Chapter 35: Chromie's Doubt

The blue light of the portal slowly dissipated in the Valley of Wisdom in Orgrimmar. As Daren and Jaina stepped out, the Orc guards’ battle axes were already raised, only to be lowered slowly once they recognized the arrivals.

"Lady Jaina?" the guard captain frowned. "You didn't give us any advance notice."

"It is an emergency," Jaina said calmly. "We need to see Warchief Thrall immediately."

Inside the Great Hall, Thrall set down the map in his hands, his thick brows furrowed. "Jaina? Daren?" he said, his voice deep. "What brings you to Orgrimmar?"

Daren stepped forward, cutting straight to the point: "Warchief, we need to borrow a few elite members of the Horde."

Thrall and Vol'jin, who was standing nearby, exchanged a glance.

"For what purpose?" Vol'jin narrowed his eyes, his tusks twitching slightly.

"The High Elves are being slaughtered by the undead," Daren said in a low, steady voice. "As allies of Dalaran, Theramore has decided to organize a rescue operation." He was blunt. "The mages of Dalaran and the Royal Guard of Kul Tiras are ready, but we require the Horde's professional support."

Thrall tapped his thick fingers against the armrest of his throne. "Let me get this straight—an Alliance fortress, Dalaran, is asking the Horde for help to save another Alliance race?"

"Not in the name of the Alliance," Daren corrected. "As mercenaries for Theramore. Lady Jaina will lead the team herself."

Thrall turned his gaze to Jaina, who nodded gently.

"We need a witch doctor, a shaman, and a shadow hunter," Daren continued, ticking them off on his fingers.

Vol'jin let out a raspy laugh. "Human, you know our structure quite well."

Daren smiled. "Professional work should be left to the professionals."

Thrall pondered for a moment before asking, "Why now? Why the High Elves?"

Daren and Jaina shared a look. Finally, Jaina said softly, "Because if we do not save them today, we may have to face even more resurrected necromancers tomorrow."

The hall fell silent. Thrall’s gaze swept back and forth between Daren and Jaina before he finally let out a long breath. He sat back in his throne, his calloused fingers rubbing the handle of the Doomhammer.

"Jaina," he said, his voice carrying a rare hesitation. "The Horde has only just established a foothold in Kalimdor. Our Warsong clan in the north is still tied up with the Night Elves, and the Theramore garrison keeps a constant watch on our movements." He looked directly into the mage's eyes. "Why should I risk my warriors for the High Elves, who have never treated the Horde with kindness?"

Jaina’s robes fluttered without a breeze. "Because every living Elven mage we save is one less necromancer serving the Scourge."

Vol'jin let out a hoarse chuckle. "The Elves have always called us 'savages,' and now they want the Horde to save them?"

"It is not about saving them," Daren interjected. "It is about saving ourselves. Imagine how much of a threat those arcane-wielding Elven mages would pose to Azeroth if they were turned into undead."

Thrall stood up and walked to the window, looking out over the busy streets of Orgrimmar. He saw Orc recruits training, Troll craftsmen forging weapons, and Tauren shamans teaching young apprentices—this fledgling Horde could not afford any mistakes.

"The Horde has no direct conflict with the Scourge at the moment," he finally said. "I cannot let my warriors bleed for enemies of the past."

Jaina stepped forward. "We do not need an army. What if we only took three individuals, under the guise of Theramore mercenaries?"

Thrall turned, looking at her with a complex expression. "You know what our friendship means to me, Jaina. But as Warchief..."

"Just three members of the Horde," Jaina said softly. "It will not involve the Horde in open combat. I promise, I will lead the expedition myself."

The hall fell into silence.

"A witch doctor," he finally relented. "His healing wards will be of great help to you."

Daren did not immediately respond to Thrall's concession. He leisurely pulled an exquisite copper pocket watch from his coat, clicked it open, and pretended to check the time—a gesture clearly performed for Thrall's benefit.

"A witch doctor..." Daren repeated thoughtfully, his fingers tapping the shell of the watch. "That would certainly provide decent healing support. However, Warchief, are you sure only one is enough?"

Thrall narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

Daren snapped the watch shut and offered a wry smile. "The Scourge forces are known not only for their sheer numbers but also for their various methods of attack: plagues, poisons, curses, and corruption."

"And?" Thrall’s voice was low.

"And, we also need a shaman," Daren held up a finger. "Not just any shaman, but a master of the elements proficient in purification rituals. After all..." he glanced pointedly at the totem at Thrall’s waist, "who knows better than the Horde how to cleanse an evil curse?"

Vol'jin let out a cold laugh. "Human, your tongue is more agile than a goblin's wrench."

"Finally, we need a shadow hunter," Daren said lightly, as if discussing the weather. "They won't need to engage in combat; they just need to... handle some 'diplomatic issues'."

"What diplomatic issues require a shadow hunter?" Thrall frowned.

Daren gave a sly smile. "The nobles of Silvermoon have a few distinct traits: arrogance, stubbornness, and a penchant for arguing over priorities while fleeing for their lives. When the undead burst through the gates, they will likely waste time on pointless questions like 'who gets on the portal first'."

Jaina suddenly realized what he meant, her eyes widening slightly. "You don't mean to..."

"Turn them into sheep?" Daren blinked innocently. "It is the most humane solution, of course. Quiet, efficient, and ensures fairness—after all, sheep don't argue."

Thrall and Vol'jin fell silent simultaneously. After a long while, Vol'jin burst into a roar of laughter: "This human is more cunning than a troll!"

Thrall, however, remained serious. "If word gets out that the Horde participated in this operation..."

"Who would believe it?" Daren spread his hands. "The High Elves have always looked down on the Horde; they wouldn't believe you extended a helping hand. As for the Scourge..." he sneered, "the dead need no witnesses."

Finally, Thrall nodded slowly. "One witch doctor, one shaman, one shadow hunter—but it must be clear they are participating as mercenaries."

Daren bowed elegantly. "Of course, Warchief. By the way..." he pulled a contract from his sleeve, "I would like to transfer 1% of my personal fertilizer shares to the Horde."

Thrall raised an eyebrow. "1% of the fertilizer shares?" During the last distribution, the Horde only received 10%, while Daren held 15% for his technical stake. Getting another 1% now was an unexpected windfall.

Thrall pretended to consider it for two seconds. "Very well."

As the portal flared to life once more, Jaina looked at Daren with complex emotions. The three hunched, strange-looking warriors disappeared with them into the arcane glow.

Back in Theramore, Daren and Jaina stepped out of the arcane rift with the three Horde elites. The evening wind carried the salty sea mist. In the nearby square, the lights were bright, and the elite Kul Tiras guards were busy checking and packing crates of supplies.

Jaina took a deep breath and turned to Daren. "I will go arrange the final deployment for the Royal Guard." Her gaze swept over the three Horde members—the Darkspear witch doctor Zalama, the Orc shaman Rehgar Earthfury, and the shadow hunter Volcaya. "They... will need proper equipment. We leave for Dalaran at dawn."

Daren nodded. "I leave it to you, my lady."

After Jaina left, a meaningful smile played on the corners of Daren's mouth. He turned and walked toward his mansion in Theramore. As he pushed the door open, the candles lit automatically—inside, two figures had been waiting for a long time.

Onyxia leaned languidly against the window, toying with a gold coin between her fingers. Her golden slit pupils shimmered with a dangerous light in the candlelight. "Daren, darling," she drawled, "do you always like summoning ladies in the dead of night?"

Chromie sat on a stack of books, swinging her legs, a lollipop in her mouth. "Don't mind her, Daren. She's just annoyed you didn't take her along to see the sights of Azeroth."

Daren ignored the black dragon's teasing and unfolded a magic map. "The operation begins tomorrow night. Onyxia, your mission is—"

"—to cause a 'little commotion' on the outskirts of Quel'Thalas to distract the undead," Onyxia finished lazily. "You don't need to say it twice." She suddenly narrowed her eyes. "But I don't understand, why do I have to disguise myself as a 'lost black dragon'? Wouldn't it be more efficient to just burn a few Ziggurats?"

Chromie suddenly grew serious. "Because the Council of Dragon Aspects has ordered that no dragon may interfere in the war against the Scourge." Her small face scrunched up. "Even Nozdormu has forbidden the Bronze Dragonflight from interfering with the timeline... this is very abnormal."

Daren’s fingers tapped the table lightly. "That is why we need an 'accident.' A young, hot-headed black dragon who accidentally flies in the wrong direction and is drawn by the energy of the Sunwell..."

Onyxia suddenly laughed. "Ah, I see. 'A playful princess acting on a whim'—that is a role I am quite good at." She rose elegantly, her black robes flowing like a living creature. "However, Daren..." her voice suddenly became dangerous, "if I find out you are hiding something about that human princess..."

"You still don't trust me?" Daren replied calmly. "Tell me, who lives more leisurely: a princess who owns a city, or a black dragon who has only one human pet?"

Onyxia covered her mouth and giggled. Chromie hopped down from the books, her expression uncharacteristically grave. "Daren, the timeline is becoming... chaotic. I have seen countless possible futures, all of which are being affected by current events. What exactly is your plan?"

Daren said calmly, "You don't understand why we are going to Silvermoon, either?"

"I don't," Chromie's voice was almost a whisper. "Is it not just for the Quel'Thalas evacuation? What else is there?" She looked up, the bronze dragon's unique power of time flowing in her eyes. "The strangest part is... in every single timeline, the Dragon Aspects are deliberately avoiding this war."

Daren was silent for a moment. "What do you think they are afraid of?"

"Or..." Chromie licked her lollipop, her voice suddenly becoming light, "are they under orders not to intervene?"

The two looked at each other, simultaneously thinking of that forbidden name.

"What are you two talking about?" Onyxia asked curiously.

"Nothing, nothing!" Daren deflected.

Onyxia's golden pupils constricted slightly. She approached Daren slowly, her black robes wrapping around her body like a living thing. The candles in the room flickered in response, and shadows twisted.

"Daren..." her voice was low and dangerous, carrying the unique hiss of the dragonkin, "you had better explain clearly—why are you so interested in Silvermoon?"

Daren’s expression did not change, but Chromie noticed his rhythm of tapping the table had shifted—it was his habit when he was thinking of how to stall.

"I just want to save as many High Elves as possible," Daren answered calmly. "Every necromancer we prevent from existing is one less threat in the future."

Onyxia sneered. "Don't try to fool me like those stupid human nobles. You never do business at a loss." Her fingernails had sharpened at some point, and she lightly traced Daren’s collar. "Tell me the truth, or else—"

Chromie suddenly jumped off the stack of books, her lollipop clattering to the floor. Her eyes widened, bronze temporal energy swirling within her pupils.

"Wait..." she muttered to herself, "are you trying to... save her?"

The air in the room suddenly solidified.

Daren’s breath hitched imperceptibly.

Onyxia narrowed her eyes. "Save who?"

Chromie's voice was almost inaudible: "...Sylvanas Windrunner."

The candlelight flickered violently, as if suppressed by an invisible force, and the room plunged into a brief darkness. When the firelight returned, Daren's expression remained calm, but cold, icy rage burned in Onyxia's eyes.

"Which female elf?" the Black Dragon Princess asked, her voice squeezed through her teeth. "What is so special about her?"

Chromie's small face scrunched up. "Daren... are you going to change the timeline again?"

Daren finally sighed and lifted a hand to rub his temples. "Not change. It is... correcting it into a better timeline."

"Correcting it?" Onyxia repeated sarcastically. "Are you saying it's better if she survives?"

"It saves us a bunch of troublesome things, and we can have more time for barbecues later," Daren said with a smile.

"Fine!" the black dragon pouted.