Heart

The current situation seemed to be stuck in an unsolvable vicious circle, a real Catch-22. Alleria was utterly powerless to stop the Sun King and the Silvermoon Council from committing political suicide. And because the elves' top brass were playing hard to get, the Alliance couldn't lift a finger to help, even if they wanted to.

Likewise, no matter how good Duke was at fighting, he couldn't single-handedly take down more than fifty thousand elite orcs. Moreover, Alleria had stumbled upon another delightful little detail – it seemed that Gul'dan, the Horde's most powerful warlock, a dark sorcerer who could practically beat the stuffing out of the strongest human mage, 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 – a complete waste of a perfectly good archmage.

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 fell into the deepest pits of despair.

"Sister! Let's go!" Sylvanas declared, her voice sharp as a freshly honed 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 his 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 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 can get through this Quel'Thalas mess, there won't be another Sylvanas dying in Silvermoon City, and there won'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!"

The king's speech is often a form of high art, a delicate dance of words where what's not said speaks volumes. Some things, after all, simply cannot be uttered directly, not even by a king.

Anyway, after hearing Llane's perfectly ambiguous words, Duke understood, Alleria understood, and even the gruff Seamus understood. Seeing Seamus silently, almost conspiratorially, instructing the dwarves to urgently forge twenty thousand 'private soldier' badges for Duke, Alleria found her hand, at some point, resting gently on the back of Duke's left hand.

She knew, deep down, that Duke had already pulled every string, twisted every arm, and called in every favor to the absolute limit. Everyone knew that in the entire Stormwind, the most capable forces were the Royal Knights, directly under the legendary Lothar, and the formidable Griffin Legion of Seamus. The former were skilled, but their numbers were smaller than a gnome's patience. The latter, however, was the real backbone, the true main force of Stormwind.

After repeated expansions, the Griffin Legion had swelled into a super-sized fighting machine of twenty thousand seasoned warriors. Its core was still the battle-hardened veterans who had retreated all the way from the Redridge Mountains to the very gates of Stormwind City. These grizzled, battle-scarred warriors were the very foundation for the restoration of Stormwind, the cream of the crop, the best of the best.

Now, with just one subtle request from Duke, King Llane had given him the green light to essentially 'borrow' some fake private soldiers. Moreover, thirty thousand people was the maximum number that a Grand Duke could legally mobilize.

No violation was always better than a violation. Perhaps it could be explained away as a strategic necessity, a wartime exigency, but no one could ignore the colossal risks involved and the almost unbearable emotional bond that was being forged. Just think about it for a second: it was utterly unthinkable to ask a friend to gamble the future of a kingdom of a million people just to save tens of thousands of his compatriots.

Since ancient times, loyalty and righteousness had been as elusive as a sober dwarf. According to Duke's own grim assessment, merely accompanying her to die in battle was already fulfilling his end of the friendship. Bringing along thirty thousand elite soldiers could only mean one thing: Alleria had already surpassed the definition of a 'friend' in Duke's heart. She was something more, something deeper.

At some point, the room seemed to clear out, leaving only Alleria and Duke. Suddenly realizing that her hand was still resting on the back of Duke's left hand, Alleria felt a flush creep up her neck. She was awkward, not knowing whether to pull her hand back or not. After hesitating for two agonizing seconds, Alleria finally, slowly, pulled her hand back.

Who knew that at that exact moment, Duke reached back and, with surprising speed, grabbed her hand. In a round of reactions, Alleria could usually beat Duke by a country mile. A top-level ranger, after all, had at least a hundred ways to avoid being caught by a mage in close combat. Alleria's hand being caught proved only one thing: she didn't want to hurt Duke's feelings.

"I..." The former big devil, the fierce Ranger-General, now looked like a panicked little white rabbit caught in a snare.

Duke grabbed her hand with his left hand, and then, with his right arm, he smoothly wrapped it around Alleria's waist. People are like that sometimes. If it happens once, it's easy to do it again. After being hugged by the drunk Duke once before, Alleria hesitated again, and in that split second, she lost the opportunity to resist.

Alleria's waist was incredibly soft, with a sense of lithe flexibility that came from being exceptionally well-trained. In terms of touch, it was truly comparable to Sylvanas's. Perhaps it was because Alleria's figure was a little more... plump in all the right places, so it felt even better to hold her. It was the kind of comfortable feeling that made your hands melt when you held her, even though she was clearly as fit as a fiddle.

Realizing that Duke was about to lay all his cards on the table, Alleria took two quick, deep, almost gasping breaths.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I'm not ready yet. If a high elf wants to marry a human, it means she has to be prepared to face endless loneliness after a hundred years. I... I... I'm not mentally prepared yet."

When Duke heard this, he burst into laughter, a deep, hearty sound. He took her concerns completely for granted. The high elves claimed to be immortal, but in reality, they weren't.

Ten thousand years before the war between humans and orcs broke out, the world of Azeroth was just one colossal landmass surrounded by endless oceans – Kalimdor. Many different races and creatures scraped by on this land, struggling against the harsh natural environment. In the very heart of this dark continent lay a lake brimming with mysterious energy. This lake was called the Well of Eternity, the very source of magic and natural energy for the entire world. While drawing energy from the endless darkness outside this world, the Well of Eternity continuously released energy to the entire world, providing nourishment for all kinds of creatures.

This cosmic power, of course, attracted the attention of the demon king Sargeras, leading to the devastating invasion of the Burning Legion ten thousand years ago. Later, due to the cataclysmic aftermath of this war, a series of magical reactions interfered with the energy of the well water, causing a colossal explosion, triggering a catastrophe that was later dubbed the Earth-shattering Disaster. The entire Kalimdor continent was ripped apart into several pieces, mainly Kalimdor in the west, the Eastern Kingdoms in the east, Northrend in the north, and Pandaria in the south. The original location of the well water collapsed into an endless, swirling whirlpool. This tragic conflict was forever known as the War of the Ancients.

Because of Illidan's monumental selfishness, he squirreled away a small vial of water from the Well of Eternity and, like a mad scientist, artificially created another Well of Eternity. As long as this new Well of Eternity existed, the Burning Legion would never give up their twisted dream of conquering Azeroth. To protect this vital new Well of Eternity, the three mighty dragon aspects – the red dragon Alexstrasza, the green dragon Ysera, and the bronze dragon Nozdormu – joined forces to bless it.

The giant oak tree planted by the red dragon queen Alexstrasza, a tree that could heal the very scars of the earth, later grew into the majestic World Tree Nordrassil. The Lord of Time, the Bronze Dragon King Nozdormu, cast a powerful spell on the World Tree: as long as the World Tree existed, the night elves would never age or fall ill. This was the true source of the elves' supposed immortality.

In fact, after being exiled by the night elves, the high elves lost their direct connection to this immortality. But for humans, the lifespan of elves was still astronomically long. Duke understood Alleria's concerns perfectly, and he couldn't exactly tell her that the legend of the elves' immortality would be ruthlessly shattered in the very near future.

Of course, he had another trick up his sleeve, another way to comfort Alleria and absolutely demolish her defenses.

Duke, with a flourish, produced his bird head. Hold on, hold on! Get your minds out of the gutter, you scoundrels! Those of you thinking dirty thoughts should go stand in the corner and face the wall! This was merely the head of the legendary artifact staff Atiesh, which, by sheer coincidence, happened to be shaped like a wooden bird head.

"Is this... Atiesh's?" Alleria breathed, feeling the powerful magical fluctuations emanating from it. She could fully imagine how astonishing the power of this staff would be once it was complete.

"The previous guardian, Aegwynn, lived to be over eight hundred years old, you know..." Duke mused, seemingly talking nonsense, but in reality, he was subtly reminding Alleria that since he had inherited Medivh's legacy, there were indeed other, arcane ways for him to achieve a lifespan that bordered on immortality.

Alleria's face turned a brilliant, incandescent red, like a sunset over the Ghostlands. If she had refused to drop her defenses before because of the lifespan disparity, then now, given that both of them had the potential for almost infinite lifespans, all the carefully constructed emotional obstacles she had erected crumbled into dust.

"No, I, that... Actually..." Alleria was completely flustered, her mind a tangled mess. Facing Duke's gradually approaching face, she was utterly at a loss, her brain cells doing a frantic dance.

Duke leaned in and gave her a gentle kiss on her smooth forehead, his eyes locking with Alleria's emerald green gaze. He smiled unrestrainedly, a triumphant, knowing grin. "I know you're thinking about your compatriots right now, and you have no time to be distracted. But after all this is over..."

Alleria, flustered beyond words, bolted. She ran away like the wind, a blur of red and gold, leaving Duke smiling serenely.

Duke whispered softly to the empty air, "We'll bang, okay?"