Introduction
He sat quietly on his throne overlooking his domain. A being of immense power, unmatched by any mortal man, with minions and armies aplenty, the pain of his recent transformations and torments still very much fresh in his memory, with scars that could never heal, and wounds that could not be treated by any on Azeroth.
Outside the wind howled and snow and ice prevented any kind of real visibility, which was just as well, for the surrounding landscape had been ravaged by the minions of his immediate predecessor. Now they were his minions.
At times the eerie silence of his cold, massive palace irritated him, but not this day, as he sought refuge inside his own memories, wielding them like a shield to stave off his demons..
He’d had a name once, although he could often not even remember it. The people of Northrend however, knew him as the Lich King.
Prologue
Stormwind was in a state of flux. In a matter of days the city had gone from celebrating its restoration to tensions so thick you could cut them with a knife.
With Stormwind City almost completely rebuilt after the Third War, the Stonemasons Guild had gone to the King for payment. The King had assured them the Crown would pay, but that matters to do with the city itself fell within the purview of the House of Lords.
Faced with a mounting bill for the repair work, and a huge bill to support the outlying forces, the House flatly refused to pay the price asked and sent the bill back to the Guild unpaid.
Protests began almost immediately.
The Four members of the House of Lords were in shock, the streets were in turmoil, and there riots. Shops and merchandise had been set on fire. The city burned. People had died.
Varian Wrynn, King of Stormwind, Leader of the Alliance sat at the head of the table.
“Why has this come to me again?” he roared, “The royal seal was attached to these months ago. How has this not been paid?”
Lord Gregor Escavar smoothed out his moustaches nervously before answering quietly. “Your majesty, we considered the request and given the current state of rebuilding as well as the cost of recent wars, we simply do not have the money to pay.”
The Kings face was mottled with fury. “My Lord Escavar, the money was there months ago when I authorised the payment. My treasury does however report that that the four of you have over the same time been able to authorise payment for your own dwellings out of MY treasury.”
At the far end of the table, the King observed the slim figure of the only female member of the House, the Lady Katrana Prestor move uncomfortably. To her right, Count Ergalidin raised his hand.
“Your majesty, I don’t see how accusing us of embezzlement is going to save this situation. We need alternatives. Perhaps offering the stonemasons positions in the royal household will hold them off until we can work out payment”.
The King stood. “My Lords and Lady, make the offer, but if one more person dies as a result of this, on your head be it.”.
The Guild master was a man by the name of Edwin Van Cleef, who learnt the trade at his father’s knee, and had gladly leant his skills and comrades to the rebuilding of the city, as well as the construction of the new fortress at Nethergarde. For a man who was usually bright and cheerful, and quite at home with a jug of beer in one hand and a wench in the other, he was putting on quite a show of anger.
“You want to offer us positions in the royal household?? Are you serious, My Lord? They can’t even pay us for the work we’ve already done and you want us to accept more government work?” My dear Escavar, we’ve had enough. You think it’s bad now? By tomorrow it will be worse.”
Escavar shook his head. “You would dare open rebellion against the King? If he calls out the army, you’ll be massacred?”
Van Cleef smiled. “Well that’s not likely. Marcus Jonathon would never deploy inside the city against his own people unless the King directly orders it so, and the Queen supports our cause. We can’t lose.”
Escavar gritted his teeth. “You better hope nothing happens to the Queen then”.
Varian Wrynn stalked down the corridors of the palace. He’d thought the House were such good people once, able to share the responsibility with him for the city, and enable him to focus on other threats to the Kingdom as well as rebuilding the Kingdom after the losses of the war. He shook his head. Too many good men had been lost whom he’d respected.
He turned, just in time to see a small blurry form jump out at him with a shout! Momentarily stunned, it took the King a moment to realise he’d been ambushed by his own son, but not before they’d both tumbled down the hallway and pulled a curtain down on top of them both.
His wife appeared, and taking in the scene, burst out laughing.
“He’s been doing that for a week. The palace staff are being terrorised by a boy who thinks he’s the second coming of Turalayon!”
The King sat up and was helped to his feet by the Queen. They both turned to help their son up, but already the boy had run off to his next nefarious deed for the day. The king rubbed his forehead ruefully, “I’ll need to put a guard on that boy”.
The Queen sat down; Varian came over and sat next to her. “I assume you’ve heard of the Councils latest lunacy? The city will explode tomorrow. I’m afraid I’m going to have to deploy troops to prevent further bloodshed”.
“I don’t understand why they can’t be paid? Can’t you pay them?” asked the Queen.
“Unfortunately, while I have much power over my subjects, responsibility for the city lies with the House. It’s been that way for centuries. As much as I would like to execute the lot at times, I don’t think that would go down too well.” The king smiled.
“Deploying soldiers will just make it worse though Varian! You’ll be adding weapons and armour to a protest which so far has just singed a few merchants! Please don’t add to the bloodshed…for me?” The Queen pleaded.
“When could I ever refuse you, my lovely Queen? I will hold off on the army for now, but if it gets out of control tomorrow then I’ll have no choice.”
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Commander of the Stormwind City Defence, General Marcus Jonathon, and the secretive commander of Stormwind Intelligence, Matthias Shaw, sat quietly in a corner of the inn. Neither was feeling particularly happy about the prospects for the following day.
“The king refuses to deploy troops even to prevent possible bloodshed. He believes the people have seen enough of armies for a while and that this will antagonise things further. Do we know anything about the stonemason’s guild and their intentions?”
Shaw shook his head. ‘We’ve been unable to get anyone inside the organisation. We know who a few of the big wheels are, but we’ve got no idea what’s going on with their planning.”
The General swore. “One spark and this place is going to go up like a bonfire”.
It started early. The crowds had filled the court yard shortly after dawn, and by the time the King had been awoken, the crowd was already in fine voice. Outside, Count Ersgalid begged for them to calm down. The assorted guild members, now joined by various other disaffected elements and malcontents numbered in their thousands.
Queen Tiffin looked out her window at the seething mass of humanity below. She turned to her maid “They know I’m on their side, perhaps I should go talk to them”.
Her maid looked horrified “Your majesty that’s quite dangerous. The King would never allow it”.
Tiffin looked all the more determined. “That’s why we won’t tell him first”.
The Queen stepped out onto the balcony, and waited for Lord Escavar to finish his turn at calming down the crowd. Count Esgarlid’s face was white.
“Your majesty can’t be here. It’s not safe. If anything happened the king would have our ears”.
The queen snapped back. “Don’t tell the king! Nothing will happen! These people know Im on their side”.
The Count turned to his aide “Get me General Marcus Jonathon and palace guards at once!” – And in a much quieter voice “and somebody tell the King”In the war room,
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General Marcus Jonathon bolted from a meeting with City defense commanders, along the way calling every palace guard he could get.
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In the courtyard, Escavar wasn’t having the most soothing of effects on the crowd, who knew him well as being behind many of the troubles in the city. They began to stir restlessly. At the back of the crowd, rotten fruit and eggs were being passed into the crowd.
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“The Queen is WHERE?” demanded the King “Get her inside at once! Ignore whatever she says! Damn that woman! I should confine her to quarters! And someone find Anduin at once and lock him in his room with a guard!
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Escavar sat down. “It’s no use your majesty, they won’t listen to reason, I don’t think you’ll have much chance either. I MUST ask you to please reconsider!”.
The Queen stood. “It’s the duty of leaders to lead, Escovar, not just to rob treasuries blind for your own good. If you and your colleagues in the House had been less greedy we wouldn’t be in this position”.
She turned to face the crowd.
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General Marcus Jonathon could see the doorway leading to the balcony, guards right behind him. He was almost there. Dear God, let nothing happen.
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In the throne room, Varian Wrynn paced surrounded by palace guard and flanked by Reginald Windsor, Marshal of the Armies of Stormwind,
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“Good citizens of Stormwind! The King and I have heard your complaints and are working towards a fair solution that will help everyone. Just please go back to your homes until we can work this out. Trust me, the King and I support you in this.”
“How can we trust you? Our wages are 6 months overdue!”
“We cant feed our children with promises from the Queen!”
“You have NO idea what we are going through!”
Lord Ridgewell stood to address the crowd, but before he’d even opened his mouth he was subjected to a barrage of fruit and vegetables and eggs. He stumbled and fell under the assault. The Queen moved to help him. Esgarlid looked around nervously. Where had his aid gone? Where were the guards?
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General Marcus Jonathon reached the steps with a dozen palace guard and dragged the fallen Ridgewell inside. He turned to Esgarlid who stared white-faced at a body on the ground. Dear god please let this be a nightmare…
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King Varian Wrynn waited in the throne room. He’d stopped pacing and was seated on the ancient throne of the Kings of Stormwind awaiting the arrival of his Queen. There were some urgent words to be had.
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General Marcus Jonathon, and the House of Lords representatives, and members of the palace guard carried the body gently from the front steps and into the hall. Moving slowly, they moved into the throne room.
Varian Wrynn saw the party approach slowly, and noting the lack of noise felt s asick sense of dread begin to work its way through his stomach. He could barely speak, able to croak out a single word
:”how”
General Marcus Jonathon spoke quietly “It seems she was hit in the head by a number of rocks thrown from the crowd while going to the aid of a fallen member of the House. She was dead by the time I reached the steps”.
The King collapsed. The General ordered everyone from the throne room. “Your Majesty, the guards are clearing the courtyard and arresting the perpetrators as we speak. We’ll hold them in the stockades.”
The King said nothing. “Your majesty, go to your son. Let us deal with this for you”. He nodded weakly, and servants were summoned to take the King to his rooms.
The general turned to Windsor. “I’m placing the city under martial law. The city garrison will report for duty at once. Right now, we need somebody here whom the King respects, the people respect, and the army respects.”
Marshall Windsor responded “It’s a difficult problem, but Ive got just the answer. Get me a messenger ready at once”.
Chapter 1
Lord Bolvar Fordragon, Commander of the Southern Border, strode briskly in the morning air through the keep. Nethergarde was one of the newest fortresses in the Kingdom, built at great expense to keep an eye on the dark portal, and protect against the demonic forces that dwelt nearby and might wish to use the artifact for ill.
Bolvar Fordragon was a man used to finer comforts, clean clothing and freshly cooked meals. Unfortunately for Bolvar, Nethergarde afforded none of these, being so new that there were still masons tools and debris all over the place. His quarters weren’t even furnished. He longed to be home with his family and be done with his tour of duty in this hellish place. He was just two weeks from completing his current cycle and the end couldn’t come fast enough.
The paladin looked over the top of the parapet. Daylight could reveal the true horrors of that forsaken landscape, and already the scavenging hyenas, vultures, and basilisk were feeding on the remains of the night’s horrors. The paladin shrugged. There were far worse things out there than a few hungry vermin. There were things out there that no man should ever have to see.
To the south, he could see the smoke and soot, and the ever pervading darkness that was the stronghold of demons. Left over from the second war, the demons, led by their powerful leader, the Supreme Doomlord Kazzak remained contained only by a strong alliance presence, and a small, but watchful horde outpost. A kind of uneasy peace had been struck after the opening of the dark portal and the arrival of the orcish hordes – for while the Alliance and Horde were officially at war, the demon lords and their minions presented a threat that could wipe them both out and there was somewhat erratic communication between the Alliance and the Horde commanders at Stonard.
The young man’s face was grim as he stared out at the horizon. The sun was already beating down, and the heat shimmering off the plains below. It was going to be another stifling hot day in the Blasted Lands.
He turned at the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs behind him. One of the keep servants appeared. “My lord, a messenger from Stormwind awaits you in the main hall.”
Bolvar entered the main hall, and walked to where the messenger knelt. For the first time he noticed the face of his deputy commander, a mage handpicked by the legendary Khadgar himself. He grinned “Probably some new direction on how to wash our uniforms AGAIN.”
Silence was the only answer, and Bolvar grunted as he reached for the message. There were two, the first was unsealed and addressed to the court. The second was addressed to him personally.
Bolvar couldn’t believe it – the Queen was dead. A day of mourning had been declared throughout the Kingdom. Well, that was to be expected. He knew the second one would be a summons to the Capital – all Lords would be required for the funer…wait, what was this?
Lord Fordragon,
You are directed to report to General Marcus Jonathon in Stormwind as soon as possible. Matial law has been declared and we are short of soldiers to relieve the city garrison. Accordingly, You are further directed to gather as many troops as possible from Redridge, Duskwood and Westfall garrisons forthwith.
Signed
Reginald Windsor, Marshall of the Armies
Well, that was a turn of events wasn’t it. That’s not your everyday summons. Something was up. Still, there was nothing to do but obey orders. Next stop, Redridge. The local Garrison commanders are going to love me.
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Magistrate Solomon was livid. “We already have issues with orcs and anyone can SEE the goddamn gnoll camps. Not to mention that SOMEHOW we’ve got a murloc infestation. You CANT do this to us”.
Bolvar looked ashamed.”I have orders to leave you with a company of men to keep the peace and fight crime. The rest must come with me. Im sorry magistrate, but thats all there is to it.”
Solomon shouted “I’m writing to Windsor! Don’t think you’ll get away with this.”
Bolvar shook his head.
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A similar response was had in Duskwood where the townsfolk were fatalistic about their chances. Gryan Stoutmantle at Sentinel Hill didn’t hold back.
‘You think Stormwind is band…given time, Westfall will be worse! There’s already reports of a new gang in the country side. We’re going to regret this”.
Nearly two weeks after he received the summons, Lord Bolvar Fordragon arrived at the gates of Stormwind City at the head of ten thousand troops.