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49. Inevitability of Conflict
🕑 Added 2025-04-15 15:47:00 +0000 UTCNeatly folding the letter after thoroughly studying its content, Jaina Proudmoore's icy blue eyes were fixed on the one who had brought it to her.
Rexxar, a strange orc of light brown skin and of size far beyond any she had seen or read about, was closer to an ogre than an orc, and the resemblance didn't stop at his bulk.
Aside from the female bear that followed him, he hadn't come alone. And if she hadn't a massively scarier ursine, she would have had a greater reaction than a raised eyebrow.
He had the company of Rokhan, a troll witch doctor or an equivalent of such, only more versed in the rogue arts.
Or so Jaina guessed, given her admittedly incomplete knowledge of trolls. All that was certain was that her attention should never leave him for too long.
The third and last of this far too competent trio was an old orc, Samuro—a blademaster.
For all intents and purposes, it was an elite strike team, seemingly sent either to assassinate her at worst or, at best, to steal from her quarters.
It was the logical conclusion from having those three infiltrate Theramore Isle in broad daylight, then the city itself, passing through its inside and reaching her tower.
It was as humbling as distressing and angering, even with the rowdy weather to assist them.
Their only mistake was setting off one of the alarms within the tower entrance and alerting her of what was happening.
They had been lucky Jaina had been in the range of the signal to catch it, then see what was happening and teleport in.
The guards had moved fast, and bloodshed would have ensued if the Horde trio hadn't complied immediately to be arrested. Her presence cut short this grim possibility.
Not before she trapped them herself and obtained an explanation, anyway. This was a fiasco enough.
They were even luckier that her mood wasn't sour today. It was a tendency that seemed to grow increasingly common as the weeks passed.
It wasn't just the countless complications of building a nascent city-state from scratch.
Though it turned for the worse right after, she reacted as calmly as possible in such a situation.
The Daughter of the Sea's displeasure was for all to see; however, even her extensive training in etiquette and diplomacy couldn't hide the signs in her expression.
All of this was over a letter personally written by Thrall.
His handwriting, which was at a level of calligraphy that would shock more than one for its quality, proved it wasn't a trick if his personal seal wasn't enough.
She cast various spells still; the content of the Warchief letter needed this much verification to be truly sure he wrote it.
If there was one thing Jaina Proudmoore was certain of, it was Thrall's sincerity.
It didn't excuse what the three did in the least, but the words that stirred various emotions from her heart were a more pressing matter if found true.
At least, if they were from her orcish counterpart's perspective.
"That… I did not order anything of that nature. The mere thought is presumptuous…" The sorceress let out, frowning after the long silence born from computing the information.
There was plenty of information, and she found it hard to believe.
Thrall wasn't all-knowing; she trusted him enough to know he wouldn't lie to her this blatantly.
The Horde at large was of a different mind, and it came from there. She needed physical evidence beyond words, written or otherwise.
Those were grave accusations, and the repercussions won't be inconsequential waves.
No matter how innocent in the
thousands of deaths she was or any she led—it didn't matter. Reason didn't dictate people and individuals; Jaina had discovered that from herself and others.
Theramore would face the consequences even if they were an uninvolved bystander by simple virtue of being similar.
Tensions between their two people were sky-high. And this might be the breaking point. It didn't shimmer down from the Battle of Mount Hyjal.
Emotions were running amok and only needed a spark for the blazing inferno of war to be lit again.
The first illustration of what would evolve into skirmishes and then warring for territories and resources couldn't be denied. There had been wounded and even death, be it from sabotage or such.
Thrall, amiable acquaintance though he might be, wasn't someone who would ignore the pleas of the Horde, even at the cost of said positive relationship. Nor was his hold absolute, or ever could. Authority had limits.
And Jaina didn't and couldn't differ. Leaders couldn't permit such luxuries unless they wished their people or themselves a harrowing end.
It was a bitter reality to accept. Peace seemed to become less and less of an eventuality as time passed despite all her efforts.
But a war was something she couldn't have. Nor any of its similarities.
Theramore wouldn't win, and if they miraculously forced a draw. It would be a pyrrhic victory with far too heavy of a price to pay.
There were children, and they were a fraction of a whole. It would be no different than slaughtering her people herself.
And she found her view shifted as well. She hadn't forgotten, even less so pardoned, what Grommash Hellscream had done when they first met and thereafter.
It was the source of much of the problem, in fact, since he was alive and free. And that wasn't the only issue the sorceress had with the Horde.
'Would we need to flee once more?' She bit her lips, her manicured fingernail digging into her desk.
Rexxar, who solemnly nodded as he spoke, broke her thought process.
"Just as the Warchief thought."
"Then, I wish to speak with you to clear any doubts and learn what this is all about," Jaina said, leaving no opening for debate.
If her assumption was correct, then it was her father who had come seeking her and enacting revenge on her behalf, believing her to be dead. Or worse, killed.
And the thought sent sharp spikes of guilt deep into her heart. She hadn't warned her father or sent ships back to Kul Tiras or the Eastern Kingdoms.
She should have done it, but she didn't. And it wasn't a pleasant realization, particularly for regaining contact with the other side of the Great Sea.
He must be worried sick. The Proudmoore father and daughter may have differing opinions on certain opinions, but they weren't astray, and they were family.
Now, she needed to speak to him to show she was alive and well. Show that what he was doing was a gross overreaction. Show her efforts and stop the catastrophe he was directing from continuing.
"AH!" The troll suddenly exclaimed and whispered something to the mok'nathal whose eyes hardened and face showed that he remembered something important.
Something the sorceress felt she wouldn't like to hear, but she did, nonetheless.
"The Horde answered to the attacks. I left with little Misha and those two before the warband met the human fleet at their next landing spot to stop the massacre permanently." Rexxar said far more eloquently than he had been until then.
The air surrounding Jaina became a few dozen degrees colder, and her lips trembled before turning into a thin, unreadable line.
"We must go immediately. Follow me." And Rexxar, Rokhan, and Sarumo did, or were forced to, as Jaina tapped the but of her staff on the ground.
Space warped, and they were teleported to the port in an instant, creating a commotion, but the sorceress' magically amplified voice calmed it down.
"At ease, guards! Those three gentlemen have brought urgent matters that I must attend to!" The effects were instantaneous as she walked to the nearest boat.
Rexxar noted it was an indistinguishable design from the ones he saw days ago.
The only distinction was the lack of an obvious Kul Tiran flag and its far greater quality than the average. It was her personal vessel, he reckoned.
"Stay here while I prepare for us to depart!" Jaina hurried and vanished in a flash of blue light, leaving the three dumbstruck with humans, dwarves, and rare high elves and gnomes staring at them.
"Dis be awkward, mon," Rokhan muttered, his eyes moving back and forth between the people staring at them.
He felt like a caged animal before being gutted to the Loa as a sacrifice. It wasn't a good feeling in the least. It made him twitchy.
Samuro agreed with a grunt, standing as still as a statue, his hand resting on the hilt of his curved blade. Rexxar did the same as he sat and tended to his giant pet bear.
Minutes passed, and the sheer bizarreness of the three standing here without a clue what to do didn't diminish.
Though the wave-like motion of the crowd was back, Rexxar, Rokhan, and Samuro were akin to an out-of-place art piece. The occasional little boy or girl would stare before getting called out by their parents.
Just like that, a lull settled in until a high elf, perched atop a ship's mast, shouted, his eyes locked in the distance.
"Ships incoming!" Hundreds focused on the sea where the elf was pointing, but evidently, few to none could see what his superior eyes and position gave.
Still, it didn't take long for masts with full sails to be seen; soon after their hulls came, there were around twenty of them.
Further detail became evident for the keen-eyed, and it brought contradicting reactions.
Almost every sail was tattered or damaged to some extent. The masts were no better, with some holding by thread and hasty repair.
The hulls followed the same pattern; the blessed metals and wood were warped as if they had slammed against rocks. The closer they got, the more the grisly details of the devastation that had unfolded became clear.
However, if the designs of the vessel of this fleet–in disrepair they may–the flags they were raising killed all doubt remaining.
It was a forest green with golden embroidery circling an anchor of a similar color—it was the Kul Tiras flag. And they weren't pirates or an elaborate trap.
The light signals from their heliographs couldn't be mistaken for anything else. The codes were as they should be, where they should be, with each subtlety and timing perfect.
And what they were saying was simple: they wished to land on the island port for they urgently needed to—they were wounded, thirsty, hungry, and exhausted.
The answer from Theramore's own heliographs was a 'yes' as bells rang, shouts were thrown, and motion came to life on the port.
"What shall we do, Rexxar?" Samuro queried as he eyed the approaching Kul Tiran navy to see what likely the survivors from the Warchief retribution were.
Or a part of it. The blademaster doubted their ships got damaged any other way, given that those humans were seafaring for generations.
"We wait for the human mage." The beastmaster answered calmly, but wasn't as nonchalant as he appeared.
His muscles were tense, and Misha sensed it, her brown fur puffing as she glared at the approaching vessels.
"Sorry, I'm back… wh-what is happening?" Jaina's confused voice echoed, and it was a guard who answered.
"Kul Tiran ships that aren't ours requiring immediate assistance, my Lady." The man in armor said. He was a knight from Lordareon by the accent. She stared, taking in the states of the boats.
"Those are Father's," Jaina muttered, her heart sinking as she failed to spot the flagship–Dauntless Lady–was missing.
'No… there was a storm. He must be at sea. He must. And he could be here. I need to see.' She disregarded the worst scenario and continued to observe the ships until she spotted the largest.
Focusing on it, the crystal tip of her staff glowed, and with a masterful control of Arcane energy, she was in its deck. She instinctively adapted to the rocking motion and asked one question.
"Where is Father?"
Her sudden apparition shocked everyone as they gawked, recognizing the Daughter of Sea, the princess of Kul Tiras, and the woman who was thought dead.
The first to snap back to reality was a wounded and haggard yet decorated man Jaina recognized as Benedict, if with difficulty. There was joy in his fatigued eyes, but it dimmed at her demand.
"Lady Jaina… I'm sorry…" Lieutenant Benedict inhaled before clutching to his bloody bandaged shoulder as pain struck.
"No, nonono…" The sorceress rambled, "It can't be. Please, Benedict."
"Grand Admiral Daelin Proudmoore was murdered by those green-skinned beasts in our retreat as they attacked us in the middle of the night when the tempest was at its strongest. He was caged by flowing stones, and his butcher was a monster who could clone himself and move like the wind." The Lieutenant explained, wincing multiple times but continuing.
There was no pause for grief to settle as anger and then rage overshadowed it, but the loss remained ever stronger. The context was unimportant for her at this moment, but it wasn't an opening to act rashly.
"I see. Get your men on land. Theramore and I will see to their needs that the ships are repaired." She stated that her breath was visible through the temperature variation.
"No, my Lady, they are yours, and so is my life. In the Lord Admiral's absence, you are the one we shall lay our lives for." Benedict declared, putting his fist over his heart and falling to one knee.
Given their injuries, the shipcrew repeated the gesture, with varying success, but they did it with the utmost zeal. Their attention was on the sorceress, their body, mind, and soul willing to serve.
"What is your first order, Admiral?"
"We will prepare our retreat to Kul Tiras."
Comments
Noknok
I'm sure she will find out from the soliders what led to this whole mess. Her going home will have a major impact on the eastern kingdoms maybe just maybe lordaron can be retaken
Jeremy
Well this might actually be for the best? (1) Jaina's retreat reduces the Alliances investment in Kalimdor causing them to focus more on Lordareon. Potentially killing Sylvannas before she ruins the world. (2) The Forsaken will likely not join the Horde...which prevent them from avoiding / surviving the consequences of their actions. (3) Thrall and the Horde will potentially have access to Dustwallow Lumber easing tensions between Horde and the Night Elves. (4) Jaina might get back in time to save Kael from Garithos the idiot. (5) Ideally with Grommash not being redeemed, Garrosh will not look up to his father and we dodge the Cartoon Villian leading the Horde.
Asura
Thanks for the chapter 👋🔥
TITOO
World wars are stressful, man. Though with what just happened, it wouldn't be three way.
Mika Willems
This is quite a bit worse then in canon I think. Welp, Ohto can kiss any cooperation between the factions goodbye, poor bro is gonna turn into a grey bear before he is 30 at this point.
