Chapter 441: Shortsightedness

When Ryan claimed that the orcs would attempt to seize control of this world, the other rulers in the room did not fully believe him.

Some thought Ryan's warning made sense, but others dismissed it as fearmongering.

"You mean to say they'll come here," Admiral Daelin Proudmoore finally spoke, his tone more like a statement than a question.

"Yes."

Ryan's simple answer filled the room with a mix of astonishment—and perhaps a hint of fear.

However, Proudmoore merely nodded.

"Do they have ships?" the Admiral continued.

"I don't know," Ryan replied. "We didn't see any on our way here, but until last year, we hadn't seen this Horde either."

He frowned.

"And even if they didn't have ships before, they should have them now—they've scoured our coastlines, sunk many of our ships, and others have simply disappeared."

"Then we must assume they can cross this ocean next."

Proudmoore showed no sign of surprise. His calm demeanor suggested he had already considered the worst-case scenario.

"They might even be on their way now."

"They could come by land," interjected Solas Thoras Trollbane, the ruler of Stromgarde. "Don't forget that."

"Ah, of course they could," Ryan agreed. "Our first encounter with them was in the east, near the Swamp of Sorrows. 

If they head north, they could cross the Burning Steppes and the mountains, then appear in southern Lordaeron."

"South? They'll never get past us!" declared Genn Greymane. "I'll crush anyone who tries to land on my southern shores."

"You don't understand." Ryan looked weary. "You haven't faced them head-on yet, so it's hard to grasp their numbers and power. But I can tell you this—you will not withstand them."

The exiled king turned to Greymane, pride and sorrow etched into his expression.

"The armies of Stormwind are formidable," he assured the room. "My soldiers were well-trained and battle-hardened. 

We fought the Horde, clashed with them many times. Compared to them, we were like disorganized children, like frail old men, like stalks of wheat before the scythe."

His voice was monotone, filled with an unrelenting chill. "They will sweep through those mountains, through you and your lands. 

None of us can resist them alone, but united… perhaps we stand a chance."

"You say the threat is imminent. I won't dispute that," said Aiden Perenolde, the Lord of Alterac. His measured tone cut through the murmurs of the other kings. 

"And you propose that we unite to counter this threat. But I want to know—have you tried other means? Are these… orcs… reasonable creatures? 

Do they have desires we could address? Could we negotiate with them?"

Hearing this suggestion, Alaric shook his head in disdain. Perenolde might be a competent ruler, but his strategic thinking was painfully naive and shortsighted.

No wonder Alterac betrayed the Alliance and ultimately met its demise in the original timeline.

Ryan sighed, his pained expression revealing just how absurd he found the discussion.

"What they want is this world. Our world," he explained slowly, as if speaking to a child. "They won't stop until they have it all. We've sent messengers, diplomats, and envoys."

He let out a cold, harsh laugh. "Most of them returned as chunks of meat—if they returned at all."

Alaric observed as most of the kings whispered among themselves. Their words betrayed lingering doubt, showing they still failed to grasp the gravity of the danger before them.

—Such shortsightedness and stupidity.

As he watched the meeting unfold, Alaric felt like an adult watching children play a game. 

When faced with the children's illogical moves, it was hard for the adult not to step in and point out their mistakes.

Finally, he couldn't hold back any longer. Striding forward purposefully, he decided to teach these rulers a lesson.

Though he knew this might not be wise—rulers were typically arrogant and disliked being treated like children—he didn't care.

Alaric's pursuit of power in new worlds was not driven by politics. For him, power was a means to gain strength and wisdom, and their ultimate purpose was freedom and transcendence. 

Suppressing his own dissatisfaction for the sake of power would be a betrayal of his core principles.

And now, with his strength and influence in Azeroth, he was more than capable of speaking boldly in such a meeting.

Under the watchful eyes of seven rulers, the young mage—clearly lacking the age and prestige to command such an audience—stepped forward and delivered his speech with confidence.

"What are you all hesitating for?" Alaric sneered, his voice sharp. "Afraid of losing your power? Your wealth? Your armies? Will you only act when the enemy is at your doorstep? 

Or are you still doubting the strength of the orcs? I don't think you truly understand the kind of enemy you're facing!"

"Since arriving in Stormwind, I've done my utmost to investigate everything about the orcs—their origins, their history, their society, their warlike nature, and their goals. 

We've sent intelligence to you repeatedly, seeking your help. Yet you've treated it as a trivial matter. So let me emphasize this once more: the orcs are an unprecedented threat. 

Their danger to us far exceeds that of the trolls—no, not the trolls of today, but the Amani Troll Empire from 2,800 years ago."

"That's impossible!" someone exclaimed. The other rulers stared in shock.

No one questioned Alaric's right to speak anymore—his statement was too shocking, diverting all attention.

To the rulers, the greatest crisis in human history had been the Amani Troll Empire. 

Back then, the unified Arathor Kingdom had needed the aid of the high elves of Quel'Thalas to achieve victory.

If the orcs were truly as dangerous as Alaric claimed, could the combined might of the Seven Kingdoms and Quel'Thalas even defeat them?

If Alaric had known their thoughts, the traveler might have laughed and told them:

The Seven Kingdoms and Quel'Thalas alone were certainly not enough to defeat the orcs. 

Historically, the Alliance also needed the strength of the Wildhammer dwarves, the Bronzebeard dwarves, and the gnomes to prevail.

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