Chapter Text
No sooner had Anduin stepped out of the gate than a gust of damp air hit him in the face. It may not have been truly warm, but it was certainly warmer than in Acherus.
"That's not the SI:7 headquarters," he frowned, looking around. He glanced at the books he was clutching and instinctively ran his hand over his face again. He didn't see any guards anywhere around. He didn't know what time it was, the guards were probably changing.
He stepped towards the stairs. It was still night and he could hear the sound of water from the fountains and canals.
Maybe it was too bold, he thought. I was sentimental. He walked on, noticing a group of guards heading in a hurried stride towards the castle.
"Damn," he muttered, pulling his hood over his head to cover his blonde hair. He didn't know if it would have been better to stand in the middle of the street and shout, "Hello, I'm here, I'm alive and-"
He rubbed the bridge of his nose at the thought and continued on. "That wouldn't be a good idea," he muttered under his breath, taking a step towards the Old Town.
As he crossed the bridge from Cathedral Square to Trade District, he almost didn't notice because of his hood that a small group of guards had passed him. At the last moment, he took a step back and bumped his back into a street lamp.
Just think about getting there in one piece, he thought, stretching. He mentally cursed his aching back and continued on. He crossed the outer ring of streets that lined the neighborhood to another larger bridge. As he passed the barber shop, he remembered how Genn had constantly reminded him that his hair fell in his face and he didn't understand why men in the Wrynn family were so attached to long hair.
Out of breath, he ran into the Old Town, where he could see from an outside alleyway that guards were gathering around the SI:7 headquarters. He jogged to an alcove next to a closed leatherworking shop and discreetly tried to hide behind it.
"I am done," he muttered, peeking around the corner. "That's probably most of the city guards."
Then he saw guards dressed in different-looking armour coming from the direction of the castle. "Of course," he sighed, "the royal guard. Who else."
He pulled back and leaned his back against the wall, which he squatted down.
"I think I have a problem and I have no idea how to get out of it." He glanced down at the books he held in his hands. "Wait a minute," he frowned. "I'm not a little kid," he shook his head and slowly stood up. He took off the cloak he'd hidden the books under, took a deep breath, and strode confidently around the corner to SI:7 HQ.
There was visible confusion under the helmets of the guards he passed. No one said anything. They all waited to see if Shaw or Greymane would inform them of the next steps. But no one was leaving the building. Instead, Anduin zigzagged between the guards, who quietly stepped out of the way as soon as they realized who was passing among them. Everyone stood at attention and tried to look serious even though no one knew what was happening or why it was happening.
The young king, but still a king, turned on his heel under the archway leading into the courtyard where the factional intelligence headquarters was located. He wrinkled his nose, cleared his throat, and uttered wearily but calmly: "All is well. You may return to your stations. It was-" He blinked and raised an eyebrow. False alarm? No, it wasn't. "An exercise," he added, clearing his throat again. "I'm glad the city's safe." He turned toward the royal guard. "And so am I. I will notify your immediate superiors. You will surely be rewarded for your quick response during the exercise, you have my word." He gently nodded his head to them. "May the Light guide you."
The guards had no idea what was going on, but they knew who was standing in front of them. They silently saluted and gradually walked back, feeling like a job well done.
As soon as Anduin saw everyone turn and walk away, he relaxed his stance and exhaled sharply, as if he had been holding his breath the whole time. Taking another breath, he strode towards the building where he was sure everyone and the rest of the guards were already waiting. And from the doorway he could hear the verbal exchange. And it was abundantly clear that Greymane wasn't even trying to have a diplomatic discussion anymore.
"This is going to cost you your neck, Shaw."
"Excellent," Spymaster replied resignedly, equally convinced that he had exhausted diplomacy and professionalism for the evening. "Finally, I won't have to keep an eye on him."
"What if they killed him?" Greymane snapped at him. "What if they're holding him hostage? They're undead! You know what they're capable of!"
Shaw was silent for a moment. Then a sigh was heard. "You know what?" he said wearily. "Kill me now, I'm tired of him."
No one noticed that Anduin had entered until he stepped onto one of the creaky parquet tiles. He silently squatted down and watched them closely. He tried to keep a neutral expression on his face, even though what he heard hurt inside. It was to be expected, he thought.
"Technical problems," he paused. "I'm fine."
Shaw has visibly dropped a weight of his heart. He just ran his hand over his sweaty face and decided to keep quiet.
Greymane, on the other hand, didn't hesitate, stepping towards Anduin and hugging him tightly. "Are you all right?" He released him and gripped his shoulders. "Are you hurt? How did you get out of there?"
"I'm fine," he assured him, giving him a soft smile as if he expected him to buy it. And he did. He wasn't a child. "Through the gate. Just to a different part of town. Took me a while to get here. I took my time. It's been a while since I've seen a clear night sky," he tried to further calm the situation. "I got lost in thought."
"If they attacked you," Genn continued, overcome with adrenaline and the disaster scenarios he'd been replaying the whole time, "we'll shoot them out of the sky."
"I wouldn't do that," Shaw finally spoke up. "That would be like kicking a hornet's nest and hoping the swarm doesn't sting you to death."
Anduin walked past Genn and Shaw and put his coat on a stool. "No," he turned back to them. "Like I said, technical problems. Something I don't quite understand. A few minutes later, they were able to open the second gate." He turned to Shaw. "Somehow, your friend couldn't re-establish the connection. Highlord Mograine must have secured the gate himself. Unfortunately, though, with an exit somewhere else." He glanced at Greymane again. "No fight was necessary. And even if there had been, I wouldn't have stood a chance. I was alone, after all, and there would be nothing I could do against the likes of them."
"You mean," Valeera spoke from the first-floor gallery, leaning against the railing, "that Shadow just-"
"Yes, the connection was simply severed," Anduin insisted, even though he didn't quite understand what he was talking about. "He may be as good as you say, but he's not perfect."
Valeera snorted. "Well, he's far from perfect."
"All right. I think that's enough for today. Everything's fine, nothing happened to me. It was just a misunderstanding." He ran his eyes over everyone. "But I see that you must have been worried. I'm glad to have you by my side."
Shaw was about to say something, probably to ask if he could go to sleep or dip his head in a bucket of ice, when Greymane interrupted him.
"You will never, ever," he insisted, "go back there. This was your last visit to that cursed place. You should have told me about it. You could have killed yourself. You're the only heir to the throne, you have no idea what would follow if you didn't return."
"They could have, but they didn't," Anduin replied calmly, though at the moment he would have preferred to roll his eyes. "I understand but you don't have to do this. I don't have a wife," he cocked his head to one side, "or an heir," he tilted his head to the other side and grabbed his coat with both hands, which still had the books discreetly wrapped in it. "I understand. I know what would have happened but it didn't." He tried not to yawn with his mouth open whereupon tears welled up from his tired eyes instead. "I'm tired," he added. "I think it's enough time to get some rest. We all need it."
"We all need sleep," Shaw interjected, as if trying to prevent the argument from continuing. "It's been a long day."
Valeera nodded, and without another word, she went up the stairs to her room, and Shaw followed her just a moment later. He felt like he had just aged ten years.
"Maybe I really am getting old," he muttered to himself before disappearing from their sight.
Genn raised his hand to continue the verbal exchange, realizing that he knew Anduin well enough and therefore there was no point. He just balled his hand into a fist and clenched it. "All undead are the same. They can't be trusted. They can only hate. I hope you realize that."
Anduin stared at Genn and remained silent. He didn't nod, just kept his gaze on him and remained silent. "By the way," he trailed off. "The guards get a raise for a well executed exercise."
"You're avoiding the answer," Genn admonished him. You'll do what you want anyway, he realized. Of course you would. You‘re as stubborn as a mule. There's no point in it. He finally exhaled in defeat. "It's late, you should get some rest."
The king gave him a weary smile and strode after him. There was no reason to disagree with him.
It had been about a week since he got back from Acherus. The war on the Broken Isles was still raging. The Alliance, the Horde and other neutral factions fought as one man. Everyone knew what was at stake. And perhaps that was why many were able to turn a blind eye once they encountered the Ebon Blade on the battlefield. The reports that reached Stormwind indicated that they were isolated and the only ones who felt their wrath were demons of the Burning Legion. Still, it was clear that the hostility towards them would not go away easily.
On one of those days there was a knock at the door of the king's study about three o'clock in the afternoon.
Anduin raised his eyes to the door and stopped writing for a moment. "Come in," he said, finishing the sentence as he spoke.
The door opened and Jeremy walked into the room in his SI:7 outfit. His face was covered by a raven mask and only the eye holes were covered by a black cloth to perfectly mask his glowing blue eyes. As soon as the door slammed shut, he lifted the mask to let Anduin know who he was dealing with.
"I'm just knocking out of politeness, Your Majesty, just to be clear." He walked over to the table, bowed faintly, and placed a rolled parchment sealed with indigo wax on the table. "I could have left it on your desk while you were gone, but I was told to wait for the answer."
"This is..." he put the pen down and watched Jeremy for a moment. Then he glanced at the scroll and back at him again. "...nice of you." He nodded and wrinkled his nose in amusement. He appreciated the effort, but that didn't mean he wasn't amused. "In that case, I'll call you when I write the answer. You don't have to wait."
"That means I won't see a reaction," the knight said with a disappointed shrug. "Never mind. I'll be around." He bowed awkwardly, put on his mask, and stepped out into the hallway.
As soon as the door closed behind the knight, Anduin reached for the scroll.
"That didn't take long," he said under his nose and unfolded the scroll. It was quite clear that this was no ordinary letter. There was no accompanying message, no explanation, nothing. The scroll was written in cursive, the initials even had decorative lines and curlicues.
The order of the Knights of the Ebon Blade awards a place of honor to King Anduin L. Wrynn for his courage to step where no one else dared to go and came out alive after he was able to have a lengthy debate with the Highlord of the death knights himself.
On the 25th of Light’s Rest, 36th year after the Dark Portal
Signed by my hand
Highlord Darion Mograine
Decorative stamp with the Ebon Blade symbol and a raven with outstretched wings in the foreground
Anduin blinked as he analyzed what he had just read. He didn't know how to react to it.
"Is this a joke?" he muttered amusedly under his breath and put his hand to his head. He rubbed his forehead and his temple while still holding the scroll with his other hand, wondering how to respond. Was that why he wanted to stay here? This has to be a joke.
He took a breath and took a clean sheet of paper. He dipped the pen in ink and began to write. After a while he put the pen down, leaned back against the back of the chair and closed his eyes. Then he bent over the paper, and blew the ink even more gently to dry it faster. He folded it in half, then again, and placed it in one of the envelopes. He pulled out a stamp and covered the envelope with sealing wax. He waited a moment before grabbing the envelope and walking out the door. He opened it, stepped one foot over the threshold, and stuck out his hand with the letter as if expecting Shadow to take it.
Just as a hand appeared in the doorway, Jeremy almost tactlessly snatched the letter from his hand. "What was in it? What did he write?"
"Why don't you ask him yourself?" Anduin raised an eyebrow, hiding his amusement. "Your interest surprises me. What do you think was there?"
"I don't know," he shrugged. "I've known him for almost ten years and he still surprises me." He saluted, turned his back on him, raised his hand casually, and stepped into the gate, which closed behind him as quickly as it had opened.
"You weren't there long," Thalanor commented as he brushed the beak of one of the gryphons.
"I see, you'd be rather if I didn't come back at all."
"You know me."
Shadow grimaced at the remark and strode toward Mograine's office. Along the way, he met other knights. The King's visit was not pleasant for anyone; no one was allowed to be downstairs and it was restrictive.
He knocked on the door and entered without hesitation. Mograine had just put one of the books into the new shelf and glanced in his direction. "Did he reply?"
Jeremy walked up to him and handed him the scroll. "What was in there?"
"You should have asked him yourself."
"That's exactly what he told me too."
"Then I guess you're out of luck."
"You're both the same," Shadow snorted, backing out the study door into the corridor.
Darion waited until the door clicked shut, aligned the spine of the book between the others, and eagerly broke the seal. The page was written in the same ornate handwriting, just not as decorative as Mograine's.
Dear Highlord of the Ebon Blade,
I appreciate Your hospitality and subsequent generosity. The letter will take its rightful place among other important documents related to diplomatic relations and negotiations between the allies of the Alliance. I shall be pleased if we continue to keep in touch.
On the 25th of Light’s Rest, 36th year after the Dark Portal
Respectfully signed
Anduin Llane Wrynn, High King of the Alliance
In addition to the name, as in the case of Highlord of the Ebon Blade, was adorned with a decorative stamp below the signature with the typically familiar lion's head, symbolizing not only Stormwind, the royal family, but the Alliance itself.
P.S.: I hope Your office is as neat and clean as Your handwriting at this time.
While Darion appreciated the king's ability to respond diplomatically and for answering him at all, he was disappointed that he hadn't taken it with as much humour as he should have. However, when his eyes jumped to the P.S. he smiled fleetingly.
Nice, he thought, and sat down at his desk, unlocked the drawer and pulled out a blank piece of parchment. He glanced around the study - which new patina-free furniture he still couldn't get used to - as if to make sure it was really clean and neat, and started to write his reply. When he had finished, he walked to the door and clutched the ebon stone in his hand. I have the answer.
What, am I gonna be a postman now or something?
You can freefall off the roof of Acherus if you have a problem with that.
The door opened sharply, and Shadow snatched the letter from his hands. "I hope you're having fun."
"You have no idea," replied Mograine, whereupon Jeremy slammed the door in his face.
A few minutes later, in Stormwind, Shadow knocked at the door of the king's study, and entered again at the summons.
"Honestly, sir, I'd love to-" he waved the letter in the air, "blow it off, but I know Hailstorm isn't allowed here at this time at all, so I have no choice. Someone has to make the boss happy."
Anduin took a breath and frowned, no longer surprised by his entrance. "Ha-?" He didn't finish because it clicked who he was talking about. "Take it as an opportunity to gain some reputation with him." He stood up and walked over to him. "And you'll make him happy." He held out his hand for the letter.
As Shadow walked away, resigned to the fate of being promoted to errand boy for the next few weeks, Anduin broke the seal and unfolded the letter, this time folded normally and mailed in an envelope.
Your Majesty,
I appreciate Your prompt reply to my previous letter. Thank You also for your interest in the state of my office. I hope that Your mental health, self-esteem, self-preservation and will to live are undergoing a similarly successful reconstruction. Please let me know when and who You will send in our direction, by prior arrangement, to keep the situation in check.
P.S.: Due to the events of the last few days, I believe You are restricted in your ability to move (read "house arrest") and therefore I expect the honorable Master Shaw or one of his subordinates.
Dust to dust
Highlord Darion Mograine
Dear Highlord,
I deeply apologize for the long pause, but my duties did not allow me to respond more quickly and contact Your agent, who has been promoted to errand boy. I hope he was properly congratulated. I appreciate Your concern for my health with whatever form you mentioned and can assure You that reconstruction will not be necessary. For now.
P.S.: To my knowledge, it was given to me that You suffer from a good memory. Which brings me to the thought that, if I recall correctly, on my last visit to Acherus I made it clear that I was the one giving the orders. Either You don't suffer from this diagnosis or there's been a misunderstanding.
Sincerely
Anduin Llane Wrynn, High King of the Alliance
When Darion finished reading the answer, he shook his head in acknowledgement. Then he put the letter down, clasped his hands together, and propped his chin with them. "Finally, a worthy opponent."
Dear King Wrynn,
There is no need to apologize for the long pause, we both have too many responsibilities, and I appreciate our communication even more. The errand boy was congratulated, but I am afraid I was more pleased with his promotion than he was.
Let me tactfully suggest that Your postscript comment indicates that You suffer from the same diagnosis as I do. My condolences. That's why You may remember that You offered to put aside formal communication.
P.S.: I am very glad that You were able to assert dominance at such a young age in terms of giving orders. Nevertheless, I would be grateful if You would answer my previous question about sending a diplomatic liaison.
P.S.2. Please write more legibly. I assume that as the King of the Alliance You have enough writing tools, so there is no need to save space.
Sincerely
Highlord Darion Mograine
Dear Highlord Mograine,
I'm glad You were happier about it than he was. I'm sure he's not happy about it. However, You can apply for a good leader certificate as long as Your subordinates continue to do the extra work voluntarily and with pleasure.
I am also glad that You have reminded me of this fact, which I have indeed suggested, but I must admit that in the volume of diplomatic and even non-diplomatic negotiations that I undertake, I have omitted this fact. However, I believe that it would be appropriate to complete the formal way in this communication properly and not in the middle of the correspondence. You first.
P.S.: All right, I agree.
With friendly regards
Anduin Llane Wrynn, High King of the Alliance
This time a piece of cloth tied with a string was attached to the letter. When Darion untied it, it revealed a piece of glass with a message written in capital letters „MY APOLOGIES“. Darion stared at the shard in puzzlement for a moment, finally looking through it at the tiny writing.
"Ha. Now you got me." He put down the magnifying glass and tapped the metal tip of his quill on the table. "You don't have time. I got it." I wouldn't have asked you directly anyway. Neither of us have time. He put the pen down completely for a moment and leaned back against the back of his chair, his hands on his chest.
"I guess it's up to you now." He grabbed a pen and gave it one last try.
Dear King Wrynn,
With bitterness in my heart I realized that I don't own any magnifying glasses (as well as a heart). I'm sure it will come in handy for reading other people's letters who like to save space on paper but don't want to spare the vision of others. I hope You have had time to sit down with the books I have given You and I also hope they are of use.
P.S.: Just send me a letter the day before the diplomatic visit. We'll try to clear Acherus of unaesthetic and unpleasant things like walking corpses, talking corpses and other types of corpses that should do the complete opposite of what they do.
Dust to dust
Highlord Darion Mograine
So this is how it's going to be, Anduin thought as he read between the lines and shook his head in amusement. He took out his pen again, dipped it in ink, and started writing.
Honorable Highlord,
I apologize for making things difficult. My lineage may be gilded with titles and blue blood, but I still hold the forests in high regard, and so in our correspondence I try to relieve of troubled Azeroth that continues to recover from the disastrous effects of Deathwing's rampage.
He started writing in much smaller font.
Unfortunately, I haven't had enough time to dedicate time to both books yet.
P.S.: I might find some time at the end of next week. It depends on You. The Winter Veil festivities are approaching up and will require my attention.
P.S.2: That way You could tell me about the books Yourself.
Sincerely
Anduin Llane Wrynn, High King of the Alliance
Ha, Darion thought as he put the letter away, it worked. I wasn't expecting that.
Your Highness,
It is noble of You to care about the health of our forests. Forgive my ignorance, the last healthy trees I saw in Lordaeron when I was of a small stature and age. The trees that were in Lordaeron later on could hardly be used for creation of communication tools.
As for the diplomatic visit, I will set aside time to mend relationships and will be happy to give You a comprehensive extract from the contents of the books.
P.S.: I hope You've already managed to reorganize your winter wardrobe.
P.S.2: DID YOU KNOW THAT THE SIZE OF THE FONT TELLS A LOT ABOUT THE STATE OF SELF-ESTEEM?
With all due respect
Highlord Darion Mograine
Dear Highlord,
This information saddened me, but filled me with potential hope, because I can guide You - assuming You can find the time - through Elwynn Forest, where the trees are actually thriving. I am also pleased to know that apart from the location and the state of the woodland, nothing would have changed for You, and so You could reminisce nostalgically about the old days.
The wardrobe is in the planning, it hasn't been a priority until now, but in the current situation I'm re-evaluating priorities and acknowledging that a wardrobe update will be needed for the Winter Veil festivities.
I'll be looking forward
P.S.: I expect an answer in any form on which of the days I should prepare for.
P.S.2: THANK YOU, PENMANSHIP SAYS A LOT ABOUT PERSONALITY, TOO.
Sincerely
Anduin Llane Wrynn, High King of the Alliance
Your Highness,
I will gladly find time for a walk in the woods, if duty allows, and if the situation calms down enough that one death knight does not cause an unwanted attention in the peaceful forest.
Please try to sort out Your wardrobe before Your visit, I still don't know whether You have a cold or not after our meeting, but I am not going to take responsibility for Your health. As for time and day, I suppose You are always busy, but not as busy at weekends as on weekdays. If I've analyzed the situation correctly, You can arrive in Hodar. For us, the days of the week have no meaning.
P.S.: Let me know if You want to see Acherus during normal operations or if You want me to clear the floor like last time.
P.S.2: Your handwriting undoubtedly describes Your personality perfectly. Mine is only perfectly learned. I have no personality.
All the best
Highlord Darion Mograine
Dear Highlord,
Time will tell, and we will use the opportunity as we could.
Don't worry about my wardrobe, I hope your bookshelves are sorted too.
I'll be expecting Your errand boy in Hodar. Hodar is the sixth day of the week.
If you see fit that Your people should not be disturbed by my presence, I will not object. Otherwise, I will not object either.
P.S.: You say that my handwriting is also hard to read and small. In that case, I will be happy to discuss Your opinion of my personality with You during my personal visit.
Sincerely
Anduin Llane Wrynn, High King of the Alliance
Your Highness,
You're not disturbing anyone, and my soldiers won't object. Because they can't. I trust you will not threaten any of my men, and you can expect the same from them. Should You change your mind during Your visit, a glass of water and a therapy animal will be at Your complete disposal.
P.S.: Let's hope that the discussion about our personalities will not prolong Your visit for a few more days. Unlike You, I don't have to put my brain to sleep.
Sincerely
Highlord Darion Mograine
Anduin shook his head at the last letter and smiled. He stood up and walked over to the library. He held up one of the large books, massive by the spine, resembling an encyclopedia of plants. It was actually a handwritten herbarium, and the writing on the spine didn't match the language many beings on Azeroth would speak. It was also not in the best of condition, as it had been used often.
He opened it and placed a letter between the pages. Another one. He knew he wouldn't want to keep such correspondence among official documents. His advisors would surely be going through his paperwork if necessary - and in his absence - and he didn't want that. He closed the book and returned to his work again.