Kael’Thas sat in his father's study, and idly toyed with the broken blade of his ancestors, Felo'melorn.

The room was spartan, depicting a portrait of his grandfather, and as of today, joined by a portrait of his father too.

Otherwise, there were no decorations of note within this room.

Resting upon the desk in front of him was a pair of maps. They depicted the two primary provinces of the realm, and had been updated by the Ranger Corp to reflect the current state of the kingdom.

The province known as Eversong was the northern most region of Quel'Thalas, and contained the city of Silvermoon, as well as the island of Quel'Danas within its borders.

From the southern tip of the map, a black line spanning 10 to 20 miles in diameter, and stretching over 200 miles in length went straight to the Sunwell.

His advisors and the people had taken to calling this new geological feature as the Dead Scar.

Foul necromantic energies permeated this land, and any creature that had ever died in or around that space would rise from their graves, and haunt the land as mindless Undead.

Kael had dispatched priests, paladins, and mages to research the corrupted earth, to see if they could mend their kingdom. However, such skills eluded the top minds of Quel'Thalas.

The anger Kael felt at this permanent scarring was apocalyptic. Every day, his people would be reminded of their greatest defeat. Precious resources and manpower were forced to divert towards the Dead Scar, draining the forces he had planned to use against Arthas!

Kael’Thas burned his hands from clenching Felo'melorn, but the pain was a soothing balm to his rising irritability.

At the very least, all of the surrounding lands to the left and right of the Dead Scar had escaped the Scourge onslaught.

With the Sunwell being Arthas’ goal, many hamlets, villages, and 3 towns had gone through this hectic event unscathed.

More than 24,000 Blood Elves residing within the rural hinterlands survived. The second piece of good news was that the major port town of Sunsail Anchorage-residing on Quel'Thalas’ west coast-maintained their navy, and their population of 12,000 Elves.

His advisors estimated that total survivors for the entire kingdom of Quel'Thalas may exceed 240,000 souls.

This was good news, yet of little comfort considering the fate of their other province.

South of Eversong was the province of Tha'salah. This region was named after the mother tree that had been planted by the first Highborn once they arrived in this region of the world after the Sundering.

The Great Tree was grown from a branch of the World Tree, Nordrassil. Its restorative powers bathed all of Quel'Thalas under the light of eternal spring, and acted as a ward against the Trolls and their shamanistic magic.

When the Scourge attacked, their first target was the third largest city within all of Quel'Thalas, Tha'salah City. Kael figured his ancestors could have done better with their naming sense, but that did not detract from the utter tragedy that this second map depicted.

With an estimated population of over 300,000, the provincial capital of Tha’salah was a haven for rangers, and other Elves that had a penchant for nature. Whilst druidism wasn't particularly large amongst his people, there were still people who studied its teachings.

Some rangers would study animals, and learn to channel their energies. They would mimic the creatures internal mana, and then adopt some of their skills. Rangers would learn skills like the Aspect of the Dragonhawk, or the Aspect of the Farstrider, gaining attributes unique to those animals.

However, with the loss of Tha’salah, all libraries and secret knowledge detailing these obscure skills was lost to them forever.

The land had been twisted and corrupted, such that it was no longer fit for habitation. His scouts had written the province of Tha'salah off as almost a complete loss, renaming the region, the Ghostlands.

The once majestic city, shrouded in endless spring, and the golden leaves of the Great Tree was now bathed in a curse of endless clouds, darkened skies, and plagued land. It had been renamed as Deatholme.

Deatholme served as the Scourge base of operations within the kingdom of Quel'Thalas, and while Kael’Thas wanted to reclaim it for his people, he was much more interested in taking down Arthas.

He had seen how the vast majority of Undead acted mindless, and without direction. However, once they had a commander, they became a fearsome tool.

Any command post like Deatholme could be taken, or have its commander assassinated, yet another could be risen by the flick of a finger, and a new, endless horde of Undead would spring up to take its place.

No, what Kael needed was to cut the head off the snake. Should he destroy the leader, the host of Undead would fall like a house of cards.

Without anyone to maintain order, and raise new commanders, the existing generals of the Scourge would fall to infighting as they vied for power.

Which took his attention to another map. This one depicted the land just south of the Ghostlands. It showed the Human provincial capital of Stratholm.

All the land had become corrupted, and had been renamed as the Eastern Plaguelands.

Rapping his knuckles across the table, Kael’Thas looked up to the two advisors he had invited into the office.

Sitting across from him were two of four men whose opinions he had to take into consideration before taking any grand action.

The two who were absent at the moment were Lor'Themar, and Dranarus. Their expertise surrounding martial pursuits, and knowledge of the land were exceeded by none. It was a pity that they were otherwise occupied at the moment.

However, the two men in front of him, Pathaleon, and Rommath were capable advisors that Kael could rely upon.

Pathaleon was a political animal that had served his father well as his majordomo and seneschal. One of the top mathematicians and record keepers, he knew every Elf to have ever achieved something within Quel'Thalas, and was the second most familiar face within the palace. If anyone sought an audience with Kael's father, they had to go through Pathaleon.

Furthermore, Pathaleon had a good grasp on the Kingdoms pulse via informants. He had detailed reports on the economy, and was a logistician through and through.

If Kael wanted to organize an army to go on the offensive, he would need someone like Pathaleon to organize the behind the scenes work.

While Kael did not care for Pathaleon's character or his petty political nature, he valued his skills, and tolerated his glib tongue, if only to serve his purpose in Kael's revenge.

Lastly, there was Rommath. The dark-black haired Elf covered his mouth with a high collar at all times, and spoke in a deep, monotonous baritone.

As Kael's magic tutor when he was a boy, he knew first hand the depths of Rommath's knowledge.

While internally, Kael thought that he had surpassed Rommath in raw magical power, he knew that his teacher possessed wisdom, and a broader understanding of other magical disciplines than Kael had.

Calm, respectable, and largely quiet, Rommath served as a soothing presence when all other advisors were somewhat distant to him as they saw him as their future King.

While Rommath wasn't a royalist as far as Kael knew, he was Kael's teacher, and their current bond was that of respected colleagues, not one of King and subject.

Kael greatly appreciated that his teacher could still treat him as if nothing had changed between them. In these dark days, Kael clung to any sense of normalcy he could get his hands on, like a desperate man trying to pull himself out of quicksand.

That was why Kael had nominated Rommath to become the new Grand Magister, because he could think of no one more trustworthy to regulate and oversee Quel'Thalas’ mages.

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Now with the Convocation reemerging, Rommath would have to go through a vote to confirm his post, but Kael was not worried about this. He had his best friend heading the institution, and knew that his nomination would pass within a day.

No, if there was anything he was concerned over, it was Lor'Themar. With him taking up a seat on the Convocation, would he be able to hold his post as Ranger General, or would he resign?

Kael held onto his broken blade with uncertainty as his plans to name Lor'Themar protector of the realm hung in the balance.

He had planned to go on campaign against Arthas within days, the sooner they confronted him, the sooner they could get everything back in order.

While he was gone, he wanted Lor'Themar to oversee the defense of their homeland, however, that idea was currently up in the air.

“Pathaleon, Rommath, you know my thoughts on counter attacking the Scourge, I intended to place Lor'Themar in charge of Quel'Thalas' borders while I was away on campaign. However, with his status as a councilor on the Convocation, I am uncertain how I should proceed.” Kael said, looking the two advisors in the eyes.

Pathaleon side eyed Rommath, but when he saw that the masked magister remain silent, he cleared his throat, drawing the Prince's attention to himself.

“There are other options, my liege. Captains Venn’ren and Natacha have proven themselves loyal to the crown. Their efforts in Silvermoon's defense were quite commendable. Venn'ren has claimed 555 Undead to his name. Pathaleon said, pulling out a scrying orb, and depicting recordings of his heroism.

“Venn’ren was not capable of slaying even a thousand? I have no need of layabouts leading my rangers. Tell me about Natacha.” Kael said dismissively. The Ranger General could not just be any so-called Hero. They had to be the best of the best, and this man certainly was not.

“Yes, my Prince. Natacha was involved more in the defense of civilians during the Sourge invasion. She personally rescued 1,223 people, and defended a shelter until Lor'Themar arrived. She cut her teeth at the battle of the beach, where she proved instrumental in holding the right flank. Additionally, she took part in the battle against the sea creature by your side.” Pathaleon switched the image on the scrying orb, and showed Natacha fighting with other Elven Heroes to hold out against a wave of green Trolls.

Natacha was strong, Kael would give her that. But she was not Ranger General strong. She was exactly what a Ranger Captain should be. Perhaps even borderline worthy of becoming Commander of the Farstriders. But she was an unfamiliar face, one Kael had no interest in.

“I have no recollection of this Natacha on the battlefield. Are you certain this recording is accurate, Calculator?” Kael leaned forward, and rubbed his chin in dissatisfaction as he beheld her feats.

“O-of course m-my King, I-”

“Prince.” Rommath spoke in his silent baritone.

“Yes, my Prince. These two are the most loyal to the crown-to you! I would only ever suggest those that benefit the Sunstrider dynasty!” Pathaleon nervously gulped, looked up at Kael's eyes, then hung his head low.

“I seem to recall a black haired ranger with powerful Arcane Arrows damaging the creature's weak points. Compared to the dozens of other Heroes, he stands out. Hmm, what was his name?” Kael tapped his chin in thought.

“Commander Brightwing, leader of the Farstriders.” Rommath spoke up once more.

“So he leads our most elite, special forces unit within the Ranger Corp. Why, Pathaleon, did you not lead with this suggestion?” Kael arched an eyebrow, thoroughly unimpressed with his logistician's performance.

“Commander Halduron Brightwing, commands much respect amongst the Rangers as Lor'Themar's right hand man. Furthermore, he is known to possess great strength. This is true. However, it is no secret that he owes his current position of Commander of the Farstriders in no small part to the now deceased Highlord Vandercross.” Pathaleon said, face scrunched up in disapproval at the thought.

“What are you implying? That I should forsake the safety of my country, of my people to the whims of a less qualified individual?”

“When dealing with the matters of the realm Prince Kael’Thas, we must consider more than black and white. There are other factors than capability that play into running a country.” Pathaleon raised a hand, and soothed like he was talking to an irate animal.

“On what basis do you reject Brightwing's promotion, Calculator? For pride? For politics? For power?” Kael spat as he almost rose from his seat in anger.

Their country had lost everything, was Pathaleon truly attempting to sway him away from the most fit man for the job?! Perhaps it was time to find a more agreeable courtier.

“Pardon my impertinence, my liege, you may be friends with the young Vandercross, but as your advisor, I must inform you of the decisions I see as the best course of action for the Sunstrider Dynasty. Brightwing is a scoundrel, one who has sided with your father’s greatest rival. A Ranger General must be skilled, yes, but loyal above all else. We have seen where misplaced loyalties have led us in these last few days, hm?” Pathaleon said, then adjusted the scrying orb to depict the security recording of the ultimate betrayal.

It was the scene of Drathir Dar'Khan as he ambushed the council, and lowered Silvermoon's defenses at the Sunwell.

Kael looked on at the recording, silently fuming as venom coursed through his veins. He wished Varrus had not slain that bastard, only so that Kael could get his hands on the slimy traitor’s neck himself.

As the recording came to an end, Pathaleon cleared his throat. “And so you see, your Majesty, Dar'Khan was Lor'Themar’s best friend. Similarly, Halduron is Lor'Themar’s protege. Who is to say his judgment can be trusted? Perhaps it is for the best that we are looking to replace him.” Pathaleon whispered in mirthful conspiracy.

Kael leaned back in his chair, and felt a headache come upon him. His three replacement picks were either too weak, or had their loyalties come under question. He wanted to go on campaign, to right their people's wrongs, and search for a cure to their mana addiction along the way.

However, with no replacement Ranger General, who was to see to their defense? Could Lor'Themar reliably sit upon the Convocation, and lead as Ranger General instead? Did he have to step down from his post?

Kael wanted to tap his foot as the nerves of rulership began to creep up on him. Only due to countless years of tutoring kept him in check.

“Halduron Brightwing is an acceptable pick. His motives are selfish, but his intentions are clear. You can trust him to defend Quel'Thalas.” Rommath said calmly, with his eyes closed as if he was in a state of pseudo meditation.

“Very well, it is done. Pathaleon, file the paperwork, and have it sent to the Convocation. You may submit Natacha's name as Brightwing's replacement while you're at it.” Kael said dismissively, indicating that the meeting was over.

“But my liege!” Pathaleon protested.

“We are done here. Dismissed, Calculator.” Kael said sternly.

“I live to serve the Sunstriders.” Pathaleon stood from his seat, bowed and exited.

As he left, he curiously eyed Rommath, yet the magister remained silent until the doors to the office slammed shut.

“I am unprepared for this politicking, Rommath. As a leader of the Kirin Tor, I was one among many voices, an Elf respected for his mastery of magic, not words.” Kael placed a hand over his forehead as he felt the burdens of decision making press onto his shoulders.

“When I saw you cast your first spell at the age of 5, I knew you were born for greatness, Kael’Thas.”

“A product of my training. Mother would be wroth, should I fail such a basic spell.” Kael’Thas said dismissively.

“Do not underscore your own achievements, my Prince. You became my star pupil, not because of some storied lineage, or epic bloodline. No! You were the most talented, hardest working student I had ever had. Take pride in your accomplishments.”

“Yes, running away from home, and destroying our people's key to immortality. I have accomplished oh so much.” Kael bitterly intoned.

“Great men do not seek power, they have power thrust upon them. Do not ever forget that.” Rommath slowly replied.

“I did not ask to be great! This! All this was never mine to seek out! I had a father, older siblings, why must I be the one to bear this flag?!” Kael closed his eyes, and held back tears as his emotions threatened to spill out.

“The time to play pretend, and frolic amongst the Humans is over, Kael. Our people cry out in pain, in desperation, in revenge. You, Prince Kael’Thas Sunstrider our the standard bearer. You have named us Sin'Dorei, Blood Elves! You have marked us as your own, set upon us a course of no return. You will take responsibility.”

“I am a young Elf, not even a century old, Rommath. My heart cries for vengeance, but I am not the leader you think I am.” Kael said, refusing to meet Rommath’s eyes.

Kael only had a moment to blink his eyes incredulously when Rommath suddenly stood up, reached across the table, and slapped him across the face.

Kael recoiled in shock, bewildered by his teacher’s attitude. He had never been slapped before as far as he could remember. Much less, he had never seen his mild mannered tutor act out like this!

Instead of outrage, all Kael felt was befuddlement.

“You do not realize how much of an inspiration you are, Prince Kael’Thas. The army down below, do you know that they call themselves? The Sunfury. They name themselves in honor of your father, in honor of the Sunstrider name. You are our leader. You are our hope. You are the heir to King Anasterian Sunstrider, start acting like it.” Rommath bowed, then stormed out of the office.

Kael idly placed a hand to his heart as the pain began to settle in. Soreness radiated from the bruise forming on his face, yet it was nothing compared to the agony of the mind.

Looking down once more at the maps depicting the utter devastation that was now the Ghostlands, Kael could only sigh in discomfort.

His father’s ghost felt like it was hovering over his shoulder. The weight of judgment cast over him felt almost too much to bear.

Turning around in the hopes of catching a hint or glimpse of the man, all Kael saw was the Elves training down below outside his window.

Their intensity, their passion, it was like nothing Kael had ever seen before.

“The Sunfury? Unbelievable. All of them were motivated by my speech?” Kael placed his hand on the glass of the window slowly, almost like he didn't believe what he was seeing.

“I never wanted to be great, to be King. But if the burdens of leadership mean I can secure the safety of my people…” Kael said to himself trailingly. “Then there is no mountain I will not climb, nor ocean I won’t cross to see us succeed. I’d go to the gates of Hell if I had to…to the very gates of Hell.” Flickers of green energy ignited within the core of his eyes, and his fathers blade scorched his hand as the fires of hate coursed through his veins like an inferno.