Within a massive canvas covered pavilion, situated at the far end of the plains away from battle, were the Scourge commanders responsible for the siege of Tranquillien.

Sitting upon a throne made of obsidian, Tenris, son of Anasterian Sunstrider and former Crown Prince of Quel'Thalas was reclining in a relaxed posture, appearing not to have a care in the world. His high collared outfit, crimson eyes, and short black hair gave off a regal flair.

All around him, Darkfallen Elites were indulging themselves in bloodwine, and enchanted instruments set a pleasant mood.

In front of Tenris was a scrying orb, from which he paid little attention, only directing the Scourge troops from time to time.

Most of his attention was spent basking in the party, and absorbing praise like a plant taking in the sun. Whilst he relaxed, he was also errantly painting upon a canvas.

“My King, our ambush in the plains has been discovered!” A panicked voice sounded from the scrying orb.

‘Ah, King, I can never get tired of hearing that.’ Tenris idly played with a goblet of blood as he sent out a message for a pair of Heroes to investigate.

Tenris then closed his eyes, and imagined a scene with his beloved. No woman had rejected him like Syra Greathollow. Nor was there a woman so dangerous.

His mother's constant paranoia of Faedra had made Tenris curious. Little did he expect he would find himself falling in love with the Mistress of Murder's daughter!

He had seen recordings of her fighting during the Orc War. The way she twisted heads, and sliced those green ignoramus’ from top to bottom was inspiring. The brutish Orcs stood no chance against Elven beauty and grace.

To him, Syra was a symbol of all that was right with Highborn society. A beacon of youth, of what was to come once Tenris snatched the crown from his short-sighted father, and demolished the Convocation's rule.

Only those with ambition should lead. His father and mother would see the Quel'Dorei sit in their realm, and ignore the rest of the world for eternity.

Well, sitting idly by had resulted in this abominable transformation.

Looking at a pale-unhealthily gray skinned hand, Tenris laughed mockingly.

He hated this transformation, this new form made him into a creature!...yet it had liberated him, and elevated him in authority at the same time.

Tenris resented his mother, for siding with the Dreadlord, with the Legion. Once he conquered Quel'Thalas, the Human lands would follow, and then the Legion would find that the Highborn were not to be trifled with.

The Dreadlords talked a big game, but they underestimated the Elven affinity for magic. Tenris had only just learned necromancy a few months ago, and already he could project his will onto hundreds of thousands of Undead. The Legion seemed to dismiss the Scourge as one would dismiss a boy claiming to be a man.

However, Tenris had experienced first hand the overwhelming might, and frightening power of the Scourge when they destroyed the nation.

As a Darkfallen, he fed on blood, death and decay. Thanks to the plague permeating everything from the air, to the plants, to the ground he stepped upon, his powers had far exceeded anything the Sunwell had granted. So long as a singular zombie sat by his side, he could breath in the Death energy radiating off of it like fumes from a pipe.

When over 100,000 Undead had gathered, why, it was the grandest intoxication Tenris had ever experienced!

Tenris was going to-

“My King, the same mage who turned the Undead against one another upon the walls has done so again in the plains. I suspect invisibility is at play!” The same panicked voice from earlier rapidly spoke up, interrupting Tenris's musings.

“Tch.” Tenris clucked his tongue as his inner monologue was interrupted, he then took a look through the scrying orb to see what this was about.

He took in the damage done to the flanking force that he had intended to climb the cliff and enter Tranquillien from the rear. A sizable portion of them had been destroyed, which didn't overly concern Tenris. However, whoever did this didn't respect the King, and that, Tenris could not abide.

Infusing a hint of Death energy in his hands, Tenris gripped his staff, and sent a pulse throughout the battlefield.

Various squadrons of Undead heeded his command, and began to sweep the area in search of his invisible foes.

Satisfied with that arrangement, Tenris went back to his painting, only to be interrupted once more.

“Crown Prince Tenris, can you afford to remain idle whilst your forces on the frontline cannot take a simple wall, despite weeks of effort?” Ranger Captain Ariel mocked as she entered the pavilion.

The blonde Darkfallen glanced at the partying Elites in disgust, and strode up to the throne with a look of disappointment in her eyes.

All eyes in the pavilion glanced at this play, mirth and schadenfreude in their gaze.

Tenris withheld any facial expression, lest he feed the hyenas any more scraps for the rumor mill, and was quick to cast a shroud of Muffle over the two of them.

“My mother's lap dog has come to yap in my ear once more?” Tenris said with a sour expression.

“Is that anyway to treat your godmother? I remember bouncing you on my knee, taking you to your first pleasure house~”

“Enough, Ariel, what wisdom does my mother wish to share with me? Why not send me a message through my scrying orb if she was so concerned?” Tenris barely withheld a scowl, and instead, continued his painting of Syra to feign a sense of aloofness.

“She has messaged you. Dozens of times as a matter of fact.” Ariel replied in a deadpanned voice.

“Hmm.” Tenris hummed noncommittally, and dabbed some color onto his painting.

Tenris smirked as he noticed the corner of Ariel's ear twitch. It was a tell he had known for centuries. The Ranger Captain was beside herself with rage, and Tenris would have it no other way.

“Queen Lana'thel commands that you withdraw your forces. Kael’Thas is inbound with an army, and despite your advantage in numbers, are less than well prepared.” Ariel cocked an eyebrow, and glanced at the indulgent Darkfallen in mockery.

“That pretender dares show his face!” Tenris jumped up from his throne and hissed in faux outrage, eyes glancing everywhere wildly, yet he made sure to absorb Ariel's expression for the tiniest hint of subterfuge.

“He is the rightful King. We all heard the Phoenix Song confirming the coronation.” Ariel covered her mouth, and chuckled.

“I am the King!” Tenris raged again, and gripped at Ariel's neck, pressing his thumbs into her adams-apple.

Ariel silently glanced up at him with a smile.

Tenris had carefully cultivated a persona of being short tempered over the centuries. He knew that many Highborn disdained this trait, but by acting mercurial, he had gained allies in court who thought they could guide this ‘simpleton’ along to the thrum of their lyre.

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Besides, this faux outrage was a useful excuse for when he truly wanted one of his sycophants to ‘take care’ of someone.

Glancing about the room, Tenris saw many of the Heroes and Elites enjoyed the show. What witless tools.

He couldn't wait to replace them.

After a moment in which Tenris and Ariel stared one another down, Tenris scowled, and tossed her aside.

He didn't know what her game was, but he didn't not like her sudden appearance.

“Your mother is worried about you, Crown Prince. Come home. She has prepared a surprise even you are unaware of for any would-be attacker.” Ariel pressed.

“The Treants? She isn't as subtle as she thinks.” Tenris waved Ariel off, yet he knew there must be a nugget of truth in her words.

‘What are mother's plans? No matter, I must keep Ariel thinking I am the fool.’

“Besides, who does she think she is to command me? It is by my hand that Quel'Thalas shall be conquered! Sitting in court all day will accomplish nothing. Action is needed!” Tenris slammed his fist upon the throne.

“What are you going to do about it? Kael’Thas's army, the Sunfury are almost at your doorstep, and you have nothing to show for it. Your mother would not begrudge you, should you return. It is not cowardly to run in the face of defeat.” Ariel slowly explained.

“Away with your honeyed words, woman! You may be my godmother, but I shall abide by no further disrespect! Begone from my presence!” Tenris flung his hand, and a moment later, a necrotic wave of energy carried Ariel out of the pavilion.

Tenris was brooding. He knew the warning wasn't without merit, yet he couldn't allow himself to appear weak.

The Darkfallen who followed him expected blood, treasure, and booty. They had free will, and the only way he could mobilize them were with sweet promises, and dark lies. If he failed to meet their expectations, and returned empty handed, then his mother's hold over them would all but be complete.

To turn back now would most certainly mean the destruction of his political career!

He was no fool, he knew that they called him King because of his rapid progress in necromancy, and the trappings of the old system. Yet new Heroes had risen due to this curse of undeath, and challenged his rule!

Mediocre Eilites took to blood and death magic like a duck to water, elevating their power by a tier.

Additionally, even some ancients who had died hundreds or thousands of years ago had risen as Darkfallen, and had joined their ranks. These ancient Darkfallen rivaled Tenris in power and prestige. He knew that if he slipped, they would rush to seize what was rightfully his!

No, what he needed was a win to bind his powerbase together. Something meaningful. And what better foe was there than the pretender?

But who would go with him to glory, and who should he leave behind to continue the siege?

Turning to appraise the Heroes in his army, Tenris counted 15 of them within the tent. Only 4 were truly loyal, whilst the rest operated on their own agenda.

There were 3 other factions within this room besides his own.

One group was led by the Lich, Archmage Doril Magefont. A previous leader of the Kirin Tor, the Lich represented the Cult of the Damned, and had brought with him many Elite patchwork creations, and was known for his flesh golems.

Tenris had recruited Magefont by promising him free access to Quel'Dorei magical tomes. However, he knew that Magefont was a mercenary at best, and was about as trustworthy as anyone bound by greed.

He decided he would split the Lich's forces evenly between Tranquillien, and the assault upon Kael’Thas. This way, he could show the Lich that he was capable of paying him his due, whilst also keeping him in check so that he didn't think he was more important than he actually was.

The second group was headed by a Dreadlord. One of Tichondrius's lesser minions, Dethecus. The bald, winged Demon acted as the Legions eyes and ears whilst they acted an ocean away on the continent of Kalimdor. Although it was a small force, it was powerful. It had a contingent of 2,000 Felguards, 3,000 Succubi, and 3,000 Imps.

Tenris could only guess at his goal, however, Dethecus seemed awfully interested in the Sunwell's remains. He planned on using that interest to have them act as the vanguard against Kael’Thas. Then, when both the Legion forces, and Sunfury were weak, he would swoop in and eliminate both.

For the last faction, there was one standout who was a storybook legend when Tenris was growing up.

Recently risen from a nearby shrine, she was a Hero to the Heroes, and rival to both Vandercross and Sunstrider.

It was General Nightsong.

The famed legend was well known to have mastered the skills of a warrior, priest, mage, hunter, druid and that of the most feared class in Elven society, the spellbreaker.

She was the one to discover the eastern continent after the Shattering, and served as the primary scout during the expedition. Her notes and information proved vital to the survival of the Quel'Dorei.

Furthermore, she was an early pioneer in the exploration of the Void. Nightsong was also the first Elf to have gone insane with mental corruption.

At least, that was the official story, but Tenris knew better.

Her popularity, and power put fear in the nobles, and ultimately, she was put down by the combined powers of the Convocation, and the Sunstriders.

Nightsong was a tall woman who still possessed the Night Elven features that the Highborn were known for until they gained access to the Sunwell, and gained a shorter stature, and more fair skin tone. Possessing turquoise hair, and clad in a revealing set of adamantine armor, she was the center of attention within the tent.

How he hated her.

Nightsong would be given command of the assault upon Tranquillien, whilst he took down the pretender. He could not afford her any more prestige, and would show those undeclared, thay she was merely a legend, whereas he was the present, and the future to Elven-kind.

Thankfully, he wasn't strictly beholden to public opinion, as he had risen the Dragon.

Finding and raising one of the former consorts to Deathwing who had perished during the Shattering, Tenris was in possession of a mighty beast.

With it, none could easily press against his leadership.

At least, they didn't dare challenge his authority until he faced defeat.

It was during this thought, that he received a new report. The twin ziggurats had been destroyed, and massive amounts of Scourge forces had been caught in the resulting explosion.

He wasn't the only one to recieve this information, and the muttering in the tent had grown ever louder. Tenris knew that if they didn't taste victory soon, the Heroes and Elites who had marched under his banner would desert him, and crawl back to his mother.

It was with this thought in mind that he began to distribute his forces.

Standing from his throne, Tenris paused the music from the enchanted instruments with a wave of his hand, then magically amplified his voice to be heard over the din of the crowd.

“Friends, foreign dignitaries, legends and Heroes all, our merry-making has done well to quench the woes of Undeath, yet I sense amongst you a hungering desire for more.

Too long have we pelted away at these walls, too long have we taken the safe path by constructing the ziggurats! Now is our time to rise up, and claim what is ours. To take back the knowledge that was hidden from us, to research that which once fuelled a nation, and to take back that which is rightfully ours!” Tenris glanced at Magefont, raised his goblet at Dethecus, and saucily winked at Nightsong as he tailored his speech towards each of their ambitions.

“My friends, we have sat and drank, yet this hunger for victory inside us grows ever more noticeable!

This desire yearns for action, for results!

It hungers for war!” Tenris exclaimed, releasing a powerful pulse of Death magic, which had the entire Scourge army erupt in roars and cheers.

The tent wilted and faded to dust under his power, and the rapidly approaching darkness of dusk came ever nearer as the sun faded out of sight.

Quel'Thalas's Heroes, old and new, once more marched to the beat of a Sunstrider's overwhelming power, and silver tongue.

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

Some distance from the campsite, Ariel pulled out her scrying orb.

[It's done.] She messaged Lana'thel.

[He has heeded my warning, and is coming home?]

[I apologize for my failure. Despite my best efforts, he insisted upon his course of action.] Ariel replied.

[...return quickly, we must prepare ourselves for the King's victory.]

Ariel dimmed her scrying orb, and a wide smile spread across her dead face.

The rage fueled fool had metaphorically run headlong off the cliff, just as planned.

She knew Tenris couldn't resist chasing after Kael’Thas, and better yet, he had no clue as to the true power of the Phoenix Song.

With Tenris out of the way, Lana'thel would have no more distractions in her life.

All would be right in the world when it was just the two of them.

Ariel grinned as she twirled a dagger in her hand, and strode away from the siege in pride at a job well done.

However, what she didn't know, was that an owl had seen it all.

Polymorphing back into the shape of an Elf, Nightsong silently watched from the top of a tree as Ariel disappeared into the haunted woods.

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AN: Read 25 chapters ahead at patr eon Karp

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