Andorhal's Chaos

As the first step of their mission, Jorgen and Elin roughly toured the Alliance-controlled area of Andorhal under Flint's guidance. Prior to this, when Jorgen suggested, "We can go on our own," Flint responded:

"Both of you, Andorhal is not an ordinary post-war city. It's a chaotic place. Even within the occupied zone, there are many dangers from various sources. While I have no doubt about your abilities, it's better for me to lead you and familiarize you with the designated safe routes. Please follow me."

After Flint walked a short distance, Elin whispered to Jorgen, "What do you think, is he someone who will cooperate?"

"Put yourself in his shoes, Elin. He is a decorated warrior, especially skilled in using fire attacks. Deciding the ignition points and predicting the wind direction are not simple tasks, so at least in terms of being serious and responsible, we can trust him. And I can only say that if you were in his situation, your attitude would probably be a hundred times worse."

"Oh. That's a bit harsh. How do you know I wouldn't invite visitors for a nice meal first?"

"When I say a hundred times worse, that's what I mean. Let's catch up with him."

Thus, amidst the murky air overhead and the decaying land beneath their feet, Jorgen and Elin surveyed this "recovered city."

The prolonged presence of the Scourge had left Andorhal in ruins, resembling ancient relics eroded by the sands of time. Most of the remaining structures were beyond repair, not only severely damaged but also potentially harboring countless sources of plague infection in their dark corners. As a result, they were completely demolished, and after undergoing quarantine, the cleared areas were used for setting up temporary tents and makeshift houses.

"Some buildings don't need to be demolished," Flint, walking slightly ahead of the two, remarked. "They used to be the residences and meeting rooms of the Scourge commanders. The interiors of these houses are eerily clean, to the point that it seems like no quarantine work is necessary. Who knows what these skeletal beings were thinking."

"It's simple," Elin replied. "Even if you die in battle, you would still want a decent coffin."

Flint didn't respond.

At a demolition site, they saw a soldier with bare arms sitting alone on a large rock, away from his working companions, crying. Flint approached him, and before he could speak, the soldier trembled and quickly stood up straight.

"What are you doing? Why aren't you working and instead crying like a little girl?" Flint reprimanded.

"Reporting to Captain Flint, this is me..."

"Speak up louder."

"This is my family's house," the soldier said.

Flint took a moment to observe him before speaking, "You're a descendant of Andorhal?"

"Yes. My grandfather and father escaped from this house. I wasn't born yet, but they both told me about the family crest on the door... Look, that's my family's emblem, the crossed muskets and the white stag of Ashenvale..."

"Does it mean your family survived by poaching Ashenvale stags? I've never seen such a tasteless emblem. But I can't tell you're a nobleman from Andorhal. Sorry, the nobility of Stormwind doesn't recognize Andorhal. Now get back to work."

The guard didn't pay much attention to Flint's sarcasm. "I joined the military to reclaim my family's old house. Now that we've finally captured Andorhal, why do we have to destroy it ourselves? This is a city that belongs to us humans. Captain Flint, I don't understand..."

"You don't understand?" Flint approached him. "Then let me say something you can understand. I don't care how many village women your grandfather and father lured inside and collected rent from. What's left there now is only plague and maggot-infested corpses, and these things will kill you. Now take your axe and chop off that ugly family emblem, and then join the others in demolishing the remaining parts. Either wipe away your tears and stay here as a soldier or go back to your mother's embrace and cry to your heart's content. Do you understand this time? Or should I find a literate teacher from the army to translate it for you?"

"Yes, Captain Flint," the soldier took a deep breath, wiped his eyes, and turned away, dragging his legs as he walked.

"Damn crybaby," Flint muttered. "I can't stand people like that. They shouldn't have come to the frontlines in the first place. Do you two think my behavior just now was inappropriate?"

"Not at all, Flint. You don't need to be too formal with us. Don't treat us like some noble inquisitors," Jorgen reassured.

"Good to know."

"To be honest, I also dislike crybabies," Elin said. "Your way of handling things suits my taste."

"Thank you," Flint replied.

Jorgen watched as the soldier raised his axe and struck the bottom of his family emblem. Sweat trickled down his back, mingling with the sword wound. A city built with their own hands, recaptured with great effort, only to be destroyed by their own hands. Was it ironic? Jorgen didn't think so. Ever since the events in Booty Bay, he firmly believed that a city is made up of its people, not just bricks and stones.

"How do you deal with the water supply? Can't you dig wells nearby?" he asked.

"No, it's not possible in this area. Relying solely on rainwater isn't practical either. So our current solution is to draw water from Darrowmere Lake. There were rumors that the lake was plagued, but it's not entirely true. While the water quality isn't great, it's at least usable. We speculate that the Cult of the Damned, especially the students from the Scholomance, also need clean fresh water, so the Scourge didn't spread the plague there."

"The Cult of the Damned? They're expendable to the Scourge," Elin remarked.

"Indeed. That's why we've been closely monitoring the water quality. The trouble is, there's a goblin consortium here selling freshwater. Under their promotion, many soldiers no longer trust the water from Darrowmere and even signed a joint petition to purchase freshwater... I think they're called the Livigaz Waterworks Consortium."

Jorgen interrupted him, "Take us to see the military division line between the Alliance and the Horde."

Flint chuckled bitterly. "There is no division line."

"No division line?" Jorgen questioned.

"It's difficult to explain directly. You'll understand when you see it," Flint replied.

Flint led them westward, and they could already see the Horde banners flying on distant watchtowers. However, the land before them had no sentries, no trenches, and no fortifications to defend against each other's attacks. Instead, it was a chaotic gathering of tents, as if too many people had crowded into a campsite for a picnic. People of various races walked between the tents, forming small marketplaces and dining areas that stretched from north to south, right up to the edges of the city controlled by both factions, dividing the occupied zones of the Alliance and the Horde in half.

"What's going on here?" Elin remarked. "The attire of these folks... are they all adventurers?"

"You're right," Flint confirmed. "Some of them have been here even before we launched the final assault on Ar'gal. They started occupying territories as we pushed forward. Initially, they mainly assisted our mercenaries, so we couldn't use force to drive them away. But as their numbers grew, it turned into what you see now. Apart from mercenaries, there are volunteers and, my least favorite, the zealots—those who always eagerly seek out abominations to die fighting."

"Well, it does create a decent military buffer zone," Jorgen commented.

"With them here, there's hardly any space for conflict between our side and the Horde. But, on the other hand, it also brings a lot of trouble. Not to mention the Scourge plague, what if an epidemic breaks out here?" Flint expressed his concerns.

"You can rest assured. Those who choose to stay here will naturally know how to survive," Jorgen reassured him.

"I hope so too. I just hope that when the city is officially rebuilt in the future, they can still lend a hand here," Flint expressed his wish. "Now, let's go meet the leader of our forces and discuss the matter at hand. Follow me."

Jorgen noticed some Alliance soldiers conversing and trading with the adventurers, but quickly avoiding Flint upon seeing him. However, Flint didn't reprimand or chase after them.

After leaving the gathering spot of adventurers, they took a different path on their way back. Jorgen saw a solitary longhouse in the center of an open area, resembling a converted stable. There were no other structures or soldiers nearby.

"What is this place?" Jorgen asked.

"Well... in any case, please don't approach it on your own. I'll call the person in charge out to explain to you," Flint replied before approaching the house alone.

"What is he up to?" Elin wondered.

Flint stopped a few meters away from the door and shouted loudly, "Amy, come out, Amy!"

After a moment, the door slowly opened. A young silver-haired woman dressed as a nurse emerged, her small accessories indicating her status as a devout follower of the Holy Light. She exchanged a few words with Flint at the doorway before following him towards Jorgen and Elin.

Flint introduced, "She is Nurse Amy, accompanying the troops. These two are Jorgen and Elin, who have come from MI7 headquarters for a mission."

"Greetings, may the Light bless you and keep the foulness of this place away from you," Amy greeted.

"The Light must have already dispersed any impurities around you before we arrived, lovely lady," Elin remarked.

"Please don't say that. The Light treats everyone equally," Amy responded.

"Oh, I misspoke then. My apologies," Elin deflated a little upon realizing how serious of a devotee she was.

Jorgen noticed that Amy seemed reluctant to make direct eye contact with him and Elin, while Flint remained focused on her.

"Miss Amy," Jorgen asked, "what is that house used for? Do you reside inside?"

Amy hesitated, glancing at Flint. Flint reassured her, saying, "It's okay, you can tell them the truth." Only then did she speak up.

"In the direct confrontations with Arlaki, some warriors and civilians unfortunately contracted the plague. By the grace of the Light, most of the infected received timely treatment and recovered. However, there are still fifteen individuals whose conditions have not improved, or they have displayed symptoms that we currently cannot fully understand. I am currently caring for them in that house, awaiting further treatment."

"You mean this house is a quarantine area for the plague?" Jorgen asked.

"You're being too harsh with your words, Mr. Jorgen. They haven't given up hope, and neither have we given up hope for them," Amy replied.

"I understand," Jorgen acknowledged.

"It's truly admirable work to be in constant proximity with the infected... I mean, the patients," Elin remarked.

"Please don't say that. Each of them has their own separate compartment. Generally, I don't have physical contact with them. I merely observe their condition, and medications are administered mixed with their food. They still maintain their clarity of mind and can take care of themselves. As a follower of the Light and a nurse, I haven't done much for them, really. But for safety reasons, it's best if both of you don't approach the house casually," Amy explained.

"That's the situation. If there's nothing else to discuss, let's continue on our way," Flint interjected.

"Goodbye to both of you, may the Light bless you," Amy bid farewell before returning to the house. Jorgen and Elin followed Flint as they left. However, not long after, Flint suddenly stopped, revealing a faint sense of anxiety. He spoke up, "Wait here for a moment, I'll be right back."

Before Jorgen could respond, Flint hurriedly ran back to the quarantine house, catching up to Amy who was about to enter. He grabbed her hand, but she pulled away and opened the door. He then blocked her path and took something out of his pocket, handing it to Amy.

"Tsk tsk, Jorgen, what did we just witness? Lovers quarreling?" Elin remarked.

"Perhaps not," Jorgen replied.

"Don't take it so seriously. These two people couldn't possibly be a couple."

After some hesitation, Amy reluctantly accepted the item Flint had given her and entered the house, closing the door behind her. Flint stood in front of the door for a few seconds before turning back and walking towards them.

"What did he give her? Can you see it?" Jorgen asked.

"I can't see clearly, but it looks like a small package...? Based on my experience, it's probably a love letter."

"If it's really a love letter, then that's good because there's no need to worry about such things. Regardless, it seems our collaborator is an interesting person," Jorgen remarked.