The Office of the Grand Crusader, Southshore Citadel, Hillsbrad Foothills
The glint of gold-and-silver armor reflected the rays of mottled sunshine that pierced into the incense-filled chambers of the Grand Crusader. At an oaken table, beset by two high-backed, velveteen chairs, two stoic figures glowered at one another over a marble checkerboard in the afternoon din.
A stern and heavy voice broke the silence; its gruff tone echoed on the walls of the room.
“Check. Your move, Fairbanks.”
A silver-haired man, still adorning the blue eagle of Lordaeron, cautiously stroked his long goatee while staring at the chess pieces before him.
“I know, my lord…you’ve placed me in quite the pickle.”
Alexandros Mograine’s face let a small smirk overtake it, but he did not dare take his eyes away from his opponent. The senior opponent was no longer the most agile, but his mind was as sharp as a tack; the shimmer in Fairbanks’ eyes revealed the devious cunning which lurked beneath the countenance of a kindly, old priest of the Light.
High Inquisitor Fairbanks dared not meet his opponent’s gaze; he knew that once he saw the face of victory in his pupil’s eyes, he would crumble. There had to be a way to turn this around…he just knew it…or maybe something different? The Advisor to the Grand Crusader grasped his queen and with a purposeful motion, placed it down.
“Of course you would,”
Mograine began to say before he was cut off by the sudden opening of the chamber doors, the steel clunking open with a rasp.
A young page stood there, nearly shaking in his boots. Fearing the worst for such a sudden intrusion, Mograine immediately stood up and called out:
“What is it boy? Has something happened?”
Yet, the boy stood there stuttering, “Milord, th-th-th-La-a-, M-th-the the Mene-th-Lady…”
Mograine could not understand the poor page. The Grand Crusader called again:
“My boy! Out with it! I don’t understand what you’re saying!”
Then a royal figure stepped into the doorframe. Mograine suddenly understood his page’s anxiety.
“My Queen!”
Queen Calia Menethil met Mograine with a warm, friendly smile, meeting his gaze beneath a crown of simply-cut, shoulder-length gold hair, framing her hazel-blue eyes. Here robes were likewise simply appointed, at least as far as royalty went -- white robes trimmed in yellow-gold fabric in a fashion much like any priestess of the Holy Light.
"Lord Mograine, I have wonderful news!" She chirped, practically beaming with glee.
"The Greymane Wall has opened -- and King Greymane marches at the head of his army."
Alexandros smiled widely and truly, for the first time in nearly six years. And then, he began to laugh, a joyous fire welling up in his chest and a relief washing over him as though a long over-pressured valve had finally been bled of its excess.
“This is glorious news!” He raised his arms in praise, almost embracing Calia in his sudden fervor, before holding himself back.
He anxiously declared “We…we can…we have to call the Holy Council! Fairbanks! Quickly!”
Calia gently raised her hand in anticipation of this, saying “I don’t believe that’s necessary.” She waved to the Citadel Plaza which sat in view of the Grand Crusader’s office.
As Alexandros approached the rail and his eyes slowly became accustomed to the bright light of midday in summer, he saw an incredible sight.
In the Citadel Plaza, a throng had gathered and grew still. Chants erupted from the crowd, hailing Queen Menethil and lauding her name! The light of the sky illuminated the Scarlet Fire emblems of the guards who joined in the acclaim.
Three warhorses, two mares and a stallion - Virtue, Valor, and Dauntless - carried their respective commanders astride their back - Prince Tirion Fordring, High General Abbendis, and Baron Othmar Garithos - into the Plaza. As well, gryphons appeared on the horizon carrying several other figures, Lord Maxwell Tyrosus, Marshal Saidan Dathrohan, Archbishop Benedictus Voss, and Baron Weldon Barov.
A surge of energy flowed in the air, the moment weighed into the hearts and minds of all who stood gathered there, if only but a moment. The Grand Crusader felt his blood rush, the Light coursing through his veins, the Ashbringer coming to life. With a bellowing timbre and lumbering cadence, he broke the clamor of the crowd, his tones echoing throughout the Plaza and beyond to the streets:
“Sons and Daughters of the Scarlets Crusade! My Brothers and Sisters in Faith! Today, a NEW LIGHT DAWNS!”
The crowd cheered at the common refrain of the Crusade, so often preached by the Archbishop.
Crying out, Mograine called “See your Queen, the Hope of Lordaeron!”
He would step away and gesture for Calia to step to the railing beside him.
Wearing her characteristically calming smile, Calia smoothly moved past Alexandros, her robes fluttering with the gentle motion.
"I was not ready to rule, when I was thrust into the position of Queen -- when my family was stolen from me by my very own brother. Many of you --- of
us -- have suffered the same fate..." She spoke, soft in cadence yet loudly nonetheless. "And yet, together, we persevered. Hand-in hand with each other, with our stoic and inventive allies from Khaz Modan, with the grand Kul Tiran navy at our back, the knights of Stormwind in our vanguard... But by the Light's grace, even Gilneas now returns to our with its curse tamed!" She exclaimed, spreading her arms wide.
The crowd erupted, shields bashed, and cymbals clanged as the announcement rang out through the Plaza.
"They are changed by their experiences -- and many are still Worgen -- but they are still our friends and allies, no matter how they may appear. Through strength of will, they have tamed the beast within, turning what was once a debilitating curse into a strength! Is that not what truly matters; that they are able and willing to stand beside us as allies in the fight against the Scourge? And if others are to offer us their strength, would it not be unjust and foolish to refuse them?" She asked, bringing her hands close to her chest, over her heart. “
"Many more will join us. The Light has shown me this, too. Some may be people we are familiar with, who we will already trust implicitly -- but it has told me, too, that allies will come to us who we may fear, as we once feared the Worgen, and perhaps even hate. But we must, upon seeing the truth and strength of their convictions, welcome them into our ranks with open arms, for is that not what makes us strong? Together, we will save Azeroth!" She exclaimed, holding her hands high, as if reaching for the sky itself, a warm, golden glow reaching down from the sky toward her. "
For the Alliance!"
Thus began a common war-hymn among the Crusade. Alexandros stepped forward and organized it, the audience returning his call:
“
For the King!For the King!For Our Homes!For Our Homes!For the Light!For the Light!For the Alliance!For the Alliance!”
Immediately afterward, the Ashbringer called for many messengers: some riding on horseback, others riding on gryphons, still others creating portals to their destinations.
He gave one command, to be sent out to all who might aid the Scarlet Crusade - Greater Dalaran, Kul'Tiras and Theramore, Quel'Thalas, Stromgarde, Stormwind, Khaz Modan, and Gnomeregan. And the same to all of the members of the Crusade, along with the outlying members: Lord-Crusader Valdelmar in Tyr's Hand; Ser Turalyon, Arator the Redeemer, and Col. Mograine in Quel'Thalas; Cpt. Mograine in Kul'Tiras; and High Inquisitor Whitemane in the Scarlet Monastery:
"To Our former, current, and hopeful Allies, may the Light shine down upon You. Now is the time. Prepare your forces and send your representative to the Southshore Citadel to convene. For all members of the Crusade, enter battle-stations and ready for orders."The Ashbringer bowed to his Queen and addressed the crowd one last time:
"Prepare yourselves, brothers and sisters! The Scarlet Crusade
REAWAKENS!!"
With a roaring huzzah, the Ashbringer retreated into the War Room with his compatriots to plot the coming campaign against the Scourge, awaiting any and all who would answer the call to arms.
