Sky

King Daelin's laughter boomed through the command post, shaking the very rafters.

On the precipice of war, this was a godsend. Everyone knew the Horde packed a punch, and the suffocating gloom in the headquarters had infected even the mid-level commanders. The Horde's tactical curveball had cost the Alliance, already on the back foot, a good 30% of its morale before a single blade was even drawn.

Little did they know, the infamous Battle of Hillsbrad on the western coast did happen in history, and the Alliance would pay an arm and a leg for that victory.

"Hahaha! I'll show those damn greenskins what the sea wolves of Kul Tiras are made of!" Admiral Daelin Proudmoore roared, his chest puffed out like a proud rooster. He was so giddy, he kept slapping Duke's shoulders. "Hey, Duke, you really don't wanna give my Jaina a second look? She's only three years your junior, perfect marrying age in a few short years!"

"Puff!" Duke flinched, instinctively retracting his neck as if he'd just sensed Alleria's murderous aura. "No, no, no, thank you kindly, but I'm not exactly eyeing the matrimonial noose just yet."

In reality… Alleria hadn't so much as twitched an ear. But Duke's guilty-dog demeanor made everyone in the room jump to conclusions, convinced he and Alleria were definitely carrying on a torrid affair.

Alleria was absolutely seeing red!

If this weren't the Alliance headquarters, if Sylvanas hadn't stealthily yanked her back by her sash, the she-devil herself might have gone full berserker. Yet, Alleria could only plaster on an elegant, dignified smile, as if she were at an opera, and gaze serenely past the gaping crowd toward the window.

Ah! The sky! So perfectly, innocently blue!

Alleria felt like a complete idiot!

It was all that little bastard's fault!

Behind Alleria, the second Windrunner sister, Sylvanas, covered her mouth, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

"Alright, gentlemen." Lothar clapped his hands together, the sound sharp enough to cut through the tension and reclaim everyone's attention. "Thanks to the absolutely brilliant idea from our very own Deputy Commander, Mr. Edmund, we're doing a battle plan overhaul. Everyone's seen the Southshore 'defense line.' I don't think we need to throw our entire force into defending Southshore. We can free up a substantial mobile strike force to keep the Horde from getting any bright ideas about hitting the western coast for real…"

The military meeting churned on.

Southshore, half a day later, in the humid, stinking chieftain's tent of the Wetland Tribe camp, the Horde's supreme leader, Orgrim Doomhammer, received a piece of news that hit him like a thunderbolt – those Alliance punks had fortified the entire coastline!

"What's the big deal? As long as there's enough room to deploy our battle lines, weak humans are useless," sneered Rend Blackhand, the oafish son of the late chieftain Blackhand. He and his brother Maim clung to the belief that Orgrim had played a dirty trick to off their father and usurp the chieftain's throne. "Great Chief, if you're getting cold feet, you can let me, Red Blackhand, lead the vanguard!"

Orgrim wanted nothing more than to stomp these two irritants into the dirt.

Unfortunately, he couldn't. After the Battle of Stormwind, too many of the Blackrock Clan's elites had been burned to a crisp. If he moved against Blackhand's sons now, it would undoubtedly shatter the already weakened Blackrock Clan, stripping him of control over the entire Horde.

The wily Orgrim swallowed his rage.

"That's enough, Rend! Humans have become sly as foxes. The age where one Orc warrior could flatten ten human warriors is long gone. Even if you don't want to admit it, you have to concede that humans fight like cornered beasts when they're dug in behind bunkers. I'm not about to waste the lives of tribal warriors on a whim."

"Want my Warsong clan to go first, then?" Grom Hellscream strode forward, his legendary axe, Gorehowl, slung casually over his shoulder.

"Captain, do you think those bunkers are just a smokescreen?" At that moment, an unwelcome shadow fell over the tent – the warlock Gul'dan.

Orgrim's face twisted with undisguised disgust. He hadn't killed Gul'dan, not yet. After purging 70% of the Shadow Council warlocks, Orgrim's personal guards had corralled the remaining few, along with a recently reawakened Gul'dan.

If Orgrim hadn't desperately needed Gul'dan's warlocks to counter the Alliance's mages, and if Gul'dan hadn't offered those damn monsters when the Horde was starving for new troops, Orgrim would have surely crushed the life out of him.

Gul'dan's power had waned after his awakening. He'd tried to pull a fast one during Medivh's death, sneaking his soul into Medivh's mind to steal secrets. But Duke had blindsided Medivh with a sword through the chest, royally screwing Gul'dan in the process. He'd lost half his soul for that stunt.

Upon waking, Gul'dan had groveled and submitted to Orgrim, desperate to save his own hide.

Even though Orgrim detested Gul'dan, the venomous snake who'd murdered his friend Durotan, he had to admit that among these chiefs whose brains were mostly muscle, only Gul'dan could offer any semblance of wisdom.

"I suspect they're fake, but I'm not certain," Orgrim admitted. "Humans now have a knack for building a solid fortress in the blink of an eye. I saw it with my own two eyes. There was nothing there three days ago. Three days later, a fortress stood that even a catapult couldn't crumble in a week."

Clearly, Duke's cement had thrown a wrench into Orgrim's calculations.

Such was the undeniable power of the man from another world.

"Hehe!" Gul'dan cackled, a chilling sound. "We'll know after a test drive. I can have one of my warlocks tag along with your scout ship."

"Good!" Orgrim grunted.

Back in Southshore, Duke was getting played.

During a reconnaissance trip to the farthest reaches of the western coast, Alleria seemed to have spiked Duke's horse with something. The beast acted like it had entered its rutting season, prancing and gyrating around Alleria's mount the entire journey. Duke's bones felt like they'd been rattled loose.

Then, as they climbed a hill, Alleria decided to mess with Duke again.

"Oh, I see!"

"Is this where my ranger troops will be stationed?"

On paper, it sounded perfectly innocent, but anyone subjected to Alleria's constant, whisper-quiet appearances would be on the verge of a mental breakdown. It was like being haunted by a mischievous ghost.

Though, honestly, it wasn't surprising. In the time since Alleria's arrival, Duke had truly come to appreciate just how swiftly and silently Alleria could pop in and out of existence.

Alleria delighted in suddenly materializing next to Duke when he least expected it, whispering into his ear. It seemed intimate, but its true purpose was to scare him witless. And the wicked gleam in her eyes suggested the big devil was enjoying every second of it.

At first, Gavinrad had tried his darnedest to put a stop to this. But first, Duke wouldn't let him drive Alleria away. Second, speed wasn't exactly a Paladin's strong suit. Third, he was utterly powerless to prevent it. In the end, Gavinrad usually just stood there, shining brightly like a very uncomfortable light bulb.