When magi suddenly appeared in the middle of court with the dire news of Dalaran’s invasion, Varian Wrynn had to admit feeling a shameful amount of relief. He also immediately seized on the news and cut short the administrative meeting he was in, calling for an emergency call-to-arms instead.

Thanks to Onyxia’s removal and her plots being unraveled, the king of Stormwind had been mired in administrative duties for Light knows how long. Together with his new ministers and councilors, he had to figure out the best compromises to the mess she left behind. The territorial gains made under her influence had to be abandoned to alleviate the strain on supplies and manpower. That, in turn, meant relocating towns worth of people into the heart of the kingdom, which added a new strain to public order and logistics.

The entirety of the 16th legion had to be purged because of Katrana Prestor’s subtle machinations. She’d nudged things so that practically every soldier there was transferred over due to severe disciplinary issues. The commanders had been ensorcelled to exacerbate their men’s bloodthirsty and sadistic tendencies, turning the 16th into a legion of savages. And then they would be garrisoned to keep the peace in quiet lands like Elwynn and Westfall.

The royal coffers had to be nearly emptied out and Varian had to personally forgo a portion of his income to pay off the hidden debts to groups like the Stonemasons Guild, who had been tasked to rebuild the kingdom but had yet to see even a trickle of their much deserved pay thanks to the nobles enthralled by Katrana stalling and stonewalling their requests. Varian made the gamble of sitting down with Edwin VanCleef, leader of the Stonemasons Guild, and letting the guildmaster in on the secret behind Lady Prestor and her puppetry of the kingdom. It understandably shook the man deeply, but he had also agreed to keep his guild in line for the good of the kingdom.

For almost two years, Varian had to deal with such bubbles of disaster every day. Otherwise competent officials, ensorcelled to be corrupt, had to be replaced or rehabilitated, and it was the king who held the final say. It was the king who decided whether once-neglected frontier towns would be worth sending soldiers to push away bandits and monsters, or if it’s be better if they were relocated elsewhere regardless of what the townsfolk might think. Trade agreements had to be renegotiated to be more profitable for the kingdom, or be terminated completely, and once more it was the king of Stormwind that had to spend days with his advisors on hashing out the best possible option without ruining the kingdom’s reputation.

Nearly two years, this went on.

Nearly two years of spending the daylight going through stack after stack of officious parchment and paper, or discussing some crisis-to-happen or another.

Nearly two years of having to follow trails of intrigue through seized missives, receipts and interrogation transcripts.

Nearly two damned years of acquiescing to compromises when it’d be much, much more satisfying to just crack some skulls and scream bloody rage at fops and imbeciles.

So when the Kirin Tor representatives appeared, bedraggled and desperate, Varian had to struggle to contain his glee as he seized the opportunity. Of course, he reasoned the haste as Stormwind needing to prove its reliability and strength to its allies, and other such excuses along diplomatic lines. And Varian made damned sure to push the fact that his own reputation of being a warrior needed to be upheld.

Yes, yes, he wouldn’t really lead the charge, but he had to show the other kings like Magni and Terenas that the line of Wrynn could still command, could still be relied upon to offer solid tactics.

That Varian succeeded was a testament of how silvered his tongue had become thanks to being stuck in the palace. He had his court nodding their heads and rushing to raise the banners before any of them could reason that warrior king or not, Varian really had no right to be in the thickest of the fighting. His presence hadn’t officially been requested, and by all accounts the leaders of the other realms were not leading their reinforcements to Dalaran.

By the grace of the Light, that observation escaped everyone for days, even as the first legions were gathered and the Dalaran magi - who’d been given freer reign with spellcasting due to the emergency - strained themselves to open portals for the expedition force to rush through.

Varian led the Stormwind vanguard straight into Dalaran City, where Archmage Antonidas brought him up to speed on the state of the defense. They’d been a day too late, the main force had marched onwards to meet the enemy. Not wanting to be left out, and genuinely apprehensive about the possibility of being asked to delegate command of his legions to the Kirin Tor so he could go back to rule his kingdom, Varian asked that the magi prepare another portal, so that Stormwind could catch up to the sallying force without having to exhaust themselves from marching.

It worked, though Antonidas regretted that it’d require another full day of preparations for a stable portal to be opened. It was a wait Varian tolerated, because he still wasn’t being called to return to Stormwind.

Surprisingly, Khaz Modan also broke with tradition and sent an expedition force walking through a portal. Varian’s apprehension was banished as he saw Muradin and Brann Bronzebeard at the head of the dwarven army. The brothers of the king, Magni, were here to fulfill Khaz Modan’s oaths to the Alliance, and their presence was much welcome beyond the legitimacy they gave to his own presence in Dalaran.

With the dwarven army were new warmachines, hulking, heavily armored vehicles that were based on Alteraci tractors. Tractors which would’ve been trundling over Stormwind farmland by now if not for Katrana Prestor’s intrigue.

The dwarves were more honest about their disappointment when they learned of just missing out on the sally out, and both Bronzebeard brothers applauded Varian’s request for a portal instead of having to endure a tiring force march.

The Stormwind and Khaz Modan armies encamped outside the walls of Dalaran City, easily sharing in camaraderie and resolve. Varian himself enjoyed the night listening to Muradin and Brann spin their tales of the Second War, and he openly shared in their disappointment and disgust of the unholy corruption of Stromgarde and Gilneas.

“Shame Thoras had to fall like that,” Muradin rued, earning nods from Varian and Brann. “Good man, good warrior… Didn’t deserve to have his twat of a son turn on him.”

“I’ve only been acquainted with Galen for a short time,” Varian offered, “I found him brash, but not so scheming as to usurp his own father…”

“When dealing with the unholy, it doesn’t take many wrong turns to twist you,” Brann said, and Varian was reminded of the nobles whose ambitions were exploited by Katrana Prestor.

“Genn though,” Muradin spat with disgust, “scheming bastard, that one. Still remember him trying to weasel out from the Alliance when the orcs first came. If not for Lothar, the bastard would’ve locked his kingdom away while the rest of us bled and died against the Horde. But to drag his whole kingdom to damnation…”

The dwarf shook his head, while his younger brother sighed aloud. “Magni should’ve kept a closer eye on him after the war, what with all his whinging…”

“Eh, no helping it now,” Muradin declared. “We’ll leave the what-ifs and regrets to the kings,” he said, tossing a wink Varian’s way. “Right now, we have friends and allies to help.”

The following morning, both armies gathered as the magi of the Kirin Tor took time away from enchanting the defenses of their city to deliver them to where they were needed. Aware of the attention on him as he stood at the head of the Stormwind legions, Varian repressed the innate unease of being in the middle of a massive arcane circle, and his men did their best to emulate him. Some mutterings were heard, but the ranks remained orderly. The dwarves were only a little louder in voicing their discomfort, but they too stood braced and ready as the magi began chanting and weaving their arms about.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

There was a sudden giddiness and a flash of light, and then Varian was hit with the stench of smoke, blood and shit as his vision of Dalaran’s green fields was instantly replaced with the chaotic mess of soldiers and spells and death. Horrible screams warred with explosions and the screeching of metal on metal and the wet cracking of flesh and bone. Memories of fleeing Stormwind hit him but Varian quickly pushed it aside with a growl.

Drawing in a breath, the king of Stormwind steeled his nerves and resolve, raised his blade, and then rallied his legions. “Soldiers of Stormwind! For the Alliance!”

The Bronzebeard brothers were about to join in the warcry when bursts of light erupted beyond the wall of bodies. Then massive golden things appeared above the walls of men and armor, spitting rays of fire. Splashes of blue light erupted here and there, silhouetting the battleline. Then the skies turned gold and more fire, blue in color this time, rained down. Varian wasn’t aware that he was staring with a slack jaw as ash and gore rained down from the skies.

And then, barely a few minutes after the impossible scene took place, the mysterious host suddenly disappeared. As a heavy shroud of silence descended, Varian blinked, and then blinked a few more times after that to make sure that he was, in fact, awake. He turned to the Bronzebeards, who seemed just as stunned as he was.

Only then did he notice the Alteraci banners on one side, and for some reason that made all the sense for Varian.

“Dammit, Kyle.”

*****

Lora and the rest of the Alterac reinforcements grimly picked through the smoldering chunks littering the battlefield. Of the Alliance forces now advancing across the smoking grasslands, only the Alteraci had any cheer to trade dark jokes as they poked the ruined corpses of Gilneans, and were assured enough to keep their eyes on the ground, instead of constantly glancing upwards to where Kyle’s flying constructs once were.

It’s not that none of them had been shocked stiff when the sky turned gold and blue fire rained down. It was just that Lora and the Alteraci quickly understood that they shouldn’t be surprised anymore about their king’s abilities. As a swarm of smaller flying things poured out of the massive craft in the heavens, the dwarf captain only took seconds for surprise to morph into annoyance.

Did it all have to be gold? The boy needed better taste. Surely that’s not where the taxes were going to?

Gaudy or not, the flying constructs had torn through Gilneans and demons in short order the moment Kyle made his telepathic announcement and revealed his new toys. What looked like specks compared to the massive ‘carrier’ construct were actually things larger than carriages, each a pair of flying lobes that didn’t look like they should be capable of flying in the first place. They spat rays of the familiar blue light that cut through their targets with all the ease of a blade dragging across wet paper.

They were accurate too, the beams zapping close to the Alliance lines without causing any collateral short of soiled armor and maybe a few bruises from soldiers jumping back in fright.

Other flying craft added to the storm of fire as well, but it was the disgorged swarm that truly tore up the battlefield. Demons and corrupted humans alike were blasted into unrecognizable chunks. The demonic giblets were evaporating away as they were banished back to the Nether, while some bits of Gilneans still shuddered with the last vestiges of unholy life.

Which was why, when the constructs decided they were done and flew back up into the carrier before promptly vanishing in a burst of blue light, Lora had quickly ordered for an advance to secure the battlefield. Her order was echoed all along the Alliance line, though with varying alacrity.

Many soldiers, from Dalaran and Lordaeron alike, moved gingerly, particularly when near smoldering craters or large piles of gore. Yet a good number of them, even the knights and magi, couldn’t wipe their dumbstricken expressions from their faces, eyeing their surroundings with wide eyes filled with apprehension and confusion.

It was probably because of Kyle’s spectacular show that the rest of the Alliance kept a wide berth from Lora’s probe cavalry unit. She ignored them easily enough, focusing on the necessary tedium of making sure the body parts strewn across the battlefield were truly dead. Though she did notice that her orders were being picked up and obeyed by the Violet Legion footmen within earshot. Amusingly, it was likely out of fear from the shiny probes the royal guard sat on, and their relation to what had happened recently.

She could live with it. If anything, it made coordinating things smoother.

Kyle was nowhere to be seen, which was expected…and fortunate for the king. If he’d truly been down there, Lora would’ve throttled his royal ass for pulling off such a stupid stunt. The winged demons his stand-in had been dancing around were all gone now. Lora had witnessed for herself through the fire and explosions the dreadlords and the demons around them being frozen in blue crystals before vanishing with the rest of his constructs.

Valoghan had been mildly miffed at that, once he got over his own shock. “He’s being too brazen…” At her confusion, the mage sighed. “He could have hidden their abduction better. However spectacular Kyle made it, the chaos of the battlefield isn’t a perfect distraction.”

“We gotta deal with demons in our dungeons after this?‘

He shook his head. “No, the prisoners will be transferred to more….capable hands.”

“Huh… S’pose as long as ye both know what yer doing.”

That made Valoghan take on a mild scowl. “The other…party can be relied upon to seal the prisoners away. The only issue I suppose would be the value of interrogating them.”

Lora scoffed at that. Typical of magi to make interrogating demons sound like a mildly novel thing.

They continued trading thoughts and observations as they floated across the battlefield, and eventually they came across a particularly nasty splattering of corpses. Here were the Gilnean Death Knights that had been levitated by Kyle’s curved-wing flyers, and the dwarf remembered how impotent the corrupted knights were as they and their steeds floated in a bubble of arcane energy. For all the dread corruption that shrouded them, the Death Knights lasted all of a few seconds when fat ribbons of light from flyers tore into them. If she’d not seen it with her own eyes, Lora would have thought that the broken bodies before her had swallowed fireballs and promptly burst apart.

As she and the other royal guards kept some distance to the piles of Fel-tainted gore, Valoghan conjured an earth elemental, and the living aggregation of rocks and dirt began rolling through the bodies to pick up the scraps of unholy weapons and armor plates. From what Lora understood, the tainted equipment would be promptly handed over to the Alliance, so that the priests and magi could tussle over the rights to purify and purge or study the artifacts, while Alterac enjoyed not getting caught in between.

It sounded like a good plan.

There was a sudden flash of light that caused the royal guard to quickly raise their weapons, but the wary gesture turned into sharp salutes as Kyle strode towards them with a grin on his face. He wore that strange golden armor of his. Nobody commented on the fact that small sparks appeared near his feet as his eldritch shield clashed with whatever corruption on the ground.

“Any problems so far?”

Valoghan absently answered as he monitored his elemental. “It seems that we have overestimated the foe; Fel corruption has not provided any of the Gilneans any of the regenerative properties we’ve dreaded.”

Kyle glanced at the corpses around him and gave a shrug. “Better overkill than under, I guess.”

“True that,” Lora chimed in. She glanced around at the smoke and bodies, and then let out a huff. “So, what happens after this?”

“I’ll see if they want Alterac to continue supporting the Alliance’s push into Gilneas.”

“Don’t see why they wouldn’t want that.”

“There’s not a small chance that our king might have scared everyone with his display of power,” Valoghan dryly opined, and Kyle nodded.

“More or less, yeah.”

Lora chuckled. “Heh, I can see that. Ye’ve been holding all that back for a while now, eh?”

The young king shrugged. “Not that long… Took a while to figure out where I could fit all of that nicely…”

“And now every king and archmage will be figuring out whether yer stuff would fit just as nicely romping all over their kingdoms… Heh.” And now Lora couldn’t get the image of golden things darting in the confines of the subterranean city of Ironforge, or the lanky colossal things simply tearing through the mountainside as they waded through the tunnels.

Kyle let out a sigh before he turned back to the Alliance lines. “I guess I better start assuring them, then.”

“Want us to come with ye?”

He regarded Lora and the probe she sat on, and then shook his head. “Nah, better not. I know it’s boring but keep sweeping the battlefield. See if you can find Genn’s remains. I’ll be fine by myself.”

“Fine, fine… Is that even yerself right now?”

“Maybe,” Kyle answered with a grin.

They did eventually find and identify the Gilnean king’s remains, strangely enough quite intact compared to the other corpses. While his body was mostly withered to a charred husk, there was still a dark aura emanating from the armor Genn wore, as well as the baleful sword still in his hands. Not wanting to risk it, Valoghan simply wrapped up the whole thing in an arcane bubble and rolled it along with them back to the main force.

The timing couldn’t be any better.

As Lora was about to present the body of the King Genn of Gilneas, she heard the surprised voice of King Varian addressing a sheepish Kyle.

“You’re engaged?”

“Oho…” And Lora couldn’t help sharing a grin with the royal guards behind her. “So how many of us put money on ‘engagement’?” Now to find out if it was because the lord admiral caught Kyle in the middle of the act with his daughter, and Lora would win herself the whole pool.