Stormwind Wizard God
Chapter 670: The Uneasy Alliance

Chapter 670 - The Uneasy Alliance

What struck observers as truly remarkable was the unprecedented restraint displayed by both Duke and Thrall - neither leader permitted their forces to engage the other's scouts or civilian populations. Time and again, wolf cavalry and human riders would lock eyes across contested terrain, share a moment of mutual acknowledgment, then tactfully disengage with one group heading west while the other veered east. It was perhaps the most civilized potential massacre in recorded military history.

Every passing day, every ticking hour, every fleeting moment brought Thrall closer to a complete nervous breakdown. The young Warchief felt as though he were performing an elaborate dance across a frozen lake that could crack beneath his feet at any instant.

During these tension-filled days, Thrall refused to allow Doomhammer to stray more than a single meter from his side, clutching the legendary weapon with the desperation of a drowning sailor gripping driftwood.

"Calm yourself, Thrall. You'll never make it to Grimdor if you maintain this level of anxiety," Grom Hellscream advised with the casual confidence of a warrior who had survived countless battles through sheer bloodthirsty determination.

"I understand the logic perfectly, but neither Duke - whose reputation for tactical brilliance borders on the supernatural - nor that abomination Arthas, who makes my skin crawl just thinking about him, represent enemies our current Horde could hope to defeat. Excessive caution isn't paranoia when facing opponents of their caliber." Thrall's bloodshot eyes swept the horizon as he spread his hands in a gesture of helpless frustration.

"Duke won't attack us," Grom declared with unwavering certainty, Gorehowl slung across his massive shoulders radiating quiet menace.

"How can you possibly be certain of that?" Thrall demanded, his voice cracking with the strain of command.

"Call it the battle-honed intuition of a veteran warrior," Grom replied, thumping his barrel chest with his left thumb in a display of cocky self-assurance.

Thrall's eye twitched with barely suppressed rage at this infuriatingly casual response.

"Don't dismiss my instincts so readily, young Warchief. I've walked this world for fifteen brutal years, observing every variety of human that exists. Honorable ones, resolute ones, treacherous ones, utterly vile ones... but Edmund Duke represents something entirely unique among their species." Grom's gaze grew distant as his thoughts drifted back through decades of warfare and bloodshed.

"Explain."

"Because he possesses more prophetic insight than actual prophets do. He understands exactly how events will unfold with terrifying precision, and he calculates the necessary countermoves several steps before his opponents even realize they're playing a game. Whether dealing with enemies or allies, every individual serves as merely another piece on his strategic board. And without fail, he chooses the path that delivers maximum victory at minimum cost."

"Grom," Thrall sighed with exasperation.

"Yes?"

"Those aren't words I'd expect from your vocabulary."

Grom shrugged without shame. "Obviously, those were Orgrim's exact words, not mine."

"I suspected as much." Thrall released another weary sigh, unable to suppress his grudging respect for both the former Warchief and their human adversary. "What a terrifying opponent we face. They stand upon mountain peaks surveying the entire battlefield, while we stumble through pitch-black caverns guided only by desperate hope."

While Thrall unknowingly praised Duke's strategic genius, the man himself was drowning in his own anxiety.

At this critical juncture, Duke had absolutely no idea how events would continue to unfold.

The original timeline could serve as excellent kindling for campfires - completely useless for strategic planning. Although Arthas had fulfilled his destiny by murdering his father as history demanded, everything that followed had diverged wildly from the established narrative.

First came the premature assault on Dalaran, followed by Antonidas's transformation into an Archlich and the devastating Second Battle of Dalaran. The latest intelligence reports indicated that Arthas had dispatched Antonidas to command the newly acquired Dalaran Undead Army in an assault against the South Sea city-states, while personally leading the Scourge's primary forces in a direct attack on the Wall of Thoradin.

The most recent update, received barely thirty minutes ago, confirmed that the Wall of Thoradin had fallen.

Arthas had employed Frostmourne's power to create a massive ice ramp, allowing hundreds of thousands of undead to surge directly up the frozen slope onto walls that had previously been considered unscalable. This forced Stromgarde's defenders into open combat without their crucial terrain advantages.

Galen Trollbane had panicked so thoroughly that he immediately recalled all available soldiers to mount a desperate last stand within Stromgarde's walls, while simultaneously dispatching urgent messages to the Alliance begging for readmission to their ranks.

Mograine and the other surviving Lordaeron generals greeted this political flip-flopping with undisguised contempt. Mograine made no effort to conceal his disdain for Galen's opportunism: "How magnificent! You abandoned the Alliance when membership offered no immediate benefits, and now that your homeland faces annihilation, you suddenly remember the value of Alliance protection?"

Duke harbored equally intense contempt and loathing for Galen's character. Knowing full well that Galen would eventually commit patricide, Duke had zero intention of welcoming Stromgarde back into the Alliance fold.

Until concrete evidence of Galen's future betrayal surfaced, allowing him to remain king while readmitting Stromgarde to the Alliance would be equivalent to deliberately placing a venomous serpent inside one's own undergarments.

Duke refused to commit such spectacular tactical suicide.

He would emerge to salvage the situation only after Stromgarde fell completely or Galen met his inevitable demise.

The South Sea city-states' defensive perimeter remained reassuringly solid.

The dwarven clans had proven themselves humanity's most steadfast allies throughout this crisis. Upon receiving Duke's magical communications confirming his survival and strategic assessment, Kurdran Wildhammer had demonstrated remarkable courage by completely evacuation the entire Aerie Peak kingdom before the Scourge could overrun the Hillsbrad Foothills region.

The majority of civilian populations had been successfully transported across the sea to safety in the Wetlands via South Sea Port's merchant fleet. The remaining Gryphon Rider squadrons had joined forces with Magni Bronzebeard's Ironforge reinforcements, who had crossed the treacherous waters to provide military assistance. Together, they maintained an impressive defensive line protecting the South Sea territories.

Because Antonidas had proven unexpectedly incompetent - displaying none of the tactical brilliance expected from an Archlich - this defensive barrier appeared virtually impregnable thanks to an array of advanced military technology and concentrated firepower coverage.

Dark Portal Calendar, August 3rd, Year 25.

The massive army under Duke's command finally achieved their long-awaited rendezvous with the Kul Tiran naval forces along the North Stream coastline.

To the west stretched the Endless Sea, which ancient mariners had once believed truly extended beyond the world's edge.

However, at this historic moment, the entire visible coastline was covered with sailing vessels that resembled a dense maritime forest, their masts and rigging extending from horizon to horizon in what appeared to be an infinite nautical display.

Witnessing such an staggering concentration of naval power, even the typically proud citizens of Lordaeron were forced to acknowledge that during the past decade, the two emerging maritime superpowers - Kul Tiras and the Kingdom of Stormwind - had expanded their fleets far beyond anyone's wildest projections.

This represented a colossal armada of over one thousand ships!

For years, Lordaeron's agricultural surplus had been transported via this crucial sea trade route to Loch Modan and other southern continental regions, returning laden with precious ores and refined metals bound for Stormwind Harbor to support the ongoing defense of the Cursed Lands. Finally, luxury goods from regions such as Westfall would complete the circuit by traveling from Stormwind Harbor to both the South and North Coasts, flowing into Lordaeron and Dalaran's eager markets.

This created a perfect triangular trade network where cargo holds never remained empty.

This long-established and incredibly prosperous maritime commerce route sustained nearly one million individuals whose livelihoods depended entirely upon oceanic trade. It had also nurtured this magnificent fleet into existence!

The current transport capacity of both commercial and military vessels had grown exponentially compared to the limited maritime capabilities available fifteen years earlier.

More than one thousand massive ships, each capable of transporting over two hundred passengers, represented merely the first wave of this unprecedented naval mobilization. Additional warships and cargo vessels were already en route to join this historic gathering.

Aboard the fleet's flagship, the imposing 'Ice Queen', Jaina Proudmoore gazed toward the distant shoreline while Aegwynn stood beside her, radiating the quiet confidence of someone who had shaped the world's destiny for centuries.

Aegwynn playfully teased her younger companion: "Today marks a rare reunion with your betrothed, dear. Display some enthusiasm and present your finest qualities."

Jaina's laughter carried a hint of mischief: "Including the minor detail that I've achieved the rank of Grand Magus?"

"Absolutely! At minimum, you must ensure he understands that you're no longer the eager magic apprentice he once knew, but rather a formidable sorceress capable of standing as his equal. We are both Grand Magi now - you cannot allow him to overshadow your accomplishments."

"Agreed!" Jaina released an elemental wave that radiated coolness while somehow conveying subtle warmth - a masterful display of magical control that no archmages could achieve.

But in the next instant, both Jaina and Aegwynn's expressions transformed into masks of absolute horror as they simultaneously sensed an approaching magical disturbance of catastrophic proportions.