Wrath of the Light

Chapter Four: Vengeance

The orc encampment had been made upon a great hill. Uther's camp had been established in the shadow of that hill. Or so the messenger had said.

Arthas and his men marched toward it.

'Do you suppose Feanor is all right?' asked Arthas.

'Who?' asked Marwynn.

'Feanor Steeltoe.' said Arthas. 'The dwarven craftsmen who migrated to Lordaeron with his clan.' Marwynn looked at him blankly. 'He set up a smithy, and he and his sons had begun planning to hunt Searinox.'

'Oh right, the dragon slayers.' said Marwynn. 'How do you remember the names' of people you haven't seen in years?'

'Well I am a talented individual.' said Arthas. Then he looked down. 'I remember the piles of corpses he'd stored in his cave. His young were gnawing on them.'

'Well at least we got powerful enchanted weapons.' said Marwynn.

Arthas looked to his hammer. The faint red glow that now radiated from it was so familiar he didn't notice it. 'Personally,' he said 'I think the best thing to come out of it was Feanor himself. His forging skills have been a boon to this region, and his clan have promised us support in war.'

At last, they came to Uther's camp.

From the looks of things, Feanor had kept his word. The camp was bustling with soldiers. And among them were many dwarven riflemen. Uther looked up from where he was gazing over maps and smiled. 'Ah, good timing lad,' he said as Arthas approached. 'I sent two of my best Knights to parley with the orc leader. They should be returning shortly.'

It was at this moment that two riderless horses rushed into the camp. Soldiers looked up, and muttered in outrage, as a sense of grim fury permeated the camp. The orcs had violated parley. One of the oldest and most basic of codes of morality. The thing which separated sentient from beast in the annals of warfare.

Killing messengers gained you nothing. It only served to bring the wrath of the opposing party. It was the ultimate expression of contempt. From Uther's expression, Arthas guessed this had happened before.

'Damn,' he said 'these Orcs will never surrender.'

'Then let's get in there and destroy the beasts!' snapped Arthas, recalling the bodies of hewn villagers in Strahnbrad.

'Remember Arthas, we are Paladins.' said Uther in a stern tone. 'Vengeance cannot be a part of what we must do. If we allow our passions to turn to bloodlust, then we will become as vile as the Orcs.'

'Yes, Uther.' said Arthas, remembering his place. He might have been the Prince, but Uther was still his superior as a Paladin.

'Now,' said Uther, moving on. 'if you're feeling up to it, I want you to lead the attack.'

'Me?' said Arthas, feeling a sense of enthusiasm. 'Well of course!'

'I'll remain here and ensure that none of the loathsome beasts threaten the camp.' said Uther, hefting his hammer onto one shoulder.

'I won't fail you.' said Arthas, feeling trepidation at the idea of meeting the Orcs in battle.

'I know you won't lad.' said Uther with a fatherly smile.

Of course, there was much to be done before any assault could be mounted. The people of Strahnbrad had sent many of their young men to be trained as footmen. Much time had to be spent arranging for their armor and weapons. Arthas had been given specific instructions to prevent a repeat of this situation. Outlying farmsteads were reclaimed, and their buildings reconstructed. Footmen equipment was mass produced, and their training regime initiated. Most footmen these days had a rather brief training period. They were taught the basics and learned the rest during the campaign.