Chapter 11

Long Trip to Stormwind

When Stefan awoke, he found the letter resting on the edge of the night stand. Sure enough, Stormwind requested that he appear in the court of King Wrynn as soon as possible. The letter had been sent the day before he had passed on the medallion to the Elven lady, too.

Overconfident buggers, he thought. He knew it was more like they had every ounce of confidence in his abilities, but Stefan hated to gloat about himself. The only person he gloated about was Lorelein.

He ran a hand across his jaw, feeling rough hairs brush against his palm. He would need a shave after he washed himself clean. He rubbed the slumber from his eyes, scanning the room for Lorelein. Her tapestry was vacant, but the foot was complete. He smiled knowingly, getting to his feet and walking into the bathroom, preparing a bowl of hot water.

---

The sun was nearly at its zenith. Stefan proceeded to shave the remainder of a five o'clock shadow off his chin, all the while thinking about the trip to Stormwind. The last time he had been there, he was given a very unwelcome choice to leave or be jailed. A bar fight had broken out, and naturally, the mercenary was at fault. It was no matter that the Dwarf had an axe, nor that he was stinking drunk (and a Dwarf, at that!). What mattered was that the Dwarf was a hero returning from the Blackrock Spire, recognized for his heroism in the face of a vile enemy; even when he had been taking a leak down the side of cliff, causing a boulder to slip from its resting point and crush an Orc by chance. The Dwarf had been bragging about it all night.

Needless to say, Stefan had no reluctant thoughts, but nor was he adamant about making the journey. He would rather stay in Booty Bay and spend time with Lorelein. He fastened the buckle on his belt as he entered the bedroom. In the living room, he heard someone rummaging about.

"Is that you, love?"

Lorelein poked her head out from around the doorway.

"Ah, you're done! I made a grocery stop by the stands. I feel like cooking tonight," she said, disappearing back around the doorway.

Stefan picked up his maces, strapping to his belt once again. Lory spoke as he was throwing the white jacket over his shoulders.

"Will you be back tonight?"

"I'll try, but it's a long way to Stormwind."

She turned to face him with pouting lips and begging eyes.

"That's a yes," he added hastily.

"Good! Well you better get on your way! Like you said, it's a long journey!"

"As she commands," he said, kissing her on the cheek. "Goodbye, Lory. I'll see you later tonight."

---

It was a very long way. It was nearly two Duskwood trips, and took most of the afternoon. He arrived at the gates of Stormwind four hours after departing from Booty Bay by stage coach, and his legs nearly gave out from under him in fatigue. But after a pint of liquor in one of the capital's numerous taverns, things started to look up. After that, he spend a few minutes searching for a gift for Lorelein. He settled upon a Truesilver needle. It nearly took his entire purse, but he intended to have it filled up very soon.

Then, he was on his way. He exited the busy Trade District of Stormwind, and walked along the canals en route to the keep. It had been long since he had walked on solid stone and breathed the city air. The myraid colors of Stormwind, standing out against the gray backdrop of the walls and towers, was a very different sight after so many months in Booty Bay. Sixteen months to be exact.

The sun vanished as he crossed into the cool hallway of the keep. The guards must have recognized him, because they stiffened up as he walked past. He gave each a friendly nod and continued onward and upward. As the floor rose underneath him, the hall began to branch off into several adjoining rooms. The sheer size of the maze-like keep had always fascinated Stefan. It was much like a jungle in itself, only the walls were made of stone rather than thick foliage and timber.

He broke away from his reverie as he arrived at the edge of the royal court room. The air here was different. It was cleaner, more refined. At the center of the room stood a pair of figures. The first was clad in shining armor that accentuated the man's musculature. He was Highlord Bolvar Fordragon, both a leading figure in the Human community and the personal bodyguard of the king of Stormwind. Standing next to Fordragon was the king himself, Anduin Wrynn. Though he was only a mere child, he held the power and position that kept the Human race together. And for that, Stefan admired and respected him. He fell to one knee and bowed his head.

"Lord Fordragon, and blessed King Wrynn, I am Stefan Dreis. I come to your humble court in recognition of your summons," said Stefan, raising his head to look upon the two.

"Well met, Stefan Dreis. You may rise, and receive your well-earned reward," started Fordragon, pulling a heavy sack from his side. It jingled enticingly.

"Thank you, my lord," said Stefan, receiving the bag. "And thank you, my good King."

The young boy simply nodded and smiled.

"Oh, before you go Stefan, there is an Elf who came to us earlier. She says she is with you," said Fordragon, turning to watch a young Kaldorei enter from an adjoining room. "Stefan Dreis, may I present Iyana Moonbreeze."

He recognized the comely Elf right away. Without the robes, in more fashionable, proper attire, she was dazzling. Even more so was the medallion upon her neck, the one he had wrestled from the Warlock. Stefan was perplexed.

"My lord, the medallion?"

"We were wondering as much. She said the medallion was to be turned over to us, but it is of no use to us, Stefan."

"Then this," he raised the bag of money. "What am I being paid for, my lord? Surely you sent me to retrieve this medallion."

Now it was Fordragon's turn to be perplexed. The man arched an eyebrow.

"Stefan, the medallion, as far as we know, has no connection to the bounty. You only had to bring proof of Origazz's demise, and no more."

Stefan was dumbfounded. There was no evidence left after the explosion. How could they have known?

"Lord, how did you learn of my success?" asked Stefan

"A Draenei, by the name of Rok'roham Salderis. He brought the burnt remains of the goblin's right hand. We identified it via the ring he wore. What is the matter?" replied Fordragon.

"Stefan, what is going on?" interjected Iyana, completely lost.

Then it hit him.

"Iyana. Take that medallion off. Now," said Stefan, dropping the bag and running over to her.

"But they--"

He didn't wait for her to act. He grabbed it, ripping it forcefully from around her neck. The chain snapped, and Iyana shrieked in surprise. The medallion was hot, and growing steadily hotter. He looked down, and saw the jewel turning a bright red. There was not enough time.

"Lord Fordragon! Please escort King Wrynn from the room! He is in danger!" shouted Stefan, as a whistling sound began to emanate from the medallion. He looked down the thankfully-empty hall, and chucked the medallion as hard as he could.

"Guards, ready your weapons! I think--"

Boom!

The medallion was in flight when a giant force exploded forth, rippling outward and knocking Stefan over. Several others were knocked down by the explosion, and masonry fell from the ceiling. Thankfully, the structure of the keep remained intact. A thick cloud of smoke covered the hallway, and Stefan's efforts of batting it away were to of little avail.

"Is everyone alright?" he shouted. Through the dust, voices shouted back in reply.

"Iyana? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine!"

"Lord Fordragon! Is King Wrynn safe?"

"Aye, Stefan! What has happened?"

"My lord, that is no ordinary medallion. I fear it was housing a--"

That's when he saw it. Through the smoke, a figure emerged. Its skin was the color of blood, which radiated an aura of heat. It wore armor darker than the night and seemed to suck the light from the room. Upon its head, a pair of long, ominous horns jutted outward. From its mouth, black smoke billowed forth, disappearing beyond a pair of large, leathery wings. In a wicked, clawed fist, it held a two-headed axe that called for bloodshed in sinister whispers that bounced around in Stefan's head.

Standing ten feet tall, the Doom Guard roared with prolonged hunger.

Demon.