Expert

It must be said that as the king of the largest of the seven human kingdoms, Terenas was quite courageous, a man of surprising mettle. He was far from the old fool he would become in later generations, a doddering monarch.

What he said before about marrying Princess Calia to Duke was actually just a free-for-all, a casual offer, a fishing expedition.

Everyone knew that Princess Calia had almost no chance of inheriting the throne, as it was passed down through males and not females, so Arthas was the sure successor, the heir apparent.

The countries surrounding Lordaeron were all wary of Lordaeron swallowing them up, like a hungry leviathan, so there was little chance for their princes to marry Calia. It was a political hot potato.

Who Calia married was based solely on who could bring the most benefit to Lordaeron, a cold, calculated decision.

Previously, Terenas and a group of Lordaeron nobles had their eyes on Karazhan in Duke's hands, a magical fortress of immense power. Unfortunately, Duke refused to take the bait and was fascinated by Alleria, a distraction that suited him just fine. Now Terenas simply stopped talking about Calia, moving on to bigger fish.

He directly threw out more important conditions, a far more enticing offer.

To be honest, if Duke hadn't known that Lordaeron would most likely be killed, a grim fate awaiting them, he might have really obeyed, might have taken the bait.

Now, however, they should deal with the Horde first. If they didn't defeat the orcs, all the fiefdoms and status were fake, mere illusions.

The other three kings were naturally not as wealthy as Terenas, not rolling in gold. Of course, Duke saved their lives after all, so they naturally behaved themselves and said that they would send gifts of thanks when they returned home, a polite, if somewhat meager, gesture.

"Hehe! That's more like it. Otherwise, I swear on my narrow-mindedness that if anyone dares to be ungrateful, I will immediately make things difficult for your army in the name of the deputy commander-in-chief of the Alliance. Then you can cry yourself to sleep, you ungrateful wretches." Duke smiled proudly in his heart, a mischievous, triumphant grin.

King Thoras Trollbane, ever the blunt one, asked the question everyone wanted to know: "Deputy Commander, er, can I call you Duke?"

"Of course, Lord Thoras," Duke smiled, his expression amiable.

"You just didn't..." Thoras began, his voice trailing off, unsure how to phrase it.

"Killed?" Duke took the initiative to interject, a twinkle in his eye. If he had just now, he might not be able to explain why he was resurrected from the dead, and why there was a cemetery next to the headquarters, and it would only take a moment to run to the corpse. But now...

The mind moved and the arcane circuit turned.

Suddenly, three Dukes with identical appearance and clothes appeared in front of the four kings, shimmering into existence. Not only were they identical, but the kings were surprised to find that the three Dukes were actually doing different things. One was pointing at the map in a serious manner, one was whistling a jaunty tune, and one was taking a cup of hot black tea brought by the waiter and taking a sip of it comfortably, a picture of serene contentment.

"Reginald, give me your sword."

Windsor had a general idea of what Duke was up to, a mischievous glint in his eye, so he drew his sword and handed it to the Duke who was speaking.

The next second, the Duke chopped down the other two Dukes with two swift swipes of his sword. Not only was there blood all over the ground, but there were also shrill screams, echoing through the headquarters.

King Aiden was so frightened that he became paralyzed again, a quivering mess.

Then, everyone's eyes flashed, and the two Dukes disappeared into a stream of light, dissolving into nothingness.

Duke chuckled: "Sorry to scare you all. This is an advanced version of the mage's Mirror Image. I call it True Mirror Image. Pretty neat, huh?"

"Oh, I see!" Everyone applauded Duke's superb magic skills, a round of enthusiastic clapping.

So, just like that, Duke got away with it... pulling the wool over their eyes with a magical sleight of hand.

Duke doesn't need to do things like cleaning up the battlefield. He was above that.

As the commander-in-chief of the entire battle, Duke had done a lot. When he returned to his house to rest, every soldier and general along the way, regardless of nationality, showed awe to Duke, their eyes wide with respect.

To be honest, Duke had spent a lot of effort to trick the Horde, playing them like a fiddle. Now, Duke just wanted to go back to his house and have a good sleep, to crash for a week.

At this moment, Duke suddenly noticed that in the system panel, the status bar about Alleria was marked with the words "minor injury".

"The great devil Alleria is actually injured?" Duke's heart ached for no reason, a strange pang of concern.

Alleria and Queen Sylvanas, even if they couldn't defeat Howler, they should be pretty close, a near-even match.

Maybe it's because of the terrain, he mused.

Duke felt a little guilty. He had sent them into a meat grinder.

Gavinrad was stunned when he found that Duke had changed direction: "Where are you going, my lord? The other way is home!"

"I'm going to the elf station," Duke replied, his voice firm.

When Duke arrived, he saw elves lying on the ground resting, exhausted. The elf archers were tired after the continuous battles, their bodies aching.

In less than two seconds, the elusive Sylvanas appeared, materializing from the shadows.

She tilted her head, blinked, and suddenly sighed: "Sorry, I was careless this time. But next time, I will definitely return the favor to you, sister. He won't know what hit him."

After saying that, she disappeared on her own, a wisp of smoke.

"Sylvanas...is really a bit willful!" Duke sighed in his heart, shaking his head.

As Duke walked further inside, he ran into Archbishop Benedict of Stormwind.

"Your Excellency, she..." Duke began, gesturing vaguely towards Alleria's resting place.

Benedict smiled kindly, a gentle, reassuring expression. "It's nothing serious, my boy, but that kind of strain is not the domain of Holy Light. Perhaps Ms. Windrunner will need to rest for a while. She's pushed herself to the limit."

The archbishop left, and Gavinrad whistled, a low, knowing sound: "My lord, I understand. I'll wait here. Don't worry about a thing."

At heart, Gavinrad was still that young man of noble birth, a bit of a romantic. Perhaps because of this, his faith was not devout enough, and as a paladin he was always outshined by the four powerful men chosen by Faol. He was a good man, but not a shining star.

Duke did not argue, after all, it was true that he had a crush on Alleria. He couldn't deny it.

Taking a deep breath, Duke walked to the deepest part of the woods, where the air was thick with the scent of pine.

Duke thought Alleria would build a tree house or something, a cozy elven retreat, but all he saw was a simple fishing net hammock. Alleria was lying on it, covering her eyes with her right hand, swaying gently from side to side, a picture of weary grace.

"I'm sorry, little Duke. I made you laugh. I thought we could easily take care of our opponent. But with both of us sisters working together, we could only hold him back. He was a tough nut to crack."

"You sisters did a great job," Duke said, his voice gentle. "He's Grom Hellscream. One of the strongest men in the Horde, he can take down three Kul Tiran fleets by himself if given enough time. You held your own against a legend."

"Ah," Alleria sighed, a hint of frustration in her voice, "I want to say I feel better, but failure is failure. It's too ugly. I hate losing."

"You're hurt," Duke said calmly, stating the obvious.

"I'm fine," Alleria retorted, her voice sharp, a defensive edge to it.

"Then why don't you get down on the ground and do two jumps with your legs for me to see?" Duke teased, a playful smirk on his face. "Prove it."

"Little guy, are you looking for a fight?!" Alleria's eyes snapped open, a flash of anger in their depths. She was not amused.

"There are no outsiders here, you don't have to hide your injuries from me," Duke said, his voice softening, a hint of genuine concern.

"You... when did you become my... so familiar with me!?" Alleria's face suddenly turned red, a blush spreading across her cheeks. She was flustered.

"Just because you've been to jail for me?" Duke ignored her, walking up to her, and reaching out his hand towards Alleria's leg, his fingers hovering.

"Wait, what are you doing?!" Alleria drew out her longbow like lightning, its string humming, and immediately blocked Duke's hand, holding it at bay.

"I'm an expert on bruises," Duke said, a hint of exasperation in his voice. "If I take care of them, I can get you back to health in a week. Or do you want to limp along for three months, like a wounded duck?"

Alleria thought about it. Three months as a cripple? Damn it, she's a Windrunner! It would be better to kill her. The thought was unbearable.

Alleria finally nodded, a reluctant acceptance: "Okay. But don't lie to me! Don't you dare!"