Chapitre 251: Chapter 251: Oath of the King
The sun set in the west.
A bright sword was embedded on the hilltop.
In the view.
The tip of the sword pierced a slightly yellowish meadow, the shining edge reflecting the vast ocean, and the sword hilt merged into the endless sky.
It was such a sword that seemed to penetrate the whole world.
The blue ribbon entwined around the hilt, bearing the lion's head emblem, fluttered in the breeze. The elegance of the swaying ribbon evoked distant memories.
Wisdom and depth filled the blue eyes, greedily capturing the scenery between heaven and earth.
The blue-and-gold lion's head cape adorned the middle-aged man. Beneath the cape was a shining golden helmet. This armor symbolized an era of glory, but also an era of shame.
A pair of hands, roughened only recently, touched the top of the sword hilt, holding the sharp blade. He stood proudly in the wind, like a stone sculpture.
"Your Majesty, it is getting late."
" Anduin, can you guess what I'm looking at?" King Llane Wrynn smiled and calmly asked his childhood friend, former Stormwind Knights' leader, and now Alliance Commander.
"Across this sea, straight ahead, then southwest, turning southeast, where Stormwind City is located."
As Llane's close friend, Lothar easily guessed Llane's thoughts.
"Stormwind City, once a land we would risk our lives to protect, and the source of all our glory. When I knew we couldn't hold Stormwind City any longer, I thought my sword and I would be broken there. But for Varian, I stand here, on unfamiliar land, gazing at my sword." Llane pulled the sword from the ground, its sharp and tough blade unscathed even after such rough treatment.
Raising the sword tip to the sky, Llane stared at his sword quietly.
Behind Llane and Lothar, a timid voice came: "Father, are you saying I tarnished your glory?"
"No, it's not like that, Varian. True glory has never belonged to one person or a select few." Llane averted his eyes; the Stormwind Royal Sword, symbolizing royal power and glory, looked incredibly slender and sturdy in the sunset, as if the sword alone supported the world.
Llane sheathed his sword and walked towards his wife and child.
The queen gently pushed Varian, prompting the young prince to come forward.
Llane lovingly stroked Varian's head, his affectionate gaze seemed to traverse through time.
"A thousand years ago, when the last descendant of Emperor Thoradin was abandoned by arrogant nobles eager to reach the fertile lands of Lordaeron, the first king of Stormwind took the child and led the forsaken poor across half a continent to the valley where Stormwind City now stands. Our ancestor made an oath, 'I swear to protect my people—shielding them from hunger and cold, sparing them from slaughter and strife, and keeping them away from the arrogance and greed of the nobility.'"
Llane's voice was deep but had an odd ethereal quality, making everyone feel as if they were following his voice through those distant, long-lost years. ...
"Our late king achieved it; he forged the glory of Stormwind Kingdom in his own way. He also taught posterity, in his own way, what glory is. Before his death, he issued an edict for every noble of the newborn kingdom to adhere to the knightly spirit—humble yet devoutly honorable, fearless and courageous in the face of sacrifice, merciful to the people and honest and just. Thus, the tradition of establishing the kingdom with martial prowess and inheriting titles through military exploits was born in Stormwind. Unfortunately, most of the Stormwind nobles have forgotten all this, so I prefer to see the fall of Stormwind City as the punishment of our ancestors for losing our glory."
Young Varian nodded, trying to understand.
"Fortunately, in the most desperate times for the people of Stormwind, I still had your Uncle Anduin and the extraordinary genius Duke who emerged out of nowhere to help me. This gave me the opportunity to make up for my mistakes and regain the lost glory of the kingdom. My personal glory is no longer important; my only hope is that the descendants of the Wrynn bloodline can continue the legacy of our late king's glory. As long as this is achieved, I will have no regrets, even in death."
"Father! You will see the day Stormwind is restored!" Varian said with unwavering certainty.
"I hope so. But your Uncle Anduin and I will grow old, and by then, it will be up to you and Brother Duke to strive."
"Yes," the young prince nodded vigorously.
Gazing at the sea, Llane's eyes seemed to pierce through the horizon, reaching the massive transport fleet speeding across the surface: "It all depends on tomorrow."
"Don't worry, with you, me, and Duke! Both Stormwind and the Alliance will be invincible!"
Little did they know that just one day earlier, in the Wetlands, at a gathering attended by hundreds of thousands of orcs, someone had made a nearly identical vow.
Orgrim Doomhammer stood on a tall hill, and in his view, hundreds of thousands of orcs trampled the muddy ground.
The number of orcs was so vast that it seemed like a verdant ocean, breathing and reveling in victory and a shared destiny.
Each orc eagerly awaited Orgrim's speech.
In the eyes of the orcs, even though Ironforge remained unconquered, they all believed that Kilrogg Deadeye's Bleeding Hollow clan would eventually drag the stubborn dwarves out of their mountain caves and kill them—it was only a matter of time.
They had thoroughly conquered this continent. Although there were better hunting grounds and more fertile lands than their homeland, it was still far from enough to accommodate all the clans. In the orcs' eyes, this was barely enough for three large clans to flourish. But there were more than three large clans.
Orgrim smiled, then he lifted his famous Doomhammer high and roared:
"My brethren! Hear me!"
The slightest commotion below disappeared, and every orc quieted down, turning their tusk-filled ugly faces toward Orgrim.
"This world is perfect for survival; we can rebuild our homes here! And we have already seized this land; it is the victory of the Horde! It is the victory of the orcs!"
A deafening cheer erupted from below. Orgrim could only wait for the cheering to subside before continuing.
"But this is not enough! Humans are not as weak as we thought; they are excellent learners and highly skilled. After each defeat, they confront our axes and hammers with even greater strength. Even though we have driven them from this continent, they are still fighting hard to reclaim what once belonged to them. So, what we must do is to annihilate them! Wipe them out in this world!"
Orgrim raised his hammer, pointing northward!
"Orcs—toward the north—attack—"
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone