"Banshee Queen? The Forsaken? Is this fate? No matter how one avoids it, does it eventually return to the established destiny?"
Sylvanas was somewhat uncertain. Her motivation to seek the well-being of the Forsaken was entirely because of her fallen Elven compatriots; she hoped they could break free from their shackles, knowing they must harbor a deep hatred for the Lich King.
In this way, she could recruit them as allies. Since the undead existed, why not try to accept them?
Whether this was out of empathy or because fate compelled her to do so was unknown. At the very least, Sylvanas did not feel too much repulsion toward the undead and would not instinctively seek to eliminate them on sight.
"Don't overthink it; just follow your heart. No matter what you do, as long as it benefits the family and makes you happy, nothing else matters. By the way, I plan to take a trip to Northrend to kill the Lich King first, and then deal with C'Thun or Yogg-Saron depending on the situation."
"Do you want to go to Northrend with me, or shall we have a child first?"
The thought of the cold Queen Sylvanas bearing his children, with a large belly, would surely be an interesting sight!
Her golden eyebrows twitched, and her beautiful profile tightened for a moment before relaxing, her tone softening as she became lost in the thought.
"I want to go to Northrend, and I want a child."
As expected of the Queen—she wanted this and that; in short, she wanted it all!
"However, you need to talk to Vereesa. Since she went to Grim Batol with you last time, she's been a bit off. I don't care what method you use, just make sure she isn't so reckless. She's the only sister I have left, and I don't want to lose her again."
Any method? Was this Arthas being given a green light? Then he wouldn't be polite. After all, she was a Blood Elf beauty; it would be a waste if she married someone else.
"I understand. I'll go, I'll go in a little while."
"Why not now?"
"Now, I need to discuss the names of our future children with you."
"You bastard, what nonsense is this? Don't you dare!"
In the afternoon, when Arthas left, his maid Jandice was ready to support him at any moment. In fact, she had been there just now, helping to clean up the aftermath. An Archmage serving as a maid—such extravagance was something only he, aside from Azshara, could afford and have the confidence to do.
He arrived at Hope Chapel. As long as hope remains in the heart, there are infinite possibilities. If a person gives up on themselves, they are beyond saving. Effort doesn't guarantee success, but at least there's some gain; what's often missing is just the opportunity. If one gives up, they are like rotten wood that cannot be carved, and such a person has no hope.
Many commoners who had finished work at the factories were praying here spontaneously. The white tiles paired with the glowing light created a holy atmosphere that made people afraid to look directly at it, naturally evoking a sense of awe and suppressing any thoughts of rebellion.
Lordaeron now implemented a six-day work week with one day of rest, with twenty-eight days a month. This wasn't Arthas's regulation, but the result of a discussion between Sinestra and Onyxia. They brought it up at a meeting, and Jaina, who oversaw Lordaeron's civil affairs, didn't oppose it but gave her support instead.
In fact, Jaina rarely opposed anything. Except for plans that were too outrageous or not yet urgent, she wouldn't block other regulations or legal sanctions. Even if she did oppose something, she would provide a reason and stand her ground.
It was purely about the matter at hand, not about forming cliques. Currently, they didn't have the mind for that; besides being busy with government affairs, they had to spend time with their husband to prepare for children, and on top of that, there were the messy affairs of their followers and their own families to handle.
Jaina hadn't ignored Kul Tiras because she didn't want to help, but because she truly had no time or energy for it at the moment. It was nothing more than supporting them with food or sending troops for military strikes.
Lordaeron didn't even have enough of these for itself yet; supporting Kul Tiras would take some time.
Though he was ostensibly inspecting the chapel and watching the believers offer their pious respect to him, Arthas felt as if he were patrolling his territory. Looking at the young and beautiful priestesses and the older, more seasoned nuns, the feeling was actually quite pleasant.
It wasn't that he preferred older women—ahem—but Sylvanas was like that, Azshara was like that, and Tyrande was even more so. Going around the circle, even his maid Jandice was older than him; only Jaina was younger.
Young priestesses had more energy for proselytizing, while older nuns had to deal with all sorts of miscellaneous matters involving believers and commoners. Facing more complex situations, the older ones were more patient.
If someone really caused trouble, the Holy Army was not to be trifled with. Once caught, it meant a month of labor reform in the mines and coal pits. This was hard labor that would make even an Orc peon lose three layers of skin; an ordinary person would be lucky to survive with half their life. If they were unlucky enough to die inside, it could only be said to be their own misfortune.
Imperial power was inviolable, and the divine power that served it was the same. If things were done harmoniously, there would be great rewards. Becoming a believer granted small bonuses, and as piety grew and more faith power was contributed, the benefits fed back would naturally increase.
It was a two-way street, a choice based on mutual exchange—give and take, borrow and return.
He had digressed; he hadn't come here to look at nuns, but to inquire about intelligence. Just as he arrived, Sinestra appeared. After accompanying him during the War of the Ancients, the Dragon Queen had taken charge of building the intelligence network upon their return; otherwise, she should have been by his side like Jandice.
But some things had to be assigned to others, and the Black Dragon mother and daughter were clearly the most suitable. Onyxia had to manage finances and had no time for spy matters, though she could provide some channel assistance. It fell to Sinestra to take charge, and she was very happy to help, including with the task of raising the next generation.
The chapel's high tower was a bell tower. Whenever it was time for worship, the bells would ring, creating a unique religious atmosphere. The scenery here was excellent; one could see the believers in the courtyard below, gathered in small groups to discuss and debate.
"What's been going on with Vereesa lately?"
Arthas looked down at the myriad faces of the masses. Once upon a time, he too was a mortal, but now he had become a demigod. Yet his behavior was still in transition; he still felt quite surprised. Between being a man and a god, which was better? Would he lose his humanity because of it?
There was too much to consider. He needed to constantly remind himself that he was a man and could not become a blind god. He could be high above, but he also needed to stay grounded; these believers and subjects were the foundation of the kingdom's rule.
Sinestra had changed into a tight black nun's habit and shifted her appearance into that of a High Elf, which failed to hide her impressive figure. Her hands were placed in front of her abdomen, her fair skin glowing brightly. Her submissive maid-like posture stirred an inexplicable fire in one's heart.
"Vereesa likes Master; she loves hearing about Master's deeds the most, but due to her sister's status, she finds it hard to speak plainly. If Master needs, I can convey your wishes to her and facilitate a good match."
As for acting as a matchmaker for her master, it wasn't called pimping; it was called caring for her master's life. The better her master lived, the better she would live; it was all relative. Moreover, having the experience of saving the world together made those memories precious to her, something others could neither imagine nor envy.
No one else had the honor of being a companion like her. It was precisely because it was so precious that it made her even more loyal. This uniqueness was a secret known only to the two of them.
Why was everyone thinking about these things? But it made sense; this wasn't a world of five thousand years of constant strife. This was a world of sword and magic, where steampunk coexisted. There wasn't much in the way of etiquette, morals, or even superficial academic records that didn't increase production. The so-called bards were more like storytellers, or to put it bluntly, loafers.
"Alright, you go and probe her thoughts and intentions later. By the way, there was a mage from Dalaran named Rhonin, who was also an operative in the Grim Batol mission. Are there any reports on his whereabouts?"
Regarding the man who might potentially become Vereesa's husband in the future, he naturally wanted to transfer him far away and keep Vereesa by his side. If the two didn't meet, he'd see how they could possibly spark any romance.
"Rhonin currently possesses the potential to be promoted to Archmage. Though humans are frail, they possess talents that many races envy; while far inferior to Master, he can be considered exceptionally gifted. The mages of Dalaran have never forgotten the idea of rebuilding Dalaran; they have always wanted to restore Dalaran's status as a magical kingdom."
"Currently, they are split into two factions. One is content with the status quo and honestly becoming a part of Lordaeron, no longer thinking about restoration. The other advocates for accumulating strength and seeking restoration through power. Due to Master's strength, they don't have the guts to start a war, so they think about gaining the qualification to rebuild the magic city by proving their strength."
"Rhonin belongs to the Reconstruction Faction and has always wanted to rebuild Dalaran. Thus, he took the initiative to go to Northrend for the battle against the Lich King, hoping to capture the Lich King alive and present him to Master in exchange for the qualification and assistance to rebuild Dalaran."
"The crusade against the undead in Northrend is not going smoothly; the allied forces and the Lich King are still in a stalemate. The Lich King has recruited the ancient Vrykul to join him and has also attracted the Frost Trolls. There are rumors claiming that the Lich King is collaborating with the Old God inside Ulduar."
This was not good news. Yogg-Saron collaborating with the Lich King? It wasn't impossible. Previously, Yogg-Saron looked down on the Lich King—what right did he have to collaborate with him?
His army of Iron Vrykul could crush the Lich King's undead soldiers made of broken bones and rotten flesh. Even those Nerubians could be stepped on and killed without giving them a moment to breathe.
When iron bodies faced flesh and blood, it truly was a swift and decisive crushing battle.
Arthas rubbed his chin. In the past, when fighting the Lich King, a decapitation strike was also used. Airborne troops would strike Icecrown Citadel to kill the Lich King, while the main force held back the surging tide of the undead army to buy time for the elite squad.
As long as the Lich King was eliminated, everything would be fine. As for the claim that there must always be a Lich King, it wasn't absolute; it was simply based on the assumption that the undead could never be fully eradicated.
If nothing else, collecting the undead remains for purification and cremation could prevent future troubles. It was the same within Lordaeron's borders now; burial was forbidden, and only cremation was allowed. Once everything was burned clean, there would be no more talk of rising from the dead.
"Interesting. It seems I need to find something for Yogg-Saron to do. I can't let the Lich King live so comfortably either. By the way, didn't Illidan say he was going to use the Eye of Sargeras to blast the Frozen Throne? Why hasn't there been any reaction yet?"
The previous blast had cracked the ice imprisoning the Lich King, causing his power to leak. Even without fighting him, he would gradually weaken and eventually die. After all, it was difficult for a pure soul without a body to survive; most of the time, it needed to rely on external objects.
Sinestra took out a Magic Grimoire, and her jade-like hand placed a mark on it, causing the book to flip rapidly to the corresponding page. She didn't keep track of everything in her head; a professional intelligence master shouldn't cram at the last minute but should have their homework prepared in advance.
One was unprofessional, and the other was considerate of her; after all, she was his bedfellow. He couldn't bring himself to be indifferent or turn against her; that wasn't something a normal person would do, but rather a scoundrel.
After looking for a while, she looked up and spoke.
"It has already been implemented once. The Eye of Sargeras could not withstand the energy and was destroyed. It wasn't without effect, although the specifics haven't been verified; however, it's clear that the Lich King's control over the undead has weakened significantly. What used to be orderly charges have now turned into a tangled mess. It is speculated that something has gone wrong with the Lich King."
That must mean he was damaged and his energy had begun to leak!
Without the solid ice to imprison and protect it, the soul's leaking energy would eventually dissipate completely, and at that time, he would be reduced to ashes.
Something was wrong now. He was curious: who would be the Death Knight at this time? Was there anyone more suitable than him?
"It seems there is a problem. Tell the Blue Dragons that they can use any forbidden magic they want to bring down the Lich King. Lordaeron's army will arrive soon; while advancing strictly, do not give them any chances. By the way, keep an eye on those Death Knights who have regained their free will; they will certainly be very interested in seeking revenge against Ner'zhul."
"Yes, Master."
Sinestra bowed slightly, a gesture that offered an unobstructed view.
"How have Lilian and Whitemane been lately?"
Arthas didn't need to hide his gaze and felt no embarrassment; at most, he would receive a playful, coy roll of the eyes.
"Very well. Everything is proceeding step by step, with everyone performing their duties. They have admired Master for a long time. If Master has time, you might as well stay and let them pleasure you for a while, fulfilling their dreams. Once their wishes are granted, they will work even harder."
Sinestra was truly a professional; in just a few words, she smoothed things over without any stiff transitions or abruptness.
"Now is not the time; we'll talk after I return from Northrend. Lately, pay more attention to intelligence from Northrend. Over in the Tanaris Desert, the Mantid are holding them back, so there's no need to worry too much."
Bugs against bugs—that was the correct solution!