7Chapter One: Grand Hamlet
The woods had been cut back a long way in recent years. Three lines of stumps were placed where once before, there had been verdant trees. Father had needed them cut for houses and arrows and spears. Not to mention many other things that needed wood.
William of House Gabriel remembered when the forest had been larger. But with the orcs pressing ever closer, the land had suffered. Many old Gold Mines had been reopened. It was needed to purchase weapons from Ironforge and Quel'thalas. Below he could see commoners drilling for war in the fields.
War was coming.
Lady Rusara was waiting beyond the stumps within a little glad in the midst of the wood. The sun was coming down through the trees, and flowers were blooming about it. The violet-skinned sorceress sat in across-legged position, meditating. A long, black cloak covered her entire body, hiding her figure. Dark hair fell around her neck, halting right above the shoulders. William stood before her, ready.
"Lady Rusara, I'm here as you requested, finally," said William. He brushed aside a long strand of blonde hair from his face.
Rusara opened her eyes. "Where's Felix? And where is your sword?"
William looked down at his empty sheathe. He'd never felt right wearing it anyway, and not having one had been a relief. Still, Father had insisted he keep one on him. Orcs were known to cross the river into Grand Hamlet. "Oh, um, I broke my sword."
Rusara smiled. "Again?"
"I had to send Felix to get another one," said William, feeling awkward. There were problems with bearing unusual amounts of strength.
Rusara laughed. "My own people had metalsmithing that might have stood up to your strength. Perhaps you should seek an elven, or dwarven blade?"
"I know, but with the war on such things are a luxury," said William. "Dwarven steel is needed for warriors. And Quel'thalas smiths tend to charge exploitative prices. And with all the refugees have been coming through over the bridges. The orcs have all but taken that land, and it's all Mother can do to cover the retreat."
"Well, such is the way of the wars of mortals," mused Rusara. "How is your father?"
"Father, well, he's been working to establish new farmlands for the armies," said William. He remembered his lessons. "Feeding them has been troublesome. Especially with all the adventurers and mercenaries King Llane has been hiring. The priests of Northshire Abbey have come to help grow crops rapidly. But it's a lot of work.
"King Llane has also ordered that we prepare a militia to help fight the orcs. You may have seen them below."
Rusara smiled. "I've seen them training in the fields. They seem to be well-ordered.
"Still, I fear the orcs may overwhelm them."
"What do you mean?" asked William.
Rusara looked out across the river, where the green stretched out for a time. If one looked closely, however, you could see the Swamps of Sorrow coming. "The orcs stand concealed within the mists of the Swamps of Sorrow. We know very little of how their realm is organized, but I can sense growing darkness. I believe the orcs are growing in number and power.
"Surely, you've heard the stories?"
"Yes, our scouts have heard of forces mustering," said William. "Father believes the best way to defeat them would be to convince them to attack now. If they strike before they are ready like before, we could destroy their armies piecemeal."
"But it has not worked, has it?" asked Rusara.
"No," admitted William. "Father has tried to lure them out, but they are cautious. We've tried to arrange peace terms, but they kill the messengers and send back their heads. It doesn't help that we are only one Kingdom, against a race."
"Perhaps Felix could be of use here?" mused Rusara.
"The orcs hold him in as much contempt as the rest of us," said William. "There doesn't seem to be anything we can do."
"Well then," said Rusara. "Perhaps we should begin."
And so William's training in the use of the harp began. It was a style of magic that William enjoyed far more than learning swordplay. Rusara had learned to wield many instruments in her travels, and the harp was no exception. William knew that she was of another race of elves, one that did not live on this continent. But whenever anyone asked, she'd only say that she'd long since broken with them and no more than that.
On the training went, and William played as best he could. His music resounded throughout the wood. For his part, he thought he was getting better at it. But channeling his mana through it was an added layer of complexity. One he hadn't mastered yet.
"Lady Rusara, can I ask you something?" asked William, wondering how she had come to dwell here.
"Of course," said Rusara.
"I don't see why you insist I focus magic through a harp," said William.
"Magic requires a channel," said Rusara. "Traditional channels are things such as staffs and swords, but a harp would do just as well. More importantly, it helps to illustrate my lesson."
"You mean that the greatest magic is the kind that takes no mana at all," said William, remembering it.
"Yes," said Rusara. "The ability to achieve great things. Not with fire and light, but with simple communication? That is powerful, indeed. That kind of magic cannot be sensed or seen by outward appearances. A common peasant may hold that power without anyone knowing it.
"Every action we take sends ripples through reality, shifting the entire world.
"The trick is aligning our actions, so they achieve what we want." She frowned. "Your attention is slipping again, William. Your hand has not moved on the harp for some time."
"I'm sorry, I'm just... I'm afraid that the war will come here," admitted William.
"I would have thought you'd be glad to enter the fray at last," said Rusara.
"I don't want to be in a battle," admitted William. "It all sounds terrifying to me, and I'd rather just stay home and read."
"Well, you seem to be in the minority, then," said Rusara. Then she looked up as if sensing something. "I think you had the best head back. Felix may need your help soon."
William looked up through the trees and saw what she meant. There was Felix, making his way toward the woods. But another boy was chasing him and had a drawn sword in hand.
What were they thinking?!
"You'd best deal with this, William," said Rusara. "I have other matters to attend to anyway."
William sprang up from where he sat and ran, stowing away his harp as he did. Felix was making for him, but stumbled over the roots of a tree and fell. The other boy came toward him, and William saw he wore nobles clothes and had dark hair. Felix backed up, but the boy grabbed him by the throat and kicked him in the gut, before smashing him against a tree. The brute put his blade to his throat.
William neared him. As he did, he wished he had his sword. How could he get the brute off Felix? He had no weapon. A stick? No, something he could throw. Though he'd never been good with bows.
"You, who sent you to spy on us!" said the boy. "Was it Blackhand? Talk, orc scum!"
"Spying?" asked Felix. "Is that what you call walking down the road?"
The boy drew back his sword. As he did, William quickly stooped and snatched up a stone. Hurling it, he caught the other boy in the shoulder and sent him sprawling, clutching his arm. Felix ran to William, holding the sword he'd been sent to get in one hand.
Quickly reaching out, William drew it as the other boy came at him. Their blades crossed, and William found himself struggling to stay alive. He thrust, parried and slashed, but found the brute countered all of them. Suddenly, William lost his footing, and the brute began to attack him again.
Rolling away, William caught it as it descended and readied his sword. The other boy took his blade in two hands and prepared to attack.
And then Felix put a knife to the boy's throat, having crept up behind him. His other arms gripped the brute's forehead. "Give the order. Please."
"Why are you defending this orcish spy?" snarled the boy.
"Felix is not a spy, he is my servant," snapped William. "He was running an errand for me! I should have you whipped for this atrocity!
"...Are you alright, Felix?"
"I'm fine," said Felix. "I was walking down the road after getting your sword. I saw the King's company approaching me and made myself scarf. I suppose this one wanted to play hero and chased after me.
"One doesn't stop when someone is chasing you will a drawn sword, especially with my blood. So I kept running."
"You employ orcs?" snapped the boy, trying to look bold.
"I employ those I trust," said William, sheathing his sword. "Felix has never lived among orcs, and his blood is only half-orc anyway. And you had no right to attack him."
"Well, he's got a lot to answer for!" snapped the boy. "I got splashed through the mud by him while he was running and bruised all over."
"No doubt a result of you chasing him with a drawn sword," scoffed William. The boy was clearly drenched in mud, but he noticed that Felix was sporting multiple bruises.
"I was pursuing him because we thought he was a spy!" snapped the boy.
"What were you basing that assumption on?" asked William flatly.
"...He's an orc!" snapped Varian.
"He's a half-orc," said William. "So even in that, you were wrong." He noticed Felix's bruises and mudstained garments. "Drop the sword, now."
The boy did so, and William picked it up. Picking it up, he noted it was a ceremonial blade, gilded with a silver lining. It was chipped and broken in many places, now worthless as a show blade. Then he noticed the symbol of the King of Stormwind upon it. Only members of the Royal Family were allowed to bear the symbol of a lion on their blades.
Well, this was problematic.
Well, William was not going to beg his forgiveness. "Who are you to bear this crest?"
"I am Prince Varian Wrynn of Stormwind!" shouted the boy, sounding proud.
William looked to Felix, then back to Varian. "Does that justify your actions?"
"When my father hears of this-" began Varian.
"Hears what?" asked William. "That you tried to murder one of my servants and then tried to kill me? Or will you lie and say I ganged up on you with a gang of thugs?"
"I..." Varian shifted. "I thought he was a spy."
"You were wrong," said William. He had to salvage this somehow. "Alright, I'm going to make a deal with you, Varian. We're going to head back to your father. I'm going to describe how Felix and I were set upon by a gang of bandits.
"Fortunately, you were around to save us. That will do far more for your reputation than being beaten by us."
"I don't need you to cover for me!" snapped Varian. "Give me back my sword and release me! Then I'll put this behind us."
"Let him go, Felix," said William with a sigh. "We're not getting anywhere with this."
Felix released the knife and let go. Varian staggered forward, giving a glare to Felix, who stared back with impassive eyes. William quickly fell to one knee, turned the blade around. He offered it to Varian, who reached out and took the blade in one hand. William saw Felix tense, as if ready to knife Varian if he made a move.
But Varian did not make a move. He simply took up the sword, looked over it, and sheathed the blade. He looked like he was trying to get back his dignity and pretend as though it had never happened.
"...In light of the circumstances," said Varian. "I'm going to forgive this."
"Thank you, milord," said William, keeping the sarcasm out of his voice. "I suggest you return to your company." Then he looked to Felix. "Let's go, Felix. We'll get you help from the priests."
Today had truly been a miserable experience. All William had wanted to do was play the harp.
Author's Note:
This story could be considered an experiment. I have managed to make a pretty good fanfiction career writing about canon characters. However, now I want to see if I can write a Warcraft fanfic about OCs and still have people enjoy it. And since the First War is almost never written about, I decided I'd set the story there.
I wouldn't even have included Varian, but he kind of has to be here for the story to work. More on that later.
