As night fell, large groups of fully armed soldiers flooded the streets, driving the citizens back to their homes, warning them to stay inside, and setting up checkpoints at various intersections to prevent their movement. Those who had entered the city during the day but couldn't return due to the closed gates were gathered in open areas like churches and squares.
A sense of panic enveloped this great city. The vast majority of people had no idea what was happening.
Fordring rushed back to the Hall of Justice and reported to Dathrohan: "I've investigated. Before fleeing, Rivendare ordered his grain stores and bakeries to supply the citizens with plague-ridden food at extremely low prices. These reserves were quickly snapped up. In addition, the well water in the residential area was also contaminated with the plague. Before I returned, about a hundred people had been infected and turned into zombies."
Dathrohan's eyes were filled with fury as he clenched his fists and consulted the two mages: "I need your magical assistance to ensure that my voice can be heard by everyone in Stratholme!"
"Very well, Your Excellency," the two mages nodded and began preparing the spell.
In various corners of the city, people began to discover that their relatives were suddenly collapsing on the ground, writhing in agony. They tried to go out and seek help from the paladins and priests—usually, such actions would be met with their kind assistance—but now, the soldiers immediately rushed into their homes, brutally beheading the suffering relatives and isolating them.
"Holy Light, have you gone mad!"
"Ah, Father!"
Screams, cries, and shouts echoed through the night, and terror seized the city faster than the plague.
In their despair, the people heard a voice:
"Citizens of Stratholme, I am your guardian, Commander of the Silver Hand, Saidan Dathrohan. Now, I have some very bad news to tell you all. In recent years, an evil organization called the 'Cult of the Damned' has emerged in our kingdom... Therefore, to prevent more people from being infected by the plague, I implore you to support our actions: Citizens who may have eaten contaminated food or drunk contaminated water, to avoid harming uninfected relatives, friends, and other innocents, please voluntarily step forward to receive our treatment; those who have purchased or stored such food but have not yet consumed it, please contact the guards on the street and hand it over; if you find that someone around you has been infected, please immediately distance yourself and seek help from the soldiers."
"Holy Light, I swear to you that we will completely eradicate the heretics of the Cult of the Damned, avenge your lost loved ones, and reclaim justice and light for the kingdom! May the Holy Light protect us!"
After the speech, Dathrohan signaled the two mages to cancel the spell.
"Has a messenger been sent to the royal city?"
"They've already departed," Fordring replied.
...
King Terenas sat lazily on his throne, one hand propping up his temple, the buzzing in his ears like flies. But it wasn't flies; it was the ministers fiercely arguing in the throne room.
"The asylums we built with so much money and manpower are almost gone. Perhaps by the time we finish speaking, the few remaining ones will have been captured by the Orcs. Does everyone remember that tribe from back then? It almost destroyed the entire Alliance! We should re-summon the various nations and races of the Alliance to completely eliminate them!"
"Then where will the money come from? Where will the people come from? We've wasted too much money on the Orcs over the years. The national treasury simply cannot afford a large-scale war. Sir Preek, can you conjure up gold coins?"
"We should have just killed them all back then. They're just a bunch of ungrateful beasts! Locking them in cages does nothing to tame them."
"Say something useful, Oland. What's the point of all this hindsight?"
As a wise king, Terenas didn't want to describe his ministers as flies, but the experience of the past month had taught him that such arguments would not lead to a clear outcome. Because these gentlemen had been debating this issue for an entire month—and still no decision that could convince everyone had emerged.
Today was wasted again.
He had been feeling a little listless lately, always easily falling asleep. After all, he was old and no longer as energetic as he used to be, staying up all night and still feeling refreshed. The ministers' boring speeches made him want to doze off. On the other hand, the matter that Arthas and Uther had reported to him a few days ago—about an evil organization—was more concerning to him.
If all went well, his son should be returning today.
Terenas had already envisioned that his victorious son would gain even greater prestige under his promotion. Arthas would inherit his position with the support and recognition of everyone.
That was how he had been painstakingly cultivated by his father, the late old king, back then.
Just then, a guard came in to report: The prince and Lord Uther have returned.
Terenas was about to send someone to greet them, but the two arrived much faster than he had expected. This pair of master and disciple hurriedly barged into the throne room, their armor covered in dust, looking nothing like a victorious army. The young prince's anxious expression was further proof.
"Welcome back, my son!" Terenas walked down the steps to embrace his son. Then he patted the old paladin Uther on the shoulder, "And you too, my Lightbringer."
"Father," Arthas said directly, "Our operation failed."
Terenas had already guessed, so he nodded, signaling them to continue.
Uther said in a deep voice, "The leader of the Cult of the Damned has escaped."
"That person named... Kel'Thuzad?"
"Yes, Your Majesty." Uther was worried. "Moreover, the threat of the Cult of the Damned may be greater than we anticipated. We may need a large-scale military operation to completely eliminate their threat."
"An expedition," Arthas added, "an expedition to Northrend to defeat its evil master, the Lich King Ner'zhul!"
The circular design of the throne room allowed the other ministers to clearly hear their conversation. The ministers who had been discussing the orcs immediately erupted in an uproar.
"Your Highness, what can a lone escaped cult leader do? I still believe that our biggest problem is the orcs."
"Yes, if we ignore them, these beasts may gather a force as large as the one led by the Doomhammer ten years ago, which would be a disaster for Lordaeron!"
Arthas immediately retorted loudly, "The orcs are now just a pack of stray dogs. They don't occupy any land and rely solely on looting to survive. They are just a bunch of wandering bandits. But the Cult of the Damned has developed a deadly plague that can infect everyone, turning them into mindless zombies who only obey the orders of those evil cultists! Moreover, they have mastered an evil magic that can resurrect corpses. Any of our casualties, even the bones in the graves that have not yet turned to dust, can expand their power. May I ask everyone, in the face of such power, which one poses a greater threat to the kingdom!"
His relentless rebuttal left the ministers embarrassed. Perhaps the prince had always treated them with gentleness and humility, but after the dreadlord deceived him, leading to the failure of the operation to wipe out the Cult of the Damned, Arthas had been unable to vent his anger. The ministers in this hall, who were ignorant and just talking nonsense, became his best targets for venting.
A minister said flippantly, "I have never heard of such evil magic. Making dead people stand up and fight? Please forgive my lack of imagination—how would the skeletons in the grave walk? Would the necromancer pull them from behind with strings, like puppets?"
His words triggered a burst of laughter.
Arthas, his face flushed, snorted coldly and said loudly, "When your family is infected with the plague, turns into mindless zombies, and then eats your flesh bit by bit, I hope you can still say such ridiculous things!"
As soon as he finished speaking, the entire hall fell silent. Everyone looked at the righteous and bright prince in their hearts in disbelief, unable to believe that he would utter such vicious curses.
As soon as he finished speaking, Arthas regained his senses. He didn't know what impulse had led him to say such inappropriate words. Overcome with shame and remorse, he didn't want to explain, and hurriedly said to his father, "I apologize for my rudeness," before fleeing as if he were escaping from this place that made him burn with anger.
...
Unlike the predicament Arthas encountered, Archmage Antonidas successfully persuaded the entire Kirin Tor Council after returning to Dalaran. Perhaps it was because the mages were more rational, or perhaps it was because Antonidas had a high status. In any case, the magic kingdom began to pay attention to this organization called the Cult of the Damned, especially since its leader came from Dalaran and was once a member of the Kirin Tor Council.
After discussion, they decided to send some powerful mages to hunt down this traitor, so that this fallen one could feel the anger and punishment from the magic kingdom.
The proposal regarding Aiden, the traveler from another world, was also quickly passed: they were very eager to see the magic of other civilizations. What kind of unique abilities did the spellcasters that Aiden called summoners possess aroused their curiosity.
If the Kingdom of Lordaeron was unwilling to recruit this young man with extraordinary potential, Dalaran would be very happy to welcome him to settle in the magic kingdom.
As the agreed time approached, the Archmage activated the teleportation magic and headed to the royal city of Lordaeron to meet with King Terenas.
After a day of rest, His Highness the Prince felt that he had finally returned to normal. He was sure that he would not say anything out of line today.
In the throne room, several very important guests were welcomed once again: Dalaran's leader of the mages, Antonidas, the ruler of Kul Tiras, Daelin Proudmoore, and His Excellency Archbishop Alonsus Faol, the spiritual leader of the church, who insisted on coming despite his illness.
The ministers who attended the meeting again also knew that they could not go against the face of the future ruler of the kingdom too much, so they restrained themselves a lot. They listened to Uther explain everything that had happened in the past few days one by one.
"Next, let us invite another friend who has provided great help to the Alliance to answer everyone's questions." After Uther finished speaking, he took out the teleportation beacon that Aiden had given him and placed it in the center of the hall.
A purple light wrapped around the beacon. After a few breaths, the black-haired young summoner Aiden and his Judicator Angel Kayle appeared in the center of the hall together:
"Your Majesty King Terenas, Admiral Daelin, Archbishop Faol, Archmage Antonidas, and everyone present, I am Aiden, and I extend to you blessings from Valoran!"