Deal

The current situation felt like a Gordian knot tied by a particularly malicious imp, a vicious circle tighter than a dwarven vault door. Alleria, despite her raw desperation, was utterly powerless to stop the Sun King and the Silvermoon Council from marching straight off a cliff. Because the elves' top brass were as stubborn as a mule with a toothache, the Alliance couldn't lift a finger to help, even if their lives depended on it.

Likewise, no matter how many orcs Duke could personally send to the Shadowlands, he couldn't single-handedly take down over fifty thousand elite greenskins. And to pile insult upon injury, Alleria had discovered another delightful wrinkle: it seemed Gul'dan, the Horde's most nefarious warlock, a dark sorcerer who could literally wipe the floor with even the mighty Archmage Antonidas, and his shadowy cronies were riding red dragons, catching up to Orgrim's war band. Sending Duke, a mere archmage by comparison, against that would be like bringing a butter knife to a dragon fight – utterly pointless, and a surefire way to get him turned into a greasy smear.

And even if Duke, in a fit of suicidal heroism, wanted to go, he'd be met with a brick wall of opposition from every single general in Stormwind. They weren't about to let their golden goose fly into a dragon's maw. At this moment, Alleria hit rock bottom, despair washing over her like a tidal wave.

"Sister! Let's go!" Sylvanas declared, her voice sharp as a freshly forged arrow, gripping Alleria's hand with fierce determination. "Since these humans are unwilling to budge, we'll just have to go back and face the music on our own!"

Alleria cast one last, pleading look at Duke, her eyes wide and brimming with desperate hope, like a starving puppy begging for a scrap.

Duke took a deep, theatrical breath, then dropped the bombshell. "Actually..." he began, his voice low, "there is one last way."

The moment Duke uttered those words, the entire room went silent. You could have heard a pin drop in a feather factory. Every pair of eyes in the room, from the generals to the maids, was glued to Duke, every heart temporarily stopped beating, every breath held. The tension was so thick, you could cut it with a dull butter knife.

"Spit it out!" Alleria practically shrieked, a flicker of instinctive excitement, a desperate spark of hope, igniting in her eyes.

"Alleria Windrunner," Duke said, his voice grave, "are you willing to become a patriotic traitor?"

"A patriotic... traitor?" Both Alleria and the others blinked, utterly flummoxed by Duke's bizarre phrasing. It was like he'd just spoken in Goblin.

Duke leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Even for a great lord, inviting foreign troops into his country privately is a crime of treason, a one-way ticket to the gallows. But you, Alleria, you can be a traitor for the sake of your patriotism, to save the high elves from themselves. Of course, this will cost you dearly."

"What's the price?" Alleria's eyes lit up like a pair of emeralds, a desperate gambler ready to bet it all.

"I can accept your employment, Alleria Windrunner," Duke stated, his tone surprisingly business-like, "as a wandering duke with all my private soldiers. The problem is, everyone knows I'm not exactly short on coin. So, the price is this: after this battle, you must bring at least one thousand elite members of the Windrunner family, give up your status and identity in Quel'Thalas, and become my vassal, Edmund Duke."

Duke's audacious proposal left everyone in the room in stunned silence, their jaws practically on the floor. Then, a collective lightbulb seemed to go off. The next moment, everyone started furiously calculating, and to their surprise, it actually seemed... feasible.

First off, Duke wasn't a king. His status wasn't so exalted that he couldn't be played. Calling Duke a 'wandering duke' wasn't entirely wrong – Stormwind Kingdom had been utterly flattened! A country without territory wasn't exactly recognized on the world stage. Didn't everyone see how Duke Farrell, after leaving Kul Tiras, was just a glorified pirate captain? Who in their right mind would really recognize him as a duke?

Secondly, even with the 'private soldiers' label, the sheer strength of Duke's forces was nothing short of astonishing. On top of his ten thousand basic 'private soldiers,' Duke also commanded a powerful magician group. And if they wanted to pull the wool over people's eyes, there was plenty of room for creative accounting.

Finally, there was the price. From a legal standpoint, even if Quel'Thalas eventually joined the Alliance, someone would have to take the fall for this little 'unauthorized' intervention. Duke's 'affair' with Alleria was practically an open secret, whispered in every barracks and tavern. The sticky wicket was that if Duke actually wanted to marry Alleria, it would be an absolute nightmare. The union of a duke from another country and a general from Quel'Thalas would require the blessing of the Sun King and the Silvermoon Council. Who knew what kind of hoops Duke and the Windrunner family would have to jump through? Duke, ever the cunning fox, was seizing this golden opportunity to pluck Alleria right out of the political quagmire, effectively killing two birds with one stone. Plus, he'd be getting the strongest elf ranger in all the thousand continents!

It was precisely because of this audacious condition that Duke's 'deal' wouldn't look like a total loss in the eyes of the other nobles. Otherwise, they'd just think Duke was an idiot, and if the Sun King ever decided to launch an investigation, no one, save for Stormwind, would lift a finger to protect Duke.

At this point, Alleria was caught in an infinite loop of internal torment. A patriotic traitor, saving the lives of tens of thousands of her compatriots. Alleria's conscience, a roaring torrent, and her deep affection for Duke, a powerful undercurrent, swept away both reason and emotion in one fell swoop. "Duke," she managed, her voice strained, "I can personally agree to your request. But I cannot give a definite answer on behalf of the rangers of the Windrunner family."

"No! One thousand rangers, not one less! This is a matter of attitude!" To Duke's utter astonishment, it was Ilucia, usually so demure, who chimed in, bargaining fiercely on his behalf.

Duke's brain hit a momentary snag, like a carriage wheel stuck in mud. He was stunned.

But even bigger surprises were yet to come.

"I know my brothers and sisters," Sylvanas interrupted, her voice cutting through the tension. "There's no way a thousand Windrunner rangers would be willing to abandon their homeland. Three hundred people? That's the absolute limit."

Ilucia looked genuinely anxious. "We can't accept such conditions!"

"Of course, this is unfair," Alleria conceded, her eyes fixed on Duke. "However, as long as you can protect the evacuation of more than twenty thousand civilians in Eversong Forest to Silvermoon City this time, Duke, I am willing to give up my position in Quel'Thalas and become your vassal, alongside my sister."

Duke's brain completely froze for a full second, then rebooted with a joyful PING!

Surprise! Oh, it was definitely a pleasant surprise! Duke had never, in his wildest dreams, imagined he could snag such a colossal benefit by simply letting the Horde attack Quel'Thalas. These weren't just any elves; these were Alleria and Sylvanas! The eldest and second eldest of the legendary Windrunner family! The two strongest rangers in the entire world! In terms of raw power, even their third sister, Vereesa, still had a significant gap to bridge compared to them.

Not to mention their future, their original history! One was a celebrated hero with a statue towering in King's Valley in Stormwind, the other, a queen who would one day call the shots in the Horde, even becoming its Warchief in the distant future!

Holy Light, I've hit the jackpot! Duke thought, his internal monologue practically a victory shout. If there weren't so many people watching, Duke would have immediately leaped up and screamed three times: "I've got Alleria and Sylvanas in my clutches!"

At this moment, Duke finally felt a profound sense of pride, a giddy satisfaction in completely derailing and rewriting history. No matter what, as long as they could get through this Quel'Thalas mess, there wouldn't be another Sylvanas dying in Silvermoon City, and there wouldn't be a future Forsaken Queen.

The Forsaken? Duke scoffed internally. Bah! I'm a living man! I couldn't care less how those bone-rattlers kick the bucket!

Originally, Ilucia had been ready to push for even more concessions for Duke, but when she caught sight of the sheer, unadulterated glee in his eyes, she quietly retreated to his side, melting into the shadows behind him. Similarly, Seamus and Windsor, who hadn't been thrilled about their boss playing mercenary, sighed deeply when they saw Duke's triumphant expression.

Well, they seemed to think in unison, I just hope helping the elves this time doesn't end up costing us an arm and a leg.

With a clear plan in place, everything became much easier to handle. When Duke magically communicated with King Llane that night, explaining the dire seriousness of the situation, Llane, to Duke and Alleria's surprise, gave them a rather cunning blessing.

"If some Griffin Legion warriors are willing to become your private soldiers, Duke, I can't exactly stop them, can I?" Llane's voice crackled through the arcane connection, a hint of amusement in his tone. "Sometimes, nobles just love to secretly pad the numbers of their private armies. But if the king can't find out, then it's not a violation, is it? However, Duke, remember this: the frontal battlefield will still need the elite of the Griffin Legion in the future!"