//------------------------------// // Level 19: Queens, and Kings, and Nathrezim Oh My // Story: Equestria Was Merely a Setback! // by Thunderscourge //------------------------------// A/N: Special thanks to Amethyst Blade, refferee, _CheckMate_, SilentMech, and De_Koi for your comments last chapter! I've been really looking forward to this chapter for awhile now, so I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think in the comments below! To the south-west of Silvermoon and the north of Westfall and Stormwind, the Forsaken bastion known as Undercity sat as a focal point of the continent’s conflicts: the Alliance plagued the southern region, the knight templar soldiers known the Scarlet Crusade were campaigning to Undercity’s south, and the Scourge surrounded their North and kept the Elven allies of the Forsaken holed away from the rest of the world except for their access to the seas and sky. Undercity was in a geographically precarious location, and it is little wonder that the former Human capital that it rested beneath was once taken. The Forsaken were Undead free from the Lich King’s sway, and they were fighting an unending war on all fronts to assure that this would forever be true. They were not the mindless sort of Undead who sought to wipe out all other species and life at the behest of their ruthless leader Arthas Menethil, who sold his soul for power. The Undead were free because of the machinations of their leader, Sylvanas Windrunner, who had been an Elven Ranger-General before the Human Prince Arthas had slain her before then going on to resurrect her to suffer further. He then ravaged her Kingdom, leading the once prideful and haughty Blood Elves to their current state of desperation. Sylvanas would not have her new people, those risen by Arthas and stolen from his control, face the same fate as the waning Elves. Hated by many, yet given a place amongst the Horde, this was their time to stake their claim in the world. “Varimathras, a scout has informed me that the Scarlet Crusade is gathering up its strength for an invasive campaign northwards. Seeing as how they are barely at arms reach, how do you believe we should deal with their irritating presence?” Within the inner chambers of Undercity, Sylvanas loomed over a map of the continent her people were struggling on. Beside and partially behind her was her right-hand-man and adviser, Varimathras. When standing side by side, their difference in heights was seemingly exaggerated between him and her: Varimathras was just under ten feet tall, compared to her more average Elven height. The reason for this was simple: Sylvanas did not employ one of her own to help her run things, but rather a grand schemer belonging to a race of grand schemers known as the Nathrezim. Known mainly for being the commanding officers in armies of demons and for their penchant for having everyone play to their plans like a fiddle, Varimathras was simply one who had been pressed into service by Sylvanas. While he was a few feet taller, far broader, and had leathery wings that made him appear even larger by how they broadened his frame further, it was Sylvanas who was the one in power. Varimathras did not stay because he particularly cared for his scheming, conniving boss who reminded him too much of himself, but because he had no choice in the matter. The demon Nathrezim, known to some colloquially as a dreadlord, responded to her inquiry with a look so as to say it was no major issue, “I do not believe them to a threat to our prolonged existence. They seek to wipe out Arthas, and while misguided in also confronting your forces milady, I believe it best to leave them be and let them wear down the strength of the Lich King.” “When they are pressing at our borders and whittling what little strength we have away?” Sylvanas narrowed her eyes at her servant, not fearing his claws and fangs for a second as she stared him down, “Where is your sense of urgency, Varimathras? I do not remember you acting this cumbersome in thought or action when I was destroying your forces and brought you to heel.” Varimathras snorted, the dreadlord equal parts irritated by her reminder of his defeat and amused by how she seemed to be the desperate one for once given her own words. “Of course not, for my life depended on my acting in haste, just as I did not hesitate to slay my own brother Balnazzar when the time came for it and you gave me no choice, even if doing so broke the most sacred rule to my kind. Different situations call for different approaches.” He remembered well the day that Sylvanas asked of him to slay his own brother, Balnazzar. Varimathras had little say in the matter, and while he initially protested he did strike at his brother in the end. Being told to slay the Human Garithos moments later helped better his mood, but it did little to save Balnazzar’s honor or spare Varimathras’s pride. “Ahh, yes, you Nathrezim and your vows to not slay one another…” Sylvanas grinned to herself as she finished looking over the map only to then look up at him with a glint in her eye, “How quickly you would forsake your values for your own life, Varimathras.” Varimathras hoped her seeing him strike his brother down and the older dreadlord vanishing in a flash of smoke satisfied her of his loyalty to her. She had said it would be the last test of his loyalty, but he could never be too sure if that was the truth. Of course his loyalty was not absolute, how could it be? But to needle him about his seeming spinelessness would not make him shape up and change: he made his choice back then, and he stood by it. When he did not respond to her verbal jab, the Forsaken leader went back to looking over the map and ran a finger over the space separating the Alliance territory and their own, “The Scarlet Crusade is close enough to the Alliance to put them at risk as well. You are a skilled manipulator, would you mind to have them clean up this mess for us?” Her adviser paused as he looked over the markings concerning the Scarlet Crusade’s presence, and after mulling over how to use this opportunity best he spoke up in a cautious tone, “Perhaps I can persuade them to attack an outpost of the Scarlet Crusade, but I am afraid their attentions may still largely remain on the rising Illidari threat.” While normally demanding and expecting the best from her followers, Sylvanas was not deluded. She too knew the threat of dealing with Outland and the Burning Legion, and the threat of those who were strong enough to resist the Legion on their own such as the Illidari. If the conflict with the Illidari was to increase into a full scale invasion and war on the parts of both the Alliance and Horde, she could not discount how this would divert attentions from their own lands. “I suppose that cannot be helped. Have it done, Varimathras. That King Wrynn is a soldier, not a leader. It is about time the world learns the difference.” With that Sylvanas stood up straight and turned to leave the room, leaving Varimathras behind and alone in the room. He watched as she left, giving her a respectful nod as he did so. “Of course, my lady.” Sylvanas gone without another word, he snorted and began to look over the map again. His eyes focused on the Scarlet Crusade with a mixture of apprehension and weariness. He was a schemer, and it had taken him some great effort to keep the Forsaken from completely overcoming the pesky organization. Sylvanas herself could wipe out a great many of them, but should she fall her people would too and so she did not take to the field as often as she once had. So it was up to Varimathras to be effective enough to earn his keep, while be ineffective enough to keep her from succeeding at the rate she had previously been accustomed to. Just as Arthas had defeated her and sought to make her suffer once, she now had Varimathras under her own thumb and the pale demon despised it. He tapped his finger on the Scarlet Monastery, once bastion of Lordaeron’s priesthood and a center for learning and enlightenment, now a stronghold for the xenophobic fanatics seeking to root out the Undead and all who knowingly or unknowingly may aid them…that is, fuel the Scourge’s armies by dying. “Wiping them out would be easy with any coordinated effort given their lack of friends in this world…” he withdrew his hand and thought of his brothers. Balnazzar was always the strongest of them, as well as the one who seemed to always have a plan. Their other brother Detheroc was the one with the greatest psychic powers, capable of mind control and illusions both, leaving Varimathras to be the one who got by with his mixture of talents, talents he would not dare utilize at full for the sake of Sylvanas, “But that would be beneficial to you, my lady, and Balnazzar would be forever perturbed by my sudden usefulness to the witch who saw him slain.” Balnazzar was the eldest brother in their family and the one most concerned with duty and their own warped honor. If not for his guidance and skill at commanding, the trio of dreadlords would have been defeated ages ago…but even he had met his match in facing Sylvanas. Now their family name held no value, they had fallen from respected Nathrezim to among the lowest for their failure to enact the Legion’s will, and Varimathras would not let that continue. He owed it to each of his brothers who he helped bring down for Sylvanas. After all, he might have betrayed them for his own life, but how could he ever enact his revenge if he was slain? Balnazzar understood that concept quite well. They all had. “My lord, there is a messenger from Silvermoon requesting aid to help at their borders.” It took a moment for Varimathras to even notice he had been spoken to. Some Forsaken wretch was the one to stir him from his thoughts. Their body was in permanent limbo between life and death, possessing flesh atop its bone but entire chunks were missing in grotesque fashion. The beings disgusted the dreadlord, but they were the beings at his disposal so he would use them like he would an Imp or a mindless Voidwalker: to enact his will and nothing more. He was not attached to their plight nor their history. Each of the animated corpses looked the same to him, and he awaited the day he would never have to see their wretched appearance again. He had enough with the Undead when he and the others helped lead the Scourge before it was stolen away from them by the Lich King. Thinking over the message conveyed though, Varimathras decided that this was another good way to squander resources while outwardly doing as his master would wish of him, “Give them whatever pittance is needed to keep their people from being overrun by the Scourge. We cannot allow it to progress any further in this land if we are to one day overcome Arthas as is needed for our survival, and for the revenge of Lady Sylvanas.” Our revenge. After camping the night in the forest, Trixie and the others approached Stormwind with some haste. They were not sure if they were still being hunted, so they sought it as a safe refuge from the Hunter and her associates. The city was a massive fortress, with walls multiple stories tall and the outward appearance of a mighty castle from the outside. Not a boxy one, but a sprawling sort that held many different strongholds and structures in its sprawling landscape. Entering was not as simple as they had hoped, as the sight of two Elves made the guards at the gate prepare their weapons and yell that they were under attack, but the moment they noticed that the ill-fed man leading them towards the city was one of their own Captains they quieted down immediately. The front of the city was so crowded with random Humans that Trixie actually had trouble observing the surroundings since it was packed person to person as everyone stood about engaging in trade, chat, and the occasional fight over something trivial. With the guidance of Lavitz though they managed to fight through the crowds and get to the front of the building that served as the command center and true castle of Stormwind. The setup of it was ideally suited for defense, with a sloped hill leading up to the structure and the path would be a literal uphill battle for intruders. Guards stood posted along it, but they seemed lax as they watched the day go about. Such laxness seemed to show that they were either unused to combat, or so sure of themselves that they did not fear a sudden ambush, both of which put the Elf duo at ease because both instances meant they were not likely to come into any harm here. Lavitz had insisted they go straight to the King, and while Kael and Trixie each thought that this meant the soldier would speak with the King while they were entertained elsewhere, they were surprised to find that they were led straight to the leader himself where he stood straight down the entrance hallway of the stone fortress. The lord of Stormwind was a tall man with dark brown hair that flared back into a wild ponytail. He wore the full armor of a warrior, though its faded steel blue and bronze was shaped in intricate rather than functional manners to give it an impressive look while seeming impractical. Further solidifying his intimidating warrior presence was a sword at his side that was as big as Trixie was wide and about half her height. The place the King was sitting was a throne placed in a circular hallway that met the one Trixie and Kael were being led up by their new party member, and while the trio did not take a detour around the curved hallway they could see that it led to at least two other sections of the building. It was doughnut shaped, or rather an inverse donut because the open section was the ring and the solid space was the inner piece. At the closest point of the inner piece rest the throne, from which King Varian Wrynn looked upon the three. Once they reached the man Lavitz knelt down before him, shame appearing on the soldier’s face as he began to lament about his absence from duty. “Lord Wrynn. I return from the field, and I apologize for having been unable to fulfill my duties these past months.” Wrynn scoffed before gesturing for Lavitz to get up, his eyes having been locked on his returning soldier the whole time because he was so relieved to see him well and alive. Due to this the fact that Lavitz was followed by two others, Elves even, barely registered with him beyond noticing they exist. Hoping not to offend, Trixie and Kael each knelt down as well. They wouldn’t want to upset someone who could just have them executed at any moment after all, and as they knelt Trixie kept glancing at Kael as her heart beat rapidly in her chest. Would the King recognize Kael? That could be…disastrous. “Rise off those knees, Lavitz. You should all make yourselves comfortable now that you are among friends,” he stood up to place a hand on Lavitz’s shoulder, the King being taller than his soldier by a good degree due to Lavitz’s average height and the King’s large figure, “Anduin was worried, and it was hard explaining to him what may have befallen you. I am glad you have returned safely. You can rest and recover as long as you need before returning to duty.” The modest knight lowered his head graciously, "Your majesty, it is more than I deserve." A dark haired woman in red and white cloth robes standing a few feet to the side of the throne spoke up, making her presence known to the group who had been so in awe of the King that they hadn’t even noticed her yet, "It's true that your presence was missed. Anduin was bawling for quite some time for his favorite guard to return." The King of Stormwind laughed as he held a hand out towards her while using the other to give one last reassuring pat to his soldier, "Oh Lady Prestor, no need to tease my son such. Lavitz is an old friend to us all, much as his family has been throughout the years,” he turned back to face Lavitz, curiosity forming on the King’s face and reducing his intimidating look, “Anyways, I would like to hear from you about where you may have been. What could have kept a master of martial arts such as yourself busy for so long?" "After my forces were wiped out in an ambush by the leaders of the reborn Defias Brotherhood, I was taken captive and held against my will in the Deadmines." Wrynn scrunched his thick eyebrows, obviously surprised by the revelation that the cause was none other than the Defias, "The Deadmines? They recovered from VanCleef's defeat already?" Lavitz nodded before gesturing back to the still kneeling Elves, "Yes, however, thanks to this man and his partner I managed to break out as well as defeat the Brotherhood once again. Let me introduce these people to you. Kael and Trixie." The King approached the two and silently gestured for them to rise. This done, he held a hand out to each of them one at a time to shake them in recognition of their deeds, "I thank you for both saving Lavitz and defeating the Brotherhood. If there is any way I might be able to repay our debt to you, you need only ask." Trixie gave the King a polite curtsy and smiled at him, though she said little more than “Thank you, Lord Wrynn” as she had his attention upon her. As he turned to face Kael, he received a different response. Kael had measured the immediate reaction of Varian to looking him in the eye, and when the King paused briefly upon observing his face Kael made a quick decision based on the seeming recognition. “Then, perhaps if I may be so bold, I will cut to the chase.” Kael bowed in a grandiose fashion while gesturing to himself, a smile upon his face as he made a proclamation even bolder than he had alluded to. “My name is Kael’thas Sunstrider, crown Prince of the Blood Elves.” The response was…less than positive. “Guards!” Varian himself grabbed Kael by the throat in a flash far faster than Kael or Trixie could keep up with. He lifted Kael off his feet while an entire retinue of soldiers surrounded the area with weapons drawn. Trixie had taken a step back in surprise, but Lavitz batted one of her hands down as it had instinctively taken on a glow: Trixie had nearly retaliated without thinking, and saving a soldier’s life could not outweigh an attempted assassination attempt on a King, accident or not. Kael took it all in stride, having fully expected this reaction, “Before we get too hasty, I would like to speak. I do not come here as an enemy…” Wrynn glared at Kael, becoming far more fearsome as he finally was trying to be: his sword was drawn and prepared to gut the man in his hands, but even the Warrior man knew not to act that quickly. He would hear this man out first, and if he didn’t like what he had to say… “Why should I not have you executed right here and now for everything you have done?” Kael continued to smile at the King, his mouth more in a smirk than an actual smile. Trixie watched in horror as he spoke again, while Lavitz watched with some anxiety of his own. These people had saved him, and while their races were at war he had no personal quarrel with Kael. He had been quite sure the entire time of who was helping him escape the Deadmines, but he had initially chalked it up to simply seeing things brought upon by weeks of starvation. Now, his King was nearly about to kill a would-be King who had once been an ally to them, and who Lavitz now owned his life. While Trixie was wholly fearful for her closest friend and companion, she, Mitter’meyer and Reuenthal were no longer the only ones concerned for the Prince’s safety. “I believe I have shown considerable good faith towards you and your people these past days. Would you so readily kill someone who seeks to make amends for the past? Slaying those who display kindness and lend aid to you will not make you many friends in the future.” Kael’s words gave Varian further pause. Off to the side Lady Prestor watched with great interest, her eyes darting back and forth as she took mental notes about the situation. Given that Wrynn did not respond in the first few seconds after Kael had spoken, Kael took the chance to throw out another piece of information that might stall his execution sentence, “And, I am not the man you think I am.” Varian stared at Kael intently as he slowly lowered him to the ground and let go of his neck, only for two soldiers to then seize Kael’s arms, “Explain yourself, Elf, and do so quickly. I am not known for my patience.” If Kael was going to start playing this political game, he had to start somewhere…and beginning with a possible endorsement by a King, even an enemy King, couldn’t hurt, so he spoke candidly. “I have been usurped by someone pretending to be me, someone who wishes to use my station to enact an as of yet undetermined plot. Cut off from my people and not the one currently behind their reigns, I am a political refugee who is seeking to usurp the throne of the man who has usurped it from me. As I hope my actions will have shown, I am here respectfully and not at all as your enemy.” Varian took a hand to his own chin, and while he thought about the issue Lady Prestor moved in to whisper in his ear. He nodded after a moment and held up his sword to Kael’s neck. “If what you say is true, then prove yourself to be the true Kael’thas. Now, lest I carve you open and find out for myself what you are.” Trixie moved to open her mouth, but a wink from Kael caused her voice to catch in her throat. He was sure that her, an Elf, speaking to his credentials would be taken lightly…but not the other person who he knew would speak up. “My lord, if I may speak on his behalf?” Kael then turned to someone he had come to trust with his life in the past day: Lavitz, now standing to the side of Kael and with an arm in front of him in a protective manner. Lavitz had taken Kael for an ally near instantly, and so Kael was giving the man whose instincts seemed quite keen the court to speak on his behalf. This was the true gamble Kael had planned on making when he came up with his plan to reveal his identity: whether or not Lavitz would succeed at convincing the King. After all, what kind of idiot would just gut him without asking any questions? Varian might be a soldier, but he wasn’t an axe crazy murderer… No, he wasn’t, Kael could already tell. This man was different entirely from that bastard Garithos who Kael had dreamed of the night before. At that time, he did not know that he would soon cross paths with that of the one who killed Garithos as the start of one quest ran parallel to years of conspiracy and cunning.