Lordaeron

On the colossal ice sheet, a mighty chorus erupted, echoing across the moonlit waters.

"With the glory of Emperor Thoradin, we charged to the south, and planted the blue lion flag on the Valley of the Kings! It is the symbol of mankind's great heritage... We entrusted our fate to you, the golden lion flag... Ah, golden lion, you are the symbol of dignity and nobility, you are the knight of honor... Ah, Stormwind City, you are the fortress of pioneers, the bridgehead of human civilization, no matter what the enemy is, you can defeat it..."

This stirring anthem, once just a forgotten ditty from a thousand years past, had become a staple of Stormwind's military, belted out during every drill. But now, sung by soldiers who had just lost their home, it resonated with a raw, heartbreaking pathos. For every Stormwind warrior, it was a solemn vow: only when they truly reclaimed their city, and liberated every inch of Elwynn Forest, could they truly be worthy of this song!

After more than half a year of hell, it had been a bitter pill to swallow, every step a struggle. The warriors of Stormwind Kingdom had watered every inch of land, from the jagged peaks of the Redridge Mountains to the verdant expanse of Elwynn Forest, and finally to the very cobblestones of Stormwind City, with their blood, sweat, and tears.

Some had lost their cozy homes and fertile fields, others had bid farewell to comrades they'd shared a thousand battles with, still others had seen their wives and children vanish into the maw of war. And the cherry on top of this bitter sundae? They'd lost their capital, now reduced to cinders. From this day forward, they were, in the eyes of the world, nothing but a band of stray dogs.

Yet, despite the orcs' overwhelming might, their spirits remained unbroken. Not a single soul was ready to throw in the towel.

Because they had a magnificent King Llane, who had stuck with them through thick and thin, evacuating alongside his people.

They had a brilliant commander, Anduin Lothar, who, like a seasoned shepherd, encouraged and guided them every step of the way.

And they had a miracle-working hero, Duke, who wielded unpredictable powers, conjuring one jaw-dropping feat after another.

Tonight, all their suffering had, for the moment, come to a screeching halt. From the moment the next dawn broke, they held a fierce, unshakeable belief that under the leadership of these titans, they would eventually win the war against the orcs, come hell or high water!

"Sir Edmund! Thank you!"

"You're our saving grace, our last hope—"

"Thanks to you, I can finally hug my wife and kids again!"

As the fiery glow of Stormwind City dwindled to a distant ember on the horizon, the soldiers erupted in a cacophony of excited shouts, a primal roar of having cheated death. The farther they drifted from the burning inferno of their home, the more their excitement swelled, their voices growing louder and more fervent.

If the sound at first was merely the gentle trickle of a mountain spring, by the end, it had transformed into the surging roar of a hurricane-whipped ocean, wave after wave of sound crashing over them.

Duke, Llane, Anduin, Bolvar, and the other Stormwind brass stood shoulder to shoulder at the very front of the ice ship. In that moment, they truly understood what it meant to be hit by a human tsunami. When 50,000 battle-hardened souls crammed together, raising and lowering their swords in a thunderous cheer and salute, the sheer, visceral impact of it was a sight that would be etched into their memories until their dying day!

This wasn't some staged military parade, no pretentious show for the cameras. This was a heartfelt, gut-wrenching thank you from the depths of their souls.

King Llane, a twinkle in his eye, chuckled. "Duke, why don't you whip up a little platform for yourself? The lads deserve to see their hero!"

Duke, caught a little off guard, felt a flush creep up his neck. "Your Majesty, isn't this a bit… over the top?" He was a wizard, not a circus act!

Llane merely smiled, patting the massive block of ice that encased Blackhand's head, then gestured towards the enormous tribal flag. "These two trophies are all the glory I need, my friend. Besides, I've never been one to fret about a true hero's reputation eclipsing my own. You know, I've never been the most popular kid on the block when it comes to military renown."

Llane, ever the magnanimous king, was truly a class act.

Anduin, with a playful nudge, chimed in. "Come on, young man, Llane's about to work you like a dog. If you don't collect some interest now, you'll be kicking yourself for a long time!"

Bolvar, a rare smile gracing his usually stern features, nodded in agreement, giving Duke the green light.

Duke hesitated no longer. With a subtle surge of magic, a massive ice prism erupted from beneath his feet, lifting him smoothly into the air.

Seeing Duke's robed figure ascend, a colossal wave of cheers surged skyward. As if on cue, the oppressive dark clouds above parted, and a serene moonlight bathed the ice in a soft, ethereal glow. It was as if the moon itself, drawn by the thunderous ovation, had poked its head out for a peek!

"Long live Edmund Duke—!"

"Long live the great Storm Guardian—!"

It was no exaggeration to say that Duke's blood was absolutely pumping at that moment! Suddenly, every late night, every frantic spell, every ounce of effort felt completely, utterly worth it.

Just then, a familiar voice echoed in his mind, the system prompt.

"Congratulations, host. Your reputation in Stormwind will remain at 'Worship' forever. Even if you lose all your moral integrity in the future, the people of Stormwind will still believe in you unconditionally. In that case, your moral integrity will be regarded as 'hypocrisy'."

"Hypocritical state?" Duke blinked. "What in the name of the Light is that supposed to mean?"

But he didn't have time to ponder the bizarre implications. After soaking in three waves of thunderous cheers from the soldiers, Duke gracefully descended.

Anduin, ever the pragmatist, then asked, "So, what's the game plan, Duke? Are your murlocs just going to drag us all the way to Southshore?"

Duke let out a hearty laugh. "Not a chance! Keeping this behemoth of an ice ship intact is a full-time job as it is, and the deep sea waves would turn it into an ice cube tray. Plus, it's summer, remember? This ice would melt faster than a goblin's promise in a heat wave."

Bolvar's face, already grim, tightened further. "Blast it all! We're practically out of food and fresh water. If this ice melts, then..." Bolvar's mind conjured a horrifying image of thousands of armored soldiers sinking like stones into the unforgiving depths.

Duke, ever calm, unrolled a simple sea map and pointed to a small island directly opposite Stormwind City. "Our destination is right here."

The next morning, the ice ship arrived at its unlikely haven. It was a modest island, barely five square kilometers, its most distinguishing feature a freshwater spring. Sea merchants plying the trade routes between Stormwind City and Kul Tiras knew this nameless speck of land well. When their water barrels ran dry, this was their go-to pit stop.

And now, waiting for them, was enough bread to feed 50,000 hungry souls for half a month.

As their boots finally touched solid ground, the soldiers erupted into another wave of cheers, a collective roar of profound relief.

Duke shrugged, a picture of nonchalance. "Alright, folks, next step is to cool our heels and wait for the fleet to ferry us to Southshore."

Under the meager shade of a few scraggly trees, Stormwind's high command gathered, their faces etched with the weight of their kingdom's uncertain future.

"I'm heading to Lordaeron," Llane declared, his voice firm, speaking a truth he'd long held close to his heart. "I intend to unite all the human kingdoms, along with the dwarves and high elves, to forge a grand Alliance. We'll fight this orcish invasion tooth and nail, or we'll die trying."

Lordaeron, nestled in the northeast of the Eastern Kingdoms, was the proud heartland of the Kingdom of Lordaeron. Indeed, at this point in history, it was the undisputed heavyweight champion of the seven human kingdoms. Rich as Croesus, Lordaeron boasted the most expansive farmlands and supported the largest population among all the kingdoms. There was an old saying, "I'd rather be a baron in Lordaeron than an earl in Stromgarde," a sentiment that perfectly captured the sheer wealth and influence of the land.

"Then I'll stay put in Southshore and whip the troops into shape?" Anduin suggested, ever the military man.

"No, you're riding shotgun with His Majesty to Lordaeron," Duke interjected, shooting down Lothar's proposal with the finality of a judge's gavel.