Marching with the entirety of House Vandercross, Varrus was dressed to the nines.

His body was perfectly groomed, and manicured. It felt weird to be this pretty, but when everyone else around him looked like a supermodel, at least he didn't stand out.

Walking across the ruined capital once more really drove home the melancholy of the High Elves plight.

For the crafters who had stuck around his family manor this entire time, this was their first time seeing the devastation of Silvermoon, and many of them had tears in their eyes.

A small handful of children-those who were without parents and had nowhere to go except House Vandercross-were positioned at the front of the column, and were adorned with flowers and the brightest colors.

Varrus thought it a little odd to force kids to march at the front, but Syra insisted on giving them the most respect and attention.

Her intention was to celebrate life, and give these kids a new memory to forget about these dark times.

Varrus figured he wouldn’t bother arguing with that, so he had enchanted their robes with Petty Soul Gems so they could have the Stamina to make the trek.

With their newfound energy, and seeming unending stamina, the children were running around, and jumping all over Syra and Varrus.

Syra had a little girl climb on her shoulder, and a little boy running up to her, and hiding behind her so he couldn't be tagged.

Varrus didn't cry, but his eyes were sparkling as he saw the innocent smile on his wife's face, and her genuine good cheer at the innocence brought by the children.

Last night had been tough on her, and seeing her smile brought warmth to his heart.

He felt a tug on the hem of his robe, and looked down annoyed that his moment was broken.

The little boy who tugged on his robe saw the look on Varrus’ face, and stumbled backward.

Varrus saw the kid was about to fall into a mud pile, and instinctively halted his fall with telekinesis.

“Be more careful.” Varrus gently admonished, setting the child down with his peers.

“Woah! Again! Lift me again, mister!” The child ran from his friends, and clammored at Varrus’ side.

Annoyed, Varrus flicked his finger, and gently tossed the kid to land with his friends.

Taking note of their flying friend, the rest of the kids ran up to Varrus with stars in their eyes.

Varrus rubbed his forehead. He had important meetings to conduct later today. Stressful, impactful meetings that he had been rehearsing in his head for the last hour. He did not want to be distracted entertaining some snot nosed brats!

“Yes, big brother will catch you! One, two, three!” Syra cheerfully said from the side, then yeeted one of the kids 50ft into the sky!

“Syra?!” Varrus blinked in surprise.

The fact his wife acted without hesitation, or his input was 100% a trait of hers. He loved her for being spontaneous, but damn woman, did you have to toss a kid in the air!?

“AaaaaAAAHHHHhhhhHHhh!” The kid screamed as he took flight.

“Better catch him.” Syra said, shading her eyes to watch the child's accent.

Varrus sighed, and gently lowered the child.

“Again, again!” The boy said between heavy breaths as snot and tears freely flowed down his face.

“Not fair!”

“Me next, me next!”

Many of the children started clamoring, pushing and shoving their way to Varrus’ side.

“I don't know-” Varrus took a step back in uncertainty.

“Of course he will!” Syra volunteered for him, then chucked the boy even higher.

She didn't stop with him either, and soon 12 screaming wriggling brats were flying through the sky.

“Oh this is some shit.” Varrus muttered under his breath.

Realizing if he took his time to gently drop each and every child onto the ground, he would likely lose one or two of them to gravity.

Plan B it was.

“Hold on kids, there's going to be some slight turbulence!”

Casting Drop Zone, the Alteration spell created a wide circle where any fall damage was negated.

Varrus then gripped a child with his telekinesis one by one. Instead of being gentle, he followed in his wife's footsteps, and yeeted them back towards solid ground.

Several crafters, and farmers who had never witnessed Varrus perform magic before gasped, and one woman screamed as the children came barreling down.

Aiming each child into the Drop Zone, they came down like ballistic missiles, and impacted harmlessly within the circle.

A moment of silence passed, then the kids began to jump up and down like they had gotten off their favorite roller coaster.

Syra hugged Varrus from the side, and placed her head on the crook of his shoulder.

“You'll make an excellent father. I can't wait.” Syra whispered, and wrapped his hands around her waist.

Varrus held her close, breathed in the scent on her hair, and closed his eyes.

‘Yeah. Maybe being a dad wouldn't be so bad?’ Varrus thought to himself as he heard the wild laughter coming from the children, and brightening up this dreary, war torn city.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Marching up the main street in the royal district, House Vandercross took up a position on the side of the streets, and began setting up a booth where citizens could feed on some Mana Crystals.

A signpost was hung over head with the symbol of a glowing crystal to advertise what was going on. The booth was designed to limit ten people from entering at a time.

It was a prototype model for Varrus’ Mana Stone on every street corner idea.

His thought behind limiting the number of people that could feed at a time was to ensure a sense of fairness, as well as security to the process.

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Most Elves had scary good memory, and could remember quite a bit. By limiting the number of participants, it made it so the guards in charge could better identify the users, and prevent double dipping/overfeeding.

Everyone would be granted a limited time to feed-an average amount of 5 minutes-and the plan was to eventually hand people a time card so that they wouldn't overcrowd the area that hosted the Mana Stones.

Limiting the number of participants, and placing the Mana Stones indoors was also a security feature, because it would prevent irate Elves from going mad with addiction.

Magic was like meth to Highborn. Many of them ‘needed’ their fix, and they needed it now.

Varrus had seen enough violence on Earth to know what kind of lengths people would go to, to satisfy their desires. The real kicker too, was that much like an alcoholic suddenly going 100% cold turkey, for an Elf, stopping the tap meant death.

If he was being honest with himself, not even he was immune to the heedy rush of mana pulsing through his body.

It had only been six days since he transmigrated, yet he always got a bit of a buzz every time he consumed a Mana Stone.

He was slowly becoming addicted himself, and knew that if he didn't keep consuming mana, he would turn into a grotesque vampire that would feed on his own wife.

Like hell he would ever let that happen!

So Varrus couldn't really hold back on supplying mana even if he wanted to. From a certain point of view, if it weren't for Varrus, the Highborn would search out other sources, like Fel magic.

That was some green goop that made Sargeras-the literal manifestation of order, and greatest warrior in the galaxy-to transform into a mental lunatic.

So while Varrus felt a little guilty, he was fine being a hypocrite since there was no viable alternative.

Eventually, he hoped to place these Mana Stones on every street corner in a building that blocked magical sight, otherwise every Elf and their grandma would be eyeing these Master tier, boulder sized Mana Stones like free money for the taking.

He hoped to implement a bounty system where people could perform beneficial deeds such as: killing Undead, Gnolls or other pests, and/or repair/create buildings/potions/gear and then show their merits for extra time at the Mana Stone.

That way, Varrus could turn their addiction towards some positives for society.

Way later down the line, once he had made some allies with other nations, Varrus hoped to transform that bounty system into something like an adventurers guild.

It was a cliche institution in fantasy worlds, but Warcraft was the OG world incorporating guilds, and was rife with quests for the taking.

Adventurers were 100% lore accurate in-verse, and personally, Varrus would rather be the person issuing the quest, than grinding in some hot desert or dangerous jungle hunting for some flowers.

There were many independent minded people who were talented individuals, but they hated being under others. On Earth, Varrus knew for a fact there were tons of people who would excel in the military, or in government agencies, but said ‘to hell with that.’

He only needed to take House Vandercross as an example of that mentality. Varrus had personally saved thousands, and indirectly saved tens of thousands through his actions.

Yet despite the security, pay, and loot, less than 500 people signed on with him.

So starting up guilds to outsource his problems would be just part of his plan to help maintain order. People would have the freedom to accept dangerous, life threatening missions, and in return, Varrus would supply them with coin and magical items. His enemies would perish, and the realm would be safer. It was a win-win scenario.

Because Varrus was well aware of how hectic the future was. Even now, the timeline was messed up since the Trolls were supposed to die in a tsunami created by the Sunwell. If something this disastrous could occur, then anything was possible.

Which is why Varrus had to prepare for the worst. Establishing guilds, and setting up these charging stations where Elves could feed on mana were but a few of his preparations.

In fact, Varrus already noticed a few hundred wandering Highborn ‘discreetly’ eyeing his stall.

Their hunger was as transparent as a teenage boy crushing hard for the first time on a girl he liked.

Varrus chuckled, and waved his hand towards his subordinates, giving the go ahead.

It didn't take long for the venue to become crowded, so Varrus left with his wife to get some air.

Rho'dan followed a few steps behind for safety reasons, but Varrus paid him no mind. At this point, he was accustomed to the guard, and given his recent brushes with death, actually preferred having the silent, stoic man in his presence.

What he didn't appreciate, however, were Syra’s followers tagging along. The future members of the Illidari Council were a comfort, knowing they were there to protect his wife, but the assholes kept chattering about how awesome and badass Syra was! They should take a page out of Rho’dan’s book, and learn when to shut it! Can’t a man walk hand in hand with his wife down the boulevard without hearing the peanut gallery?!

Just listening to them made Varrus wonder if they were infected by the same kool-aid that Koren had drunk from.

“Did you see the way Lady Syra eviscerated the Loa? Simply magical.”

“Nonsense! I blocked an arrow headed for her back, I almost died to save her life!”

“No I-”

On and on they went, it felt like Varrus had met a new girl, and she brought her dogs to come live with him. He, and his own dog liked to chill out and live in peace, but the girlfriend's dog was a little yappy dog that tried to fight all the time.

If those goobers weren't Raid Bosses that genuinely seemed to idolize his wife!...Damn!

While Varrus silently stewed, Syra merely glanced over her shoulder, and the peanut gallery instantly muted themselves.

Looking at his wife’s seemingly innocent face, Varrus privately thought to himself ‘is it possible to learn such power?’

Syra flashed him a haughty, evil smile that seemed to say ‘not from a man.’

She then grabbed him by the arm, and tightly pulled him further into the city.

Strolling down the boulevard with Syra hand in hand, Varrus finally took in the sights. Most of the Eastern Capital had remained intact, and it was truly beautiful. Silvermoon was like nothing on Earth. The architecture was all curves, the streets were wide, and the ambiance projected calming peace.

The funeral was planned for sunset, and it was nearing noon now. People were hard at work cleaning up the streets, and hanging up decorations.

Phoenixs, stars, and flowers symbolizing rebirth were the main theme.

Passing by a stall serving free food, Varrus felt the tug on his arm, and stopped to pick up some candied apples on a stick.

Varrus munched on his apple, and almost choked when Syra couldn't get her mouth open wide enough, and got caramel on both her nose and cheek.

Leaning over, Varrus tried to kiss her/lick it off, but to his surprise, she forcefully pushed his head away.

Question marks were appearing over Varrus’ head as he looked at her quizzically. She had done tons of stuff to him in public, what was the big deal?

Seeing the red tinting her ear tips as she desperately looked around for a napkin was simply adorkable.

‘Yep, this is my wife. Lady can slice rotting corpses in half like nothing, but getting some food on her face in public is what sets her off.’ Varrus silently chuckled to himself until a set of sharp nails digging into his palms had him pause.

“Ah. Ha. Ha. Here, let me get that for you, Syra.” Varrus weakly smiled, and cast a cleanse spell on her.

Varrus leaned down for a kiss, but instead, his wife released his hand, and walked a few steps ahead of him.

‘Silly woman.’ Varrus shook his head, and chuckled at her antics.

Following a step behind, Varrus accepted a pamphlet from a passing Elf, and read up on the funeral plans.

A procession was to be held from Silvermoon's main entrance, pass through the Walk of Elders, The Royal Exchange, Farstrider Square, and culminate in the entrance to the Court of the Sun. There, citizens would be free to speak, and publicly mourn their loss, speak of their family and friends, then wrap things up from Prince Kael’Thas, as well as an announcement from the First Seat of the Convocation of Silvermoon, Varrus Vandercross.

While he walked, he felt a malevolent force in the air, and looked up, only to stumble into Syra's back.

Despite her petite frame, she was solid, and immovable like the mountain.

Looking up from his pamphlet, Varrus saw what had his wife so worked up.

It was a seemingly drunk Thaladred the Darkener. His black armor was still filthy with the blood of Trolls, and his walk cycle had him moving in a stupor.

Syra turned to him, and flashed a feral grin.

Varrus wanted to take a step back, but was caught in her grasp.

“I'll handle Thaladred, he won't ruin your plans for this evening, you have my word.” She leaned in close to his ear to whisper.

Varrus wordlessly nodded in thanks, then leaned down to kiss her on the lips.

“Good luck convincing Lor'Themar, my love. I know you'll succeed.” Syra softly said, then strut away towards Thaladred.

Watching her practically drag the war hero towards a darkened alleyway, Varrus munched on his candied apple, and whistled a cheery tune.

‘Nothing to see here officer, I'm no snitch!’ Varrus thought to himself as he made his way toward Lor'Themar's office in Farstrider Square.