Author's Note: Yes, I do read all the reviews. And yes, I always put some spacing between paragraphs when switching between points of view. Unfortunately the site seems to eat all of that formatting both when the text file is uploaded and in subsequent edits of the uploaded file itself. Since it's annoying for everyone involved, I found a workaround via the site interface and am retroactively implementing it in previous chapters as well. It's a little extra work but it's worth it.

Chapter 9 – Ruminations

As Zaram, Solune, Aura and Elara sat around a table at the harbor in Tyr's hand, playing a game of cards, they heard the distinctive thrum of teleportation magic.

As Zaram turned his head in the direction of the sound, his eyes bulged out and his face twitched momentarily, before he started howling in laughter. The others followed his gaze and soon followed. Even Solune, usually imperturbable, struggled to maintain composure, the androgynous elf's gray eyes twitching.

"All hail the conquering hero." Zaram sarcastically remarked once he was finally able to stop laughing.

"What happened?" Elara asked with a grin.

"Merely a setback." a very soaked Kael'thas grumbled, before clearing his throat. "Now then… Where in blazes is everyone?!"

"They were heading for Dragonblight before they got turned around." Zaram said. "Should be docking here in a few hours."

"What?!" Kael'thas nearly shouted.

"Northrend is infested with undead." Zaram explained, rolling his eyes. "Zombies, giant spiders, dragons and who knows what else. What, were you too busy looking at yourself in the mirror to notice?"

"Why was I not informed of this?!" the prince fumed.

"Well, we did send you several dozen messages." Elara pointed out, looking rather smug even by elven standards. "It's not our fault if you stow the enchanted pearl in your pouch and ignore them."

"Curses..." Kael'thas hissed as he checked the item in question and realized she was speaking the truth.

The item kept pulsating with a crimson light, indicating several unread messages, growing increasingly alarmed at his lack of reply. The pearl was also supposed to emit a buzzing sound, but with all the commotion he had likely not noticed it.

"What, did you think you were going to storm Northrend singlehandedly?" Zaram scoffed. "Bring down this cult and earn Lady Jaina's undying adoration?"

The priest sighed and stepped closer to the phoenix, who had dutifully remained by her master's side, before lightly stroking its head.

"I don't know how you put up with his shenanigans, girl." he remarked, lightly scratching a spot in the back of the bird's neck.

"And I don't know how I put up with your insolence." Kael'thas growled.

"Somebody has to keep your head out of the clouds." Zaram retorted, far more interested in the bird than its master. "You're the crown prince, for the sun's sake."

"Besides, you were the one who ordered us to wait for you here." Aura reminded. "You said we'd only get in the way."

"I do believe the whole point of us being around was because we could give you honest advice instead of acting like sycophants." Solune calmly said, leaning back against the chair. "But if you choose to disregard said advice…"

The prince grumbled, making a sour face.

"I did ask for your honest, blunt opinion." he conceded.

After recovering from the ravages of the Second War, Silvermoon had returned to a time of splendor and overindulgence. In their haste to put the bloody conflict behind their backs, they seemed to be falling back into old habits, and they were not alone in this.

Without an imminent threat of the Horde's magnitude, the seemingly ironclad Alliance had begun to crack and splinter. Incensed at Terenas' decision to imprison the remaining orcs instead of exterminating them after all the destruction they had wrought, the elves had unceremoniously stormed out. This disagreement, and the proposed source of funding for the internment camps, along with squabbling over territory, had eventually also led Thoras Trollbane to withdraw Stromgarde.

The brash and prideful Genn Greymane had soon followed. Gilneas continued mostly as it had before, with a self-reliant isolationist stance for the most part, while Stromgarde, having suffered heavy losses from the Second War and facing a stagnant economy and deteriorated trade relations, was in clear decline.

Silvermoon was mostly unconcerned with human affairs. The prideful elves had only joined the Second War after the Amani trolls had thrown their lot in with the Horde and desecrated their forests. The matter of the ancient debt to the bloodline of Arathor had been put to rest with the passing of Anduin Lothar, but the elves had still remained with the Alliance until the end of the conflict.

Unfortunately, even as Terenas Menethil of Lordaeron advocated unity and tried to at least maintain cordial relations with the former members of the Alliance, there was an undercurrent of resentment among some echelons, a feeling of betrayal.

The prince was aware of all those facts and, with his perspective broadened by his eclectic range of peers in Dalaran, he was watching events unfold with concern.

Kael'thas was many things. Vain, conceited, prideful, perhaps a little flamboyant. His taste for theatrics and his natural belief in his own superior talent could be off putting even to his own people. However, he was still a powerful mage and a member of the Council of Six, gifted with the considerable lifespan of his elven heritage and the experience to go with it.

He had witnessed the ravages of the Second War and Khadgar's warnings about the return of the Horde. He knew of Kel'thuzad's exile after his delving in necromancy had been discovered by Antonidas, though he had no idea what had become of the former council member after that. Unlike his father or most of the court, he knew a threat when he saw one.

Kael'thas was many things, but he was not as much of a fool as some might have thought. After the latest developments, he realized it was time to get serious.

"I suppose I was caught in the heat of the moment…" the prince grumbled. "More importantly, where is the fleet now?"

Meanwhile, somewhere in the North Sea…

"So all of that was a trap?" Arthas asked as he, Clark, Jaina and Uther sat at a table in a quiet room belowdecks.

"Apparently so." Clark said with a nod. "To what end, I don't know."

"Villains and their convoluted plots." Arthas derisively remarked, being reminded of some of the more outlandish novels he had read in his younger days.

"I still don't know why a bronze dragon would feel the need to intervene directly, but it sounds like you've stumbled onto something bigger." Jaina pondered, still digesting everything Clark had told them.

"She was definitely not happy about what I did to Frostmourne." Clark recalled, rather annoyed at Chromie's fatalistic ramblings.

"So, let me get this straight." Arthas said, trying to contain his laughter. "You took one look at the sword and you decided it would look better decorating the bottom of the sea?"

"Some things just aren't worth the price." Clark said somberly. "When I stood in that chamber, something about the blade felt completely wrong. From that and the inscription, it's safe to say no one in their right mind should wield it. It was just too dangerous to leave lying around too and we can't even be sure it would actually kill Mal'Ganis."

"Or if the promise of being able to do so was…" Jaina muttered to herself as a sudden realization struck her.

"What do you mean?" Arthas asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"It is an unusual set of coincidences…" Jaina pondered. "Someone made sure to get that map in Muradin's hands and say the right words…"

"To ensure he would be there at the desired time?" Uther realized with growing unease. "If your suspicions are correct, then our foe may be even more dangerous than we imagined."

"What do you mean?" Arthas asked. "We already know they're dangerous. First the plague, then this so-called dreadlord?"

"Yes." Uther conceded. "But look at the bigger picture."

"If the Burning Legion is involved, then why are we not facing more actual demons?" Jaina pointed out. "Probably because bringing a demon of that caliber into this world is no small feat."

"Meaning that this may be just a vanguard." Clark deduced. "Just the beginning of something even worse, like that rambling necromancer suggested."

"And so this cult would be acting in the Legion's stead." Uther reasoned. "A cult with the reach to act as far as Ironforge and the capacity for this level of intricate planning. The plague, the grain, the pawns…"

"We can't afford to spend too much time guessing though." Clark noted. "Even I can see that I've stirred a hornet's nest."

His face scrunched up in a bitter scowl and he rested his hands on the table.

"I… can't handle this on my own and if we go charging into Northrend as we are now, with no idea where to go or what numbers we're up against…"

"It would be suicide." Uther concluded. "In fact, that may be exactly what this cult wants us to do."

To Arthas, it made too much sense.

"They have the means to kill on a large scale…" the prince realized. "And to raise the dead. We'd be charging blindly into their home turf, not knowing what traps or other monstrosities await us there."

This remark earned him a pensive glance from Jaina and he felt the need to explain himself.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking since this whole mess started." he said, with the same look as that of a child forced to take a bitter draught. "The Light is powerful but it does not make us…"

"Invincible." she finished the sentence, knowing very well what was on his mind.

"Yes." Arthas confirmed, wincing as though someone had twisted a dagger in an uncomfortable place.

Clark felt like there was more to it, especially given how downcast Arthas looked at the utterance of the word, but decided it was a bad time for prying. Instead, he tried to focus on the matter at hand.

"Well, seeing how I've robbed this Lich King of one of his tools and he's out for blood… What do we do now?"

"Before we do anything else, we need to inform the king of these developments." Uther said with a heavy frown. "The court may be able to ignore the slithering of a cult, especially if it has sympathizers in high places, but an army of the undead…"

"I was able to rally these forces due to my position in the Silver Hand and my role as the king's advisor." Uther elaborated. "Tensions are mounting since the reports of the plague started to spread and by the time we set out the events leading up to Stratholme had the court in an uproar."

"The fact that you, the king's right hand, have heard all of this and taken action is already important." Jaina pointed out. "But we still know very little about the enemy's plans, apart from their rambling about the end of the world. We need to focus on concrete facts or we'll end up sounding like that prophet."

"Speaking of which…" Arthas realized. "Whatever happened to that old man?"

Meanwhile, at a beach on the northern tip of the Isle of Quel'danas…

"Do you realize what you're asking of me, Guardian?" Chromie asked, rubbing her temples as she stared at the sea.

"I do." he said plainly, standing next to her. "But you know how this is going to unfold… or rather how it was supposed to."

"I can make educated guesses, but right now I can't predict anything." Chromie said.

Still, she tried. She let out a sigh and drew upon her senses and the knowledge of the timeline that had been imparted upon her.

"Without Frostmourne, it will be much more difficult for the Lich King to entice a champion. That blade was a considerable investment and I doubt he or his handlers will just forget about it."

"Which means they will likely try to find it." Medivh deduced.

"At the very least, the boy has painted a massive target on his back." Chromie reasoned. "Not the smartest move, but being what he is, it comes as no surprise."

"Just what exactly do you see when you gaze upon him?" Medivh wondered, scratching his beard.

"I see his true nature." she said, grasping for words. "What he is. All that he may become. He may not be where he belongs, but the core of what he is hasn't changed."

"Is that why you hesitated?" Medivh pointedly asked.

"He did not come here by choice." she retorted. "Someone put him here. I cannot blame him for being true to his nature, even if it causes complications."

"I wonder…" Medivh remarked with a rather smug smirk.

"You wonder what?"

"If that is the only reason."

"Let's not go there..." she hissed, closing her eyes and trying to push away the pang of guilt at her own actions.

"Even if I doubted that would be enough to stop him, I still did leave him to die."

"Very well then." Medivh conceded. "What of the Lich King's other minions?"

"Short of a certain traitor in Silvermoon, I don't see who else could take up the intended champion's place." Chromie pondered. "In fact, the way things are now, I have my doubts as to whether the Lich King has much need for the Sunwell anymore."

"Unless…" Medivh said, his eyes narrowing.

"Oh crap baskets…" the dragon hissed. "We need to find out if Kel'thuzad's remains are still secure."

"Well now…" Medivh noted, scratching his beard with an amused smirk. "Changing your mind, are you?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself." she retorted. "I just need to confirm the impact of these changes."

"Is that so?"

"Your powers as the Guardian may afford you some sight, but not to the same extent as mine." she huffed.

"I must confess that your brood's abilities were always something I found… intriguing. Just what exactly do you see?"

"A being's nature and their place in the timeline." she said with a distant look. "The people of this world were on a set path for the most part, but their interactions with him and the results of his actions are putting everything in a state of flux."

"And this… frightens you." Medivh observed.

"You know as well as I do about the horrors beyond the Scourge and the Legion." Chromie said. "Slithering underneath the earth and the seas, gazing upon us from the infinite Void. Watching. Probing. Looking for a way in. Deviation means chaos. Deviation means a potential opening for them."

"Are you trying to convince me… or yourself?"

"One glance was all it took." she said with a pained expression. "I know what he is. I know he shouldn't be here. In another time and place, he would have been another world's greatest champion. Instead he walks among us. I don't know how or why, but…"

"And that is why you cannot bring yourself to take direct action against him." Medivh deduced.

"I suppose so." she admitted. "My better judgement already slipped when he was in over his head."

"Or perhaps that is simply what you and the rest of your brood have been conditioned to think." Medivh countered. "Perhaps your judgement did not slip, but rather return to you."

"Watch your tongue." Chromie snapped. "We're not doing this for our own amusement, you know."

"Your peers are always so infuriatingly fatalistic." Medivh lamented. "I too have peered into other timelines. I have seen more than I would care to. The human kingdoms descending into war with one another without the First and Second Wars to bring them together. The eredar taking Draenor and wiping out the orcs, then invading Azeroth themselves. There was also that one timeline where the draenei mingled with the orcs instead of hiding from them and crushed Kil'jaeden together."

"Your point?"

"My point is that not all deviations are harmful." Medivh elaborated, as if trying to explain something to a particularly stubborn child. "The end result may be unexpected, but the fact that Azeroth is thriving in many of these other timelines proves that even the Bronze Dragonflight do not have all the answers."

"And in others it was rendered a lifeless husk after some people grasped too far." Chromie retorted. "I don't have all the answers, but I have to believe that there's a reason for our mission."

"Even if it means enforcing an unpalatable outcome?" Medivh scoffed. "Just to safeguard the result of a chain of events? Even if you know there was a better way?"

"As I would expect from a mage." Chromie scoffed. "Be mindful of your hubris."

"So you would just passively accept whatever your kin say?" Medivh asked. "Enforce the system even if it is deeply flawed? What if Nozdormu told you that this timeline requires the plague to spread across the Eastern Kingdoms or the whole world? Would you meekly allow it?"

"I am not a machine!" Chromie snapped. "Do you think I don't know the consequences?! I exist on multiple timelines simultaneously. More often than not, I'm the one who has to clean up the results of tampering, even if it means…"

"That people suffer and die?" Medivh interrupted. "Do you even have the stomach to say it out loud?"

"Sometimes I really hate this assignment." she lamented. "Having to stick to the script, knowing what will happen. It's not as easy as you may think."

"And only now do you realize it?" Medivh remarked, a bit of smugness seeping into his tone. "Or perhaps your latest subject of observation has something the others did not?"

"Sh-Shut up!" she hissed, closing her eyes. "That has nothing to do with it!"

The Guardian, knowing he had struck a nerve, stood there enjoying her reaction with a grin that made her want to blast him with sand.

She definitely did not appreciate the insinuation, especially knowing that some of her kind, even other bronze dragons, were a little too fond of mingling with mortals, usually in alternate forms such as the one she usually wore. That was the farthest thing from her mind. Clark's outburst at Stratholme had deeply bothered her, for reasons she was still struggling to grasp.

"I've seen people breaking down before. But not him. Not like that."

She let out a weary sigh and shook her head.

"I suppose it's never easy to have one's innocence as thoroughly crushed. He had glimpses of it on the way there, but Stratholme was the breaking point."

Ever since detecting the ripples of his presence in the area surrounding Hillsbrad, she had been monitoring his actions and investigating his background. She knew of his involvement with the Archbishop, but had been instructed not to interact with Clark unless absolutely necessary.

In less than a week since leaving the Tirisfal monastery, he had made her interference extremely necessary, and her failure to rein him in so far was almost as troubling as the fact that she was beginning to struggle with hesitation. In that hesitation, the cryptic and often infuriating Guardian standing nearby had seen an opening to make his case.

"The way things are going, can I even stop this derailing? Without doing something I'll regret?"

Noticing her pensive expression, Medivh stayed silent for a while. She took a few deep breaths to center herself and sat down on the sand.

"So what now?" he finally asked, back to his usual stoic demeanor. "Are you going to continue to try and reassert the so-called correct timeline, or are you going to start thinking for yourself?"

"I suppose for now I'll just have to wait and see." she said, before letting out another sigh. "Everywhere he goes, his actions are like throwing a boulder into a pond. I can't see where this is going until the waters settle."

"Not to mention…" she added. "That with him surrounded by half the Silver Hand and with the Scourge in an uproar, I'll have to be very careful in order to avoid making things even worse."

"Your kind were always a little too cautious and conservative for your own good." Medivh pointedly remarked. "But yes, in this case haste may be detrimental."

"The last thing any of us wants is to make things even worse." Chromie retorted with a scowl. "For starters, we can't let the Lich King sink his claws on the boy."

"Not to mention he has already nudged a certain prince out of his destined path… What am I going to do about that?"

Truth be told, the diminutive Keeper of Time couldn't help feeling a pang of guilt. Enforcing the continuum, after all, often meant allowing countless lives to be shattered. No matter how detached she tried to be in carrying out her duties, the divergent possibilities she had glimpsed in Stratholme were still bothering her.

"Medivh's smartass remarks aside… Am I getting too old for this, or is the boy just the drop that will make my cup run over?"

Back on the ship…

Clark was starting to feel restless from the forced inactivity. To keep himself busy, he decided to examine the battered pieces of his suit of armor. As he had seen before, the frostwyrms' magical frost breath and the necrotic energies that had been hurled at him had thoroughly ruined large portions of the plating and rotted some of the leather straps underneath the surface. Thankfully Arthas had had the sense to pack some clothing before setting out and with a little help from Jaina one of the prince's looser tunics had somehow stretched enough to accommodate his towering build. A knight with particularly large feet had offered the leather boots. The Archbishop's pupil was definitely the talk of the Order, especially after his outburst in Stratholme, and while some seemed somewhat vexed at the fact that Alonsus Faol had concealed Clark's existence to them, they were still not going to let a brother walk around in his skivvies.

As he turned over a broken piece of his breastplate in his hand, Clark entertained the notion of attempting to solder it back together with his heat vision. However, he was no blacksmith and trying to play with such things in a mostly wooden ship seemed like a recipe for disaster. Instead, he located an empty burlap sack in one of the ship's storerooms and stored the remains inside, then carried the sack to the meeting room.

"I should probably have packed a book or two before leaving the monastery…" he silently grumbled, feeling agitated at the lack of something to do.

Jaina had returned to the deck while Arthas and Uther had headed out to speak in private. While he could have easily eavesdropped on them, he felt there was no point in doing so, not to mention he considered such a frivolous use of his powers disrespectful.

Without anything else to do, he climbed the stairs to the deck as well. Leaning against the rail, he saw a lithe woman, somewhere around his age, resting her hands on the railing as she gazed into the distance. Her hair, golden like Jaina's, cascaded down her back, partially covering her priestly white robes with golden embroidery. As she noticed him, her breathing suddenly became a little labored and a hint of crimson crept over her pale, thin face. Clark felt rather awkward as he recognized her, realizing he had accidentally caused the poor woman to faint earlier.

"I… I feel like I owe you an apology." he hesitantly said, feeling her dark eyes upon him.

She seemed hesitant to meet his gaze, probably due to what had happened earlier, but she somehow managed to articulate a reply.

"Not at all." she said with a soft, wispy voice. "I was just not prepared for that."

"Are you all right?" he asked with visible concern. Her complexion seemed almost unnaturally pale and she sounded like she might fall over again if he breathed too hard in her vicinity.

"Thank you for your concern." she said, mustering a timid smile. "My constitution is a bit… frail. It's something I'm working on."

"Should you be out here then? Things could get dangerous very quickly."

"Eadric has already said as much. But I will not let my condition keep me from aiding those in need."

"Eadric?"

"Ah yes." she elaborated with the hint of a smile. "Our families are acquainted, you see, and ever since he was posted at Tyr's Hand he has been a bit zealous in his concerns for my safety."

"Did someone mention my name?" a man with an unusually high pitched voice intervened.

Clark looked over his shoulder and saw a thin man clad in a typical suit of armor in the Silver Hand's style, sporting a black beard and mustache and matching hair, groomed with such care as to make some elves jealous. However, he seemed to be prematurely graying at the temples.

"My lady, should you be up and about so soon?" he asked with a frown.

"The physician did say the sea air would be good for me." she pointed out, before inhaling to her heart's content. "You worry too much, my friend."

"I suppose I do…" he conceded. "But how would I face your mother should any harm befall you on my watch?"

"See what I mean?" the woman asked, glancing at Clark with a gentle smile, seemingly already used to it.

"I do hope you are not going to repeat that performance." the man said. "Lady Paletress already has enough concerns."

"I… wasn't thinking." Clark admitted, a little uncomfortable.

"But where are my manners?" the man added with a flourish and a bow. "Sir Eadric, at your service. Always a pleasure to meet a fellow Knight of the Silver Hand."

"Likewise." Clark said, offering his hand, unaccustomed to such extravagant posing. While the Archbishop had made sure to instill some notions of formal etiquette on his pupil, the monastery rarely received the sort of dignitaries that would call for it.

"You have made quite a stir already for someone so young." Eadric said. "In fact, I expect that more than a few of our brothers and sisters will want to introduce themselves."

"So the Archbishop… inducted me into the order, but not even Lord Uther knew about this?" Clark hesitantly asked.

"You would have to ask your mentor in person." Eadric said. "But it does seem that you were quite a bolt from the blue."

On the deck of a nearby ship, a tall, imposing man clad in an azure suit of plate armor with the regional crest of Hillsbrad watched intently. The red mane and matching beard were striking, even from a distance, along with the intensity of his stare.

"Who is that?" Clark asked, glancing in the man's direction.

"That would be Alexandros Mograine." Paletress said. "Do not let his intensity put you off. He may seem like a harsh man at first glance, but he is simply dedicated."

The man in question, as if sensing they were talking about him despite being too far to hear them, reached a gloved hand into the folds of his cloak and grasped something concealed underneath it for a brief moment before withdrawing said hand again.

"No…" he muttered under his breath. "Not yet."

Hours later, as the fleet finished dropping anchor at Tyr's Hand, Uther convened with the other leaders of the Silver Hand in a meeting room within one of the larger ships.

"I'm not quite sure what I'm doing here…" Clark thought, feeling a little self-conscious to be surrounded by so many of his more prominent peers.

"First time?" Arthas asked, noticing the shift in his posture.

Clark simply nodded. His induction had been a quiet affair, with only the Archbishop, his parents and a scribe present. Alonsus had done everything to keep him out of the public eye until he was ready and while this had caused Clark some frustration, his unplanned trip to Northrend had opened his eyes to how far he still had to go.

"I should go see him before we head out again…" Clark pondered. "Maybe check up on the folks back home… If this keeps up, I don't know when I'll get another chance."

Alexandros Mograine entered the room and the two young paladins instinctively straightened up. There was an intensity to the man's presence that clearly affected those around him, somewhat contrasting with Uther's quiet, almost contemplative aura. It did not help matters that the experience at Stratholme seemed to be taking its toll on the Archbishop's former pupil. Uther seemed tired, as though he hadn't had a decent night's sleep since that day, which was likely the case.

Another man, almost as tall as Clark, entered the chamber next. Despite appearing to be close to Uther's age and already sporting a full head of gray hair and matching beard, he still wore the traditional plate armor of the Silver Hand with practiced ease. There was a harshness to his gaze, as he surveyed his surroundings almost like a hawk, he was wearing a guarded expression on his broad, weathered face.

"Glad you could make it, Saidan." Uther said appreciatively, standing up as a sign of respect to his old comrade, who nodded in acknowledgment before taking a seat.

For the briefest moment, the newcomer's gaze softened ever-so-slightly and he closed his gray eyes.

"Dark times are upon us again…" Saidan Dathrohan somberly said. "A pity Turalyon is not here to lend us his strength."

"So…" Alexandros said, taking his own seat. "Where do we go from here?"

"Seeing how we have the main witnesses of the incidents in the Eastweald and Stratholme standing in this room, I do believe this would be a good opportunity to compare notes." Saidan said, eyeing Clark in particular.

"I concur." Alexandros added. "Tell us everything, Brother Clark."

Clark had always been somewhat reluctant to discuss his abilities with outsiders, but despite the men's almost intimidating presence he found that once he got the first words flowing out the rest soon followed without much effort. Time lost its meaning as he poured everything out and by the end of it, exhausted by the recollection and feeling as though he had taken the bandage off a still fresh wound, he took a seat.

"Quite an ordeal for someone your age." Alexandros remarked. "Even with your unusual abilities you were lucky to make it through all of that."

"I must ask though." Saidan added. "What was the Archbishop thinking, withholding your existence even from us?"

"I've asked myself the same question." Uther chimed in. "The boy's heart is in the right place, but his propensity for acting before thinking almost got him killed a few times along the way."

"And then there are those unusual abilities." Saidan pondered, once again scrutinizing Clark with his stare. "Where did they come from?"

"As far as I know, I was born with them." Clark explained. "The Archbishop did warn me not to grow overconfident but…"

"Let's not get into that now." Arthas intervened. "Yes, what you did wasn't very smart, but anyone who could go through what we did and remain unaffected cannot be called human at all."

Once again, Arthas was reminded of the dark thoughts that had briefly crossed his mind and felt deeply ashamed of himself.

"Right now…" the prince growled, clenching his fists. "What we need to do is inform my father of all that has transpired. And then find that dreadlord and mount his head on a pike."

"Be mindful of your anger." Uther cautioned. "You don't want to let it lead you astray."

Realizing what he was doing, Arthas sighed and nodded.

"You're right, of course."

"Unfortunately that dreadlord is not so easily killed." Clark pointed out. "By all accounts he should have died at my hands at least twice by now."

"And this… Frostmourne?" Alexandros asked. "Are you certain it will not come back to haunt us later?"

"I don't know." Clark admitted. "What I do know is that we need something that can permanently kill a dreadlord, but even if that sword could do it, I wouldn't want anyone to go near it."

"I have some ideas about that." Alexandros said in a measured tone, watching the others' reactions. "But we'll get back to it later. Right now, we still need to inform the king."

"I'll go." Uther said. "I'll take the boys and Lady Jaina with me for good measure."

"We'll keep our forces on standby." Saidan said. "I get the feeling we will need them sooner rather than later."

And with that, the meeting was adjourned.

The trio returned to their ship to retrieve Jaina.

"Ready to go?" Arthas asked as he came upon her belowdecks, going through one of her books.

She nodded in response, marked the page and stowed the book into one of her travel bags.

Moments later, the four embarked on a rowboat and made for the shore.

Eager to do something with his hands after the drawn out trip, Clark took the oars and started rowing, making use of his clearly inhuman strength. The others watched with varying degrees of awe and amusement as the towering young man somehow managed to do all of this without snapping the wooden shafts in his grip, propelling the boat to the shore in a matter of moments and kicking up a plume of water in its wake.

As soon as the hull made contact with the sand, the four disembarked and Clark set down the oars and pulled the boat a little further inland, just to make sure it would not be dislodged by the tide.

"There we go." he said to himself, cracking his knuckles and looking satisfied with himself.

"That was… interesting." Jaina muttered, still baffled by how much strength he seemed to possess despite already having seen him in action.

Suddenly realizing something, Clark turned to Arthas.

"Oh, that's right. I forgot to return that cloak you lent me."

Arthas looked at the towering young man, even taller than him, with the blue item in question still draped over his back, lightly fluttering in the breeze. Despite the circumstances, the prince still managed to smile.

"You know what? Keep it. It looks better on you anyway."

"R-Really?" Clark stammered, caught by surprise by the gesture.

"He does have a point." Jaina chimed in, cracking a smile of her own. "There's something about it that just… feels right."

"In that case, thank you." Clark said with a polite nod.

The four made their way to the docks and soon enough they were met by a rather annoyed pointy-eared figure in frankly flamboyant golden robes.

"You certainly took your time." Kael'thas said in lieu of greeting.

"What's this fool still doing here?" Arthas thought in annoyance, trying not to let the elven prince's presence spoil his mood.

"Prince Arthas." Kael'thas said, trying to sound as polite as possible. Arthas nodded in response.

"Lady Jaina." he added, his tone considerably friendlier. Jaina nodded as well while Arthas rolled his eyes and fought the urge to gag.

"And you must be…" Kael'thas added, eyeing the towering young man.

"Brother Clark of the Silver Hand." Clark introduced himself, extending a hand. "Nice to meet you."

The prince seemed surprised by the gesture. He stared at Clark, wondering if he was serious, and eventually reciprocated with a hint of amusement. Next to Clark, Arthas and Jaina exchanged glances.

"He has no idea, does he?" Arthas wondered.

"I have heard of you, of course." Kael'thas said with an elaborate flourish. "But allow me to introduce myself. I am Prince Kael'thas Sunstrider, crown prince of Silvermoon."

"Oh." Clark awkwardly muttered, realizing his breach of etiquette.

"By all accounts, Stratholme was a disaster." Kael'thas said. "But from what I hear, you still saved several lives there and drove away a minion of the Burning Legion. I will be watching your progress with great interest."

"I wish I could have done more." Clark said somberly. "But I can't take all the credit."

"What am I, chopped liver?" Uther thought, lagging a bit behind the others and a little irked at being ignored by the prince. Before he could say anything, however, he felt a sudden churning in his stomach and paused to steady himself.

"Lord Uther, are you all right?" Jaina asked, casting the older man a concerned look.

Finally noticing him, Kael'thas gazed in his direction and proceeded to greet him as well.

"It is good to see you again, Lord Uther. But you do not look well."

"Ugh…" Uther groaned. "It looks like I'm not used to being at sea anymore."

Kael'thas winced ever-so-slightly, feeling a degree of sympathy for the man due to personal experience.

"Understandable. Let us get you out of here, shall we?"

As they finally made their way out of the sand and onto solid ground, Clark, Jaina and Arthas noticed the small group of elves sitting at a table overlooking the shoreline. Not far from them, a phoenix was sleeping on what looked like a large tarp, fashioned from a silvery cloth of some sort, obviously enchanted.

"Oh?" Arthas remarked. "What brings you here?"

"Moral support, you might say." Elara retorted with a small grin.

"And the occasional bit of advice." Zaram added, glancing at Kael'thas with a smirk.

"So you were already acquainted?" Arthas asked, glancing at them and then at the elven prince.

"You might say that, yes." Solune chimed in.

Kael'thas loudly cleared his throat.

"Regardless, from what I understand Lady Jaina and her companions are on their way to the capital."

"Not this again…" Zaram inwardly grumbled. "Lady Jaina this, Lady Jaina that…"

"We are." Uther cautiously said, already somewhat aware of the elven prince's infatuation and eager to get on his way instead of watching him trade barbs with his pupil.

"In which case, I feel compelled to accompany you." Kael'thas said. "Silvermoon may no longer be part of the Alliance, but I am still a representative of the Kirin Tor and this threat concerns us all regardless of politics."

"Please no…" Arthas inwardly grumbled, fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

"Well…" Clark remarked with a smile. "In these uncertain times, there is safety in numbers."

"Really, Clark?" Arthas thought. "Really? Well, I suppose I cannot fault you for your good nature."