Chapter 40 Plans

"The little mage of Dalaran, I know you." Sylvanas recognized Jaina. The two had met before. "Tell me what is going on."

"When Silvermoon City was in peril, Prince Kael'thas requested my aid. My tactical advisor, Dren Losen, helped me plan this operation, rescuing these civilians and nobles from Silvermoon City." Jaina kept it brief, simply explaining the course of events.

Sylvanas was rendered speechless. She had not expected things to unfold this way. In the face of the undead, nobles who gave reckless orders had abandoned any effort to save themselves and their people. Yet an unrelated human had gone to great lengths to orchestrate an unprecedented evacuation, saving at least three thousand high elven lives.

"Thank you!" The proud Sylvanas bowed her head in gratitude to Dren. "Where is our prince? I haven't seen him from start to finish."

Dren glanced around to ensure no idle onlookers were close by, then told Sylvanas, "I sent him to Stormwind to ask for aid. If he stayed here, he would simply be annoyed to death by the nobles, and we would struggle to deal with those walking troubles. Besides, he still owes us a massive sum in financial aid. So, it's best he stays far away."

"Ah!" Sylvanas froze instantly, hearing such explosive insider information.

Dren patted her shoulder and asked in a gentle, reasonable tone, "What are your plans for the future? Will you stay in Dalaran, or go somewhere else? I can recommend quite a few good places to you." Having managed to rescue the living Queen Sylvanas with such difficulty, Dren dared not leave her out of his sight, fearing the onset of plot-mandated tragedies.

Sylvanas looked at the surrounding crowd.

"Stay in Dalaran?" Dren suggested, following her gaze. "Antonidas would welcome a Ranger-General to join the garrison. Your experience would be invaluable in training recruits."

"You want me to act like a rookie instructor," her voice sounded淬ed in ice, "listening to human mages' orders every day?"

Dren kept his expression neutral. "Or..." He turned back to Sylvanas. "I could take you to see other parts of Azeroth." Under her steady gaze, he spoke eloquently, "Before choosing your future, you should at least know what options exist, shouldn't you?"

Sylvanas finally turned to face him. Her blue eyes cut through the night like two unsheathed daggers, piercing straight into Dren. "What are you plotting?" A strange sort of animosity grew dangerously as her shoulders tightened. "First you persuade Antonidas to save people, and now you show me such extraordinary care..."

Dren felt the surrounding temperature suddenly drop. Onyxia straightened her posture, radiating dragon aura in all directions.

Dren nodded and said, "Yes, I am plotting something concerning you." His smile was clean to the point of seeming innocent. "You are important to me. To be precise, you being alive is important to Azeroth."

"Why?" Sylvanas asked skeptically, then looked down at her own body, realizing the man couldn't possibly be lusting after her—there was no need to risk the lives of thousands of undead just to save a long-eared elf.

Not far away, Onyxia pricked up her ears. Meanwhile, Jaina silently turned away, pretending to inspect Dalaran's landscaping.

Dren pointed upward and downward, made a silencing gesture, shrugged, and said, "Now is not the time. Let's first decide where you want to stay."

Feeling the seriousness in Dren's demeanor, Sylvanas pressed no further. After her earlier outburst, her death wish seemed to have faded somewhat. Eventually, the conversation circled back. "Do you have any good suggestions?"

Dren pointed at Jaina and said, "That beautiful magic princess is preparing to return to Kul Tiras to send her compatriots home. Are you interested in visiting a beautiful maritime kingdom together?"

Jaina: *I hadn't even thought about returning right now. Can someone let me get some rest?*

Hearing this, Sylvanas nodded, thinking that amidst her uncertainty about the future, taking a chance to observe the diverse customs and cultures across Azeroth might be a good idea.

Seeing that Sylvanas agreed to go to Kul Tiras, Jaina gathered her composure, summoned Daelin's royal palace honor guard, and prepared to teleport home. At the same time, she arranged for the three troll refugees she had borrowed from Thrall, noting that it would take a while before someone could come to pick them up.

Sylvanas, on the other hand, dressed properly and gathered the surviving ranger troops, informing them of her intention to explore other parts of Azeroth and leaving them to choose their own paths for the future.

"I am willing to follow the General. Wherever you go, I go!" said one ranger.

"Right, me too. Just look at those nobles who escaped; they are still as arrogantly disdainful of us as ever," another ranger pointed out, gesturing toward the chaotic survivor camp.

Over a hundred rangers, including the wounded, all expressed their willingness to follow Sylvanas. She instructed the rangers to stay in Dalaran to recuperate for now, promising to send word for them to rendezvous once she had settled on a permanent home.

The white stone steps of Port Boralus had been polished clean by the tides. Jaina's portal unfolded amidst the sound of breaking waves, and Dren stepped out first, his boot heels instantly leaving clear impressions on the damp steps.

"Watch your step," he turned and extended a hand to Sylvanas. "The harbor steps are slipperier than they look."

The Ranger-General ignored the hand, leaping lightly down the steps. Her leather boots landed on the damp stone surface with almost no sound. Onyxia brought up the rear, her high heels coming down heavily over Dren's footprints, as if trying to grind some invisible nuisance into dust.

"Jaina!"

Daelin Proudmoore's voice rolled across the docks like ocean thunder. The old Lord Admiral strode forward, his silver-gray beard trembling with his strides, the gold tassels on his naval uniform gleaming in the morning light. His honor guard immediately formed up and saluted him. While inspecting his troops to ensure no casualties, the old Lord Admiral greeted Dren: "Good job, advisor kid, my men all returned safe and sound. Don't forget your promise to me regarding Derek—the sooner, the better."

Dren hurriedly acknowledged him.

His gaze swept over the group behind his daughter, pausing noticeably upon spotting Sylvanas's long, pointed ears.

"So this is the surviving high elven leader?" Daelin's voice carried the blunt directness typical of Kul Tirans. "How is the situation over there? How many people managed to evacuate?"

Sylvanas raised her chin, her voice carrying clearly across the docks. "I am Sylvanas Windrunner, Ranger-General of Quel'Thalas." She lowered her head slightly to Daelin. "Thanks to your assistance, the evacuation went smoothly. Roughly three thousand people made it back to Dalaran alive." Along the way, Jaina had told her how Dren had borrowed the royal palace guards from her father.

Daelin paused for a moment, then burst into thunderous laughter. He slapped his gold-trimmed belt. "Good! At least you didn't lose your tongue!" His laughter cut off abruptly, and he leaned in close to Dren, the smell of alcohol and sea salt washing over him. "You'd better not be hatching any crooked ideas, kid."

Onyxia suddenly poked her head out from behind Dren, her golden slit-pupils contracting in the shadows. "Human, watch your—"

"—We are deeply grateful for the Admiral's hospitality." Dren quickly interrupted, secretly pinching the Black Dragon Princess's wrist. This movement did not escape Sylvanas's notice. Jaina also turned away with a soft huff.

***

The banquet was held within the royal palace. Crystal chandeliers brightly illuminated the grand hall, and the long tables were laden with various seafood dishes, yet Sylvanas barely touched her cutlery. Her gaze periodically swept across the naval battle oil paintings hanging on the walls.

"Not to your taste?" Jaina asked softly.

Sylvanas pushed away the boiled lobster with her fingertips. "I don't eat crustaceans." She glanced at Dren, who was currently drinking shot-for-shot with Daelin. "Your friend seems to be adjusting quite well."

Onyxia suddenly tossed a grape from the other end of the long table, striking Dren's wine glass with pinpoint accuracy. Purplish-red wine splashed onto his snow-white cravat.

"Pardon," the Black Dragon Princess bared her sharp teeth. "Slipped."

Late into the night, Sylvanas stood alone by the sea cliff. The salty ocean breeze whipped up her cloak, and the moonlight stretched her shadow long. Jaina appeared silently beside her, holding two steaming cups of herbal tea.

"Your country is beautiful, Lady Proudmoore." Sylvanas took the cup without drinking. "The fleet, the harbor, and all this..." She pointed toward the brightly lit shipyards down below, "...this vibrant noise."

Jaina followed her gaze to where workers were laboring through the night to build new warships, the sound of hammers echoing across the bay. "But?"

"But my rangers and I..." Sylvanas took a deep breath, "belong to the forest, not the ocean."

In a nearby shadow, Dren was being pressed against a stone wall by Onyxia. The Black Dragon Princess's fingernails had turned into sharp claws, sinking deeply into the fabric of his shoulder. "What on earth are you trying to accomplish by bringing her to Kul Tiras?"

Dren opened his mouth to reply, but suddenly caught sight of Jaina looking over in their direction. In the moonlight, both women's eyes shone with a startling brilliance—

"Speaking of jungles..." He raised his voice, skillfully breaking free from Onyxia's grip, "Tomorrow brings a surprise."

Onyxia's tail slammed down, shattering a boulder with a loud crash.

At dawn the next day, Booty Bay gradually came to life, the salty sea breeze mixed with the scents of rum and gunpowder.

As the sun climbed higher, the goblin zeppelin *Prince Rivendare* was spewing dark green smoke. Engineers on the deck hammered frantically at steam valves, producing harsh metallic clanging sounds.

"You call this a form of transportation?" Sylvanas narrowed her eyes, staring at the lumbering, piece-shedding behemoth. "It looks like it could fall apart at any second."

Prince Rivendare waved a handful of gold coins. "Rest assured, it only crashed yesterday, so statistically speaking, it's very safe today! Listen up, you little runts, we have important guests today, so don't embarrass me. These gold coins are a special bonus—tax-free and commission-free!"

The goblins all over the deck cheered enthusiastically, full of renewed vigor. The zeppelin began to accelerate.

Amidst the roar of its steam boilers, the zeppelin slowly rose into the air. Sylvanas stood by the porthole, watching the colorful rooftops of Booty Bay shrink to the size of toys. When the zeppelin punched through the cloud layer, sunlight suddenly poured in, illuminating the entire cabin.

"This is much smoother than a gryphon." Sylvanas unconsciously relaxed her grip on the railing.

Taking the opportunity, Dren stepped to her side. "And the view is better." He pointed downward. "Look at that sea of jungle in Stranglethorn Vale."

The zeppelin was skimming over the expanse of Stranglethorn Vale. Endless tree canopies undulated in the wind, forming waves of green. A silver ribbon of a river meandered through them, sunlight shattering into countless diamonds upon its surface.

"Doesn't it look a bit like Quel'Thalas's Eversong Woods?" Dren asked softly.

Sylvanas's fingertips unconsciously pressed against the glass. From a certain angle, the silhouettes of those towering ancient trees truly bore a striking resemblance to the giant redwoods of Eversong Woods. Her breath formed a small patch of mist on the glass, which quickly dissipated.

"It really does..." Her voice was so quiet it was almost inaudible. "Especially those—"

"—Troll ruins!" Dren excitedly pointed into the distance. The pyramids of Zul'Gurub glistened in the sunlight, and faint green voodoo smoke could be seen rising from the sacrificial altars.

Sylvanas instantly tensed. Her hand flew to her quiver, muscle memory immediately allowing her to calculate wind speed and altitude.

"Want to try?" Dren produced an elven longbow like magic. "Go back to the life of daily patrols, sleeping, and hunting trolls."

Onyxia's cold snort came from behind. "Childish."

The piercing whistle of an arrow cutting through the air interrupted the Black Dragon Princess's taunt. Without even stepping out onto the deck, Sylvanas loosed an arrow directly through the open porthole. Down in the jungle, a troll witch doctor performing a ritual dance suddenly froze, stared down at the arrowhead protruding from his chest, and crashed heavily to the ground.

"Wind speed leaning east, altitude difference corrected by two degrees." Sylvanas lowered her longbow, the corners of her mouth curving into a long-absent smile. "Good balance."

Just as Dren began to applaud, the zeppelin tilted violently. A goblin rushed in panicked tones, "Port-side gasbag is leaking! We're losing—"

Onyxia grabbed the goblin by the collar. "You dare ruin my sightseeing time?" Her pupils contracted into thin slits. "Fix it right now."

The goblin's green face turned pale white. "Y-Yes! Right away!" Meanwhile, Jaina, who had been standing quietly aside acting like invisible background scenery, followed them out.

When the zeppelin stabilized once more, Sylvanas had returned to the window. Her fingers lightly caressed the scorched Windrunner family crest on her quiver, her gaze piercing through the jungle toward the distant horizon.

"It's beautiful here, but..." Her voice suddenly dropped low. "Every shadow of the trees reminds me of the fires of Eversong Woods."

Just as Dren opened his mouth to speak, Onyxia abruptly wedged herself between the two. "Darling, do you want to see something more exciting? I know where Nesingwary's hunting camp is—"

"Thank you, no." Sylvanas put away her longbow. "I'd like to see this Theramore you mentioned."

"Good, good, good!" Dren hastily agreed.

Onyxia and Jaina, who had been acting as background fixtures, exchanged a glance. Dren's attitude toward Sylvanas inevitably invited suspicions of some underlying conspiracy.