After robbing the nobles of Stormwind, Galen felt wealthy.
Bah!
"I'm merely robbing the rich to help the poor," Galen scoffed. "Plundering Stormwind's coward nobles to fund the rebuilding efforts of an impoverished duke—what's wrong with that?"
With hundreds of farmers toiling in unison, the foundations of what Galen dubbed Muddy Mire Outpost quickly took shape. A project of this magnitude would have cost many times more had he relied on merchants or contractors.
As for the Bloodsail Stronghold, planned for the Northeast Islands, Galen deemed haste unnecessary. It would serve as a future base for the pirate fleet. Let it rise slowly, organically—his gold was better spent elsewhere for now.
Meanwhile, Garona returned with startling news.
She had located a group of Draenei. But calling them Draenei was no longer accurate.
These were the Broken.
Once tall and radiant, they had been warped by fel corruption. Their skin sagged, limbs shriveled, and grotesque tumors clung to their forms. Worst of all, they had lost the Light.
Cut off from its radiance, their minds decayed. Their faith—once the cornerstone of Draenei resilience—now cracked beneath despair. Many spiraled into madness, becoming the Lost Ones: feral, mindless husks of what they had been.
Galen remembered the stories. In time, the Broken would splinter: the deranged Lost Ones claiming the farmlands, attacking all who approached; the lucid few fleeing northwest to build a forlorn refuge.
He remembered clearly—because his alt account had once wandered into that very farmland and been obliterated by a dozen Lost One Prophets and Hunters. A massacre. Hands off the keyboard. Nothing to do but respawn. It was really unlucky.
But that was the future. In the present, Garona reported that these Broken still retained their sanity. They relied on ancestral Draenei crystals to stave off the fel's corruption.
Of course, Galen saw the cracks in that strategy. The crystals would run out, just as the Highborne of Dire Maul had faced dwindling arcane stores. Desperation breeds cruelty—and madness. In time, some Broken would even butcher their kin to survive.
That was decades away.
For now, Garona warned: the Broken were not friendly. Suspicious. Hostile.
Galen merely smiled.
"They're intelligent, aren't they?" he said. "Then they can be reasoned with."
To Galen, negotiation was simple: carrot and stick. Benefits offered, power displayed.
Garona estimated the number of Broken at ten thousand.
Galen summoned Gandalf.
"Prepare the Tidefury Legion. We're paying a visit."
Three hundred paladins led the march, their Holy Light radiant and unmasked. A signal to any watchers: We are not enemies.
Though the Broken had lost the Light, their reverence for it remained. Perhaps it might soothe their fear.
The Broken's enclave lay half a day west of Muddy Mire. Swamps slowed the march, and night fell with the army only halfway there. They arrived by noon the next day, stopping just shy of the Broken's perimeter.
Garona, fluent in the Draenei tongue, delivered Galen's message to the exiles' leader.
His name was Magtoor a former guard officer of Shattrath, now a weary soul guiding the Broken by the memory of lost order.
Magtoor emerged.
"Human prince," he said, eyes narrowed. "You claim you can stop us from becoming Lost Ones?"
Galen nodded. "I can offer you a new power. Not the Holy Light, perhaps—but one that resists the fel."
In another future, a Broken named Nobundo would discover shamanism. That power would save many. Galen aimed to bring that salvation early.
"Why should we believe you?" Magtoor asked. "We've been betrayed by kin, enslaved by orcs, forsaken by Light."
Galen stepped forward.
And unleashed the Light.
A blinding halo erupted around him, searing and warm. The epic Light coursed over the Broken like balm and blade—burning away corruption, if only briefly.
They wept. The Light touched them, if not embraced.
Hope returned.
"What do you want in return?" Magtoor whispered.
Galen smiled.
"Loyalty," he said. "I want loyalty."
And Magtoor, still bathed in golden light, dropped to one knee.