Varrus had lost the foot race against Jan'alai, but he didn't care much at the moment, as the military parade was in full swing.

He had returned to Silvermoon just in time to officiate the Sunfury's virgin march against the enemies of Quel'Thalas, and was waiting at the gates along with the rest of the Convocation to officially sign off on this military campaign, and show the people that despite the ongoing rumors and speculation of last night's gala, their government was very much intact, and united on one front.

The parade was honestly better than Varrus had expected. He was shocked, and full of national pride at what he was witnessing.

Practically the entire city had turned out to cheer the Sunfury on. The sound of bells, cheers, and well wishes were almost deafening.

Marching down the main street, something close to 40,000 Elves and their auxiliary forces moved in synchronization. That was an insane 20% of the 200,000+ surviving citizens of Silvermoon!

The Blood Elves truly lived up to their name, and were thirsting for revenge!

The banner of the Sunfury, a red phoenix aquila on a purple banner hung down windows, and was waved by the populace lining the sides of the streets.

Heavy plate boots roughly clanked along the road as the warriors and paladins lead from the vanguard.

At the front of the column marched the most powerful Elites and Heroes amongst the warriors and paladins. Their crimson thorium armor shone brightly in the morning sun. Behind them were the blue mithril, and green glass armored soldiers.

Any casual glance with Mana Sight, and the civilians could tell that powerful enchantments covered each and every one of these suits.

In total, there were 3,200 sets of glass armor, 500 sets of mithril armor, and 30 sets of thorium armor that Varrus had gifted to the Sunfury.

Already, newspapers, and recordings on scrying orbs had detailed the defensive capabilities of these armors the night before during the Vandercross Gala.

When the people saw the soldiers marching in them, they cheered like a group seeing their favorite band at a concert. The praise was especially fervent towards those wearing thorium. Elves respected magic above all else, but they were also drawn to power like a moth to flame.

Those men and women inside the crimson armor stood proud as they marched under golden arches, and freshly repaired walkways.

The grand entrance of the warriors and paladins was followed up by a contingent of 2,000 Arcane Golems. Each one was coated in plate armor, and powered by one of Varrus's mana stones.

The artificers and magisters of Silvermoon had worked overtime, and mindlessly churned out hundreds of war golems over the last two weeks.

Reminiscent of Space Marines in terminator armor, these crimson plated, autonomous machines of destruction ominously plodded along behind the warriors. Standing on average at a height of 9ft, the golems shook the earth during this massed march.

Commanded via scrying orb, they could be manually controlled like a drone from Eacommaor be given basic commands by whoever held a control rod. Should none of those be available, they were programmed to obey the nearest Elf bearing the Sunfury crest on their armor.

They came equipped with four spells. Two of them were traditional to Arcane Golems. Arcane Explosion, and Arcane Surge.

Arcane Explosion was an AOE burst of pure Arcane in a 5-10ft radius that shredded flesh, and could be used defensively to knock projectiles off their path.

Arcane Surge was a self destruct feature that took any nearby foes out in a bang.

Powered by a Master tier Mana Stone each, they packed an insane amount of mana compared to the older models of Arcane Golem. As such, they were now capable of two other spells, Mana Shield, and Arcane Missile.

Varrus wished he had more time and materials, otherwise he would have made the golems from scratch, and enchanted them piece by piece. Unfortunately he was pressed for time, and this was all that could be mustered.

These killer terminators, tanks in all but name, were flanked by a detachment of hawkstrider knights. Wielding magical lances that doubled as staves capable of medium ranged, and contact elemental magic, they served as light cavalry focused on flanking and harassment.

In the middle of the column, Kael’Thas was mounted upon Al'ar, and holding his reforged sword aloft.

The restored symbol of kingship shone brightly, and stood a symbol of hope, and Elven supremacy. Soothing melodies resonated from the blade, and all who heard it were relieved of their mental fatigue.

“Kieer!” Al'ar screeched alongside Kael’Thas, and rained harmless phoenix fire upon the ground in a golden shower.

Following up behind the King were a contingent of solemn rangers, mages and priests.

Dozens of carts brought up the end of the line. Within them were over 50 Mana Cannons, as well as massive, boulder sized Mana Stones necessary for the campaign.

When the procession finally exited through the main gate, and organized themselves into a loose battalion, Kael’Thas levitated himself down to Varrus's position.

Kael’Thas kneeled down, and Varrus retrieved a crown from his inventory.

Although Kael had become King, and everyone had felt it an hour ago, this bit of political theater was necessary so that the populace could see it for themselves.

“Prince Kael’Thas Sunstrider, son of Anasterian, do you swear to protect the safety of the people of Quel'Thalas?”

“I shall.”

“Do you swear to uphold the laws, norms, and customs of our people?”

“I shall.”

“Then swear in the name of your ancestors, and know yourself to be King!” Varrus ended, and placed the crown atop Kael's head.

Kael finished his oaths, and rose amidst a storm of thundering applause.

“As my first act as King, I shall remove the plague that has besotten our lands. Sunfury, move out!” Kael shouted.

Glancing at Varrus one last time, Kael remounted Al'ar, and left with his army.

Syra squeezed Varrus's hand as the Sunfury finally disappeared on the horizon, and the crowd began to disperse.

“Let's go, I have a few words to say to your mother. If you would lead me to her?” Varrus turned around, and gestured towards the city.

Syra's grip on his hand tightened somewhat, and she took off.

Varrus followed along, and before he knew it, they had entered a darker location within the city.

It was the notorious den of rogues, and other shady folk.

Murder Row.

Where most of Silvermoon was open, with wide streets, and bountiful sunlight, this location was covered in a tarp, casting a perpetual shade over a region of the city rife with alleyways, hidden doors, cellars, and other non-distinct entrances.

Few Elves walked these streets in the open, as it was customary to go about your business in stealth. Any who were caught in the open were instantly identified as outsiders.

Varrus felt slightly uncomfortable as the main street they were on appeared to be completely unoccupied.

However, he had the Detect Life spell, and could see a dozen silhouettes surrounding them after he had cast it.

Fortunately, not everyone was on the same level as Faedra. Her ability to disappear like Batman was simply uncanny.

Varrus was about to do something about these unwelcome pests, when Syra unsheathed her sword, and moved in a flash of blinding white light.

A crack like a flashbang spread out from her position, revealing the rogues, as well as temporarily blinding their eyes, and discombobulating their ears.

Her massive buster sword swiped away at the dozen rogues, nicking ligaments, and in three cases, severing hands.

The dozen or so rogues all fell to the ground, twitching and moaning in pain, unable to stand.

Syra was about to finish one of them off, when a thrown dagger knocked the sword off course, causing her to plunge her blade just an inch away from the rogue's neck.

“Sorry sorry, they were just curious, is all! Ha ha!” An Elf dressed in a yellow circus performers outfit, and wearing clown makeup said as he materialized out of stealth.

Varrus narrowed his eyes. Another person he could not ascertain with his Detect Lige spell. And to be able to catch Syra off guard like that. This clown must be a Hero.

Raising his guard, Varrus prepared himself for a fight.

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Syra wordlessly pointed her sword at the clown, her eyes entered their heterochromatic state, indicating the seriousness of the situation.

Varrus didn't know what was going on, but he was prepared to back his wife up with overwhelming violence.

“Easy easy, Morcurio is a peace loving clown! Mother has seen you, and invites you home. Sister, sister.” The clown, Morcurio said, holding his arms up high, like a suspect being shouted at by the police to ‘show their hands.’

Varrus glanced curiously at Syra, and silently mouthed: ‘A brother?’

“It’s complicated.” Syra huffed in annoyance, and sheathed her sword.

“So so, this is the famed successor to Vandercross! You treat my adorable little sister right, right?” The clown cartwheeled up to Varrus so fast, Varrus could only blink and he saw the man standing within 2 feet of his face.

Varrus, already primed for a conflict, instinctively let loose with telekinesis, and finger flicked Morcurio into a nearby wall.

The clown wasn't some warrior or paladin with insane defense/stamina, and fell to the ground with a thump.

At the same time that he had used telekinesis, Varrus felt a whoosh in the air right where Morcurio had been. Syra's sword sank into the cobblestone street, the intent to murder nakedly on display from her actions.

Morcurio gave Varrus a thumbs up, and a toothy grin. Dusting himself off, he Blinked away with a laugh as Syra followed up her attack with another few swipes. Yet each and every one of them missed by an inch.

Varrus followed along, chalking this entire episode up to strange family bonding. The clown never struck back, and seemed to be leading them somewhere as they left the main street, and began going down a twisting maze of alleyways, and underground passages.

“Go go, see mom, mom.” Morcurio laughed, then disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

A door stood where Morcurio disappeared, yet due to Syra's forward momentum, it was blasted open by the strength of her attack.

“Syra, Varrus. Those doors don't come cheap, you know.” Faedra slowly drawled as she petted a black cat in her lap.

A black haired beauty dressed in a black cloak was the perfect description for a Disney villain, yet that woman was his mother-in-law.

Peering into a room so dark he could barely see, Varrus was surprised by the dozens of screens depicting scenes from all around the world.

One screen in particular drew his eye. It depicted Jaina and Thrall teaming up against some Demons.

“Curious, isn't it? Who would have thought that a former slave would ally with the genius Proudmoore girl. How scandalous!” Faedra scoffed in the back of her hand.

Yet her face showed no amusement, and her eyes never once turned towards the screen. Her attention was solely fixated on Varrus's reaction.

“So you know of Thrall's origins, impressive. You seem none-to concerned that the Burning Legion is on the cusp of claiming the new Well of Eternity.” Varrus replied in kind, raising an eyebrow at the Mistress of Murder.

“The same to you, Varrus. Predicting the King's intentions, one might think you had a crystal ball foretelling the future. However, my confidence is built upon experience. If you only knew the powers of Malfurion Stormrage, or the power of Elune, then you would be as unconcerned as me. But enough about myself, what brings you to my mm, doorstep.” Faedra subtly smiled as she gestured towards the broken remains of Syra's violent entrance.

“The traitors in the city, why didn't you deal with them?” Varrus stepped deeper into the room, and said with some hostility.

“Temper, temper. Who is to say I have not been dealing with traitors? Just because I am not so bold as to host an obvious trap of a party-known as the Last Dance, really?-does not mean I have not been doing my part to clean up the refuse investing Silvermoon.” Faedra mocked. With a snap of her fingers, a spotlight shined above them.

There, on the 2nd floor of the room, a row of spikes had more than 100 Elven heads mounted upon them.

“A grim display, one I had intended on showcasing to the populace in an effort to sow fear and division amongst the traitors. However, your grand battle the other night, and naked slaughter at the gala was simply sublime.” Faedra slow clapped at Varrus.

Syra cleared her throat, prompting Faedra to pause mid clap.

“But of course, the net you spread was wide, and some fish are expected to have escaped.” Faedra shrugged her shoulders, and set the cat down from her lap.

Varrus rolled his eyes. As if he would let flattery from this creepy immortal get to his head. He still recalled the naked look of derision she had directed at him when he first came into this world.

“Yes, the gala. Why was it that I learnt of the Grand Magister's treachery so late? As a family, we should help one another. Don't you think that's something you should have informed me of? Instead, I learnt of Rommath's attempt on my life from the resident playboy Farstrider Commander.” Varrus pulled back on his hostility, and calmly admonished Faedra, implying her incompetence.

“Am I your maid, reminding you of the time of day, or to help you dress yourself? Besides, it was by my hand that Halduron led you two to Rommath. Syra, my dear, you were supposed to investigate the Magisters Spire that night, yet you chased after one of the former Prince's. That singular, unforeseen variable took you off his trail, and Halduron was forced to get creative.” Faedra shook her head, and tsked at them like a parent disappointed in the failure of their child.

Varrus glanced at Syra, only to see his wife turn away, confirming Faedra's statement.

Faedra raised an eyebrow as Varrus remained silent. The air in the room grew awkward, and Varrus felt as if all the heat and fiery accusations he had entered the room with, had vanished, like smoke on the wind.

His mother-in-law was suspicious as all Hell, yet she seemed to always have an answer for his inquiries. She wasn't against him-for the moment-and was family.

Fuck. This woman really managed to piss Varrus off!

‘Was this a power that all mother-in-law's possess throughout space and time?!’ Varrus thought to himself, and barely held back from grinding his teeth, so as not to give this evil woman any more ammunition.

“Poor thing, so full of vim and vigor, yet you're here instead of working to make me grandchildren. If you’re so free, how about we play another game?” Faedra said in mock pity.

Varrus felt a metaphorical stomach punch, as he had lost the race against Jan'alai earlier, and Faedra's words had rung true. However, the last time they had played a game, Faedra had put them onto Halduron's trail…a trail that had been planned by this devious woman since the beginning. Whatever game she had cooking in that spider's mind of hers, it was likely to result in a similar outcome.

…but at the end of the day, despite his annoying personality, Halduron had been useful, leading to Varrus cleaning out the upper echelons of traitors in Elven society.

Fuck, saying no wasn't even an option!

Barely keeping his face placid, like a calm pool of water, Varrus then replied with a smile.

“The terms?” Varrus asked.

“How about another information session? Of course, when this is over, I want you to release little Halduron from your dungeon. He's done so much for us, why keep him locked up?” Faedra said, as she examined a few of the screens.

“Very well. In return, I want to know everything you have on our enemies in the Ghostlands.” Varrus replied.

“The game has begun. Youth before beauty, my dear.” Faedra clapped, and nodded at Varrus. She then conjured herself a glass of wine, and took a sip.

Pausing to think about what kind of information was important enough to be shared, Varrus opened up with a teaser.

“The founder of the Silver Hands, Saiden Dathrohan has been slain. His corpse is being piloted like a skin suit by the Dreadlord, Mal'Ganis.”

“How fun. The Kobolds you are so interested in are terrified of an ancient evil. Should you desire their loyalty, I think you know what needs to be done.” Faedra raised her goblet in salute, then wet her lips on the cherry red.

Varrus frowned, as he thought up factoids.

“The Old God, C'Thun is straining at the barrier in his prison on Kalimdor. His minions stir, and have begun snatching up life force, and corrupting nearby life forms to his will.” Varrus warned with the intention of Faedra sending more spies in the area.

The Old Gods didn't seem to be treated as much of a threat by the developers of WoW, only serving as footnotes to be blasted along the way. Yet to Varrus, they were now simple enemy. The sooner he could make others aware of them, the less of a headache he would have once those cancerous Void beings were taken care of.

“Fascinating, you know of the Old Ones? Hmm, I'll let you in on a tidbit of similar import. The Titan Keeper Tyr's fist, and his hammer are in a grave at the bottom of Brightwater Lake in Tirisfal Glades.” Faedra replied, and handed a map with a marker of the location.

Varrus was somewhat aware of this factoid, yet to have it confirmed, along with a specific location was massive!

To get his hands on a weapon of that power, as well as the Titan Keeper's fist…if there was any of his blood remaining, then Varrus might be able to do some experiments.

After all, Titan Keeper blood made the villain of the Pandaria expansion, Lei Shen into an immortal lightning sorcerer king.

This was a lead worth exploring once everything had cooled off.

“The Black Dragonflight has mind controlled King Varrion Wrynn, as well as the other nobles of Stormwind.” Varrus said as the next round of information sharing took place.

“Hmm, I think that's about it for today. Here, take this scroll, it should have everything you should need to wage war against Lana'thel.” Faedra yawned as she casually tossed a scroll at Varrus from a nearby pouch.

Varrus caught the scroll, and finally couldn't hold back an expression from showing on his face, as his eyebrows began to twitch uncontrollably. The witch had the info he was after prepared ahead of time?!

“Oh, and release the poor boy Halduron while you’re at it.” Faedra said as an afterthought, as she waved them away with the back of her hand.

Varrus opened his mouth to say something, but found himself warped back outside to the entrance of Murder Row.

Syra, conspicuously was not by his side.

Narrowing his eyes, Varrus raised his hand, and was going to find her with the Clairvoyance spell, when the clown, Morcurio came out of an alleyway, and honked on a comically large red nose.

“Sister sister, will be back soon. Just some mother, daughter bonding time, time.” Morcurio smiled.

Varrus silently assessed the smiling clown, and considered murder.

It was only after Syra stepped out of a portal a moment later that he disregarded such thoughts of violence.

Syra snorted at the clown as he teleported away, then held onto Varrus for a tight hug.

“Let's go home.” Syra quietly said.

Varrus noticed a slight limp in her step, and he felt his breath hitch. That witch was dead the next time he saw her!

Syra glanced at Varrus, and snuggled into his shoulder.

“Do not worry, my Sun. This was my own doing. She should learn not to talk down to my husband.” Syra said hotly as if she were declaring Varrus were her prized possession.

Varrus opened his mouth to say something, then wisely snapped it shut as a devious smirk spread across his face.

It would seem baby making was back on the table tonight!

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

Meanwhile, back in Faedra's lair, the black haired Mistress of Murder was slumped in her seat, calmly pouring healing potion after healing potion on her crushed throat.

“That that girl takes after her mother, hm, hm.” Morcurio chuckled, deflecting a thrown dagger coming for his face for his troubles.

“There is no finer weapon in all of Azeroth. She will do what needs to be done.” Faedra rasped in pride, as her focus was entirely placed upon a screen depicting Syra nuzzling into Varrus’s shoulder as they left Murder Row.

Morcurio rolled his eyes, he knew the real reason why Faedra had so many screens, and became a spymaster.

‘What a voyeur.’