Daelin sighed as he put down the scroll summarizing the latest developments from the continent. One particular tidbit of note seemed particularly…annoying.

Murlocs. The boy was offering a way to ‘tame’ murlocs.

And of course the madmen in Dalaran also endorsed and authenticated the plan. What had not been expected was that it was Daelin’s own daughter being named as one of the credible witnesses to Alterac’s lunacy. Supposedly, her name’s going to be on one an actual, honest to Light treatise about murloc domestication.

It was supposed to sound like a big deal, but Daelin still felt too conflicted to be proud right now.

He might have to talk to Katherine about pulling their daughter away from the mage academy. Maybe the scroll might help his argument. They could hire an accredited arcane tutor or two as a compromise to Jaina.

Still, the idea of actually taming murlocs wasn’t so bad. Crazy, yes. But not bad. The fishmen were a menace to any coastal activities. Significant investment into security and seasonal purges had to be expended to ensure that fishing communities actually had fish to catch, or didn’t end up being displaced by the unchecked growth of murlocs. In the same vein, the constant opportunistic looting by the fishmen cost the Kul Tiran islanders a pretty amount every year to replace stolen or damaged nets and other fishing equipment.

And because of how they spawned and migrated, it was practically impossible to completely eradicate a murloc infestation from an area.

So if there really was a method to reduce murloc belligerence, or even remove it completely, Daelin had to be interested.

He just didn’t fully trust the words of magi and a precocious boy-king.

The former, while reliable allies most of the time, often came with the risk of explosive or other dangerous accidents or side effects if left to their own devices. Goblin contraptions could sometimes be more reliable than a mage who cared only on whether they could achieve something, instead of whether they should try in the first place. And that’s not counting the chance that the spellflingers might be secretly dark practitioners, rogue sorcerors that dabbled in the Fel or worse.

As for the latter… Daelin had to admit that he just didn’t like Kyle. However justified he might be, the boy’s arrogance and theatrics had grated on the lord admiral’s nerves. Competent Kyle might appear to be, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be insufferable as well.

That he was a classmate of Jaina also contributed to the dislike. Worse, it seemed that they were friends, and who knows just how much bad influence the boy had infected Daelin’s daughter with?

Terenas speaking well of Kyle’s meeting with Calia did not assuage the lord admiral’s fears one bit. Not accepting a betrothal with Calia only meant that it was more likely Kyle had his sights already set on Jaina. That he dragged her along to his murloc scheme was proof enough to Daelin of that.

For all he knew, the boy would use the murloc taming, along with the offer of the much vaunted repeater bows, as a trade to formally court Jaina.

Daelin groaned at the thought of having to put up with that arrogant brat as family.

Yet, a small part of his mind tried to offer a counter-argument. Kyle hadn’t mentioned any price to his offers. Alterac hasn’t descended into the shithole Thoras and Genn had openly hoped it would become. The boy was, from every overt and covert report Daelin received, a decent ruler, even if one discounted his peasant and arcane heritage.

That small part argued that Kyle was still young, that he might yet grow into something more…tolerable. That the potentials Alterac offered were worthwhile enough to worth some consideration.

Daelin sighed. Fine. He’ll put up with Kyle, at least as a ruler, and give him a fair chance to prove himself.

He picked up a quill and began writing an appropriate response. The Admiralty of Kul Tiras would wait for the long-term results to show before accepting the offer of murloc domestication. Who knows if the methods might wear off in the future or the murlocs were playing everyone for fools, after all. In the meantime, the island nation would monitor the progress of King Kyle’s eccentric project with interest.

At the same time, Daelin also reviewed pending agreements with Alterac, and approved most of them. In the same reply, he expressed appreciation for Kyle’s attempt at warming ties between their kingdoms. Kul Tiran ports would be open to Alteraci merchant vessels, trade of seafood for fruits and grain would proceed without unnecessary obstructions, and the offer to trial Alteraci rifled cannons was accepted with sincere gratitude.

After sending out that message, Daelin began to pen another one, addressed to Terenas. Perhaps their old, idle talk of uniting their families could bear some serious consideration. Arthas should still be clear of any real prospects right now, considering his paladin training. Maybe the wily king of Lordaeron could arrange a fortuitous meeting between his son and Daelin’s daughter…

*****

Thoras rested his cheek on his palm as he leaned sideways on his throne. He didn’t know whether to feel grateful or annoyed at the message that was just read out. A significant number of gnolls found crossing from Stromgarde into Alterac, handily ‘taken care of’ by the brat’s forces, and then concerned questions as to whether Stromgarde required aid from further infestations.

According to merchants crossing from Alterac, the claim was true, evidenced by the fact that gnoll corpses were being carted into select towns to be rendered down into fish bait. Apparently enterprising Alteraci also turned the remaining carcasses into dice, ink pots, combs, and other curious products.

Thoras had to remember the uses in the future. Simply burning the dead mutts or leaving them to carrion feeders was clearly a waste, now that he thought about it. Having frontier villages pick up that industry might help those Stromgardians supplement their meager commerce, and it might even allow them to more easily fund adventurers to purge nearby gnoll camps.

It was a matter for later.

Right now though, Kyle not kicking up a fuss over the gnolls entering his kingdom was unexpected. There was no trace of accusation that Thoras expected the belligerent boy to make of Stromgarde sending the gnolls over. No demands for compensation, no threats to tighten the border… The only insult Kyle gave was faux concern over whether Thoras needed help in maintaining order over his kingdom.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

It was frankly far tamer than the warrior king had expected. Thoras almost felt disappointed.

But then he also realized that Kyle wasn’t bothered to kick up a fuss over the matter, which meant that there’d be no drawing the attention of the rest of the Alliance. Which was, as much as Thoras hated to admit it, a boon for Stromgarde for the time being.

The whole debacle about the regents had spread quickly, to the point where Thoras and his court had gotten inured to complaints from local taverngoers about passing dwarven merchants or guildsmen casually insulting Stromgardian honor. To the dwarves of Ironforge, Kyle was set up to fail by his neighbors and admirably railed against his fate. That they were even partially right was rankling.

It also served Thoras right for following Terenas’ little scheme. Ever since his old friend went insane and advocated for orcish internment, Thoras should’ve been far more wary about further proposals from Lordaeron. That Genn was roped in should’ve been the most obvious sign.

But what was done was done, and Thoras and his court now simply hoped to move past the lousy incident. It’d take a while more before the king of Stromgarde felt that he could tolerate a private meeting with Kyle Daelam, but Stromgarde would remain at least coldly polite to Alterac. Trade was permitted, official missives were treated with seriousness, and clearly nobody was ordered to somehow direct a whole horde of gnolls across the border.

Which then raised another curious question: Kyle did not accuse Thoras in any way of the gnolls going over, but gnolls themselves rarely migrated en masse like that without ample warning or reason. The hinterlands of Stromgarde was not so absent of wildlife that the flea-infested creatures needed to move such great distances in search of food. If that were the case, there wouldn’t be a whole horde to start with, just bands of half-starved raiders.

Someone sent the gnolls over. That was the only conclusion Thoras Trollbane could reach. The how was yet unknown, but Thoras had battled alongside Dalaran magi who could turn orcs into sheep, and fought against orc warlocks who could summon demons. How different, ultimately, was persuading or coercing gnolls compared to all of that?

What mattered was that someone either wanted to frame Stromgarde, or incite a reaction out of Alterac, or had other equally concerning intentions. That roused anger in Thoras. He would not be made to look like that snake Genn, or be turned into an oblivious Perenolde.

Sitting straight in his throne, Thoras let out a soft curse before addressing his court. “We’ll have to look into this matter,” he said severely. “Someone wishes to make fools out of us, and I will not stand by it. Find out more details about the gnolls from Alterac. Where they trespassed from, what their numbers were exactly… Then I want scouting parties to investigate the possible regions for clues.”

As a chorus of compliance rang out, Thoras turned to his son, who too was saluting. “Galen. Can I trust you to lead this investigation?”

The lad gave a grim nod, though a smirk of eagerness peeked out from underneath. “Of course, father.”

*****

Far from the western coasts of Lordaeron and Gilneas, Genn Greymane kept his apprehension in check as he stood on the decks of a Gilnean monitor. While it was outclassed by most of Kul Tiras’ warships, the vessel had more than enough cannons to put up a fight, and had the speed to outrun whatever it couldn’t outshoot. More importantly, it was just small enough to be unnoticed under the afternoon sun while being out in the Great Sea.

The ship’s presence here, as was its crew and Genn, were an utter secret from everyone back home, save for Liam who helped maintain a cover. It was a necessary subterfuge to keep any hidden agents in the dark, and to ensure that Gilneas’ sovereignty and prosperity would not be leeched by the Alliance.

“It’s taking a while,” came a spoiled and whiny voice, and Genn had to hold back the urge to snap around with a solid punch into Aliden Perenolde’s idiotic face. Instead, the king of Gilneas made a far slower, more reserve turn to meet the discarded heir’s stupid grin.

“It’ll be here, you know that,” Genn admonished in a soft growl.

Thankfully the fop merely nodded instead of opening his mouth again, and Genn went back to enjoy the relative silence. As the monitor rocked lightly to the placid waves, diligent, hand-picked crew kept busy tending to the ship. These were good men, reliable men, who knew how to do a good job and be silent about it.

Unlike some stupid exiles.

If not for Mal’Ganis’ counsel, Aliden Perenolde would’ve been gutted and buried the moment he stepped into Gilneas. But their mutual mysterious benefactor was right; some plans required a gullible fool to serve as bait or cover. Being an ambitious pretender to Alterac’s throne with none of the skill or sense to back it up, Aliden fit the role a bit too perfectly.

That the man still deluded himself into thinking he was the one to introduce Mal’Ganis to Genn and Liam, along with nurturing other childish fantasies, was proof enough of that. Aliden probably also thought he was the one responsible for subverting Galen Trollbane over to their cause.

Genn wasn’t that stupid. It didn’t require decades of leading a kingdom to know that Mal’Ganis was orchestrating all of this, that the hidden figure had reached out to everyone of note well before Aliden was sent visiting them. The amount of subtle scheming was suspicious, of course, and Genn was well aware that he was likely little more valuable than Aliden as a pawn.

But Mal’Ganis - if that was really their name - had already offered much, and promised much more for the king of Gilneas to simply ignore. Whoever the mage was - and it had to be a great mage to accomplish such things - and whatever their true agenda, that it involved shaking up the current Alliance was more than good enough for Genn.

Terenas and Lordaeron didn’t deserve to be issuing demands simply because it was the largest kingdom. Loathe as Genn was to admit it, Thoras’ people did more fighting and sacrificed far more than Lordaeron. Even Daelin’s annoyingly superior fleet contributed critically at various points against the Horde.

All Terenas did to earn his spot as leader was host Lothar, Varian, and the refugees of Stormwind. Lordaeron might have sent the most men, and provided talents like Uther and Turalyon, but as far as kings went, Terenas was content to sit back and play at leader when everyone else was busy pushing the frontlines back. Genn did his part as well, coordinating coastal battles with the Alliance’s grand fleet (of which almost a fifth was comprised of Gilnean warships) to keep the southern coastline clear from Horde invaders.

Gilneas, Stromgarde and Kul Tiras were at the forefront of the war against the Horde. Lordaeron, huge, bloated Lordaeron, was conveniently protected by its neighbors, and its seat of power safely tucked far away from the frontlines.

So no, Terenas Menethil did not deserve to lead the Alliance. Let it be someone else more worthy. Genn would even begrudgingly offer his vote for Thoras if it came down to it.

But it wouldn’t. Because Mal’Ganis promised something that would secure not just undeniable power, but prestige as well. The unseen mage had already proven their value by providing altered crops that grew faster and bore greater harvests, allowing the kingdom to fill its stores with grain and begin exporting a hefty excess to Lordaeron for once. Sets of ensorceled weapons and armor were conjured in the royal armory, stronger than any dwarven-forged steel and keener than any elven blade. The dark-metal equipment was put to use by the Gilneas royal guard, and Liam had his own set as well.

Mal’Ganis’ generosity was great indeed.

Genn himself awaited his own, greater gift, one that came with the package he was now awaiting. All he had to do was endure Aliden’s foppish presence for just a little longer…

“Ship sighted!” Just in time, the crew manning the crow’s nest alerted the king to his possible prize. No. The spotted ship was the one he was waiting for. Even before the pierced circle that was the colors of Gilneas was identified flying on the incoming corvette, Genn knew that this was the ship Mal’Ganis had promised him.

Ignoring Aliden’s exuberant babbling, Genn kept still, masking his excitement with regal stoicism as befitted a king of his station. The two ships came up to each other, and only then did Genn allow his eagerness to fuel his movements. He boarded the corvette - sent out weeks before Aliden came to Gilneas - and found the weathered ship weathered but otherwise undamaged. Its crew though was a different story.

Genn balked as he saw gaunt sailors with hollow eyes staring back at him. Clothes hung loosely off near-skeletal frames, yet they still held onto the ship’s lines with ease and walked steadily across the rocking deck. None of them bowed or knelt before their rightful king. There was utterly no life in their eyes, as if these miserable men were truly dead but had forgotten to stop their hearts beating or their lungs from breathing.

What had they encountered that could break men like this? There were sailors’ tales of ghost ships and horrors that flayed minds simply laying eyes on them…

“They look unwell, these sailors of yours.”

Concern switched to annoyance, and Genn had to clench his hands into fists tightly to stop himself from throwing Aliden overboard there and then. Remembering his priorities, he growled at the nearest bony sailor. “Where is your captain?”

The sallow man simply turned to him, staring at nothing, and his jaw hung open without a sound. Then the sailor- all of them, actually, eerily turned as one towards the stairs leading to the lower decks.

Instinctively and fearlessly, Genn strode towards it, his guards in tow.

There was no captain to be found.

Instead, in the dim lighting of the lower decks, Genn quickly found the prize Mal’Ganis had urged him to seek. Within the corvette’s holds, lashed down with bloodied rope and surrounded by cold mist and desiccated corpses, was a massive block of unmelting ice. Genn could just make out a silhouette of someone entombed within, wrapped tightly in a magnificent set of metal armor, alongside an impressive sword. The foolish orc warlock, who had sought out the trappings of true kings and had proven unworthy.

Just as Mal’Ganis had said.

Even with Aliden’s annoying excitement assaulting his ears from behind him, Genn grinned and reached out towards the enchanted ice. Power emanated from within, dim power from armor and blade that needed a king, a real king, to awaken.

“Are you ready to ascend beyond the trappings of kings?” rang the silky-smooth whisper of Mal’Ganis in his head.

“Aye.”

And Genn’s fingers pressed against the cold ice, and his grin grew as the whole block cracked and shattered.