Author's Note

Hello everyone, it had been a busy week irl. Got a job, but I had to put in abit of overtime as I was a little tight on cash recently so I had to put off publishing this for a little bit as I did not have time to edit it. To make up for it, I will be putting out another chapter soon after this one.

Sorry for the wait and I hope you enjoy this read!

Sincerely,
Riposte

29. Cruelty and Will III

"Make friends with her, Tari. The girl is a gifted mage but we need to make her feel welcomed. She's essential to protecting us, and your family.

Those were the words that Blackmoore had told Taretha Foxton before he sent her off. In true Blackmoore fashion, he had to mention her family, subjecting her to that same ominous feeling that he would take his anger out on them instead of her should she not fulfil her duties.

After all, it was how he managed to get her to go to his bed. So she really should not be surprised at this point. However, even though it was at her master's request, Taretha was quite enjoying the trip, even in the cold winter, where traveling was supposed to be hard and inconvenient. In her twenty years here, she had been out of Durnholde keep and the villages around it for less than ten times. While the absence of the General was very much a contributing factor to her sense of ease, the twenty Knights that were escorting her and the mage had been very welcoming company. Chivalrous and kind, each one had been a vast upgrade over the pitying or contemptuous glances that Blackmoore's subordinates were wont to give her.

And then there was the curiosity that was the Sunset girl. The fiery redhead wore the violet robes of the Kirin Tor, a fantastical organization of wizards that Taretha had only heard of, but never seen. Furthermore, she acted unlike the wizards in the tales, who were said to be aloof and mysterious, living in their Violet hued city and uncaring of opinions other than their own.

The young girl could not be any more different.

Even now, Taretha could see Sunset actively engaging with her escort in conversation, pointing out landmarks and chatting away as they ride down the road.

Like Thrall. Taretha sighed, remembering the orc that she had treated like her brother. She had been raised believing that orcs were brutish, stupid and terrifying individuals but Thrall had been the complete opposite of what she was told. He was smart, merciful and above all, compassionate. It had led her to believe that not all orcs were the same, just like how not all humans were like her master.

Unknowingly, her hands reached out to grip the welts on her arms, covered by the fabric of her riding outfit. Blackmoore was a cruel master and Thrall had deserved none of the treatment that he had received at her master's hand.

It was why she had helped him escape.

It had pained her greatly, to see Thrall, who had been raised as a younger brother alongside her, to be treated so callously by General Blackmoore. The man had run Thrall ragged, forcing him to fight impossible odds in the arena. Impossible odds that Thrall had overcame, which had earned their master tons of gold, but none was ever used to reward Aedelas Blackmoore's pet orc.

Thrall had won much for Blackmoore, but he stayed in the same cell and slept on the same bed. And when he lost his first and last fight in the gladiator arena, Blackmoore had him tortured. Unable to stand it, Taretha had resolved to help the orc she saw as her younger brother escape.

For years, they had communicated with each other with hidden letters. These had been a form of comfort to each other, a promise that they would always be brother and sister. When Thrall decided to escape, the letters turned to be their main form of coordination and on one summer night, Taretha finally helped her brother escape Durnholde Keep.

Looking out at the fields around her, Taretha briefly wondered where Thrall was right not, silently giving a prayer for his well-being.

She should be the same. Taretha decided as she looked at Sunset conversing with the leader of the escort, one Sergeant Orys. If many magi were cold and dour, then Sunset Shimmer must be one of the exceptions. Of course, this could all be in her head, so she would need to make sure.

An opportunity soon arose when it came time to take a break. Having ridden for an hour, the group was eager for a rest, but as their assigned guide, Taretha would feel bad if she could not at least provide the weary travelers with some amount of refreshments. Having prepared an assortment of snacks before the trip, Taretha immediately set to handing them out to the grateful Knights, whose expressions immediately brightened upon receiving her treats. It warmed her heart, being able to help even in the smallest manner.

"Here, have some tarts." Taretha said when she came to Sunset and her companion who were deep in conversation. The two nodded gratefully and accepted the snacks, taking a break from their talk to enjoy the tasty treats. Having approached them last deliberately, Taretha had no problems sitting down with them uninvited. Thankfully, the two did not as well, or it would have been very awkward.

"So, Miss Foxton, you're Blackmoore's wife?"

Then it all went downhill. Fortunately, Taretha managed to keep her composure. Smiling back at Sunset, who had asked the question, she replied coolly, "no, in a manner of speaking. My father serves Blackmoore as his servant, and the master have taken a liking to me."

There were no lies spoken then.

"Huh," sergeant Orys muttered, his breath misty in the cold weather, "weird that he would send you along with us. Not that there's anything wrong with you." The sergeant quickly added, "but I do wonder why he would send you instead of another one of his knights."

“Real smooth, Orys.” Sunset teased, causing the man to choke on the tart in his mouth, an act that caused no small amount of mirth to ripple through the other knights.

I wonder why too. Were the thoughts in Taretha's head as she shrugged at him helplessly, "I do not know, but I'm not complaining, it has been a long time since I left Durnholde Keep like this." She took a time to breathe in the fresh air of the fields, feeling the cold touch of the wind on her bare face and taking her time to enjoy in something so different from the musty corridors of her home, "and I'm really glad that I was allowed to bring you around like this," she continued truthfully.

"Heh," Sunset muttered as she finished chewing on the last bite of her tart, "sounds rough, but we aren't riding around for sightseeing. Erik gave me a job and I got to do it well." Taretha's eyes widened as she saw a flicker of unease pass through Sunset's features for a moment. It was brief, but she recognized it. It was the look when someone felt that they had something to prove.

She had seen it in Blackmoore before. It was a dark look that he had been wearing recently. Wondering what would trouble the redhead so, she decided to leave it be.

After all, everyone have their secrets.

They chatted for a little while longer about other mundane matters, before Orys decided that that the group had rested enough and gave out the order to mount up. This time, however, Taretha rode alongside Sunset and the Sergeant, helping to point out landmarks that she had not seen since she was young child and directed the group along the roads needed to reach the first internment camp.

The group only stayed at the camp for two days, and Taretha was glad when Sunset had finally finished whatever she was doing and they could leave. Watching the listless orcs in the encampment had been awful and watching the orcs being mistreated by the guards had only brought back heart-wrenching memories of Thrall suffering under the heel of Blackmoore.

At least one of us is free.

Thankfully, the entire trip was not full of dour experiences. As the days passed, Taretha began to grow accustomed to sitting around and warming herself by a campfire as she listened to the group of Knights share stories from their past. Her favorite moments were when the knights managed to coax Sunset, when she was not resting, into sharing her tales, mostly because the other girl liked to bring her stories to life with her arcane powers, coaxing the flames into hypnotic dancing patterns and figures to put on a show.

It was the best experience that Taretha had in years. She had grown to enjoy each and every one of the group's company, leaving her with a yearning for a life outside her own, outside of Blackmoore's shadow.

Unfortunately, such a thought would remain a far-fetched dream, so long as Aedelas Blackmoore remains her master.

Five camps in a little over two weeks and Sunset was already feeling extremely drained from the whole ordeal. She felt sore, and not just physically but mentally and magically as well. The spell matrix that she had designed since she first discussed the plan with Sir Redrick had been a very complex one, requiring plenty concentration and time as well as a non-negligible amount of mana.

And the cold. No amount of spell could keep away the cold.

She was sure that Orys had noticed how tired she had been getting, which would explain the slowing pace of the group as they moved from camp to camp, and the not so stealthy attempts that the sergeant made to slip her some of his portions of the rations.

She was naturally grateful for his concern, even though it did make her feel a little embarrassed by his overbearing protective nature that he seemed to have inherited from Erik.

It felt so weird, seeing him as he was right now. No one would have thought that he was that scrawny kid that got bodied by an ogre a couple of years ago.

Still, while there were plenty of pleasant moments, Sunset was beginning to regret even leaving Dalaran for this mission. And it was not about the difficulty of the task ahead.

She was extremely disturbed by what she had seen in the internment camps. Hundreds of orcs living in conditions that were definitely not fit for any living being, it was a sickening sight. And the wardens of each camp were not exactly kind either, she had met six of them so far and more than half of them were pompous, self-indulgent officers who were complacent, greedy and most of all, uncooperative.

However, back to the subject on the orcs, there was the one thing that did not sit well with her: their eyes. Dead, listless and almost lifeless. It was haunting. Those were eyes of someone with their spirit broken and Sunset knows that because she had had noticed groups of orcs huddling with one another and talking excitedly when they thought no one was looking in some of the camps, but not in many. Maybe, once her work here was complete, she could stay for abit, study the orcs and see what was truly going on with them.

Perhaps she would learn something new about the orcs. Unfortunately, while the prospect did excite her, she would probably need a nap first before she continued with any of her ventures.

Not that now was any time for her to take a nap. Sunset bit into a jerky as she traced a rune into the magic circle beneath her with a charcoal stylus, examining her handiwork with a trained eye. She was making good progress on this one, having started work as soon as they reached the sixth camp this morning. She should be fine as long as there were not any interrup-

"How goes the work, Magus Shimmer ?"

Sunset nearly broke the stylus in her hands, glaring up at the poker-faced Major Waryk, the master of the camp she was in. The man had entered silently, clearly showing some regard for her work, but had not had the sense to remain utterly silent. Still, seeing as the man himself was carrying a tray of food and drink for her presumably, Sunset decided to swallow her ire and speak cordially to the man.

"It goes well enough, major." Said Sunset as she stood upright, just noticing how sore her back was. Giving it a stretch, she continued, "but I would ill-advise coming in as silently as you did." She gestured at the circle for emphasis, "the work is delicate, and a single mis-stroke might require me to start over."

"I will remember that, magus." Waryk nodded as he set down the tray and offered Sunset the cup on it, "but you should take a break, come, I bring food and drinks."

Gratefully accepting the proffered cup, Sunset downed the water inside in a single gulp before taking a bread off the tray and ripping into it. While she devoured the food, she noticed the major glancing curiously at her spellwork. Which was still quite weird, to be honest. Most humans, even some of the knights that she was used to working with, still regard Spellwork with a healthy bit of superstition, believing themselves to be cursed should they try to involve themselves with it. Sure, those same soldiers would laugh and cheer at dancing firelights but would steer clear of magic circles or runes that were not appealing to the eyes.

"Curious, Major?" She finally asked after swallowing the last mouthful of bread.

"Oh," Waryk blinked as he looked up at her, "in a manner of speaking." He shrugged, "I never learned to read or write, though I am learning, but I couldn't help but notice that the alphabet that you used to write in it is not in Common."

The Major is illiterate? "Some call it Spellspeech, though there are many dialects of it. Mine is mainly in ancient elvish." Sunset frowned as she process the thought that had just occurred to her, "pardon me if this is offensive to you, but you are illiterate?"

"Aye."

"Then how do you become a major in charge of this camp? I presume that the commanding officer would at least need to be able to read a report?"

Waryk laughed sheepishly. "My promotion was a recent one. The former commanding officer had the General's pet orc in her custody without even noticing it. While she did nothing, I sent a messenger to Durnholde. Unfortunately, the orc escaped and my former superior drew General Blackmoore's ire. So as punishment for her, I was promoted to her rank while she was demoted to mine."

"This ‘Thrall’ was here?" Sunset blinked.

"Yes, I was part of the group who caught him." Waryk nodded. "It is hard to not notice the intelligence in his eyes, as much as he tried to hide it." The man frowned, "the others, however, thought that all orcs are brutes and had thought nothing of it at the time, which probably contributed to his escape."

"And you, Major?" Sunset asked, "what do you think about the orcs?"

There was a pause, before Waryk finally deigned to share his thoughts. "I believe that they are a lot more alike to us than the others think, Magus Shimmer."

The man may not know how to read or write, but he has a good head on his shoulders. Sunset nodded in agreement. It was hard not to draw comparisons. The other camps commanding officers were deeply rooted in complacency, their guards were barely disciplined compared to Captain Erik's Knights. Even General Blackmoore seemed to be much more interested in the bottles in his cellars than the current situation with the camps.

With such an attitude reigning supreme throughout the internment camps’ ranks, it might make fighting the orcs extremely difficult.

There was even a small part of Sunset that doubted that they would be able to stop the orcish breakouts completely.

Shaking her head, she banished those thoughts. She could not afford to fail now. She needed some results in case anything happens back at Dalaran. Dalaran was a fount of knowledge that she could ill-afford to lose, and not to mention that Archmage Antonidas was holding what might be her only key to the way back to Equestria.

She must succeed here, prove that she was an invaluable connection to a part of the Alliance and be able to shake off any accusations that could be used against her. She needed her position to be unassailable within the Kirin Tor. Even if they would bring up her involvement in her master's experiments.

Sunset's thoughts trailed off as she thought of him. Kel'Thuzad was a cranky old wizard, eccentric and paranoid. However, he had been an integral part of Sunset's education in the Kirin Tor, having taught Sunset most of what she currently knew about magic in Azeroth. He had been extremely disappointed in her, having thought that she would bring wondrous knowledge back from Quel'Thalas to share with him. He had shunned her, refusing to see her for weeks before she had to leave to save her own standing in the Violet Citadel.

Then there was Antonidas, the other side of the coin. The old wizard was manipulative but generous. It was clear that the ruler of Dalaran had only his city's best interest at heart. While not her master, Sunset would be ashamed of herself if she ever denied any of Antonidas' subtle gifts, scrolls of spells and items of power for certain information. Unfortunately, Sunset could never find it in herself to trust the sincerity of those gifts, for they were given to her in exchange for her whistleblowing on her own master.

They are probably both disappointed in me. However, it was too late for Sunset to regret not choosing a side. The coin has been flipped, and she chose herself.

Sunset sighed, staring off into the distance, wondering what the outcome of the ongoing storm in Dalaran would result in.

“This continual harassment grows tiresome. I was in the midst of important studies, delicate magic that requires weeks of preparation and ritual.” Kel’Thuzad had been forced to wait for hours, fuming at the insult, before he was permitted the bare courtesy of confronting his accusers. The group’s apparent spokespersons, Drenden and Modera, had long been two of his most vocal critics. Nonetheless, they would not have launched this latest inquisition without support from Antonidas, who had yet to show himself. What was the old man up to?

Drenden snorted. “That’s the first time I’ve heard your sort of magic called ‘delicate.’”

“An ignorant opinion from an ignorant man,” said Kel’Thuzad with cold precision.

A distant voice spoke to him then, the voice of a friend. By now its remarks had grown so familiar that they felt like his own thoughts. They fear and envy you. After all, thanks to this new course of study, you are continuing to gain in knowledge and power.

There was a sudden flash of light, and a scowling gray-haired archmage appeared in the hall. A small wooden chest was tucked under his arm. “I would not have believed it if I had not seen it myself. You have abused our patience for the last time, Kel’Thuzad.”

“The venerable Antonidas graces us with his presence at last. I began to think you had fallen ill.”

“Age frightens you, doesn’t it?” Antonidas snapped. “You realize there’s only one alternative.”

Let him think so, if that comforts him.

Calming somewhat, Antonidas said, “As for my health, you need not have concerned yourself. I was merely busy elsewhere.”

“Searching my chambers and probing my apprentices for evidence of forbidden magic? You should know better.” Kel'Thuzad seethed, quietly glad that Sunset Shimmer was off on a mission despite not notifying him. The girl was loyal, but she would stand no chance against the Kirin Tor's interrogation.

“True, your chambers bore no such evidence. The warehouses you own in the northlands, on the other hand…" Antonidas gave him a disgusted look.

Damn the man for being a self-righteous snoop. “You had no right--”

Antonidas tapped his staff to the floor, silencing him, and turned to the other magi. “He has turned the buildings into laboratories for a series of foul experiments. See for yourself, colleagues. Behold the fruit of his labors.” He opened the chest and tilted it so that all could see.

The decaying remains of several rats. Two were still scrabbling clumsily at the sides of the chest in a vain attempt to escape. Several magi bolted to their feet, and there was a hubbub of dismay. Even the golden-haired high elf who had been sitting in the back of the room seemed startled, though Prince Kael’thas was a man whose age made that feat nearly impossible.

Turning back to the captive rats, Kel’Thuzad saw that they had collapsed and stopped moving. Another set of failures, apparently. No matter. Someday he would create a stable undead specimen. His hard work would be vindicated. It was only a matter of time.

There are loose threads in the spell that silences you. Shall I show you how to unravel it?

Time, and his unknown ally, whose enigmatic voice occasionally helped him to move one step closer to his goal. Show me, he thought.

A young woman arrived in another flash of light. As she went to stand by Antonidas, the high elf’s gaze followed her with troubled, brooding intensity. But Jaina Proudmoore took no notice; she was utterly focused on her duties. The handsome prince didn’t stand a chance.

Her vivid blue eyes spared Kel’Thuzad an accusing glance, one that Kel'Thuzad returned. This girl was a good friend of her apprentice. Clearly inferior to her, being unable to understand greatness when she looks at it. She took the box from Antonidas, who explained, “My apprentice will see to it that the chest and its contents are incinerated.”

The woman inclined her head and teleported from the room. Across the room, the high elf frowned at the spot she had vacated. Under other circumstances, Kel’Thuzad might have found the silent drama amusing. However, left unchallenged, Antonidas was continuing his tirade. Mutely seething, Kel’Thuzad resumed his efforts to free himself.

“We have permitted this state of affairs long enough. Rapped his knuckles occasionally for his more questionable pursuits. Tried to guide him. Now we find he has been practicing evil magic. The name of the Kirin Tor is fast becoming a curse on the lips of the local villagers.”

“You lie!” Kel’Thuzad burst out, and a few of the magi were his again, waiting for him to offer an explanation. “Peasants remember the Second War just as well as we do. Say what you like about the orcs; their warlocks wielded great power. Power against which we had precious little defense. We have an obligation: we must learn to wield and counter these magics ourselves.”

“To form an army of dead rats, their unnatural existence measured in hours?” Antonidas asked dryly. “Yes, my boy, I found your journals, too. You kept quite detailed records regarding this abominable enterprise. You cannot mean to use these pathetic creatures against orcs. Assuming, of course, that the orcs should ever emerge from their current lethargy, escape the internment camps, and somehow manage to become a threat again.”

“Being younger than you hardly qualifies me for boyhood,” retorted Kel’Thuzad. “As for the rats, they are the gauge by which I measure my progress. It is a standard experimental technique.”

A sigh. “I am aware that you spend most of your time in the north these days. Your increasingly lengthy absences were what caught my attention in the first place. Yet even you must have heard that the king’s new tax has given rise to civil unrest. Your selfish pursuit of power could incite the peasantry to revolt. Lordaeron would be engulfed in civil war.”

He hadn’t known about the tax. Antonidas must be exaggerating. Besides, true magi would focus on matters of greater substance. “I will be more discreet,” he offered, gritting his teeth.

“No amount of discretion could possibly hide a secret of this magnitude,” said Drenden.

Modera added, “You know that we have always walked a fine line in order to protect our people without becoming a danger ourselves. We dare not sacrifice our humanity--not in appearance, and certainly not in truth. At best, your methods would see us condemned as heretics.”

It was too much. “We’ve been called heretics for centuries. The church has never been fond of our methods. Such sentiments notwithstanding, we are still here.”

She nodded. “Because we avoid dark magic, which leads to corruption and catastrophe.”

“Because we are necessary!”

“Enough.” Antonidas sounded weary. To Modera and Drenden, he added, “If words alone could have reached him, they would have done so before now.”

“I have heard your words,” Kel’Thuzad said in exasperation. “Merciful gods, I have heard them until I am sick of them! It is you who will not hear mine, and put aside your antiquated fea--”

“You mistake our purpose here today,” interrupted Antonidas. “This is not a debate. At this moment, your properties are being thoroughly searched. All items tainted by dark magic will be confiscated and, once identified to our satisfaction, destroyed.”

"And my apprentices?" Strange, he had not thought to found it in himself to care, but he could not help but hope that his most important piece would remain in Dalaran.

"They will be screened, and so long as they remain untainted by your work, they will find other work, other masters within the Kirin Tor."

His nameless ally had warned him this might happen, but Kel’Thuzad had not believed. Strange. He felt almost relieved that events had come to this pass. The need for secrecy had limited the scope of his work, hindered his advancement.

And Sunset could take care of herself. He would not expect any less of his most prized apprentice. She would prosper even when he left, and he would return to reap the benefits of her remaining in the Kirin Tor. Even now, he was sure that she was trying to solidify her position, trying to make herself indispensable to the Violet Citadel.

Clever, very clever. Perhaps too clever.

“In light of the evidence,” Antonidas said heavily, “King Terenas has agreed with our judgment. If you do not abandon this madness, you will be stripped of your rank and holdings, and you will be exiled from Dalaran--indeed, from all of Lordaeron.”

His mind racing, Kel’Thuzad bowed and left the hall. Doubtless the Kirin Tor were keeping his so-called disgrace quiet, fearing repercussions should his actions become public knowledge. For once, their cowardice would work in his favor. His wealth would never line the king’s coffers, but he would still leave.

And he would return, more powerful than ever.