky and landed in front of them.
With a single punch, he struck toward the advancing horde with a flaming fist.
The resulting blast of sacred fire engulfed not only the horde but also the surrounding streets and buildings as the charging undead were obliterated and their souls purified.
"He had the talent and instincts, but his fighting style was more like that of a bandit's uncle. I had to teach him a few things so he'd actually look like an authentic warrior-mage."
That was how Alastor viewed Rhonin.
A true warrior-mage.
Unlike traditional battle mages, who trained physically and for combat scenarios but still relied primarily on magic, Rhonin was something rarer—a genuine hybrid between warrior and mage who could excel at both and, when necessary, combine the two disciplines into something even more powerful and versatile.
"Hey, if it worked, it worked." Rhonin shrugged.
"And didn't you yourself teach me, during our very first swordsmanship lesson, the most important lesson every swordsman needs to know?"
"Stick 'em with the pointy end."
Rhonin blinked as it was Anduin who answered.
"Hahaha! Brat, who do you think taught this boy to be as deadly a swordsman as he is today? That was the very first lesson I gave him—and his brother too."
"Find your enemy, raise your sword, then—"
"Stick 'em with the pointy end!"
This time Alastor interrupted with a grin as Rhonin gave a mock-serious nod.
"Ah yes. The end from which to end the enemy, to end their threat, and end the fight."
Alastor narrowed his eyes at Rhonin and immediately retorted.
"That is far too many ends in one sentence. You must end this now, Rhonin."
Anduin shook his head at the two "children" in front of him, who reminded him a great deal of his own younger days with Llane and Medivh.
"When will you two end this?"
Sszzt!
Just then, a bolt of plasma shot past the three of them and struck a wounded Lich behind them.
The undead creature had been preparing to cast a Frost Nova upon them when the plasma bolt burned straight through what remained of its skeletal chest, causing it to collapse lifelessly onto the ground.
The three turned around and saw Varian standing behind them with a smoking plasma pistol, which he casually holstered.
"You missed one..."
He paused briefly.
"...and that's the end of that."
Even Varian couldn't maintain a straight face after that quip.
The four of them burst into laughter at the absurd little exchange.
"And just so you know, we knew it was there, brother. We were simply taking our time."
"Sure. Whatever you say, little brother."
Varian shook his head, thoroughly amused.
Behind him, multiple columns of Stormwind troops advanced into the district and began spreading out to secure the area.
"Hey, Al? Are we going to make our way to the royal castle next?"
"No, Rhonin. Alexandros and the warriors of Lordaeron will be the ones to reclaim that part of the city."
"That's weird. Wouldn't it be better to conduct a combined assault?"
"The people of Lordaeron deserve this, Rhonin, just as the people of Alterac deserved to participate in the Siege of Alterac."
Varian looked toward the distant royal castle with a solemn expression.
"We would know. If we were in Lordaeron's or Alterac's place, we'd want the same opportunity if it meant taking back Stormwind."
(A/N: The First War in the original Warcraft lore was both epic and tragic. The death of Llane at the hands of Garona—someone he trusted, who herself was being controlled—the fall of Stormwind, and its eventual reclamation by Anduin Lothar before the capital was rebuilt stronger than ever.)
Alastor and Anduin gave solemn nods as the same thought passed through their minds.
Even Rhonin understood where they were coming from and fell silent.
Just then, Alastor received a call through his comm-link.
Patching it through, he heard the voice of Abbendis.
"My lord, the northern side has been completely secured, and all operational objectives have been completed."
"That fast?"
Alastor sounded genuinely surprised.
The operation had concluded far faster than his predictions after reviewing the strength of the Scarlet Legion's army.
"That... is also why I called you, Lord Alastor."
Abbendis's voice became noticeably complicated.
"We received assistance and... I believe it would be best if you and the others came to my location once the royal castle has been secured."
Alastor frowned while Anduin, Rhonin, and Varian exchanged curious looks.
"Abbendis... who are these helpers?"
"It's the High Elves, my lord, and their representatives wish to speak with you urgently."
There was a brief pause.
"They are called Vereesa Windrunner and Lor'themar Theron."
Alastor could already feel the migraine that he was most definitely going to have.
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