Uther kept solemnly still as a bishop led the choir through a prayer song, filling the white plaster halls of the newly consecrated cathedral with gratitude and devotion. Behind him, the faithful of Alterac filled the plain but carefully built pews, and the stares from statues of notable Alteraci religious figures from the alcoves seemed to add to the religious atmosphere.

Beside the paladin, Arthas knelt with head bowed and eyes closed. Both paladin and squire were in full armor for the occasion as a mark of their office within the church of the Light. Sunlight streaming through massive stained glass windows above the cavernous space fell on the two holy warriors, and the gleam from their mirror-polished armor plates made them seem to be literally glowing in holy light to observers.

As the hymn went on, Uther did not let his thoughts wander. Much. Cynical intentions or not, the cathedral was a good gesture by Kyle for his people.

Having the fourth largest cathedral in the Alliance reminded the other kingdoms that the people of Alterac were faithful brothers and sisters in the Light. That this holy place was built by both dwarves and men was a show of unity among the faithful that transcended kingdoms and race. And having Uther to join in the consecration of the cathedral as a paladin of the Silver Hand meant that this temple’s sanctification would be beyond reproach.

Kyle’s absence was the only demerit, wielding the excuse of administrative work. But his family and most of his court were present. Uther still wondered if the young mage-king would ever appear for service if every reason to do otherwise could be eliminated. The boy seemed indifferent, verging on dismissive, during Uther’s meeting with him. Not enough to rile up the paladin’s sensibilities (he’d met far more intolerable magi and there were actual heretics out there after all), but enough for Uther to worry about the lad’s soul.

By all accounts, the two short years has shown Kyle to be an able ruler, one that rebuilt a kingdom and uplifted its people to enviable standards. Uther’s ride up to Alterac was quite eye-opening, as the roads he traveled were as neatly paved as any road in Khaz Modan. Gone were decrepit inns and villages, and instead Uther passed by hybrids of dwarven and local Alteraci architecture that made taverns look like fortified halls and distant farmsteads seem akin to war bunkers. At the same time, the touch of gnomish engineering popped up here and there; alchemical streetlights lit the major trade roads, the newer hand-pump wells replaced traditional bucket wells, and gnomish tractors chugged in the background of most regions.

The Stromgardian merchants they traveled with had been suitably awed and envious in varying measure, and it seemed that their journey here might be more profitable than they’d imagined seeing how the common Alteraci looked to be doing well enough for themselves.

Knowing what he did about dwarven builders and gnomish engineers, Uther was certain that no expense was spared in transforming Alterac, a testament to Kyle’s sincerity in rebuilding his kingdom. The conversations with awed villagers and townsfolk further added to the sentiment. With most of the nobility fled or dead, Kyle had virtually free reign of the mountainous kingdom, and there were no signs of oppression or misrule that some had feared. If anything, the locals were taking to their young king’s eccentricities rather well.

Compared to stagnancy and aloof or heavy-handedness of the old nobility, the new king’s eccentric policies had quickly proven beneficial. The tractors were the clearest sign of this, but there were also the implementation of the initially disruptive sewer network, which resulted in the elimination of outhouses and night soil collectors, as well as the subtle stench of waste that usually tainted every village, town and city.

The Alteraci even found solace in the queer, gaudy looking fountains that sat in the middle of their villages or towns, gilded fountains that held no water. The people found the ornamentation reassuring, that it was proof that their king was aware of their settlement, and a sign of Alterac’s growing prosperity.

Uther himself felt that there was something more to the fountains that met the eye, but as he did not feel any trace of the unholy from it, he let it be. For all he knew, Kyle was using it as a means to scry his realm, which wouldn’t be out of place with how Dalaran might do things or Lordaeron’s own network of discreet agents.

Damn, he let his thoughts wander off.

Snapping himself back, Uther heard the hymn end, and then rose with Arthas to take a seat as the priest moved onto a sermon. It was a short speech, thanking Kyle for allowing the faithful such a magnificent congregation site, as well as his fair rule. Then there was a short lesson on perseverance and diligence, and then extolling the virtues of unity and open arms.

The whole ceremony was over relatively quickly, with practically no attention brought to the grandeur of the cathedral itself. There was no gross lauding of their kingdom’s growing prosperity, or a subtle twist to urge the attendees to offer up more tithes.

Uther approved. Not a few bishops in Lordaeron that could learn to adopt this less material-focused leadership.

With service finished, the paladin and his squire rose up and endured the awestruck greeting from the Alteraci believers. As a paladin of the Silver Hand, Uther was a different embodiment of the Light that most commoners were unfamiliar with. His was a martial role, a physical embodiment of the saying ‘the Light protects’.

While he traded platitudes with the common folk, out of the corner of his eye, Uther spied Arthas in conversation with one of the more awed Stromgardian merchants that joined their eastwards journey from Lordaeron.

Like his fellows, Arvitas Rahm almost literally tripped over himself when Uther and Arthas came across the merchant convoy and offered to escort them through Alterac and into Stromgarde. Arvitas in particular was excited to interact with the crown prince of Lordaeron, and in return Arthas found the merchant’s tales about developments in Stromgarde, particularly of house Trollbane, enthralling. Uther himself was not so keen on the topic, but let his squire enjoy the conversation when time permitted.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Before the Terenas and Thoras fell out, even up until his early squiring, Arthas had been close friends with the Trollbane family. Thoras treated him more like a favored nephew than anything, though Arthas’ ties with Galen was a bit more distant considering that the Trollbane heir probably viewed his counterpart with some youthful jealousy.

Beyond it not being his business and not affecting Arthas’ duties, from what he heard it was a jealousy that stirred Galen into bettering himself, so Uther largely ignored the whole interaction. Probably the only thing that stopped Galen from being sent to the Order of Silver Hand was the fact that it was ultimately an organization loyal as much to Lordaeron as the Light, and Thoras wouldn’t tolerate that.

But the ties between kings seemed not to be shared by the prince, as Arthas was just as eager to learn of Thoras’ victories against troll holdouts, or Galen’s recent rise to command. Apparently Arvitas was close enough to the palace that he picked up on much gossip, and Uther had to remind his squire about the dangers of entertaining too much of that vice.

Still, beyond the attentive conversation he held with Arthas (no doubt trying to brown nose himself into another royal family’s patronage), Arvitas was harmless enough to ignore. The man might give off the air of a sycophant, but he knew when not to intrude into a paladin’s (and squire’s) duties and to keep behind the line of simpering. And Light knows Uther had endured far more spineless cretins even back in the war.

The conversation between merchant and prince ended as Arvitas nodded towards a direction and Arthas’ face suddenly lit up after turning towards it. Uther surreptitiously followed his squire’s gaze to a nearby group of worshippers, particularly a familiar blonde girl with blue eyes who smiled easily and she conversed with the people around her. Arthas not too subtly began heading straight for Jaina with a smile of pleasant surprise on his face.

Why she was here was beyond Uther’s guess right now, but he felt annoyance suddenly weighing down on him.

The urge to act on his exasperation welled up, but was quickly banished. Arthas was still a prince, and Jaina a princess. He’ll let the lad go through the motions of courtly romance and politics for now, and remind his squire that there’ll be no courting until after he becomes a paladin.

Knowing the recklessness of youth, it might even serve to motivate the prince.

Not that attaining paladinhood was something that needed such base motivation, of course.

Interestingly and with some concern, Uther frowned as he noted Arvitas slipping after the prince’s wake. Quickly but politely dismissing himself from the crowd around him, the paladin began to intercept the merchant before he could trespass on an encounter meant to be private.

Everything came to a halt as a muted clap from outside drew everyone’s attention. Then, heralded by the marching of boots, Kyle appeared through the cathedral’s massive doors, his face fixed in anger.

“Who the fuck let you in here?”

At first, Uther had thought the exclamation was aimed at Arthas, but then Kyle’s gaze shifted ever so slightly to give the prince a glare. Guards streamed from behind the mage-king, moving to evacuate the cathedral.

“Arthas, move away from it.”

“You.”

Uther blinked in surprise at the sheer venom in his squire’s word and the snarl in which Arthas delivered it with. Arvitas raised his hands placatingly, his face fixed into a pitiful plea.

“Your highness, please, the prince-”

“Shut it, demon.”

Demon?

Arvitas threw a pleading glance back at Arthas, who began to stride aggressively towards Kyle. From behind them, Jaina tried to protest - either Kyle or Arthas, Uther did not know.

“Your highness,” Uther interjected with authority that had cowed King Magni Bronzebeard into thoughtful silence before, “what is the meaning of this?”

In response, Kyle lifted a brass short staff and aimed one end at Arvitas. “That’s a demon,” he declared with surety. “Very well disguised, but whatever spell it casted gave it away.”

“Please your highness,” Arvitas pleaded desperately, hands trembling and eyes wide, “I’m but a simple merchant!”

Uther was about to add to the man’s defense, but Arthas beat him to it.

“Don’t cast your own damnation onto others, mage!” he growled with such hate that made Uther pause. The paladin knew that his squire had a poor view at best about Kyle, but he’d never heard Arthas express such loathing before. More worryingly, Uther saw how Arthas began to raise his warhammer in both hands.

Kyle too seemed surprised, but then his eyes glowed in an arcane blue as he frowned at the approaching prince.

“Prince Arthas, you’re not in the right state of mind now, g-”

“Enough of your foulness!” Arthas lowered his shoulders for a charge, but Kyle was suddenly past him in a handful of steps. A blade of blue-white light shot out from the tip of his brass staff as he lunged at Arvitas. The mage-king’s attempt was aborted as Arthas spun around with equally astonishing speed, the massive hammer’s head just clipping Kyle enough to send him spinning to the ground with the sound of dented armor.

With the stunned crowd watching, the prince marched over towards the fallen king. “Your madness ends today, mage!”

“Please, your highnesses,” Arvitas pleaded lamely, eyes darting between Arthas and Kyle.

“Arthas! No!” Uther began running, aghast at what was unfolding before him, ready to slam into Arthas before he could fully raise his hammer.

He saw Kyle looking up…at Arvitas. And then the brass rod flew out, just before Uther slammed into his squire to stop the falling killstrike. As he crashed onto the floor with Arthas, Uther watched Kyle’s arcane weapon pierce through the air with the speed of a dwarven ballista bolt towards the helpless Arvitas.

And then Arvitas suddenly darted aside with impossible speed, but not enough to fully avoid the sudden explosion of the thrown weapon. Blue flames flashed out, searing the merchant.

And left behind not charred clothes and seared flesh, but pale and unmarred, violet skin.

Arvitas’ eyes were filled with surprise as he stared at Kyle, and surprise turned into rage as the merchant’s eyes glowed a malevolent green.

“No…”

Uther could only gape as the form that was once Arvitas took a step forward, and his body began to bulge and grow, tearing at the seams of his clothes.

“So be it,” the not-man said, voice twisting into something darker, enticing. Claws shredded through his glove as he raised a hand tauntingly. Horns grew from his face, and massive bat-like wings erupted from his back with sickening cracks of twisted bone. “Some amendments will be made: in a fit of madness, the mage-king of Alterac went amok and slaughtered everyone in his city, perhaps including the crown prince of Lordaeron.”

Terrified faces looked up at the now towering figure looming over all of them, a horned and winged figure standing on cloven hooves and garbed in purple armor that bore familiar infernal patterns.

“Demon,” someone gasped.

It replied with a fanged-filled grin.

Just as Uther began to rise to confront it, he heard more fearful gasps from nearby, and saw that Arvitas’ fellow merchants began to twist and warp as well.

“Fuck,” Kyle swore as he got up to his feet.