A Nerubian's Journey

Queen Nezar’Azret examined the annotated diagram of the nerubian anatomy one more time on her table, while her skitterers brought in fresh stocks of alchemical fluids into the chamber. Ever since the High King had decided to accelerate the timeline for the creation of a new nerubian caste, she had been working tirelessly to perfect all the modifications. Just last week, she had finally transformed Warrior Masruk into the first nerubian Lifeweaver.

Now she was going to repeat the same procedure with Warrior Simruk, a Dread Stalker, in front of an audience of other Queens through a scrying crystal. Since the council expected all Queens in the kingdom to learn how to create the new caste, she would be giving detailed explanations as she transformed Simruk into a Lifeweaver.

“The ritual circle and the alchemical fluid for nerubian transformation have been prepared,” Queen Nezar’Azret addressed her audience and pointed to the carved runes on the floor. “The runes are the same as those used in other transformation rituals. However, the standard alchemical fluid has been steeped with Crystalized Life drops from the Lothalor Woodlands, Talandra's Rose, and Lichbloom under simmering heat.”

“What are the proportions?” Queen Mel’ras asked with interest through the crystal. “While Talandra’s Rose and Lichbloom are herbs that can be easily harvested on Northrend, Crystalized Life drops are gathered with some difficulty from the treants of Lothalor Woodlands.”

Unlike Talandra’s Rose and Lichbloom, there was very little tradition for the use of Crystalized Life. After all, they had only had access to the Lothalor Woodlands for a few years after Azjol-Nerub began trading with the tuskarr.

Nezar’Azret had very little interest in the primitives on the surface, but their reagents were as good as any others.

“For one gallon of standard alchemical fluid, I use ten ounces of Talandra’s Rose and Lichbloom extract each along with a gram of Crystalized Life drop,” Queen Nezar’Azret answered, consulting her detailed notes on the procedure. “The mixture should be continuously infused with arcane magic at a rate of approximately ten standard mana units per hour for five hours. Once the mixture turns into a pale yellow color, the alchemical fluid is ready.”

“I can help secure more Crystalized Life drops, if I can study a live treant,” said Queen Kithix, her voice thoughtful. Nezar’Azret forced herself to ignore the strange furred animal sitting on Kithix’s abdomen. “I am certain that vivisection of the treant will reveal the source of the Crystalized Life drops.”

“I am sure Elder Nadox will consider your suggestion, if you bring it to him,” Queen Nezar’Azret replied, sending out a skitterer to summon Warrior Simruk. “But for now, I will proceed with the demonstration of the transformation process. There will be time for more questions after I complete the process.”

A powerfully built warrior walked into the room and placed his weapons, armor, and equipment in the corner of the room. Simruk’s brown carapace contained numerous dents and scratches from his service in the front lines against the Horde.

“Welcome Warrior Simruk,” Queen Nezar’Azret said, pointing to the ritual circle. “Please enter the ritual circle and stay still.”

The Dread Stalker clicked his mandibles in acknowledgment and entered the ritual circle. When Queen Nezar’Azret activated the carved runes on the floor, a pale yellow viscous liquid began to rapidly fill the region circumscribed by the runes. Soon the nerubian warrior was almost completely immersed and no longer visible.

“When Warrior Simruk is fully submerged in the specially prepared alchemical fluid, I will begin to modify him into a Lifeweaver,” Queen Nezar’Azret addressed the scrying crystal, her eyes focused on the ritual circle. “Since extensive modification to the internal organs will be required, I will proceed by first dissolving the carapace.”

After a few moments, the yellow fluid turned a greenish color as she channeled her magic through the runes to dissolve the carapace. “The first organ to be modified is the hemolymph node in the thorax that helps to pump the blood through the body,” she continued, concentrating fully on the submerged warrior. “I am enlarging the node with layers of magical tissue that will help channel the Life magic through the body. Study of Vizier Krivax has shown that Alexstrazsa’s blessing acts by flooding the blood with Life magic. This organ is an attempt to recreate a similar effect on a smaller scale. The Crystallized Life drops are absorbed from the fluid during the creation of this organ.”

She finally let out her breath when the hemolymph node finally began to develop a new layer of muscle and absorbed the reagents from the alchemical fluid. Behind her, a skitterer had unfurled a labeled diagram of the modification to the organs for the viewing audience.

Turning to face the crystal, Queen Nezar’Azret explained, “The Life enhanced lymph node improves strength, stamina, and healing rate. With practice, a Lifeweaver can learn to direct Life magic through the circulatory system to regenerate from non-fatal injuries.”

Once the modified organ was fully developed, she turned her attention to the submerged nerubian warrior’s abdomen. The fluid around the abdomen began to churn as she made changes using the ritual circle.

“I am now enlarging and modifying the book lung organs in the abdomen of a nerubian,” Queen Nezar’Azret resumed her explanation. “New muscles are being added to the slit openings for the book lungs to allow for improved control over the size of the opening.”

Turning to point at the diagram, she continued, “In other castes, the book lungs are used primarily for heat regulation by passing air over blood vessels. The modified book lungs of a Lifeweaver allow the new caste to breathe underwater. The new muscles around the slit openings are required to prevent excessive water loss when on land. From my initial tests on skitterers, the modified book lungs can still help cool the body after exertion.”

After she was satisfied with the changes to the abdomen, Queen Nezar’Azret focused the flow of magic through the runes towards the head of Warrior Simruk and said, “Now I am adding a set of antennae just above the eyes with the relevant nerve network to the brain. A Lifeweaver will have an improved sense of hearing, smell, and changes in temperature, because of the antennae. With practice, they should also be able to sense air or water movement.”

She fell silent as she inspected the suspended warrior’s changed internal organs one more time carefully to ensure that the antennae were integrated properly with the circulatory and nerve network. The greenish-yellow alchemical liquid had started to become paler as more of the ingredients were absorbed into the nerubian in the transformation process.

“Now that the internal organs have all been properly modified, it is safe to proceed with the modifications of the limbs,” Queen Nezar’Azret said with a more relaxed tone. “Just like when a nerubian warrior or weaver is transformed into a vizier, one set of legs is converted into a set of arms.”

Behind her the nerubian skitterer unveiled a new diagram of a draconic wing with detailed muscle attachments to the reinforced thick carapace ribs. A formula relating the wingspan and chord of the new wings with the abdomen length was written along the sides of the diagram.

“For a Lifeweaver, these arms are set backwards to form a pair of wings,” Queen Nezar’Azret addressed the scrying crystal, while rotating her left arm back to demonstrate the way the joint moved. “The fingers are elongated with webbing in between them to provide structure to the wing. For a typical Lifeweaver, the wingspan of each wing when fully unfurled is about thirteen feet and the chord is about six feet. When folded, the wing rests on top of the abdomen.”

The fluid contained inside the ritual circle churned as she directed the transformation of the limbs into shape using magic. Queen Nezar’Azret continued, “The wing dimensions need to be modified using the formula written in the diagram based on the weight of the Lifeweaver. The muscles attaching the wings to the carapace ribs also need to be strengthened to allow for flight like a dragon.”

The alchemical fluid was starting to become transparent by the time Queen Nezar’Azret completed the final adjustments to the wings of Warrior Simruk.

“The final steps to recreate the carapace are relatively simple,” said Nezar’Azret, tired from the intense concentration and extensive magic usage required to complete the transformation ritual. “The Talandra’s Rose and Lichbloom extract in the alchemical fluid is used up by the runes to generally strengthen the muscles and the carapace. The only modifications remaining is the addition of a paddle-like flat carapace tail segment to the abdomen right above the spinnerets and dense urticating hair to the legs.”

After a short while, the now clear fluid started to drain out of the ritual circle and a newly shaped Lifeweaver emerged. Lifeweaver Simruk lay unconscious twitching with unfurled wings on the floor as his brain slowly became accustomed to the multiple changes to the body. The plum colored Lifeweaver looked almost unrecognizable compared to his original appearance.

“Now that the process is complete, Lifeweaver Simruk will need about an hour before he regains consciousness,” Queen Nezar’Azret said with satisfaction, while munching on a snack to regain her strength and settling back into a comfortable silk cushion. “I can now answer any questions.”

“From the changes described, the Lifeweaver caste should now be able to fly or swim,” Queen Mel’ras mused. “The improved senses, muscles, and carapace should make them well suited for most situations. Can we incorporate any of the changes into the warrior and weaver castes?”

“Unfortunately, the enlarged muscles and improved sensory organs require too much energy to sustain for an ordinary nerubian,” Queen Nezar’Azret answered while looking at her notes. “The Lifeweaver is able to sustain them by using the Life magic now coursing through their blood.”

“Is there any effect on the type of silk produced from the spinnerets?” Queen Gesheb from Naz’anak asked with excitement.

“Preliminary tests with Lifeweaver Masruk show that the silk produced is more elastic and springy compared to that produced by Weavers,” Queen Nezar’Azret replied. “Unfortunately, Lifeweaver Masruk was not able to consistently imbue the silk with Life energy before he was called up for a mission by the High Council.”

“I am curious about the purpose of the urticating hair,” Queen Mulvis from En’kilah asked through the crystal. “I presume that they are designed to be used when the Lifeweaver is in danger.”

“Yes, the hair in the leg muscles can be released into the air by rubbing the legs along the abdomen,” Queen Nezar’Azret reported. “Lifeweaver Masruk was able to create a cloud of stinging sharp carapace hair on command. Thanks to the regenerative capability of the Life imbued blood, the hairs grow back within a day.”

“I would love to have an opportunity to study a Lifeweaver in my laboratory.,” Queen Kithix chittered with curiosity through the scrying crystal. “Would it be possible to hatch this new nerubian caste from an egg?”

“I am currently incubating a fresh clutch of eggs, including those made using extracts from Vizier Krivax, that will hatch into Lifeweavers,” Queen Nezar’Azret said, shuddering at the thought of her Lifeweavers being coldly probed and examined by Queen Kithix. “I will write a fresh report for the council when they hatch in a month’s time.”

Observing movement from the corner of her eye, she said, “I believe Lifeweaver Simruk is about to regain consciousness.”

—

“Come on, lad! You gotta hit me harder!” Muradin Bronzebeard said as he batted aside the strike of his young sparring partner.

“I’m trying! But fighting you is like fighting a mountain!” said Prince Arthas Menethil, scowling as he swung his blunted blade in an overhead strike and attempted to break down the dwarven lord’s defense.

“I’ll take that as a compliment!” Muradin laughed merrily, easily parrying and blocking every blow that came his way. “If I’m such a mountain then you gotta work at me like a mining pick! Strike at the weakest point till a crack forms, and the whole thing will start crumbling apart!”

“Arrrgggghhh!” Arthas roared moments before he charged his opponent. Unfortunately, Muradin merely dodged to the side and sent Arthas crashing to the ground with a firm kick.

“Wrong spot,” Muradin said as he helped the groaning prince up. “But you’re getting there, lad. Just keep on working at it.”

“Easy for you to say,” Arthas grumbled mulishly, his face red with exertion. “You don’t have to worry about being king one day.”

“You’re not wrong, lad. I leave that nonsense up to my brother, but I’ve got other responsibilities to my kingdom and clan,” Muradin explained. “You’ve still got plenty of time to grow into a good king. When you do, you will have lots of people to rely on to help run everything. No ruler holds up a country alone, after all.”

“Thanks…” Arthas said softly.

“He speaks truthfully, Arthas,” Sir Uther said as he walked out into the training yard. “A wise king has many advisors and servants who can help run the kingdom. Just like your father did and your mother does now, you will rule with your advisors and the Light guiding you. Speaking of which, it's time for your daily visit to the chapel.”

“Yes, Sir Uther,” Athas nodded before turning to Muradin. “Thank you for your training, Lord Bronzebeard. I look forward to more of it tomorrow.”

“Same here, lad. Now go get to praying or what have you,” the dwarf said as he prodded Arthas in the direction of the chapel.

As Arthas started to make his way to his family’s chapel, he heard Muradin ask in a more somber voice, “Sir Uther, my brother would like to talk to the Knights of the Silver Hand about the news from the blue dragon.”

Arthas waited by the doorway, hoping to learn more about this mysterious news that worried his mother so much.

“Sir Fordring will be passing by Ironforge on his way to Stormwind next week,” Sir Uther replied in a hushed voice, with a glance at Arthas. “King Magni can discuss the topic with him then.”

At Muradin’s nod, Uther joined Arthas at the door and gently pushed Arthas through. Arthas asked, “Why are all the kingdoms worried by this news from Malygos? Mother looked upset for the rest of the day after reading the letter.”

“The message was a warning of a possible threat,” Uther replied comfortingly, putting his hand on Arthas’ shoulder. “It is a ruler’s burden to have to decide whether to act now or wait until they have more information. Your mother will talk to you about it when she has made her decision.”

Uther nodded his head at the chapel ahead and continued, “For the time being focus on growing closer to the Light.”

As Arthas walked ahead of the paladin towards his family’s chapel, he spoke up, “Sir Uther. While I understand that I need to pray to grow closer to the Light, why does it have to be at the chapel?”

“Because the Light comes more easily in places of worship. It is where the spirits of our long-dead loved ones guide us through the Light,” Sir Uther explained. “We pray to them, tell them our struggles, and they in turn empower us to keep moving forward. You are there to honor your ancestors who came before you, asking for their strength and wisdom.”

“Like Archbishop Faol?” Arthas asked curiously.

“Yes, like his holiness,” Uther said with a sad smile. “Because he and many others we have lost are now one with the Light and watch over us always until the day we join them as well. They give us the strength to live every day to our fullest, and protect those that we hold dear from that which would threaten it.”

“Like the void cults?” Arthas asked. “I heard some of the guards talking about them.”

“Sadly, there are lost souls who believe that life is worthless and cling to the Void for purpose rather than the Light, but that is the duty of the inquisitors to handle and not yourself,” Sir Uther said.

“But if I’m to be king someday, shouldn’t I know about the enemies of my kingdom and people?” Arthas asked.

“Yes, and one day you will, but for now just focus on your studies and training,” Sir Uther assured him. “You will need to work hard if you still plan to be the first paladin king one day.”

“Of course,” Arthas said with conviction.

Soon they arrived at the Menethil family chapel, and opened its doors into the small but lovingly crafted building. The interior of the building was richly decorated with the history of the Menethil bloodline stretching back thousands of years. There were several priests from the Church of the Holy Light tending to the candles.

Today though it had some unexpected guests.

“Brother!” Princess Calia Menethil said as she spotted Arthas from where she was sitting in the chapel, getting up to greet him. “Done with training already?”

“For now,” he said. “And you?”

“Miss Alleria said I’m improving with the bow a lot, and of course I need to come here to pray to the Light,” Calia said smugly. “Who knows, maybe I’ll become a paladin before you.”

“In your dreams,” Arthas said in a teasing tone before noticing someone behind his sister. “Who’s your friend?”

“Oh! This is Jaina!” Calia introduced the girl behind her, who looked rather nervous at being the center of attention. “She’s from the Proudmoore family and is staying with us before she goes to Dalaran to learn how to be a mage! She’s already my best friend!”

“Gr-greetings, Prince Arthas,” Jaina bowed towards the prince nervously.

All the while Arthas was struck at how… interesting Jaina was, though he wasn’t sure if he could explain his feelings.

She looked like a girl who would like to play outside and ride horses a lot, maybe get into a snowball fight or swim on a hot day. Nothing like the other noble girls his age he interacted with before. It made him want to spend time with her too.

“Well, as Prince of Lordaeron I hope you enjoy your stay in our kingdom for however long you are here… and maybe we can visit each other when you go to Dalaran,” Arthas proposed with a mild stutter. “It's not far away from Capital City after all.”

“Stop stealing my ideas and friends, Arthas!” Calia said as she possessively hugged Jania, much to the girl’s embarrassment. “You already have Varian as a best friend. Jaina’s mine!”

“Varian is busy on the other side of the continent rebuilding his kingdom,” Arthas pointed out. “We are lucky when our letters reach each other once a week!”

“Well make friends that live closer then!” Calia said while sticking her tongue out at him.

“I would not mind being both your friends?” Jaina offered uneasily in an effort to end the fight.

“No way!” Calia said. “Arthas would make you do dumb boy stuff.”

“Hey! What I do isn’t dumb at all!” Arthas defended.

“Is too!”

What followed was a typical sibling argument, while a flustered Jaina attempted to calm them down. Sir Uther merely chuckled and shook his head at their antics.

A wonderful reminder of the future generation.

—

Varian Wrynn, king of Stormwind, fidgeted nervously on his throne. Listening to petitions was always the most stressful part of his royal duties. He looked to his right and was reassured by the presence of Sir Anduin Lothar, who nodded encouragingly at him.

The last two years after the defeat of the Horde had gone by in a blur. He had spent much of the first year clearing out the orcs, trolls, and gnoll incursions on his land and rebuilding all the castles and forts needed to protect his kingdom. Varian had honed his skills as a warrior in the numerous small battles with the groups of hostile enemies and earned the acclaim of the soldiers in the rebuilt army of Stormwind.

After the port of Stormwind City had been rebuilt, the citizens of Stormwind had returned back to find their homes, workshops, mines, farms, and villages demolished and destroyed by the Horde. Over the last year, Varian had put down his sword to guide the reconstruction of much of his kingdom. Thanks to the help of the nerubians in their new settlement north of Stormwind City and generous aid convoys from Khaz Modan, most of the villages and farms had been reconstructed.

Now that the kingdom was on more stable grounds, Sir Lothar had encouraged him to hold court again. Varian straightened his posture and adjusted his crown before signaling the guards to let in the petitioners for today. Several of the prominent nobles, court officials, and delegates made their way into the chamber. He heard Sir Lothar chuckling to himself as the nobles grumbled about the amount of room needed to accommodate the large nerubian delegate.

“Lord Blakemore has a petition for the King,” the herald announced as a tall dark haired noble made his way towards the throne.

Lord Blakemore was one of the newly minted nobles enticed to join the Kingdom of Stormwind. In order to encourage the repopulation of Stormwind, Varian had offered free land for enterprising farmers and new titles for competent nobility in the other human kingdoms. Lord Blakemore, the second son of a minor noble in Gilneas, had strong ties to multiple merchant organizations and had invested in warehouses around the harbor of Stormwind City.

“King Varian, I speak for many other nobles working to build or repair the manors in the country,” Blakemore said, bowing his head. “We wish to ask for relief from the high wages demanded by the laborers working on those manors. Would the king consider setting a fixed labor wage or releasing workers from the home reconstruction programs? Since all of the citizens already have temporary housing, the expensive housing programs can be curtailed.”

“What is the current price of a loaf of bread right now in Stormwind City?” Varian answered, fighting to contain his anger at the suggestion.

“Fifty copper coins,” Sir Lothar answered, nodding in support. “Until the first harvest comes in, the prices will remain high in Stormwind City.”

“Every worker in Stormwind needs to buy bread every day for their families and I will not set their wages so low that they can not afford to feed their families,” Varian said. “As for the housing programs, I will not leave my citizens, who have suffered so much, without permanent places to call home. Surely, the manors can wait until the end of the harvest season.”

“I understand and accept your decision,” Lord Blakemore replied in a frustrated tone and left the chamber.

Varian heard Countess Ashton, one of the old surviving nobility, audibly mutter, “It was a mistake to create these new lords.”

Sir Lothar glared at her, while Varian replied with exasperation, “Too many of our people died in the First War. We need to encourage people to resettle in the kingdom.”

The court quietened down at his statement, and the herald prepared to announce the next petitioner. Mansfield Sampson, an owner and captain of a small fishing fleet, walked into the throne room with deference.

“Sire, several members of my crew noted a sudden turmoil in the oceans to the south of Stormwind during our last trip,” Mansfield nervously said. “Other fishing ships also noticed large turtle-like creatures through their telescopes. I would like to petition the king to send officers to investigate the coast further south.”

Varian looked at Sir Lothar with a knowing look and gripped the throne as he replied with a steady voice, “I will assign a squad of soldiers to patrol further south. You were correct to inform me about this unusual phenomenon. Rest assured, that any danger will be dealt with.”

“Thank you, my sire,” Mansfield said with a relieved tone and bowed deeply one more time before leaving the chamber.

Only a few weeks ago, his magus had received a letter from the Blue Dragonflight warning about a necromancer in the seas to the south. Sir Lothar had advised him to wait for Mathias Shaw and the intelligence service to investigate more before taking action. A part of him wanted to rush out with his guards and ride hard for the southern coast, and he reached for the hilt of the great sword leaning against his throne for comfort.

“Don’t fidget and give away your emotions,” Sir Lothar whispered to him as the herald announced the next petitioner in a booming voice. “You are the king and must avoid panicking your subjects. Don’t worry. SI:7 is already looking into the issue, and I will assign Ander Germaine, a reliable captain, to the squad patrolling the southern coast.”

Varian nodded and attempted to visibly relax as the next petitioner, a cranky old spice merchant, made her way slowly into the room. Varian sighed as he looked at the clock. He would have to hold court for another two hours.

—

Varian Wrynn eagerly bounded down the steps ahead of his guard to meet with Edwin VanCleef and the workers building cheap but sturdy housing in the city. He had spent all morning addressing complaints from petty nobles and merchants in his stuffy throne room. Now he could finally stretch his legs and breathe in the fresh air.

By the Light! It's good to be finally out of that place, he thought as he reached the castle gates.

“I know you are excited to be up and about my king,” Sir Lothar said with amusement, as he strapped on his massive sword. “But you should not outrun your guard.”

Varian turned to look at the white-haired bald man, who had become like a father to him, with affection. He teased, “Come on. You are not that old.”

“Old!” Sir Lothar replied as he marched past him belying his age. “Young people have no respect for their elders anymore.”

In good humor, the entourage made their way to the outskirts of the city where the new housing was being constructed. Men were busy hammering together the wooden frame for the walls with the help of a few dwarves, gnomes, and nerubians. A young man with a red bandana and a large hammer and chisel was directing the workers, while consulting a sketch.

“How goes the construction work, Edwin?” Varian said as he walked up to the young man. “Will the houses be ready before winter?”

“My king!” Edwin exclaimed and bowed. “The construction is going as fast as possible. I believe the housing should be completed by winter thanks to the new simpler design.”

At his beckoning, Varian followed Edwin to a fresh construction site. The stone foundation and the floors were being packed in and cemented into shape by a nerubian weaver and a dozen workers.

“This is Weaver Kamet'kavad who suggested part of the design,” Edwin said, pointing towards the nerubian. “At her suggestion, we are building longhouses with stone floors, a thick wood and plaster wall, and tin roofs. The longhouse will be split into family sized units using cheaper wood and silk canvas divider walls. This helps reduce the amount of materials we need to complete each house.”

“You are still having difficulty with logistics then?” Varian asked. “I know that you reported that the roads to and from the nerubian portal are clogged.”

“Yes. The stone floor and foundation are made from the large amount of excavated stone from the creation of the nerubian settlement,” Edwin answered. “The wood is all local but the nearest sources of lumber are mostly exhausted. Unfortunately, most of the metal tools supplied by Khaz Modan and silk have to be carted here from the nerubian portal.”

Weaver Kamet'kavad joined in the conversation, “The portal in our exclave is convenient for transporting high-cost goods as it is cheaper and safer than using ships. A lot of merchants use the road from our settlement to the city and the slightest delay causes traffic jams.”

Sir Lothar joined in with a suggestion, “Would widening the road make things easier?”

“Certainly, it will reduce the congestion,” Edwin replied. “However, I think my dwarf and gnome advisors have come up with a more interesting solution. They are currently out supervising the repair of some of the chisels and saws. They should be back around lunchtime”

“Then might as well help out with the construction,” Varian said with a grin as he took a shovel from the corner.

Sir Lothar sighed and signaled to the four royal guards to spread out around the site as he joined Varian with a wheelbarrow. Varian chuckled as the paladin muttered, “I know I taught you to care for the common people, but this is not what I meant.”

As Varian started to shovel the stones from the loose pile into the wheelbarrow, he heard one of the workers joke, “Well the price of this set of houses is going to go up. After all, the king worked on this site.”

After about half an hour passed by, the foundations were finally completed and the bell at the cathedral began to chime. The men and women at the site let out a cheer and Varian could not help but join in with them.

When the chimes finally ended, Varian could hear the sound of a horse and cart coming down the path.

“Packed lunches from the Royal Kitchen,” Tiffin Ellerian announced from the cart. “There are sandwiches, pastries, and pies for everyone.”

Varian stood rooted to the spot blushing as his fiance made her way over to him with a colorful basket with the seal of Stormwind on it. The rest of the workers made their way over to the cart excited to eat lunch prepared by the Royal Chefs.

“I have a specially made lunch for you,” Tiffin said with a sweet smile as she offered the basket to him. “Elsie helped me to make the sandwiches.”

Sir Lothar gently shoved him in her direction, and Varian took hold of the basket. He stammered, “Would you … you like to join me for lunch … in the shade? I … I have to talk to … Edwin … and some …”

“Of course,” Tiffin said, slipping her arm into the crook of his elbow and pointing to his sleeve. “You have to tell me why your shirt is ripped.”

“I was helping the workers out,” Varian spluttered as she kissed his cheek.

Everyone laughed as he was led away to a table set up under some awning. He sat down next to Tiffin as she began to unpack the basket.

“Here is the ham and cheese sandwich I made for you,” Tiffin told him, as Sir Lothar and the guards joined him at the table. “There are also some preserved fruits and nuts.”

“It is delicious,” Varian said after taking a bite and lightly squeezing her arm.

“All right lovebirds, settle down,” Sir Lothar said with a warm smile. “Edwin is here with his assistants.”

“This is Hildock Finepocket from Gnomereggan and Harguk Slatetoe from Khaz Modan,” Edwin introduced the gnome and dwarf assistants. “You have already met Kamet’kavad. They have a suggestion that has a lot of potential.”

“Minecarts!” Hildock said with excitement, gesticulating wildly with a hammer. “We need something like a minecart rail from the settlement to the city.”

“Aye. I agree with the lass,” Harguk said in a deep booming voice. “I would go one step further and make a rail system all the way to Khaz Modan if possible.”

“Would this rail cart allow transport of people?” Varian asked, grasping the potential strategic implications of the concept. Sir Lothar and Tiffin leaned in with interest at the idea.

“Yes!” Hildock nodded and took a bite out of a mushroom and beef pie.

“I have ridden in one of your minecarts,” Kamet’kavad interrupted, scarfing down a prawn pasty. “As long as you can make them safer and less rickety, I approve of this idea.”

“If the network could extend all the way to Lordaeron, we would always be able to call on our allies in times of need,” Sir Lothar mused.

“Shall we prepare some letters to Khaz Modan, Gnomereggan, Azjol-Nerub, and Lordaeron?” Tiffin asked as she pulled out a quill and several sheets of paper from her handbag.