LIGHTS HOPE CHAPEL

Light's Hope Chapel, a sanctuary nestled in the Eastern Plaguelands, stood as a symbol of resilience, a beacon of light in a land plagued by death and despair.

Lord Maxwell Tyrosus, paladin of the light, and leader of the Argent Dawn, dropped his head into his hands with despair. The tracking squad that had just reported in shuffled awkwardly in place.

The squad leader bravely spoke up, "Sir"?

Maxwell sucked in a breath through gritted teeth and forcibly raised his head and steadied himself.

"Continue with the report".

"Yessir! After tracking Fath-", the squad leader's face paled feeling looming pressure from Lord Maxwell. "err, the fugitive's trail, we were forced to turn back as it continued into Stratholme. The Scourge were too numerous to fight past." The squad nodded in resolute agreement with their leader's assessment.

Maxwell exhaled heavily, "You all did good work", he saluted them and they hurriedly salute back. "Now take a deserved rest. You earned it", and dropped the salute.

Once the troops had departed his office, the leader of the Argent Dawn's shoulders caved. Before once again regaining himself and straightened up with a snarl. And accepted the truth. Inigo Montoy had betrayed the Argent Dawn.

The worst part of this truth was that the traitor has absconded with the phylactery. Not only that, he had gotten away with it.

He wondered when it had all gone wrong. Inigo had been his friend and he had never noticed any signs of the man being a Cultist of the Damned. But with the Father having been as high ranking as he had been, who knows how deep the rot was within the Dawn. There'd be dark days ahead as everything was questioned. And the flow of information would have to be heavily restricted.

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How many of his sworn brothers had been secretly swayed to the Scourge cult? Who could he actually trust?

But he pushed those fears aside with a resolved sigh. They wouldn't unman him. Nor would he let the Argent Dawn falter in these times. And if he got the chance, Inigo Montoy would fall at his hands.

And in these times, what he was certain of was two things. Things he could actually act upon.

One being that the undead weren't as aggressive or coordinated with the Scourge citadel having departed. Which meant that it was the time to purge the Plaguelands. To deprive the Scourge of having a ready force when the coordinating powers returned. And he knew of another force in the region who they could work with.

And two. He had letters to write. To the leaders of the Dawn's allies. The Alliance and Horde had to know that Kel'Thuzad had survived. The Argent Dawn would suffer politically now due to their failure to put down the lich despite the phylactery falling into their hands. But they would suffer far more if they hid the truth.

TYR'S HAND

Crusader Lord Valdemar, paladin of the light, and leader of the Scarlet Crusade forces stationed within the Eastern Plaguelands, stood a top the ramparts of Tyr's Hand disdainfully looking out across the withered landscape beyond the gates. He snorted dismissively as he crumpled a letter with a clenched fist.

The Dawn had failed. It was of no real surprise to him though, he had always thought the faction to be soft. Not its military might, but its organization. But to let Kel'Thuzad slip through their fingers, was a failure of the highest magnitude. That, and a willingness to work alongside the so-called Forsaken.

There was no such thing as a good undead.

But during war, mistakes and failure couldn't be avoided. And Lord Valdemar would never deny that they were in a war. A war for humanity from the Scarlet Crusades point of view, despite the naysayers.

Which led Valdemar's thoughts to the second portion of the letter. Lord Maxwell's plan to purge the Plaguelands. No offer for an alliance. Just a open look at Argent Dawn's future agenda.

The Lord of Tyr's Hand wholeheartedly approved. Valdemar would have had a hard time trusting the Dawn with an alliance after their phylactery failure, so Lord Maxwell was wise to avoid embarrassing himself with a probable rejection. And that this timing to destroy the unorganized undead outside their gates was perfect.

Privately the man thought that merely cleansing the Plaguelands wasn't far enough... old Lordaeron was infested with undead that needed to be purged.

Lord Valdemar rolled his shoulders in a quick stretch before calling out to his second.

"Get the troops ready to leave in force in two days."

He cast an eye out over the dead horizon, "The Plaguelands will burn!"