The morning wind of the Arathi Highlands blew through the air, making the blue-and-gold banners of the Alliance flutter outside the window.
Alaric sat in his room, being attended to by Onyxia, who was dressed in a maid outfit. As she assisted him in donning his robe, he once again checked the harness inside it.
The harness was neatly filled with various magical scrolls, all high-quality items personally crafted by Alaric.
Most of them were trigger-activated scrolls—designed to automatically activate when he was threatened, ensuring he could respond to unexpected dangers even if he failed to react in time.
A large dragonhide pouch hung from Alaric's waist, alongside rows of neatly arranged vials.
These vials contained alchemical potions of various colors, ranging from basic mana and health restoration to antidotes and poisons.
Although spatial storage magic was not highly developed on Azeroth, Alaric was an exception.
His dragonhide pouch was enchanted with powerful spatial expansion magic—imported from the world of Harry Potter—allowing it to hold an extensive supply of scrolls and potions, ready to replenish his inventory at any time.
All of this was part of Alaric's preparation as a mage for the impending war.
The strength of a mage lay not only in the versatility of magic but also in their ability to produce magical items.
Mages were the ultimate "pay-to-win" class, but they were also the most profitable profession.
A mage never lacked magical tools, and Alaric had taken this to the extreme.
If one were to take inventory, they would find that the sheer number of magical scrolls and potions Alaric carried exceeded that of an entire battlemage regiment.
Since returning from Grim Batol, Miss Prestor had begun fulfilling her contract.
Under Alaric's whims, she had no choice but to wear an extravagant and gothic maid outfit, serving him as a personal maid.
Every morning, as she assisted Alaric in dressing, she would be filled with deep dread at the sight of his overwhelming magical arsenal—enough to equip one or two full mage battalions.
She realized that even if she had successfully transformed into a dragon during their encounter, she still wouldn't have been Alaric's match.
With such an absurd number of magical tools, Alaric could stand still for an entire day and not lose a single hair.
After triple-checking that he had all the necessary scrolls to handle any unexpected situations, Alaric picked up his staff and swiftly exited the room.
At the doorway, two figures had been waiting for him: a high elf ranger and a half-orc rogue.
"Good morning, Vereesa and Garona." Alaric greeted the two women without surprise.
"Good morning, Lif." Vereesa responded with a bright smile.
"Mm." Garona acknowledged him with a simple nod.
Behind Alaric, Onyxia followed him closely like a proper maid and curtsied to the two women.
However, the two, who had just greeted Alaric warmly, simultaneously shot her a glare.
Onyxia remained unfazed, merely puffing out her chest in a provocative smirk.
Only at moments like these did her usual obedient and docile facade crack, revealing her true arrogant and wicked nature.
After the brief exchange, Alaric proceeded down the corridor toward the hall, with Garona and Vereesa following closely behind like bodyguards.
Garona had always been Alaric's follower, so her actions were unsurprising.
As for Vereesa, there was a reason behind her behavior.
Shortly after returning from Grim Batol, she had, as previously mentioned, officially become Alaric's new personal guard—an arrangement orchestrated by her elder sisters, Alleria and Sylvanas.
Alaric had no idea why the two older sisters had fallen for Vereesa's persuasion and sent her straight into the lion's den.
In reality, it was all due to the perceived threat of Onyxia.
Though the black dragoness now seemed to be a well-behaved maid by Alaric's side, those who knew her true identity were well aware that she was far from harmless.
Powerful, charming, and utterly untouchable—faced with such a formidable rival, the two high elf ranger commanders, too preoccupied with leading their troops, had no choice but to send their youngest sister to keep a close watch on her.
Caught in the middle of all this, Alaric actually found himself quite enjoying the situation.
Thus, the Alliance's war advisor led his three female companions to a large dining hall, where Lothar and the other high-ranking officers of the Alliance were already having breakfast.
The meal was fairly substantial—not just the usual military rations but a spread of beef, eggs, milk, and other locally sourced food.
Currently, their encampment was set up at Northfold Manor, a farm near the Thoradin's Wall in the Arathi Highlands.
The Alliance had ultimately decided to adopt Sylvanas' strategy: using Thoradin's Wall as a defensive stronghold to wear down the Horde over time. However, Alaric's suggestion of a morale-boosting frontal engagement had also been accepted.
Now, Lothar was personally leading the Alliance's elite forces deep into the Arathi Highlands to engage the Horde in a skirmish.
This maneuver served two purposes: to probe the enemy's strength and to divert their attention toward Thoradin's Wall.
By yesterday afternoon, the Alliance's elite scouts—the high elf rangers—had already detected the Horde's main force nearby, and the enemy had likewise noticed their movements.
As a result, Lothar chose to temporarily camp at Northfold Manor, preparing for battle the next day.
Perhaps the Horde's commanders shared a similar mindset, for both sides remained still throughout the night.
During breakfast, the atmosphere was heavy with silence. Faced with the impending battle, no one spoke a word.
There were no rousing speeches—perhaps due to the looming threat of the Horde, or for other reasons. Everyone simply ate and drank quietly before departing.
A somber and oppressive mood pervaded the entire Alliance encampment.
Alaric himself was completely unaffected by this atmosphere.
Among the three women accompanying him, Garona was already a seasoned warrior from her time in Draenor, so the coming battle held no tension for her.
As for Onyxia, what could a black dragon princess possibly fear from a war among mortals?
Only Vereesa, who had only been on one previous mission, showed obvious nervousness.
Even though she had personally witnessed the six great dragon aspects during that mission, it didn't make facing her first real battlefield any easier.
As they made their way to the battlefield, Alaric could feel her anxious gaze on him more than once.
"Are you nervous?" the mage asked, turning to her.
Vereesa forced a smile. "Very."
"Don't worry about it." Alaric advised. "Everyone feels this way. You just have to push through it."
"Were you nervous, too?" she asked in return.
The mage chuckled.
"Not really. Mages need to remain calm to cast spells." He revealed, "But battle requires tension. That's what Lothar once told me after a fight.
He said, 'You should feel anxious. Because if someone isn't afraid, they become careless. And when they get hit, they'll finally understand.'"
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