Chapter 33: The Winds of Kul Tiras

"Boom!"

A blinding blue light tore through the dome of the Kul Tiras palace. Arcane energy poured down like a tidal wave, shattering the finely carved naval crests. The marble floor cracked under the magical impact, and tiny shards of debris rained down on the surroundings.

"Enemy attack! Protect the King!"

The roar of the Royal Guard echoed through the hall instantly. Dozens of uniformed guards instinctively formed a defensive line, their spears leveling in unison toward the still-twisting portal. Their movements were swift as wind, the spearheads glinting with a cold, lethal light under the chandelier's glow.

Jaina Proudmoore was the first to step through the portal. Her golden hair fluttered from the static electricity, and arcane sparks still danced along the hem of her robes. The scent of sea air and brimstone swept through the hall with her arrival, causing the guards in the front row to squint involuntarily.

"Lower your weapons! It is Her Highness the Princess!" An older guard recognized Jaina and hurriedly lowered his spear. But his companions remained on alert, for the person who emerged from the portal right after her was a man of unremarkable appearance.

"Uh... hi?" Daelen Lawson raised his hands with a dry, awkward laugh.

"I said lower your weapons!" Jaina commanded sharply. A Frost Nova erupted from her, freezing the guards' spears to the ground. Her voice carried an undeniable majesty, the presence honed by long years of leadership.

In this moment of high tension, the portal rippled again, and an elegant figure stepped out slowly. Onyxia’s black hem swept over the frozen weapons; the moment the fabric touched the steel spearheads, they rusted into slag, dissolving into a pile of reddish-brown powder.

"Is this the hospitality of Kul Tiras?" The Black Dragon Princess raised an eyebrow, her golden slit pupils scanning the room. Her voice was as soft as silk, yet it sent a chill down the spine of everyone who heard it.

The guards involuntarily took half a step back. The captain's face turned ashen; his hand was already resting on the signal flare at his waist.

"Jaina?!"

A thunderous roar erupted from the direction of the throne. Daelen Proudmoore surged to his feet, his white beard trembling with rage, the golden tassels on his Admiral’s uniform swaying violently. Queen Katherine followed closely behind, clutching her chest, her blue eyes filled with shock and worry. Beside them, Derek Proudmoore reflexively reached for the sword at his hip—though his injured leg made the movement a fraction slower than usual.

"Father, Mother, this is an emergency." Jaina stepped forward quickly, arcane sparks still trailing from her robes. Her voice was steady, but Daelen could detect the exhaustion hidden within.

Daelen’s gaze swept back and forth between his daughter and Daelen Lawson, eventually settling on the man with an expression like he was looking at a street thug who had corrupted his precious girl.

"You again." The old Admiral’s voice sounded like a low rumble before a storm. "What do you want this time? Warships? Cannons? Or perhaps the crown of Kul Tiras itself?"

"It’s not like that!" Jaina tried to explain, but her mother pressed a hand on her shoulder, signaling her to remain calm, and the two stepped slightly away from the room.

Daelen wiped the sweat from his nose. "Uh... actually, I just need eighteen elite marines? The ones you call the 'Bronze Men' who guard your side..."

The palace fell so silent one could hear a pin drop.

The Royal Guard Captain’s face turned a shade of liver-purple. The so-called "Eighteen Bronze Men" were Daelen’s most elite personal guard, legendary warriors of Kul Tiras. Because they wore golden armor year-round, this stranger had actually dared to call them the "Bronze Men!"

"You certainly know how to pick them." Daelen laughed in his fury. He walked down the steps of the throne, each step making Daelen feel the floor shaking. "On what grounds?"

Daelen took a deep breath and suddenly turned to grab Chromie, who had teleported over and was hiding in the corner, secretly snacking on palace fruit. The Bronze Dragon in gnome form still had half a grape in her mouth; as he yanked her, the fruit bowl crashed to the floor.

"Hey! My fruit!" Chromie protested, but Daelen had already pried open the lid of her pocket watch.

"Time Replay—Initiate!"

The watch projected a holographic image: The Dragon Queen Alexstrasza stood to the side, smiling as she watched Chromie petting a whelp.

Daelen said nothing, merely looking at the Admiral with a meaningful gaze before shifting his eyes to the jagged scar on the left side of Derek’s face—a wound inflicted by the Red Dragon flames commanded by the Dragonmaw Clan during the Second War, one that had failed to heal completely for years.

The old Admiral’s fists clenched and unclenched. He glanced at his son’s scar, then looked at Daelen’s steady eyes, and finally squeezed a word through his teeth: "Fine."

Meanwhile, behind the pearl curtains of the palace's side hall, Queen Katherine was holding Jaina’s face, examining her closely. Sunlight filtered through the stained-glass windows, casting mottled light and shadow upon them.

"You’ve lost weight," Katherine said softly, her fingers brushing the dark circles under her daughter’s eyes. "How long has it been since you’ve rested properly?"

Jaina managed a strained smile. "Things have been busy lately, Mother. The Horde, the black dragons, the goblins, and Dalaran... I’ve been so busy that—"

"That man named Daelen... he’s special, isn't he?" Katherine interrupted suddenly, her voice carrying a gentle probing. Her blue eyes sparkled with a mother’s keen intuition.

The tips of Jaina’s ears turned red instantly. "Mother! We are merely allies—"

"Allies? Just allies? Is he the one who..." Katherine’s fingertip lightly touched her daughter’s brow, where a nearly invisible fine line had formed, "...makes your eyes light up whenever you mention him?"

Jaina opened her mouth, but was momentarily lost for words. She remembered Daelen helping her face her father’s interrogation, the massive explosion he caused in Dustwallow Marsh, and how he had helped her mitigate the conflict with the Horde.

"He is indeed... different," Jaina eventually admitted in a low voice, her fingers unconsciously twisting the edge of her robe. "But things are complicated, Mother. Between us—"

Her words stopped abruptly, for she caught sight of Onyxia’s gloomy face outside the curtain—the Black Dragon Princess had been standing there, her golden slit pupils shining in the shadows. Her fingernails had elongated into claws, leaving five deep gouges in the doorframe.

Katherine followed her daughter’s gaze, her brows knitting slightly. "That lady is...?"

"Onyxia," Jaina quickly adjusted her expression. "The Black Dragon Princess, a... powerful ally."

"Is that so?" Katherine’s voice carried doubt. "The way she looks at you doesn't look like an ally."

Jaina sighed, pressing her hand to her forehead, her voice growing smaller: "It’s not what you think..."

Onyxia, outside the curtain, snorted coldly and turned to leave, her high heels clicking a dangerous rhythm against the marble floor.

Back in the palace hall, Daelen was scrutinizing Daelen. The old Admiral paced back and forth before him with his hands behind his back, like a lion trapping its prey.

"That squad of soldiers is my elite guard," Daelen finally spoke, his voice low. "Each of them possesses extraordinary combat ability and an unshakable will. Do you know how many years it takes to cultivate such a warrior?"

Daelen nodded, his expression turning serious. "I understand their value, Admiral. But we need them to deal with some tricky enemies. I promise to keep them from suffering casualties as much as possible. We only need them to hold for a short time to ensure a withdrawal."

"And so you broke into the palace with my daughter?" Daelen raised his voice. "Like a band of pirates? Do you know what kind of impact this will have on her reputation?"

Daelen smiled bitterly inside. It was Jaina who suggested teleporting directly—she was always like that, decisive once she made up her mind. But in Daelen’s eyes, it was always the outsider who corrupted his precious daughter. That was reasonable, after all; what father would admit his own child was a natural-born "troublemaker"?

"It is an emergency, Admiral," Daelen chose not to argue. "Well, actually, I shouldn't hide it. We are going to Silvermoon City for an evacuation mission. The pointy-eared elves there can't hold on anymore; the undead skeletons are about to start a massacre."

"Where did you get this intelligence?" Daelen demanded.

"Kael'thas came to ask for help himself," Daelen replied coldly. "Otherwise, given the nature of the High Elves, there’s no way they would ever come begging for help."

Daelen stared at the nautical chart for a long time before suddenly looking up. "The 'Eighteen Bronze Men' can be lent to you, but there are conditions."

Daelen let out a breath of relief. "Please, go ahead."

"First, they are my guard and my people; you must ensure their safety." Daelen held up a finger. "Second, the guard will only participate in the battle against the undead and will not involve themselves in other political disputes. Third—" He paused, his gaze sharp, "—if any one of my Bronze Men is sacrificed, you will come to me personally to explain why."

Daelen nodded solemnly. "I swear it on my family name." (Which I just made up.)

Daelen snorted and turned to order his guard captain: "Assemble the guard, fully equipped."

As Daelen reached an agreement with the Admiral, Jaina and Katherine returned from the side hall. The Queen’s gaze immediately locked onto Daelen, a probing stare that made him feel a chill down his back.

"Is it settled?" Jaina asked, walking to Daelen’s side.

Daelen nodded, and just as he was about to answer, he felt a sharp gaze piercing his back. He turned to meet Queen Katherine’s pensive look. That gaze was a mix of curiosity, assessment, and a certain expectation he dared not dwell upon.

"Daelen Lawson, that is your name, right?" Katherine walked up gracefully. "Jaina tells me you are a... decent agricultural consultant?"

Daelen offered a bitter smile. "Er, you flatter me, Your Majesty. I used to just farm in Westfall outside Stormwind. Later, I was fortunate enough to gain the appreciation of Princess Onyxia, and only then was I able to serve her."

"To be recognized by the Dragonkin is no small feat," Katherine smiled, though her gaze swept toward her daughter before snapping back to Daelen. "I am curious, how does a farmer come to possess so much knowledge?"

Daelen felt Jaina give him a light pinch behind his back. He coughed dryly. "Well, that’s a long story—"

"We should be leaving," Onyxia suddenly interjected, her voice cold as a blade. The Black Dragon Princess was standing on Daelen’s other side, her long fingers resting on his shoulder, her nails dangerously extended. "Your Bronze Men have already assembled in the palace plaza."

Daelen felt the temperature on both sides drop several degrees at once. On the left was Queen Katherine’s meaningful smile, on the right was Onyxia’s almost tangible killing intent, and behind him, Jaina’s breathing had noticeably quickened.

"Aha... right, time is of the essence." Daelen chuckled dryly and stepped back, skillfully extricating himself from the women’s encirclement. "We should be getting back."

Daelen watched this scene and suddenly burst into laughter. "It seems your troubles are much greater than just borrowing soldiers, Daelen."

Daelen could only offer a wry smile.

"Let’s go, Daelen," the Black Dragon Princess whispered in his ear, her voice as sweet as poison. "We have many... things to talk about."

Daelen swallowed hard, bowed to the Proudmoore family, and walked toward the gate as if fleeing. He could feel three gazes burning into his back—Katherine’s inquiry, Jaina’s complexity, and Onyxia’s possessiveness.

This was, without a doubt, the most dangerous "修罗场" (battlefield of affection) he had ever experienced.