Chapter 10

Stratholme’s interior was exactly as silent and smelly as he remembered it. The military had moved inside, but three hundred people meant nothing to the ruins of a city.

Prince Arthas’ purge had been thorough. Arvis shook his head in distaste, wondering if the prince had already been turned into a death knight back then. It certainly would make sense. Destroy a city before bringing the army to Northrend…

It made sense.

As he moved, he ignored the exact nature of the prince’s fate. It hardly mattered.

An empty city meant that he could move among the buildings easily without alerting anyone. He didn’t even need to use any of the tricks he developed, which showed that the garrison was more focused on keeping the peasants out than on defending themselves against a potential undead attack from the city.

Currently, there were no undead inside, but they didn’t have Bloom to ensure that. He moved, using the shortcuts that he had discovered his miserable time. The irony wasn’t lost on him.

Soon, he reached the area that had been converted into a temporary garrison. A few sets of inns that had been converted into a garrison, and a guardhouse. Not a bad choice, as they were mostly intact. They were also sufficiently close to the main gate in case of an attack.

As he approached, he frowned. The garrison was supposed to have three hundred people, but the number of guards on the walls was barely eighty. Too few, even if they were being conservative and operating in three shifts instead of two.

Curious, he approached the garrison from behind. A little jump over a courtyard wall they were using as a residence, and he grabbed a discarded helmet and a cloak, and started walking normally. He knew that with most of the soldiers already on the walls, he could avoid attention.

Especially since he knew who would act curious and who would ignore others.

He found the first sign of trouble at the guardhouse. Eight soldiers stood guard outside the building, armed and alert, their posture carrying a rigid tension. It would have been a mere curiosity, but he could read their body language.

They were more concerned about what was inside.

Curious, he used his Sensor mana trick. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough to sense what was going on. He was surprised to sense the presence of almost eighty people in the guardhouse, mostly in the basement, packed tightly.

Considering that real estate was not exactly in short supply, he realized what was going on. It was a prison. The question was for whom.

He could have killed eight guards without making too much commotion, but it was just an idle thought. He had about a dozen better ways, the simplest being to walk to the back of the building, climb to the second floor with ease, and enter from there.

He was ready to rip the door from the inside, but luckily, they left it unlocked. A basic oversight, one that he didn’t expect from the camp commander. He disliked the man, but he couldn’t exactly call him incompetent.

The people were in the basement, so he sneaked down, using his mana sensor twice to make sure he didn’t come across anyone until he arrived at the basement. There, he saw two more guards. Both sergeants who firmly belonged to Garithos’ faction, looking far calmer than the ones outside. They were also playing cards.

Arvis glanced around and saw about sixty guards, gagged, chained, and packed into cells. The identities were surprising. Allerton, four of the six priests that had been assigned to the guard force, and, most interestingly, Commander Halford.

He wondered what had happened for them to end up like this.

He stepped around the corner, moving fast. When the two noticed his approach, he was already standing next to the first one, burying his fist into his solar plexus. Not with anything close to full force, as he didn’t want to kill the man, but with enough power to fold him. He crumpled with a wheezing sound; the air driven from his lungs.

The second sergeant was faster, reaching for his sword. Arvis caught his wrist, squeezed just enough to make the man’s fingers go numb, and delivered a precise tap to the side of his head.

The guard’s eyes rolled back, and he collapsed. He was alive, and with four priests locked, he didn’t worry about him potentially dying.

He directly went to the cell Allerton was in, who looked worse for wear, with his robes torn, a bruise covering the left side of his face. He was the closest thing he had to a friend. He caught his gaze, and saw Allerton nod at him with a relieved expression, then gesture toward the commander with another nod.

Arvis caught the suggestion. Allerton didn’t want to be singled out at this moment. Understandable. He moved toward Commander Halford, curious how he had ended up like this. Halford was a career officer, a peasant who rose despite not being a genius warrior who earned knighthood. He was competent enough to run a garrison and cautious enough to avoid making enemies.

Not the kind of man that he expected to find locked in a cell.

He looked up as Arvis approached. His face was swollen, one eye blackened, his lip split. Someone had worked him over, though it was likely out of anger rather than torture. He reached through the bars of the cell and pulled the commander’s gag. Then, he removed his helmet. “Long time no see, Commander,” he said.

“Arvis?” Halford croaked. “Light preserve us. Where did you—”

“Lord Godwyn,” Arvis corrected. His voice was calm, but insistent, knowing that a man like Halford would catch the implication. He wasn’t there as part of his command, but as an independent lord.

Halford blinked, processing the correction through a moment of confusion, but then he nodded, showing that he accepted it without any further implication. “Lord Godwyn. My apologies for not greeting you properly, then.”

“Under the circumstances, I can find myself forgiving you,” he said.

“How are you here? You were … absent.”

Smart man, Arvis thought. Someone lacking discernment might have reflexively blamed him for deserting. It wouldn’t be a big problem, but seeing the commander showing some awareness.

Someone who could follow clues was very important in his situation.

“I left because I had visions from the light, warning me about a great danger,” Arvis corrected, speaking just loud enough. “How did you end up in the cell?”

Halford’s jaw tightened. “Yesterday, a rider arrived from the south. Commander Renault, carrying orders from that bastard Garithos,” he said. Something else that sounded deliberate.

“Go ahead, Commander. Garithos might be family, but if he is harming people, I’ll take his head before anyone else,” he declared. He could see that Halford’s anger was not faked, which meant his loving uncle had done something truly remarkable, even by his standards.

He paused, working moisture into his dry mouth. “No civilians were to be admitted to any garrison without prior authorization from the Grand Marshal’s office. All resources were to be preserved for military operations, and garrisons needed to be ready for mobilization. Refugee management was declared a non-military concern, left to Silver Hand Paladins.”

“Ah, that would do it,” Arvis said. He knew his uncle well enough to understand what he was going for. He was making a bid for the empty throne. That much, he wouldn’t have cared, but his ploy was equally apparent.

Maintain military assets under his command while also stretching the resources of Silver Hand paladins who wouldn’t just abandon the refugees to their fate. He had no doubt that Garithos would take the army and retreat further south toward the Arathi highlands, let the others deal with the undead, and then swoop down to collect rewards.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

“I refused to bar the gates against women and children while we sat safely, waiting for evacuation.” His voice carried the quiet fury of a man who had been punished for doing the right thing. “Renault relieved me of command.”

Arvis looked at the other cells. “And the others?”

“Anyone who sided with me,” Halford’s voice went flat. “The man is a thug in officer’s insignia.”

Arvis nodded as he examined the cell more carefully. The bars were iron, set into stone, designed to hold unruly soldiers during peacetime disciplinary actions.

“Commander, I need to ask you something, and I need an honest answer.” He met Halford’s eyes through the bars. “If I get you out of here, what do you intend to do?”

“Take back my command. Open the gates. Feed those people.”

“Under whose authority?”

Halford hesitated. “Under… the King’s authority. I’m a commissioned officer of Lordaeron—”

“How would you enter the service of House Godwyn?” he said, not one to miss the opportunity. “That way, even if things go badly and Lordaeron somehow establishes back, you will have a legal argument to defend yourself.”

He looked at him pointedly. Halford looked surprised at his insistence. “As long as I can help the people.”

“Perfect,” Arvis said. He could see most soldiers looking at him dismissively, their perspective still from the days he served as a captain who was willing to be bullied by the common soldiers.

“The two here don’t have the keys. If you can go and steal the keys from Renaut’s residence—“

He didn’t answer. He just chuckled, reached the bars. He paused a moment to give a perfect pose and ripped them from their place. It was good that others were gagged, as it meant their gasps were muffled.

Halford stared as he repeated the same for the chains.

“Light above,” he breathed.

“I might have been underselling my capabilities somewhat, Commander,” he said cheekily, aware that it was the one chance to change their impression. Not reacting to their bullying stopped being pathetic when he had the strength to shatter their skulls with a casual blow.

He didn’t have it back then, but he had no reason to reveal that fact.

Arvis moved to Allerton’s cell and repeated the process, then the others did. Luckily, most soldiers were merely tied down rather than chained. Two of them grabbed the discarded weapons of the sergeants he took down and cut the arms of the others.

“Healers, start healing them. Allerton, to me,” Arvis ordered, not missing the perfect time to exert his authority. Halford caught on to what he was doing, but he simply nodded, still in shock.

Halford stepped through the gap on unsteady legs, bracing himself against the wall. His expression had shifted from shock to something more complex, the look of a career officer reassessing every assumption he’d made about the young captain he had ignored.

He walked to Halford, while Allerton stumbled toward them. He kept his voice low to give them an explanation. “If I ever revealed my potential, my uncle would have had me killed,” he explained, a declaration that was far more believable after said uncle casually ordered the death of thousands. The fact that it was a bald-faced lie didn’t matter, especially since the truth was far more absurd. “A powerless heir is an inconvenience. One with enough talent to rival legends is a threat to be killed in the cradle.”

“You are done hiding,” Halford said.

“I have to,” Arvis declared. “Hiding like a coward when the world burns is not my way.”

Arvis met his gaze steadily. “I’m done hiding.”

Halford looked at the twisted bars, then at Arvis. “What do you need from us?”