The Torrents of War: Part 9 – The Emerald Treaty

The Torrents of War: Part 9 – The Emerald Treaty

The mid-Spring Sun shone brightly across the former capital of Lordaeron, a welcome thing for humans, but not so for any Ice Troll or Wolvar due to the unfamiliar heat. Still, the Shamans begged off making a more comfortable climate to focus on the farms, ensuring that Drakkari in the city remained miserably muggy.

Arctikus was more used to the warmer temperatures of the South, but with the signing of the 'Emerald Treaty', so named for the forests of the Hinterlands, her mood had been foul. So much so, she largely refused to be around her contemporaries if she could help it; a leader needed composure and her heart was too frayed for that.

Sitting atop the sloping tiled roof of a tower overlooking the great lake, she was unable to even spy the Alteraci Mountains in the distance. A part of her truly mourned to think home was still so far away.

Her hand balled into a fist, 'We should have taken Ironforge first, or launched dual invasions, or something!'

The quaking tension tensing her back faded and she let out an exhausted sigh, Malakk's words ringing in her head, 'It is what it is, but it did not have to be this.'

Any further thought was shattered by the familiar padding of, "Hail, Chief Rageclaw," She called from the roof, angling her head down to see the Wolvar poking theirs out the window.

"Hail, Great Mother," They answered coolly, and before she could ask why they sniffed her out, the Wolvar added, "The Relics have arrived. Library."

Pushing herself forward she surged off the roof, snatched the beam as she began to drop and swung herself in through the open stained-glass window and into the white stone chamber.

She offered a hasty bow before racing out the door, through the tight winding stairwell and back into the open, cavernous halls of the royal palace. Her foot falls carried her swiftly between Drakkari guards, human staff, and through great doors of ornately decorated oak until she came to a stop at the library.

Several of her kindred were already gathered and waiting, they all turned and bowed, "Great Mother."

Swallowing, she nodded, "My children, my family… Let us see what has been returned to us, and what we shall have to remake with our own hands."

The doors began to ease open with a creak, and a tremor of fear and uncertainty ran through her before she forced herself to march through inside, passing Malakk with a stiff salute as he left them with little fanfare.

The quiet patter of feet slapping against stone echoed louder than any cannon or storm and finally, someone she couldn't quite place, broke the silence.

"Look, look, the cleansing jurta!"

"The last judge's gavel, by the gods, it's still in one piece!"

"The ancestors Almanac, Loa be praised!"

Their words began to fade to her as she came upon the store remains, large, hexagonal boxes of stone, lined with inscriptions and worked stone patterns. Her bones and blood ached as she came to one that looked just like the others, and yet she could feel it calling to her and knelt before it.

She did not hear others seeking their own lost ones, too absorbed in her task.

Gently prying it open, Acrikus's stomach lurched, her heart hammered in her chest at the mass of troll bones within and the all too fresh, brand new skull, adorned with a familiar set of painted ivory rings.

"My son…" She muttered, tears streaming down her face, salt tainting her lips, as she pressed the lifeless bone to her brow and sobbed.

_________________________________________

It was rare for Sylvanas that her duties and personal interests aligned, and in truth that was ideal. For one whose life is built around war and bloodshed, finding elements on the battlefield was rarely a joy.

'Still, if it lets me be here for this, then I am grateful,' She thought, taking another furtive glance around the emerald forests of the Hinterlands from her perch on the remains of Hiri'watha. Down below, several hundred trolls along with a handful of their allies sat in waiting under armed escort, marching down from Eastweld through the Great Ravine.

'It will be the scheduled time soon,' She stilled and focused her enchanted spyglass, "The Drakkari approach!"

Her and the Wildhammer forces tensed while several Drakkari let out cheers of joy.

Sylvanas cast a sharp gaze to High Examiner Tae'thelan, the elf bowed, ornate gold and blue robes flowing as he assured, "The arcane chambers are ready. If these Drakkari have infected our people with so much as a light cold, we shall know before we return them home."

Sylvanas nodded but kept her gaze solely on the marching trolls. There were guards as expected, but also an escort of Wildhammer Gryphon Riders overseeing their march. The Dalaranese citizens were escorted rode along the back of monstrous mammoths, pulling carts laden with what she supposed were the citizens' goods.

Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of one woman walking among the Dalaranese; pale white hair shimmering in the golden sun, and adorned in respectable hunters' equipment, walking with a dignified poise befitting a seasoned Farstrider, was her sister.

"Vereesa."

The name tore itself from her mouth before she could silence it, and only centuries of conditioning kept her composure as the diplomats exchanged sullied words of peace and honored agreements.

Finally, after a near hour spent organizing supplies and parting ways with promises of further prisoner exchanges in the coming days, the trolls started to leave under escort.

Finally, did Sylvanas have a chance to break from her ranks and move as High Priestess Liadrin and Faltad saw to inspecting and organizing the Dalaranese.

Finally, finally, finally, Sylvanas found her sister alive and well, yet she was almost afraid to touch the younger elf as she began to turn from inspecting a satchel and gasped.

"Sylvy!" She cried, flinging her arms around Sylvanas.

The air bursting from Sylvasnas's lungs as relief flooded her frame, and she encircled Vereesa in her cape as when they were children.

"Vereesa, I knew you'd survive, I just knew," She whispered more to herself than anyone.

Her sister sighed in relief.

"I am glad one of us was sure," She squeezed Sylvanas tighter, "Thank you for coming for me."

"Always," Sylvanas intoned, pulling back enough to look her sister in the eyes and rest their heads together, "I will always be there for you little sister."

_________________________________________

Malakk had been grateful when Dalaran faded into the distance behind him as he rode on dragon-back towards Southshore.

He was not so much a coward as to ignore the place, but he'd lost Moorabi there, lost much honor there, lost many lives there, a phyrric victory too costly for his and the Empire's good.

Every time he'd seen the streets, he recalled the hectic battle and how it harkened back to the wars of Zul'Drak which he had sworn to end. He would remember his hasty decisions, his arrogant carelessness and think of just how much it cost – it ached and shamed him.

Despite the damages though, the city was recovering, slowly.

The scent of ash had faded, the streets were cleaned, and repairs had begun, temporary shelters erected to house the homeless and destitute. Even still, the city remained a place of tension and turmoil, the locals eyeing them with no small amount of suspicion and loathing.

Dalaran had not been a city of merchants and record keepers like Lordaeron, but a house of mages and scholars. It seemed everyday he was getting word of some new attack, an explosion, an assassination, or sabotage.

The Nerubians had been pressuring for more and more draconian efforts at crackdowns and control or to simply excise the Dalaranese altogether, but such an act after his failures would be politically disastrous at the very least!

It was fortunate then that much of that activity had dried up in recent days as more and more Dalaranese marched East and South for extradition. Only some remained, mostly their few collaborators who would find no welcome in the Alliance, as well as a handful of half-bloods who seemed uncertain they'd fare better anywhere else.

Besides them, barely even a fraction remained, instead taking their belongings and a sampling of gold from the private safes of dead oligarchs. If nothing else, that would make the Nerubians happy, leaving them to work on their underground laboratories overseeing the frayed Ley Lines. Repopulating the surface city would be in his and Beve's hands.

'But that is for another day,' He mused, as his dragon swooped in for a landing on a grassy knoll by a small watch tower. The vast plans of Hillsbrad spread out in all directions, and in the distance, he could make out the humble city of Soutshore and those he had come for.

"Be ready my friends," He called, the forward scouts saluting and linking up with his escorts to await their counterparts' arrival.

For his part, Malakk strode towards the watchtower and looked upon Prince Kael'Thas. Bedecked in his long robes that blended gold and black, with long hair tied back in a tight ponytail and three emerald orbs circling him, he managed to cut a regal figure despite the circumstances.

"You shall be returning home in short order, may we never have to meet again under such blood terms," Malakk said.

Kael practically hissed, small fangs bared, "Know this Troll, you have made an enemy of the Great Houses who crafted Silvermoon from nothing. Know that just as your ancestors did, you shall learn the wrath of the Highborn, and know that if we do meet again, I shall destroy you completely and utterly."

Malakk felt some of his guards tense, but chuckled in amusement, "Well, as far as goodbyes go, that is memorable, but threats I have faced far worse and more odious than yours."

The prince scowled but remained silent and as the tension abated, Malakk turned his attention to the approaching procession.

There was no shortage of Elves, from their great blade-wielding Spellbreakers to Rangers and certain high-ranking figures, such as Rommath, obscured as mere mages or Priests. There were also Gryphon riders of the Wildhammers and the Elves' Dragonhawk riders, the beautiful beasts carrying blue and silver banners between their delicate claws.

He was somewhat surprised to see several Gnomes in their company.

Of course, the person he wanted to see most among them was Krag'jin, and he was pleased to see the troll marching under his own power, not escorted like an abused slave. His armor was absent but respectable leather pants and vests adorned his frame, and he offered a cheery wave as his procession came to a halt.

One of the Spellbreakers stepped forward, flicking golden locks over her ears.

"We have come to see the Prince of Silvermoon, first and only son of Anestarian, Councilor of Dalaran and he who is blessed by the phoenix restored to our great nation!"

'That was actually shorter than what I expected, having perused their literature,' Malakk supposed they wanted this over with and so raised his arms.

"Just as you wish to see one of your beloved subjects returned, so too do I, so let us resolve this meeting in peace and fulfil our oaths as enshrined in the Emerald Treaty!"

Both entourages parted, and slowly each prisoner began moving through the crowd and towards their own people. Malakk however was surprised to see a Gnome in bright pink glasses, with short, cropped matching hair and a comfortable pressed suit in dark cottons marching alongside Krag'jin.

'She carries herself too sharply to be anything but a fighter, and there's no better time to betray us than now,' He mused, thinking to his hidden forces stationed a short distance away and the handful of Syndicate agents positioned in Southshore, all ready and waiting.

Krag'jin and Kael passed one another and for one terrible moment the world stood still, something tense hung in the air just waiting to snap…

But nothing happened, and the two passed one another by with a shared glance before turning away from the other and continuing their approach.

Malakk's chest untightened ever so slightly and he forced a smile, "Ah Krag'jin, welcome back to us!"

"Huay Drakkani, my apologies for you needing to surrender such a choice hostage for me," The troll said with a cheery salute.

"It was bound to happen with the treaty," He waved off, "Tell me, were you treated well?"

He chuckled, "It was a tight fit in that submarine, but I managed to make my captors every bit as uncomfortable as myself."

The Gnome snorted, "No questions there."

Before Malakk could turn his attention to her, Seraphine strode up to them, "My Forest Lord, I knew you would return."

"My Harvest Queen, never doubt it," he crowed, as they met closer to the tower, and he took her hands into his own.

The Gnome fiddled with her glasses, jaw tight, "He was telling the truth about the human woman?" She muttered in a scandalized tone, her cheeks turning red like apples.

Malakk's brow arched, as he glanced back at the Elves who were fawning over Kael'Thas and subtly inspecting him for glamour and compulsions, his own people doing the same with Krag'jin. Thus, he turned his attention to the Gnome and spoke.

"Yes, though I am told it is a good deal more complicated than a mere tryst or conventional marriage," Seeing her attention on him, he added, "Should I ask what it was he said?"

She shook her head, "Too vulgar to bear repeating here, unless such humor is to your tastes."

Malakk shrugged, "Rarely, so we can leave it. Now might I know who stands before me?"

She saluted crisply with an undertone of cheerful humour.

"Kelsey Steelspark, consider my presence here as a bit of good faith on behalf of Gnomeragan's council and," She glanced back at the Elves, "To ensure no one over there gets a hot spell hand."

Malakk chuckled, "Such a kind gesture, and I suppose if this treaty is to hold, we should begin starting to trust one another."

"Exactly!" She cheered, "Glad to see that sentiment here, Huay Drakkani. Oh, though while I'm here I must inform you that some of the Dalaranese artifacts returned seem to be forgeries."

Malakk sighed in exasperation, "I assume you have a list, but I can already assume as to which stock they were collected from."

Many relics and records had been lost in the fighting, while most had been studied sufficiently that returning the originals was acceptable, but the Nerubians felt differently on several cases. Despite their own treaty being enforced with suitable measures, Malakk knew that was only upheld so much by either party.

"Your Nerubian friends, I take it?" She said conversationally.

"A king does not tell, and a diplomat does not ask," He said jokingly, "But I shall lean on those responsible and see to it the matter is resolved as best I can."

Kesley nodded, "Appreciated, and if nothing else, you could always try and open a line of communication between them and us. I know many arcanists who are positively tripping over themselves in the hopes of gaining a commission for work here to meet with them, now that the North Sea is cut off."

Malak k shrugged, "This one shall endeavor but can make no promises; the Nerubians are not my subjects after all."

The Gnome nodded in agreement.

"I'll pass that sentiment along once I return home," She offered him a crisp salute and at his polite bow added, "Oh and, I'd recommend removing those Syndicate agents from Southshore by evening."

"They will be gone by noon, now that we are done."

"Glad to see you are so conciliatory, Huay, good day!"

Malakk waved her off and smirked, 'I like that one.'

__________________________________________

Malakk was alone, insomuch as he was ever alone, and so sunk into his throne with a groan.

'These last few weeks have been exhausting.'

And it was not quite yet done, but with Dalaran now evacuated, his fleet and forces returning and most of his remaining subjects seemingly unwilling to uproot their lives… Well, if nothing else, things were settling into some sort of uneasy peace. How long it would last, who knew, but he would not be dancing on a razor-thin wire at the very least.

'Even if what awaits me at Gundrak shall be no easier,' He thought, eyes drooping.

The period of mourning would be long and exhaustive for everyone.

The anti-war contingents were divided in their ideals, but united in their critique.

His reputation was marred by Dalaran to say the least; but he could at least lay the blame for Boralus on Ashvane's rotting shoulders.

As the doors to his study slid open, Malakk waved his Speaker forward, "How fares the Homefront?"

Zala'Raz offered a curt bow and brushed his white mohawk back, with several stacks of scrolls in his arms and a piqued look on his face.

"This one is terribly sorry, but there was no convincing the Tuskar of Dragonblight to rescind their accord with the Grizzlemaw nation, and the Furbolgs will not give up the Southern quarries."

Malakk clicked his tongue and lightly tapped his skull against his throne.

"For ten thousand years they refuse to leave their forests, but suddenly when its inconvenient for me, they want to become miners," Malakk scoffed, "I should have secured Dragonblight sooner, rather than assume I'd have time or no need of it. Still, the quarries of Jintha'Kalar remains ours, so that is something."

The boy Speaker released a low breath he didn't realize he'd been holding and added, "They are also content to see the valley between it declared as a neutral zone for trade, but wish for no settlement of the area itself."

Malakk's brow arched at this, "Good and vexing; I was hoping to organize a new settlement there, but it is what it is. Do you have any other news for me, my young friend?"

Zala'Raz nodded, placing the scrolls at Malakk's table-side.

"Yes, Huay. That Flynn Fairwind fellow has managed to secure the loyalty of several pirate ships and seems to be settling in well enough."

"Good, good, they will prove very helpful in the days ahead and I like the cut of that boy's jib."

His Speaker flashed his fangs, "You are not alone in this thinking, the Navarch wishes to make him one of her vice admirals."

Malakk shrugged, "If she thinks he will be a good fit I am amendable, though I do ponder how the orcs shall fit into things given how close they are to the Temple of Gral."

Another thing for him to be constantly managing.

"We shall see," Zala'Raz said noncommittedly, tapping at one of the slimmer scrolls, "I do have another matter, rumors mostly, but pertinent."

"Oh, do tell?"

"There is word, rumors mostly, coming from western traders of a mighty Magnataur named Grom'thar the Thunderbringer, causing grief for many of the Westerward Taunka."

"Only one? The Taunka are normally much too fierce for only one to cause such grief," Malak mused, though he supposed with the Nerubians still recovering, the Magnataur might have grown stronger than usual, but so soon?

"Not quite, Your Grace. Some think he is leading many raids, as word has spread of loot and tariffs being taken to a 'Bloodmar'."

That made Malakk sit up a little straighter, "Interesting… Bloodmar could be a Magnatur of course, another powerful one like Grom'har, but if it is a place. And their raiders are well organized as well, most unusual. They must have a backer of sorts."

He tilted his head to the side and chuckled. "Well, I think we have some good work lined up for the Ragelcaw and our scouts when I return home, and a fine chance to begin acclimating the Orcs to some worthwhile responsibilities."

"A wise decision your grace," Zala'Raz bowed, "Will you need me for anything else?"

"No, my friend, go and rest and let us see what the morning brings."

NOTES:

This chapter was a nightmare, I couldn't decide if I wanted to write it or just rewrite my older epilogues, or what to include or how to structure it but I got there, I finally got there and I hope it was worth the wait! 

Once again, thanks to @Ebanu8 for their amazing assistance with this! 

The first scene is very much meant to be a parallel with the second and also to hearken us back to how we got here and to hopefully give Arctikus some closure. I loved Sylvanas when she was alive and cool and not evil, so I always try and give her some respect where I can. Also, given the varied abilities of magic in this setting it occurred to me that magical sleeper agents are totally possible, so yeah there's checks for that.

I'm fairly pleased with the structure of this chapter allowing for a steady time skip to show aspects of the treaty in practice and finally covering some lingering plot threads like how impossible holding Dalaran was going to be.

Thanks to whoever suggested the Grom'har and Magnataur related ideas! Also the thrilling resolution to the Grizzlemaw sub plot XD And yeah, I think that's everything, hope this was fun, as always, comments, questions and critique are welcome!