The stairs in Karazhan were crafted from white marble, adorned with a central blue velvet carpet. Stretching from the first to the second floor, the carpet's value rivaled a year's tax revenue from a viscount's territory. It was a display of extravagance, nouveau riche taste, and decadence.
"I'd love to experience that myself," Galen thought, acknowledging his weakness for luxury.
Reaching the second floor, they entered a hall.
"This is the second-floor foyer," Lothar explained. "To the left is the banquet hall, where Medivh entertains guests. To the right, the passage leads to the ballroom, and above the ballroom is the opera house."
"And then what?" Galen thought, frustrated. Lothar stopped at the crucial point. "The route beyond is what matters! Everyone knows about the ballroom and the opera house, where they perform Romeo and Juliet, Little Red Riding Hood, and The Wizard of Oz! What about the Curator and the Shade of Aran? Does he even know how complicated the path is?"
"How would I know the way?" Lothar admitted. "Medivh always entertained me in the banquet hall with delicacies from across Azeroth, then teleported me to his magic laboratory or bedroom. I've never walked the path beyond! In recent years, I've acquired some griffins from the dwarves and fly to Medivh's observatory!"
"And I was praising Lothar's reliability over Aegwynn half an hour ago," Galen thought ruefully.
Galen was about to complain when he heard movement in the banquet hall: footsteps!
Everyone tensed, ready for a fight, expecting demons. Instead, a group of humans emerged, but Lothar and the others remained cautious, remembering the transformed servants at the gate.
A nobleman-like human appeared, surrounded by an elder and some female relatives. They looked like nobles seeking refuge.
"As expected," Galen thought.
"Duke Ebonlock? What are you doing here?" Lothar recognized the old nobleman, the most prominent in Elwynn Forest and father of Goldshire's commander, Elro Ebonlock.
"Praise the Holy Light! Sir Lothar, you've come for us!" The old man exclaimed, reaching for Lothar's hand, which Lothar subtly avoided.
"It's Sir Lothar, the Lion of Stormwind! We're saved!"
"There are too many green-skinned monsters. We had to abandon our lands and flee to Karazhan!"
"Now that Sir Lothar is here, have the orcs been driven back? Can we return home?"
"We've had enough of this place. Isn't Medivh supposed to be the strongest Guardian? Yet, strange creatures appear, and he does nothing!"
"The servants disappeared, and we haven't eaten in a day!"
The nobles lamented their hardships and looked to Lothar for rescue.
Lothar glanced at them. There were about thirty nobles and their families, totaling around a hundred people. This was significant, as these nobles were the foundation of Stormwind.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm sorry, but I cannot send anyone back to Stormwind City yet. Our Guardian has encountered some..."
"Guardian Medivh is dealing with some issues," Galen interrupted. "We are here to resolve them. Then, the Guardian will defeat the orcs and reclaim Stormwind's territory!"
Galen recognized Lothar's political naiveté. Revealing the truth would shatter the nobles' morale. They had already fallen quickly, and who knew if Sargeras had influenced them? It was best to keep them at a distance.
"Who are you? I don't recognize you," a nobleman challenged Galen. Anxious to return to Stormwind, he resented the interruption.
"I am Galen Trollbane of Stromgarde."
"I've heard of him," another nobleman said, "One of the Twin Stars of Stromgarde. He recently became the Duke of Tol Barad."
"And he's only fifteen," another added. "I hear he's already a high-level professional."
Duke Ebonlock addressed Galen, "Thank you, Prince Galen, for helping Goldshire repel the orcs last year. Elro admires you greatly!"
"You flatter me, Duke. Elro has retreated safely to the Stone Cairn Lake defense line, our new defensive position."
"Then I am relieved. Please find the Guardian. I will reassure them and await your return in the banquet hall." The old duke seemed perceptive and discouraged the others from bothering them.
"A sensible old man," Galen thought. "If possible, I'll save him, for his son and granddaughter's sake."
"Thank you, Galen," Lothar said.
"It's nothing," Galen replied.
Lothar understood the situation. As a high-ranking official, his priority was to manage the nobles and prevent trouble.
The group headed towards the passage on the right, leading to a side staircase near the ballroom, which connected to the opera house on the third floor.
"We'll have to proceed cautiously," Galen thought. From his memories, he knew they had to perform a play in the opera house to progress. The Titan Guardian, Maiden of Virtue, had not yet arrived, so they would face one less boss.
"After the opera house, we should reach the Master's Terrace, where a bone dragon resides. Beyond that are the Curator, the high-level satyr Felhoof, the Shade of Aran, the chess event, and finally, the last boss! It's a long and arduous journey!"
Entering the opera house, Galen saw a figure standing near the stage's edge on the right. He also noticed a door on the left side of the stage.
"That's him!" Galen realized. Clearing that figure would open the door to the Master's Terrace.
"Welcome, guests!" the figure announced. "I am Barnes, the stage manager. This is Azeroth's finest opera house. Medivh has prepared exciting performances. Please, follow me. Perhaps we can even have an impromptu performance!"
Galen frowned. "Is this guy asking us to become actors? We have a high elf prince, a Stromgarde prince, the Grand Marshal of Stormwind, and a former Guardian here!"
"Tonight's performances will surpass anything you've seen. They will be unforgettable! People will flock here to see their favorite plays!"
"This stage manager is too talkative," Galen thought. "Can't we just kill him?" Galen slowly drew his sword, unable to control the urge.
"Your Highness! He appears to be human," Gandalf whispered, stopping Galen.
"See that door? Knock him out. We'll go through it."
"Baa!"
"Sigh, I said knock him out, not imitate a sheep."
"My old arms and legs? You want me to knock him out with my staff? Subduing him is the same thing! Perhaps Aragorn should do it."
"If you turn him into a sheep, how will we get the key?"
"I've been picking locks professionally for thirty years. Watch me!"
Gandalf flew onto the stage, went behind the curtain on the left, and began chanting a spell.
"Click!" The door opened, and a large gray wolf, nearly three meters tall, emerged from behind the curtain!
"Ladies and gentlemen, tonight, everything becomes an illusion. Your eyes will deceive your minds. For example, this seemingly harmless old woman awaits her granddaughter. But appearances can be deceiving! You must uncover the hidden truth!" Barnes announced, having broken free from the Polymorph spell.
Lothar and Rommath tried to subdue him, but it was too late. The wolf's scarlet eyes twitched, as if he smelled something.
"Even better that you're here. Awoo!" The wolf howled and lunged at Gandalf, who flashed into the passage.
The werewolf, losing his target, turned to the crowd below. Galen's expression changed. He sensed fel energy on the creature.
"Aragorn, Durin, let's go! The rest of you, wait here!" Galen ordered.
Aragorn, warhammer in hand, leaped onto the stage, blocking the werewolf's path. Durin and Galen followed.
Aragorn's warhammer struck the werewolf, as if hitting a wall. The beast's muscles and thick fur provided excellent defense.
"Awoo!" The wolf seemed to mock Aragorn.
Durin, arriving next, pinned the werewolf against the wall with his storm hammer.
"I'll silence your 'awoo,' you little wolf cub!" The hill dwarf was more adept at close combat than Aragorn. Though both were Legendary-tier, Aragorn leaned towards support, like a Holy Paladin with a Retribution off-spec.
The gray wolf, battered but unbowed, touched his swollen nose.
"Awoo, run, little girl, run!"
Durin and Aragorn were confused. There was no girl on stage. The only women present were Aegwynn and Khadgar below.
Aegwynn had been silent since Moroes's death, following Lothar with a blank expression. Khadgar was even more passive, not making a move.
Aragorn and Durin were puzzled, but Galen knew. His crown helmet had been magically transformed into a red hood.
Not only was the helmet gone, but all his equipment was also shielded. Fortunately, he wore casual clothes under his armor. Otherwise, he would have been naked under the red hood!
Without his gear, Galen was vulnerable. The werewolf's skill, likely enhanced by Sargeras, was too potent. Running was the only option.
As the werewolf charged, claws extended, Galen ran across the stage. Durin and Aragorn tried to intercept him, but the crazed werewolf ignored their attacks.
Suddenly, a large fireball struck the werewolf's chest, staggering him and scorching his fur. Then, an Ice Arrow hit his back, slowing him down.
Kael'thas, from below the stage, and Aragorn, who had dashed into the passage, had attacked. Kael'thas felt a strong affinity for Galen, a talented, humble prince beloved by his people.
The high elf prince saw his own potential in Galen and gladly accepted his friendship. Galen, in his previous life, had sympathized with the tragic prince. Their friendship was genuine and deep.
Seeing Galen's armor vanish and him running in a red hood, Kael'thas immediately intervened.
Gandalf, realizing the werewolf was targeting Galen, also acted, freezing the beast to slow him down.
Galen ran around the stage's edge, and the red hood finally disappeared. Now, Galen was furious. Having his armor stripped and being forced to run around in a red hood was humiliating.
"Heh, hehe, hahaha!" Galen laughed in anger, drew his longsword, and joined Durin and Aragorn in attacking the werewolf, adding his blows to the creature's already wounded body.
In reality, there is no "taunt" skill. A tank cannot simply activate an ability to draw aggro. Instead, they must skillfully provoke their opponent, causing them to lose focus and attack only the tank.
This involves insults, blocking attacks, stuns, and fears, enraging the enemy and making them ignore others.
Therefore, being a tank in reality is quite challenging, and they tend to have unique personalities.
Durin, Aragorn, and Galen were not tanks, so the werewolf attacked them in turn. The pressure was manageable. Facing the enhanced werewolf, Aragorn and Durin focused on supporting attacks, allowing Galen to gain experience fighting a Legendary-tier opponent.
As they fought, Galen noticed the wounds on the werewolf's back were no longer bleeding. Instead, spikes began to grow from them!
"This werewolf is getting stronger!" Galen realized. "Is he digesting the fel energy?"
"Awoo!" Fear Howl!
A wave of dark energy emanated from the werewolf, briefly immobilizing the three. They quickly broke free.
"Run, little girl, run!" the werewolf taunted.
Kael'thas's red mage robe vanished, replaced by a small, red hood!
Kael'thas looked dumbfounded.