It was unsurprising by now when Kyle broke into a frown as he suddenly stiffened and his eyes glowed. The words that left his mouth though, were unexpected.

“Gilneas has begun invading Dalaran.”

Being in the middle of meeting the nobility of Kul Tiras and discussing the next steps after surviving their own invasion, it was understandable that concern spread among the already disconcerted lords and ladies, especially when Daelin Proudmoore simply acknowledged the news as fact instead of question the validity of Kyle’s words.

“How bad is it?”

Jaina’s father asked instead.

“It is a big force,” Kyle answered, still frowning, still glowing in the eyes. “Give me a moment…”

Murmurs rose among the assembled nobles as they did so, and Jaina caught snippets here and there.

“First they threw their fleet at us, and then they followed up by invading Dalaran?”

“...really that mad? What is Genn thinking?”

“Have they truly fallen so far?”

Glancing beside her, Jaina saw her father wearing a grim look as he too quietly took in the whispers. With Kyle still in a trance, the lord admiral eventually addressed his court. “It’s true that Genn’s aggression makes little sense… If he has ordered the invasion of Dalaran, that means that Kul Tiras itself shouldn’t be in danger of further attack.”

“Not unless their Fel magic offers any further surprises,” Lord Stormsong countered bitterly.

“True. But I’d like to think that, deranged or not, if Genn truly wanted to crush us, he’d have sprung those surprises by now.”

Murmurs broke out again among the nobles as they digested that observation and eventually began nodding in agreement.

Lord Waycrest stepped forwards, baring his confusion to the lord admiral. “It still makes no sense. To attempt one invasion, and then launch another so quickly, with barely any time to receive news of the first one? Is Genn that confident in his forces?”

“He might be aware of his loss here,” Jaina found herself speaking. Then, noting the attention she drew on herself, Jaina forced herself to weather the curious gazes of her father’s court as she continued with her train of thought. “Kyle is not the only one capable of scrying. It is likely that King G- er, Genn has corrupted spellweavers that had an eye on the invasion of Kul Tiras. It would explain the timing of his attack on Dalaran.”

“But not the reasoning,” her father said sourly. “Lord Waycrest has the right of it; unless Genn has completely lost his senses, conducting one invasion after another - especially after knowing that the first had failed - is beyond foolish. Gilneas should be digging in to repel the inevitable counterattack, not stretching its forces thinner.”

“Genn might be banking on the momentum of sheer aggression to force King Terenas and the others into a more defensive position,” Lord Stormsong opined, “but still… That’d leave their coast open to our navy’s retaliation.”

“Assuming they care about that at all,” Kyle suddenly added, having snapped out of his trance and giving Jaina and then the rest of the court a worried look. “I’ve risked a look, and it seems that the kingdom of Gilneas is being emptied out to feed their invasion of Dalaran. The forts I’ve checked, and their capital, are devoid of any garrison. Towns and villages are practically abandoned. There’s a stream of carts and men and women headed east.”

A cacophony of confusion and disbelief broke out, and Jaina flinched as her father quickly brought order again with a sharp bang of his fist on his throne. “It seems that Genn really wants Dalaran,” he stated over the crisp silence.

“More like whoever’s puppeting him,” Kyle replied. “I’ve faced one major demon already, and whatever’s going on in Quel’Thalas is definitely related to more Fel infiltration, so it wouldn’t be surprising if there’s another demon or two behind the scenes.”

More than a few faces blanched at the casual mention of demons, though having faced a dreadlord already Jaina wasn’t as impressed. Her mind began picking apart at the information that’s presented to her thus far and a disturbing conclusion was reached. “So… The invasion of Kul Tiras was supposed to be a distraction?”

That snapped a lot of attention her way, and she had to brave her father’s offended gaze.

“Distraction?”

“Yes, father. If…if you think about it, if Ky- King Kyle hadn’t intervened, we’d be suffering a surprise assault that would have dealt a heavy blow on our navy, and our ports would be blockaded… But we’d be far from beaten.”

“Damn right we would,” someone huffed, which earned a scattered cheer.

Jaina gave a nod before continuing. “Kul Tiras would be besieged, we would resist…and inevitably news would break, and the Alliance would hurry to come to our aid. King Terenas and King Magni especially would be quick to want us liberated.”

“Gilneas has been fortifying their border before this,” Kyle chimed in, “so it’d be one brutal bottleneck trying to break in by land to make for their capital and force Genn to call off the invasion…”

“And it’d be far more expedient, at least on paper, for the Alliance to muster their fleets to liberate Kul Tiras first.”

Jaina watched as the pieces clicked in her father’s mind. “So…the kingdoms of the Alliance would mobilize its forces towards aiding Kul Tiras…”

“And once the order to invade Dalaran is given, a good portion of the fighting forces would either be on ships or at best already en route to ports, way out of position.”

“At least, without my intervention,” Kyle chipped in a bit too casually.

Daelin’s face was scrunched up in a sour, angered expression. “But now that their distraction has failed, they’ve no choice but to call off the whole thing, or fully commit regardless…”

“It seems to be the most sound theory so far,” Kyle said, and then he too frowned. “Which means I should be reinforcing Dalaran as quickly as possible.”

“And why’s that?”

“Genn’s puppetmaster is willing to risk it all in invading Dalaran. Even if it falls, they have to know that the Alliance would soon retaliate, and Gilneas’ forces would be poorly positioned to defend their prize, demons or not. And Gilneas itself is undefended if Lordaeron or Khaz Modan decides to send a legion or two in to capture it in turn.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

That was a troubling conclusion, Jaina thought. “So…their goal is not Dalaran itself, but something that lies within it?”

“Probably…” Kyle admitted with a shrug. “It makes the most sense.”

“It does,” Daelin said sourly before leveling a steely gaze on Kyle. “We’ll not waste your time any further then, King Kyle. We will maintain our defenses for a while more just to be sure, but also begin mustering a force - either for Dalaran or to strike at Gilneas itself. But know that the Admiralty of Kul Tiras owes you a great debt.”

Kyle brushed off the gratitude with passable grace. “I’m just happy to help. I always wanted to see how my…ah, weapons performed anyway.”

“Hm. Once this is all settled with, I promise that we will meet again to seriously consider your offers of trade and innovations.” Judging from her father’s stony look, Jaina guessed that he included the concept of murloc domestication in the whole thing. Considering that her slimy escorts hadn’t gnawed on anyone’s face yet and were happily camped on the Mistracer of all places…it was a better outcome than she’d expected for that subject.

Kyle bowed and made to leave, but then the lord admiral added something at the last minute, as if on purpose.

“Oh… I also look forward to discussing the terms of your engagement to my daughter.”

The way Kyle almost tripped as his eyes went wide was quite amusing, admittedly, though Jaina too was surprised at her father’s brazenness.

*****

It was more of a horde than an army, Korialstrasz thought as he kept to the cloud cover. The Gilneans had poured into Dalaran like a raging river, overrunning defensive lines and abandoned villages alike. The invasion seemed unstoppable, pushing ever onwards regardless of day or night, or the blades and spells that stood in their way. The berserk and mutated vanguard left a trail of destruction and bodies in their wake, but with how reckless they were, their numbers were quickly thinning as they willingly drowned their opposition in corpses.

As the invasion progressed, the red dragon had to hold back from intervening in favor of studying the frost-like mist that smothered the main Gilnean host and obscured their magic from prying eyes. The corrupted humans used magic sparingly, and while it was hard to discern the spellcasters’ position and the exact details of the spells they hurled, the results betrayed their Fel nature.

Wherever the vanguard slowed due to heavy resistance, the frost-mist would soon roll in, and then green flames and sickly smog would see the Gilnean advance continue again. It was tempting to simply swoop past and rain fire on the invaders, but Korialstrasz was not the only one who feared a trap hidden within the mist. The concentration of Fel energies were so thick that even if no demons were present, then the corrupted humans would be wielding powers that were best not to be underestimated.

With Alexstrasza still leading the hunt for Deathwing’s skulking brood, and Malygos cleaning up the Fel infestation in Quel’Thalas, Korialstrasz did not command enough dragons to simply wash away the Gilneans in a torrent of fire and spells. Revealing themselves too early would only make them easy targets. Korialstrasz still remembered the bloody toll the demons reaped during the War of the Ancients.

It was only on the second day of the invasion that the dragon and his kin finally perceived what seemed like the sources of the Fel mist. Unsurprisingly, the magical loci were in the thickest of the Gilnean formations, but they also proved to be impossible to unravel at a distance. It was potentially a heavy risk to take, but with the city of Dalaran only days away, and the Kirin Tor magi showing little efficacy in slowing the advance, Korialstrasz felt that it was worth at least depriving this advantage of the invaders.

A quick exchange was held with the other dragons, some of them old survivors like Korialstrasz who had lived through both the Burning Legion’s invasion all those millenia ago, and the humiliating enslavement of the red dragonflight a few years ago. Caution was on everyone’s mind, but at the same time the reds could not allow the threat below them to continue unchecked.

It did not take long for them to agree to a plan of action. With the invaders soon to encounter another blocking force, the dragons spread out, using telepathy to coordinate their movements.

*****

To the Dalaran footmen and Lordaeron knights steeling their resolve as they locked shields and lowered their lances, the depleted mob of slavering, wild-eyed berserkers hurtling at their lines still appeared ominous especially with the rolling white mist and the silhouettes of dread figures hidden within that followed closely in their wake.

Surprise was total as what looked like a storm of flaming meteors rained onto the advancing invaders, followed by the appearance of old horrors. The veterans of the Second War tightened their grips on their weapons as they watched the dragons diving straight down at the Gilneans. Instead of breathing fire as they used to as orcish mounts, these flying monstrosities instead gestured with their front limbs, with all the familiarity of a mage’s spellcasting.

Then more flaming boulders fell from the sky, and the explosions and burning black smoke violently blasted away the eerie mist. To the relief of many, the dragons swooped away from the defenders, content to wreak havoc on the Gilneans instead. Some green bolts of fire shot up, puny in comparison to the oversized fireballs raining onto the ground. The incendiary flyby was short-lived, and the dragons quickly climbed up into the heavens after just one pass.

Relief was turned to horror though, as with mist dispersed, the true face of the Gilnean invaders were revealed. Amidst the smoldering craters, too many figures rose up. They were barely human in shape, hulking men with distorted muscles bulging out between metal plates that constituted armor.

Among the misshapen brutes, unnaturally long, branch-like arms reached out to the heavens, blasting green fire in a poor attempt at retaliating against the dragons. Crowns of antlers and horns marked out the fallen harvest-witches, who were covered in blood and glowing tattoos.

Behind the monstrous mob, massive figures in eldritch armor with oversized blades rode on similarly protected steeds that were impossible to be mistaken for horses. The Gilneans’ parody of knights rode on things with too many legs, horns and fangs to be equine.

By their flanks were the dark imaginings of wildlife. The horrifically mutated animals of Gilneas were all twisted beyond belief with oversized fangs, spiny growths, extra appendages, and other grisly additions. Even the flock of birds that now circled the invaders sported too many wings, heads or legs.

Yet what struck the most fear was the fact that whether corrupted men or mutated animals, their eyes and mouths glowed with the same baleful and unnerving green light.

The defenders took all of Gilneas’ hideous glory in, and wavering looks were exchanged between comrades. The rabid Gilnean berserkers, though horrific in their own way, seemed a far more reasonable foe in comparison.

For a moment, the blighted army kept their gazes skywards, seemingly anticipating the return of the dragons. Then, after seconds turned into minutes, their attention fell onto the ground before them, and the formation of Dalaran and Lordaeron men that stood in their path.

Then, as one, the Gilnean host began to advance again.

The Kirin Tor magi embedded in the defenders quickly cast their spells, hurling arcs of lightning, streams of fire and barrages of icy spikes. Gilneans died, but just as many simply picked themselves up regardless of the chunks of flesh incinerated or gouged out of them and dragged themselves forwards. There was another barrage of magic, but still not enough Gilneans fell permanently, and their advance began to pick up pace.

The cloud of bird-things swooped over the heads of the last Gilnean berserkers, and Alteraci repeater bows were let loose to intercept them. The storm of arrows shredded the cloud of feathers and claws and beaks, but it was not enough. The Fel flock fell onto the defenders, forcing footmen to hide their helmed faces behind their shields as they swatted what they could around them, or knights to abandon their steeds that were being pecked and clawed to death.

The magi found themselves smothered and overwhelmed, suffering agonizing ends as their arcane protection quickly failed and beaks and talons tore them apart. A few managed to teleport to safety, abandoning the field.

With the defense put into complete disarray, the Gilnean army closed in for the kill. The familiar roar of dragons gave them pause. This time, their intervention was anticipated. The dragons’ fire were met with Fel flames, exploding spectacularly but harmlessly high in the air. Blinding lightning of white and green warred with each other, and soon enough the dragons were forced to abort their dive as the sheer numbers of harvest-warlocks threatened to overwhelm them.

It still bought enough time for a smaller group of dragons to swoop in and burn away the Gilnean bird-nightmares, though not before the mauled but still surviving defenders were whisked back to Dalaran.

With dragons and defenders alike forced to abandon the field, the invasion of Dalaran once more resumed.