"Where's the general?"

Sunset glowered along at Captain Karramyn Langston as Erik asked the question. The brown-haired man could only smile sheepishly as he shrugged at his burly companion, one Sergeant Jadrien, a burly redheaded mustachioed man who returned the gesture. The five of them, including Orys, were currently standing in the War Room of Durnholde Keep, overlooking a map of the Internment Camps. Unfortunately, while Sunset would like nothing more than to start the meeting, there was nothing that she could do about the fact that General Blackmoore was absent from the meeting.

Probably drunk and suffering from a hangover. Sunset thought darkly, privately wishing that the general's headache would be extremely painful this morning.

"Let me repeat myself, where's the general?" Captain Erik asked, his black eyes narrowing at the two men standing opposite the table.

"Apologies, sir." Sergeant Jadrien replied, his neatly trimmed head of red-hair waving slightly as he gave a quick bow. "But it would seem that General Blackmoore might be busy with something that just came up."

"Aye," Langston bobbed his head in agreement, "let us start the meeting first, I can relay the information to him later."

Erik looked at the two before running his hand through his hair and letting out a sigh. "Very well, let us begin, Lady Shimmer?"

Sunset stood forward and waved her hand, bringing out about a small stack of papers, the documents themselves were useless, as everyone present had already read them, but the act was crucial to grabbing the attention of the table. As the papers set themselves on the table, Erik began, "According to the information that you have given us, this "New Horde" is striking at the each of the Internment Camps and freeing their brethren, in turn swelling their numbers even as they hid themselves away from any retaliation that could be mustered."

"Aye," Sergeant Jadrien nodded, "it was why the General requested for reinforcements, the soldiers at Durnholde Keep are spread too thin and we have lost three camps already." The Sergeant shook his head, "We can't defend against the overwhelming numbers that they bring to each battle and we can't seem to track them down to bring the fight to them." He glanced at Captain Erik, "the General believes that with your Knights. we can station a group at each Internment Camp and strike back at the Horde." Frowning, the Sergeant continued, "is there a problem with the plan, sir?"

"It is a good plan," Erik smiled, "but it didn't account for our mage." As the Captain gestured to her, Sunset took the cue and began.

"Captain Erik believes that instead of pooling a group of Knights at each Internment Camp, it would be better to have the company of Knights be stationed at Durnholde Keep and instead reinforce each camp when they are needed to. We-"

"Preposterous!" Langston exclaimed, rudely cutting through her words and very nearly earning a firebolt to the face if not for Sunset's self control. "It is a good couple hours ride from here to the nearest Internment Camp," He looked at his fellow Captain, "Sir, with all due respect, there's no way that the plan would work."

"Of course it wouldn't," Erik replied, sounding annoyed, "but that is only if we are doing it by conventional means." He shook his head and gestured, "Lady Shimmer, please continue."

Sunset nodded and gestured, conjuring up a dozen crystal beads and setting them telekinetically on the map, squarely on Durnholde Keep. "As I was saying," She glared at Langston, who seemed oblivious to her ire, "Captain Erik wants to station all the Knights at Durnholde Keep. In the meantime, I would be visiting each of the Internment Camps and setting up a suitable spell matrix. The matrix would then be able to inform me wherever one of the Internment Camps were attacked."

"An alarm system is a great idea," Sergeant Jadrien commented, stroking his mustache thoughtfully, "much better than messenger birds and that would let us get ready earlier, but surely, that isn't just its purpose?" He looked at Sunset questioningly, "like Captain Langston said, the nearest camp is about two hours away. Even if we could get ready for the attack in less than a quarter of the time, we might not be able to reach any of the attacked camps before the orcs slip away."

"I am getting to that," Sunset replied, "the matrix primarily operates in two layers. The first, as I mentioned, is an alarm spell. The second, would be for it to act as a beacon." She smiled pridefully, happy that she could finally put what she had learned in Quel'Thalas into practice, "this beacon would allow my spellcasting to reach over further distances, and as such, I could," Sunset waved her hand and snapped her fingers, causing the crystal beads to vanish in a flash of light and appear on another spot of the map, covering the image of an Internment Camp, "bring us there to reinforce the camp immediately."

She looked up at the two man, happily noting how dumbstruck Langston was. Surprisingly, Sergeant Jadrien seemed to nodding in approval, "it is a great plan, I'd give you that." He smiled at Captain Erik, "I didn't even know that that is possible, none of our spellslingers here ever brought it up."

"That is because they aren't me." Sunset declared, bringing all eyes on her. "I promise you that my spells will work as intended and I can easily bring about two hundred people with me with enough preparations."

"Remarkable." Sergeant Jadrien grinned, "this might just give us the edge we need to face those orcs on our own turf!" Looking at Langston, he asked, "can you ask the good General if we can get this plan going?"

"Huh? Oh! Yes!" Langston shook his head before nodding enthusiastically, "I'd let him know right away!" Without excusing himself, the man dashed out of the room, leaving four very bemused occupants behind.

"Ah," Sergeant Jadrien chuckled, "my apologies for the Captain's lack of decorum, and while I know that it's not worth much, I would also like to apologize for General Blackmoore's tardiness too."

Sunset frowned, though she finally decided against commenting on the fact that he chose to apologize when Captain Langston had left.

"It is no trouble," Erik replied, "as long as the reply is prompt and Lady Shimmer here could start work on preparing us for the plan, we may yet be able to fix this situation."

"Aye," Sergeant Jadrien agreed as he gazed at Sunset, who met his eyes challengingly, "and hopefully the lass can do what she preached."

Feeling her pride challenged, Sunset opened her mouth to reply, but Orys surprisingly beat her to the punch. "Don't worry about that. Apart from me, there are plenty of Knights who could vouch for Lady Shimmer's abilities."

Huh. Sunset blinked owlishly, she had not expected a vote of confidence, especially from him.

"Plenty of them eh?" Sergeant Jadrien smirked, "well, speaking of your knights, I don't suppose I could ask a few of them over to help with training my boys? I could always use some help with making sure that the Keep's soldiers are up to shape."

"That is fine." Erik replied even as Sunset chimed in, "You are in charge of training the soldiers here?"

"Yes, milady." Sergeant Jadrien replied, "the soldiers and the gladiators."

"Gladiators?" Sunset asked.

"Ah," surprisingly, it was Orys who replied. "didn't you know? Durnholde is known for the most popular arena matches between gladiators and beasts in Lordaeron. I heard that the General Blackmoore is the one who founded the practice."

"Why would I know that?" Sunset shot back as she gave a disapproving look, "it sounds barbaric."

"Yes, it is," Sergeant Jadrien agreed, surprising her, "but it keeps the men entertained in these times of peace, though it has lately fallen on hard times, ever since Thrall escaped."

"Thrall?" Sunset asked, "a singular slave?"

"No," the Sergeant replied, "Blackmoore's former pet orc, he's called Thrall." The Sergeant stared at map, though it was clear that he was not looking at it, "star of the gladiatorial pits and my best student."

"Student?" Erik echoed, "you taught him?"

"Yea," the man nodded, "taught him since Blackmoore brought him to me as a whelp. Rumors were that the General found him as a babe, though only the gods would know why he decided to bring up an orc. But he did, and Thrall was the best student I ever had, eager to learn even despite the fact that he was destined to fight to line Blackmoore's pockets in the gladiatorial pits." Then a scowl found its way over Sergeant Jadrien's features, "but then he escaped and the word on the street says that he is the one behind this incident."

"Hold on," Sunset frowned, recalling the reports, "I thought that Orgrim Doomhammer's the suspected one behind the breakouts?" She asked, citing the famous orcish Warchief.

"Aye, but why now?" The man replied, "it's too much of a coincidence for me, Thrall's escape, Orgrim's return, and then this? I-"

"Should keep your mouth shut, Jadrien." Another voice slurred. As the four look to the door, a very red-faced General Aedelas Blackmoore stumbled in, the scent of wine following in after him. The man walked shakily to a seat and threw himself in it, clumsily scattering the pieces on the map with the action, some of the crystal beads rolling off the table and into his lap. As he sat there cursing, Captain Langston and another man dashed into the room, helping the General sit upright and clearing the debris from his pants.

"General," the Captain saluted, "you're finally here. Has Captain Langston told you about the plan I proposed?"

"Yes he has," Blackmoore drawled, "haven't you, Langston?" To which the youth babbled a quick affirmative.

"And the plan? Is it-"

"Approved!" The General barked even as he looked at Sunset, "get your magus ready immediately, I want her ready to join her escort for her tour of the Internment Camps by the morning tomorrow! Understood?"

"Yes sir!" Erik replied, snapping another quick salute in reply.

"Good, now leave," Blackmoore made a shooing gesture. However, as Sunset turned to follow Erik and Orys out of the room, she heard the man call out to her.

"Lady Shimmer, wait a moment. There's someone I want you to meet."

What now? Sunset thought irritably, feeling extremely annoyed at the fact that she had to stand in this man's presence for a longer period. She turned and saw a young blond girl, fair-skinned and bright-eyed, enter the room through another door and take her place beside Aedelas Blackmoore.

"This here is my missy, Taretha," the General drawled, "she will be accompanying you on your tour."

Thrall had always been an early riser. Gazing out eastwards with intelligent blue eyes at the sun rising over the mountaintops, Thrall took a moment to admire the view before making his way down the hill where he had made camp. As he made his way down, he could see other orcs stirring from their sleep, making their way out of their tents or whatever other sleeping arrangements they had made for themselves. Many greeted him cheerfully, and he replied to his people in kind.

His people.

It was a liberating thought. Having grown up under the boot of Aedelas Blackmoore, he had never thought that this day would come. But now, he was surrounded by hundreds of orcs, all revitalized by the shamanistic traditions that he and his mentor, the venerable Drek'Thar, had brought to them. They had been given hope, and with the help of the mighty Orgrim Doomhammer, Warchief of the Horde, Thrall intends to give them more.

They would give the orcs a place to belong.

"Greetings, Nazgrel." Thrall called out as he approached Doomhammer's tent. The guard in question was sitting outside, roasting a bird atop a fireplace. "how goes the morning?"

Nazgrel looked up from his task, "Greetings, Shaman Thrall. It is well, but I have news that might sour your day." He gave Thrall a dour frown, "word has it that a group had taken it upon themselves to raid a human village, though they failed."

"What?" Thrall felt anger rise up in him, "they attacked an unarmed human village?" There was no need to do so, there were plenty of game in the forests to feed their growing army thrice over for months. The spirits had been generous to them.

So why?

"Word has it that they went on it for a need for food and supplies but came back empty-handed." Nazgrel let out a mirthless laugh, "serves them right. The fools deserved to feel the sting of failure for such a dishonorable act."

"What of Orgrim, does he know about this?"

"He has already left to talk to them." Nazgrel pointed in a direction, towards the south of the camp, "you will find that he had headed that way."

As Thrall took off and drew closer to the edge of the encampment, his head perked up as he detected heated voices in the distance. Quickening his pace, he soon could soon see the figure of Orgrim Doomhammer, ever clad in his signature golden rimmed black plate armor, and twoscore orcs engaging in a heated discussion.

"-were too many of them, Warchief." The orc said, "we pushed them back and were getting ready to leave when the humans on warhorses and plated armor came in and hit us hard." Knights, Thrall noted, and a lot of them too, to be able to rout a raiding party. "Many of us wants to stay and fight, but I had to call the retreat."

"As you should, Durak." Doomhammer replied, clearly not in a good mood, "we could ill afford to lose more warriors."

"Are we to strike again at the village, Warchief?" Durak asked, "if we return in force, we could crush the village and retrieve the supplies even if the soldiers are still there." Around him, the other orcs grunted in affirmation, stamping their feet to show their approval to the idea. In any other event, that aspect of his people would amuse Thrall to no end, though that was mostly due to his human upbringing. He had to take a while to learn that the same act would mean different things in different cultures back when he first returned to his people.

"You will not." Thrall growled.

"What?" Durak turned and looked at him, just noticing Orgrim's second in command standing behind him, "they are enemies of the Horde, we mus-"

Thrall strode forward and backhanded Durak, sending the other orc sprawling into the ground.

"We are not butchers of humans!" He cried, glaring at the other orc, "we fight for our imprisoned brothers, our foes are armed soldiers, not milkmaids and children!"

Durak tried to rise, already mouthing a protest to Thrall's words but was slammed back into the ground by a fist. "The forest teems with deer and hare even in the winter! Every camp we liberate provides us with food! There is no call to terrorize people who have offered us no harm simply for our amusement! You will fight only who we tell you to fight, where we tell you to fight! You will not harm an unarmed human, is this understood?"

As Durak stared at him dumbly and nodded, Thrall's features softened.

"Such behavior is of the old Horde, led by the Dark Warlocks who had no love for our people. That is what brought us to the internment camps, to the listlessness caused by the lack of demon energy upon which we had fed so greedily. I do not wish us beholden to anyone but ourselves. That way almost destroyed us. We will be free, never question that. But we will be free to be who we truly are, and who we truly are is much, much more than simply a race of beings who exist to slaughter others. The old ways are no more. We fight as proud warriors now, not as indiscriminate killers. There is no pride, no honor in murdering children."

"Enough," Orgrim spoke, and Thrall backed away, "your shaman has spoken, Durak, and I hope you have listened. Spread the word, and let all orcs know that any attacks on an unarmed village is to be treated with disdain and dishonor. Now leave."

Durak stood and bowed, before leaving, his warriors quickly following him. As soon as they were left alone, Orgrim let out a chuckle as he turned to Thrall, "you walk a hard path, young Thrall, it is in their blood to kill."

"I do not believe that." Thrall replied, "I believe that we were corrupted from noble warriors into assassins. Puppets, whose strings were pulled by demons and those of our own people who had betrayed us in the Second War."

"Very well, then come, walk with me. While I disapprove of Durak's actions, he has brought me valuable information. I intend to call a meeting of my advisers."

"I obey, Warchief."

As the two began making their way back to Doomhammer's tent, Thrall decided to venture with his question first. "The humans have reinforcements?"

"So it would seem." Doomhammer mused, "Durak reported that these new humans were clad in blue and gold, not in red and black. Those are the colors of Lordaeron, I remember them clearly from my incarceration at their city."

"Did he say how many?"

"He estimates about a hundred, maybe more."

A company, then. Thrall recalled his lessons with the Sergeant. While not a large number, compared to the thousand and counting orcs currently in their Horde, Knights were much more well-trained and well-equipped than most of Durnholde's Infantry. An additional company of them that were bolstering Durnholde’s forces would mean huge trouble if they were unaccounted for in any of the strategies that Doomhammer and his advisers could think up of.

"Do not worry, Thrall," Doomhammer chuckled, noting the worry on the younger orc's face. "A company of Knights would mean little in the long run. We should focus on freeing our brethren first."

As the two neared his tent, the Warchief of the Horde waved Nazgrel over, "tell Hellscream and Drek'Thar to meet me in my tent, we have urgent news to discuss." As the other orc saluted and left, Doomhammer and Thrall took a seat and awaited the arrival of the other orcish leaders.

It did not take long for Grommash Hellscream and Drek'Thar to arrive. Hellscream cut a terrifying figure as the Chieftain of the Warsong Clan, he was tall, with long black hair flowing down his back with each ear pierced several times, the rings glinting brightly in the sunlight. Chains were hung all over his body, swaying hypnotically with his movements and his jaw was painted completely black. His burning red eyes gave him an almost demonic look even as his hands sometimes wander to the famed axe at his side, the mighty Gorehowl, a weapon that sings as it was swung in battle, something that still amazed the young Shaman.

Next to him, however, contrasting in appearance was the venerable Drek'Thar, shaman and leader of the Frostwolf Clan. Standing a full head shorter than Hellscream and possessing none of his bulk, the blindfolded greying shaman leaned on his staff as he approached, accompanied by his ever-faithful wolf companion, Wise-ear. The old orc needed no eyes to see, heading over to an empty stump to seat himself and face his fellow orcs.

"Greetings, my advisers." Doomhammer began, "I trust you find the day well."

"Greetings, Warchief." Drek'Thar smiled, "it is a wonderful day, though I suspect that you did not call us up for idle chatter?"

"Indeed," Doomhammer replied as he began filling them up on the raiding party's report.

Hellscream smiled grimly as he heard Doomhammer recount Thrall's speech to the orcs, "It is a noble and brave goal." He spoke softly, "the demons had used us for a dreadful dance..." His voice trailed off, growing weaker as his eyes were clearly looking at something far away and long ago. "The power they offered... it was like the sweetest honey, the juiciest flesh. You are fortunate to have never drunk from that well, Thrall. And then to be without it, it is almost... unbearable."

"And you have borne it, brave one." Thrall declared, reaching over to clasp his friend's shoulder. "My courage is nothing to yours."

Hellscream's red eyes glowed in the shadow of the tent, and by their hellish crimson light, Thrall could see him smile.

Sleep did not come easily to Sunset Shimmer that night. Restless, she rose from her cot and made her way around the keep, with a single lantern in hand to keep her way illuminated.

The place was quiet, but Sunset took comfort in the silence. With the guards avoiding her as she moved around, she was free to think as she walked and eventually found herself moving up the winding staircase of one of the towers.

The place was empty, which suited her needs. Silently, she walked towards the battlements and for the first time since her arrival, Sunset took in the view of Durnholde Keep. The place was huge, even if she ignored the pens that the orcs were kept in.

And a fool rules this place. She thought bitterly. Once more, her eyes swept across the mighty fortress before her only to catch sight of a light suddenly appearing on her vision, the flickering light moving back and forth on another of the castle’s towers. Her curiosity piqued, Sunset descended from her current position and made her way to the other structure.

Ascending the structure, she was surprised by who she saw at its top.

“Orys?” She announced, causing the man to turn towards her as she climbed out of the ladder, “what are you doing here?”

The man was hunched over at the battlements, studying what was apparently a map under the light of the lantern and a small basket lay at his feet. He looked over at her, surprise written over his features.

“Having a look at the lay of the land, milady.” The sergeant replied, giving a wry smile through his growing beard as he held up a telescope in his hand. “Need to make sure we have a proper plan for our journey to the camps.”

“What?” Sunset raised an eyebrow as she moved to his side, “why we can’t just use the roads?”

“Not if we want to make better time,” Orys replied, “roads are used for armies and wagons. As we are travelling on horseback, it may be better to cut through the field here.” He pointed to the appropriate spot on the map. “If we cut through the fields and skip the turns, we will be able to reach the first camp about two days earlier than expected.”

“I see.” Sunset muttered as she looked at the map before turning to regard the sergeant, seeing him in a new light. It was not just the appearance that had changed, it would seem. The boy was growing into a young man, and was much more dependable than the squire that thought to protect her from an ogre with only a sword in his hand all those years ago.

Having a person escorting her. Well, that Sunset could live with.

“What about you, Milady?” Orys replied, “why are you up at this hour?”

“Please, Sunset is fine.” She replied, she could give him that much courtesy, at least. “And I can’t sleep.”

“Nerves?”

“Maybe,” Sunset shrugged.

“Well, Sunset, it is a big mission ahead, and from what I heard, we may need to prepare for an eventual confrontation with this ‘New Horde’.” Orys muttered, more to himself than to her before giving her a confident grin, “but you have nothing to worry about! Lordaeron’s knights are among the best soldiers in the lands, we will keep you safe.”

“Well, that is good to hear,” Sunset replied with a smile of her own before shivering slightly as a breeze blew past her. While still dressed in a coat, she could not help but notice that the temperature was a little colder than she would have liked. Unsurprising, as it was winter.

Noticing her plight, Orys reached down and brought up the basket, opening it and retrieving two bottles before handing one to Sunset, “drink up,” he instructed, “it’ll warm you right up.”

Gratefully accepting the item, Sunset took a long draught from the bottle, taking a short while to enjoy the spicy sweetness that flowed down her throat. Feeling the drink warm her up, she let a sigh of satisfaction. "What is this?"

"Apple cider from Hearthglen. " Orys smiled, "the best in the land."

"I'll believe it." Sunset chuckled as she took another mouthful from the bottle.

"Well, if that is good, just wait till you try it with this bread from Tarren Mill I got the other day..."

And the two chatted the night away, the conversation veering between work and other more casual topics. Sunset was glad for it, for it took her mind away from incompetent generals and magi politics.

It was in the early morning when the group departed for their assigned mission.

Aedelas Blackmoore watched from the ramparts as the escort for the magus girl began to leave the safety of Durnholde Keep into the snowy fields beyond. Taking a quaff from the bottle at his side, he growled in frustration as he found it empty, making a mental note to scold Tammis for not ensuring that his drinks were well-stocked and easily at hand. Tossing the source of his ire aside, he glared down at the fair goldenhead riding alongside the fiery magus, chuckling as he rubbed his hands in anticipation.

Good, get out of here, Tari, lure that stupid beast out. Blackmoore thought darkly. He had read the reports of this young magus, this Sunset Shimmer. She had been in her fair share of scraps against bandits, beasts and most importantly, orcs. Wizards normally keep to themselves, especially those of the Kirin Tor. For such a mage to actively take part in such events indicate a strong hatred or disdain for the beasts. Of course, he could be mistaken, but if the redhead was much more powerful than the spellslingers he have in his employ, she would have the abilities he would need.

Abilities that could hurt Thrall, weaken him. But not outright kill him, no, Blackmoore had Thrall trained too well for that. His little pet would be weakened, ripe for capture.

And then there's Taretha. Oh dear Tari. His sweet little Tari. The woman who had brought much joy into his life and brought even more pain into it. When Aedelas Blackmoore had discovered that the woman with whom he shared a bed with had helped his pet orc escape, it had shattered his heart. Two betrayals, from places that he had least expected it. It had pained him greatly, especially after all he had done for her and her family. There had been many nights when he had thought if he should just kill his traitorous mistress.

But it would appear that there was still something he would have her do. The magus looked young, younger than his Tari, even. Knowing her, when she was surrounded by nothing but Knights and none of her friends, those gossiping maids that he had kept around, Taretha would definitely try to reach out to the only other person who she believe she could relate to.

Not that it would matter. Taretha was a traitor, one more friend would not change her fate. However, Blackmoore would make use of her as much as he wanted until then.

Earn her trust, become her friend. Blackmoore grinned, the smile not quite reaching his eyes as he glared down at the departing figures. Make her curious about you, let her know about your silly little connection with him. Let her track him down for you.

"Then deliver my Thrall back to me."

Author's Note

For anyone that feels uncomfortable reading Blackmoore's part. Yes, he's supposed to be that unlikeable.

This chapter is really just mostly filler but I felt that Sunset has been doing all work and less rest recently, so perhaps a little rest would be great for her. Also side-note, Alliance Knights are terrifyingly effective in TFT, so Orys' confidence is not too misplaced.

Thank you all for reading and I hope you enjoyed the chapter! (Shameless Ko-fi plug here)