The stern north wind cried like a child in pain.Shoveltooth huddle together to keep warm—their thick fur can withstand the harshest storms.They formed a circle, enveloping the shivering and squawking young calf in the middle.Its head, crowned with huge horns, hangs down to the snow-covered ground, its eyelids closed tightly against the howling wind and snow.Although the mouth and nose had been frozen by the breath he exhaled, they still insisted on standing in place. The wolf and the bear huddled up in their respective caves, waiting for the blizzard to leave. The former stayed with the pack at ease, while the latter resigned to fate alone.However hungry they may be, nothing will make these animals go out for food until the mourning winds have silenced their whining, and the blinding snow has tired of its roaring.

This cold wind from the ocean also hit the village of Camagua, tearing the hides from the skeletons of the giant sea beasts in the village.The walrus people who have lived here for countless years know that when the storm passes, they will have to go out again to repair damaged fishing nets and traps.Even their solid dwellings are often damaged by such storms.They were gathering in a meeting room dug three feet into the ground, lighting the smoky oil lamps, and reinforcing the sails against the storm. Elder Atek was as silent as a sage.He has seen this storm many times over the past seven years.

He had lived a very long time--the length and yellowness of his teeth, and the wrinkles in his brown skin certainly proved it.But this storm is by no means an ordinary storm, not even a natural storm.He glanced at the young people around him and shivered involuntarily, not because of the cold or the people around him, but because of fear. "He's dreaming," whispered a child, his beard raised and his eyes shining. "Quiet!" Atek broke out, unable to control his tone for a while.The child was visibly stunned and remained silent.The only sounds around were the whimpering and moaning of Fengxue.

A song, like cooking smoke, sounded from the noisy cold wind, vague but full of meaning, it mixed with many voices.Drums, beats, and bone-on-bone clashing merged into a warm undercurrent into the wordless chant.The worst part of the gale's destruction has been withstood by the poles, hides, and wooden huts of the yak villages, whose strong houses, covered with curved canopies, defy the harshness of the continent. On top of this deep ritual ancient sound, the howling of the strong wind is still clearly audible.One of the dancers, a shaman named Kamiku, took a wrong step and hit the ground awkwardly with his hoof, but he turned around and continued dancing.concentrated.The key is focus.This is the sole point of the shaman in commanding the elementals to obey him; this is how his people survive in this cruel and unforgiving continent.

Sweat dampened his fur, making it look even darker.His brown bull's eyes were closed with concentration. Now his hooves had found their rhythm again.He tossed his head, the short horns of his head piercing the sky, his tail twitching.Beside him are the rest of the dancers, their bodies are equally hot. Although snowflakes and strong wind seep in through the smoke holes in the roof, the fire inside the house is still burning persistently, bringing warmth and comfort to the whole wooden house. They all know what's going on out there.But they couldn't control the storm outside as they could a normal blizzard.Yes, they can't because it's his masterpiece.But they can defy the attack with dancing, celebration and jeering.They're Yaks; they'll get through it.

The silver-white world outside was manic and restless, but the air in this hall was warm and silent.The man-height fireplace on the wall was stuffed with thick logs, and the crackle of their burning was the only sound here.A pair of huge shovel-tooth elk horn crowns are fixed above the ornately decorated fireplace carved with various rare creature patterns.Several thick pillars supported this banquet hall that could accommodate dozens of people, and the orange-toned flame drove the shadows in the room to the corner.The carved dragon head on the wall acts as a lampstand, holding a bright torch.The cold stone floor of the lobby is softened and warmed by thick layers of fur from polar bears, moose, and other creatures.

A thick and finely crafted long table occupies most of the space in the hall.It is enough to entertain thirty or forty people, but now there are only three figures at the table: a man, an orc, and a child. Of course, everything is illusory.The man sitting at the head of the long table knew this very well. His seat was slightly higher than the other two. It was carved out of mammoth, but it was not yet a throne.He knew very well that he was dreaming; he had been dreaming for a long, long time. This hall, this troodont trophy, this fire, this table—the orc and the child—were all but a part of my dream.

The orc to his left was old, but still very powerful.His jaw was very broad, and the orange flame of the torch fluttered to reveal the horrible pattern painted on his face-a skull.He was a shaman who wielded immense power.Even now, even if he's just a figment of a man's mind, he's still intimidating. But that kid was different.Once, he was also a handsome boy, with big sea green eyes, distinctive features, and golden hair.Just once. The child was very weak. He was so thin and emaciated that the bones in his body seemed to be breaking through the skin at any moment.The once bright eyes were dimmed, with sunken eye sockets covered by a thin film.His skin was bursting with pustules, oozing green sap.His chest fluttered rapidly, and he seemed to have difficulty breathing.The man felt that he could see that the heart that should have stopped due to overload was still beating stubbornly.

"Why is he still here?" the orc said, pointing in the direction of the boy. "Not long," said the man. As if to verify this sentence, the boy coughed violently.Blood foam and snot splattered on the table in front of him. He wiped his pale lips with his once gorgeous tattered sleeve, then took a deep breath and spoke in a short, incoherent voice. This move further overdrawn with his life. "You haven't, haven't won him. I will, I'll prove it to you." "Your stupidity is on a par with your stubbornness," roared the orc. "I won this contest long ago!"

The man listened to the argument between the two, and gripped the armrest of his chair.The dream had been recurring for the past few years, and he found himself getting more bored with it now than initially enjoying it. "I'm tired of this struggle, let's just call it quits this time." The orc squinted at the boy maliciously, a ghastly smile on his skeletal face.The boy coughed again, but didn't flinch from the orc's gaze.Slowly, he straightened up proudly, observing the orc and the man with his cloudy eyes. "That's right," said the orc, "it's meaningless. Soon, the time to wake up will come. Wake up and step out into the world again." He turned to the man, his eyes sparkling, "follow the path you choose go down."

The skull pattern seemed to be peeled off from his face, floating like a solid body, and the whole room changed accordingly.The carvings of the lampstands, which were just ordinary wood before, fluctuated and took on life. As they swayed, the torch held in the mouth swayed and cast strange and jumping shadows.The gust of wind outside the house roared and knocked open the door of the room. The swirling blizzard surrounded the three figures.The man opened his arms, letting the biting cold wind surround him like a cloak of ice and snow.The orc laughed, and the skeleton floating on his face let out a manic, loud laugh of its own. "Let me show you that your fate is only with me, and only by destroying him can you feel the true power!" And the frail and slender boy had already been lifted from his seat by the relentless cold wind.He tried to prop himself up, trembling and trying to crawl back to his seat, his breath was thin and short.He cast a look at the man—hope, fear, and inexplicable determination. "Hope, it's not over yet." He whispered, somehow, despite the wild laughter of orcs and skeletons, despite the raging north wind, the man heard this sentence. "Steady her head. That's it, kid!" The mare's white coat was stained gray with sweat, and she rolled her eyes and neighed.Prince Arthas Menethil, the only son of King Tenaris Menethil II and future ruler of the Kingdom of Lordaeron, quickly grabbed the horse's mouth cage and softly soothed it. The horse jerked its head and nearly lifted the nine-year-old boy with it. "Whoa, Mingjue," said Arthas, "take it easy, girl, it'll be all right. Don't worry about anything." Yoram Barnier laughed. "Would you still think so, boy, if something the size of a pony came out of you?" His son Jalim, who was squatting beside his father and the prince, also laughed.Alsace couldn't help giggling, his legs were wet with the warm saliva dripping from Ming Mane's squirming mouth. "Keep going, girl," Barnier said, walking along the mare's body to the foal, wrapped in a shiny membrane, struggling to come into this world.Actually, Arthas shouldn't be here.But Barnier was known for raising horses. Alsace often slipped to Barnier's farm to watch his horses when he was not in class, and also came to play with his good friend Jalim.Both children knew full well that the son of a horseman, even if his livestock were often bought by the royal family as mounts, was not a "proper" playmate for a prince. But they didn't care about it, and the adults didn't mean to stop this friendship.So when Yoram came to tell the children to watch the "Miracle of Birth", Arthas was playing with Jalim here, playing castle building, snowball throwing, or officers and men catching robbers. Actually, this "miracle of birth" was a bit of a mess, he didn't expect it to be so... slimy. Ming Mane snorted and gasped again, her legs were tense and stiff, and the little pony came into this world with a wet sound. Her heavy head fell on Alsace's lap, and the mare closed her eyes for a moment, her flanks rising and falling with her breath.The boy smiled, patted her sweaty neck and rough mane, and looked over at Jalim and his father.It was a chilly time of year in the stables and steam was rising from the warm, damp bodies of the foals.The father and son were wiping the mare's remaining film coat with towels and hay, and Alsace couldn't help grinning. The gray foal was wet and its long legs were tangled up as it blinked and looked around in the dim light.Its large brown eyes met Arthas's gaze and were inseparable.You are beautiful, Arthas thought, his breath caught, realizing that this Yoram's boast of the "miracle of birth" was the work of nature. Ming Mane began to struggle to stand up, and Alsace also jumped up, leaning back against the wooden wall of the stable to avoid being hit by the strong horse when it turned around.Ming Mane snorted and began to bathe her baby with her long tongue. "Uh, boy, your clothes are a bit dirty," Yoram said. Alsace looked down at himself, his heart sank, he was covered in straw and horse spit.Alsace shrugged, "Maybe on the way back to the palace, I should jump into the snowdrifts on the side of the road and roll." He grinned, then regained his senses, and said, "Don't worry. I'm already nine years old, Not a kid anymore. I can go anywhere I-" The clucking of chickens and the rumbling of a man came, and Arthas' face dropped. He straightened his thin shoulders, tried nervously to brush the straw off him, but to no avail, and strode out of the barn. "Sir Uther," he said, as best he could remember that I am a prince, "these people have been good to me. Don't step on their poultry, I beg you." Don't step on their snapdragon nursery, either, he thought, glancing at the snow-covered mounds.These beautiful, lush flowers, which bloom in just a few months, are Vana Barnier's pride and joy. Alsace heard Yoram and Jalim walking out of the barn, but he didn't look back, but stared at the knight on horseback.He was fully dressed—"Armor!" gasped Arthas, and said, "I'll send someone back to lead your horse, Prince Arthas. Resolute can run faster even with two men on board." He Leaning over, a big, powerful hand grasped Alsace's arm, and with an effortless swing, he pulled the boy in front of him.Then Vanna heard the sound of hoofbeats and rushed out of the house, wiping her hands on a towel with flour still on the tip of her nose, looking worriedly at her husband with wide blue eyes.Uther nodded politely at her. "We'll talk about this later, ma'am." Uther raised his chain-mailed hand and touched his forehead in salute, then kicked his horse Resolute, and the horse, also in armor, jumped and galloped . Uther's arms wrapped around Alsace's upper abdomen like an iron ring.The boy was a little scared, but he put it aside and pushed Uther's arm. "I know how to ride a horse," he said, with impatience overriding worry. "Tell me what's the matter?" "A rider from Southshore just came here with bad news. A few days ago, hundreds of boats full of refugees from Stormwind landed on our shores. said Uther, without moving his arm.Arthas didn't bother with the matter anymore, he stretched his neck and listened attentively.His sea-green eyes widened, fixed on Uther's stern face. "Stormwind has fallen." "What? Stormwind? Who? What—" "We'll find out soon. The survivors, including Prince Varian, were led by Anduin Lord Lothar led the team. He, Prince Varian, and others will arrive in the capital in a few days. Lothar informed us in advance that he brought a dire warning—if Stormwind City is destroyed, then This is obvious. The king sent me to bring you back to the palace, and your duty here is not to play with the common people." Alsace turned his head back in shock, grasping the resolute mane with both hands.Stormwind!He has never been there, but he has heard legends about it.It was a powerful country with tall walls and beautiful buildings.Those strong people built the city to withstand the storm, and it is named after it.Come to think of it, it's fallen - who... or what is powerful enough to take such a city? "How many people have they come?" They were riding back to the capital, and their hoofs were like drums, so Alsace had to raise his voice slightly. "Don't know. But sure enough, there were quite a few. The courier said it was all survivors." Survived of what? "Prince Varian?" Of course, he had heard of Varian, and Arthas knew the names of all the neighboring kings, queens, princes, and princesses.His eyes widened suddenly. Uther mentioned Varian, but not King Lane, the prince's father. "It will be King Varian soon, and King Llane has died in Stormwind." This sad news shocked Arthas more than hearing thousands of people suddenly displaced.Arthas had a beautiful family—he, his sister Callia, his mother, Queen Liane, and of course, King Tenaris.He has seen the way some monarchs treat their families, and knows that his family is a special case of mutual love.Think about it, you lost your capital city, your way of life, even your father—"Poor Varian," he said, tears of sympathy welling up in his eyes. Uther patted him on the shoulder. "Yes," he said. "It's really a dark day for that child." Alsace shivered suddenly, but it wasn't because of the cold of this bright winter day.This is a beautiful 1 scene covered with snow.However, Arthas suddenly felt that everything was gloomy. A few days later, Arthas stood on the castle wall and handed a cup of steaming hot tea to Falrick, the guard who accompanied him.Such visits were commonplace for Alsace, and the little prince often slipped away to visit the Barniers, the castle's dishwasher, the coat boy, the blacksmith...in fact, almost everyone in the royal family's garden.Tenaris had always moaned about it, but Arthas knew he had never punished anyone for it, and he sometimes wondered if his father acquiesced in doing so. Falric smiled gratefully, bowed deeply and sincerely, and took off his gauntlets so that the teacup could warm his cold hands.The snow is coming, the sky is gray, but it is still clear.Arthas leaned against the city wall, his chin resting on his folded arms, looking at the rolling white mountains of Tirisfal and the avenue leading to Southshore through the Silverpine Forest.Anduin Lothar, mage Khadgar, and Prince Varian will follow this path. "Did you see anything?" "No, Your Highness." Fariq replied while sipping his hot drink. "They may come today, tomorrow, or the day after tomorrow. If you want to see it, sir, there may be some waiting." Alsace grinned at him and narrowed his eyes happily. "It's better than going to class," he said. "Well, Your Excellency, you must know this better than me." Falik replied tactfully, obviously restraining the urge to laugh back. The guard continued to drink tea, Alsace sighed, and continued to look at the avenue that he had seen more than ten times.It had been exciting at first, but now he was starting to get bored.He wanted to go back and see how Mingmane's pony was doing, and began to contemplate the possibility of sneaking out for a few hours without being noticed.Falik was right, Lothar and Varian may take a few more days - Arthas's eyes lit up, he slowly lifted his chin from his hands, and narrowed his eyes. "They're coming!" he shouted, pointing to the distance. Falik came to him immediately, leaving the teacup aside.He nodded. "Good eyesight, Prince Arthas! Marwen!" he shouted, and another soldier snapped to attention. "Go and tell King Lothar and Varian are on the way, they will arrive within an hour." "Yes, Captain." The young soldier replied with a salute. "I'm coming! I'll go and tell my father!" Alsace said while running.Marwen looked at his officer hesitantly, but Alsace was determined to take the first step.He sprinted down the steps, only to slip on the ice and have to skip the last few steps.Arthas rushed across the courtyard, only stopping abruptly before bursting into the throne room, almost forgetting to collect himself.Today is the day Tenaris receives representatives of the people, and he will listen to their petitions and assist them as best he can. Arthas wore a red runecloth cloak, beautifully embroidered with patterns.He pulled down his hood, took a deep breath, exhaled a hazy white mist from his mouth, and then walked forward.The two guards in front of the hall quickly saluted, turned sideways and opened the door for him.Arthas nodded at them. Despite its high dome, the Throne Hall was a vast room of marble and other stones, but it was much warmer than the courtyard outside.Even on such a cloudy day, the octagonal window in the center of the dome can provide enough natural lighting.The torch was burning fiercely on the candlestick on the wall, adding warmth to the room and casting an orange glow.The floor is carved with a series of intricate circular patterns, with the symbol of Lordaeron around the centre.Now, though, the pattern is covered up by the people in the hall who humbly wait in turn to petition the king. King Tenaris II sits on a throne inlaid with jewels and jade on the dais.His blond hair is slightly gray near the forehead, and his face is slightly lined, but this is more of a smile than a frown.He wore a beautifully tailored robe, embroidered with shining gold thread on a blue and purple background, which shone in the reflection of the torch and crown.Tenaris leaned forward slightly, listening intently to the man before him.His blue eyes were fixed on him.It was a minor nobleman, and Arthas couldn't remember his name for a moment. Arthas knew whose presence he was about to announce, but for a moment he just stood there watching his father.Like Varian, he is the king's son, a nobleman of the royal family.But Varian had no father, no more.Thinking of looking at the empty throne and listening to the ancient coronation music playing for him, Alsace felt a constriction in his throat. By the Light, please let that day come later. Perhaps sensing his son's gaze, Tenaris glanced toward the door, a gleam of a smile flashed in his eye, and continued to return his attention to the petitioner. Arthas cleared his throat and took a step forward. "Sorry to disturb you, Father, but here they come. I see them! They won't be here in an hour." Tenaris looked a little more serious.He knew who "they" meant, so he nodded. "Thank you, son." People looked at each other, and most of them knew who "they" were, so they were about to end the interview.Tenaris, however, raised a hand. "No. The weather is good and the roads are smooth. They will arrive at that time. There is no need to worry in advance. Before that, let's continue." He said with a wry smile: "I have a hunch that after they arrive, this kind of The interview will have to be postponed. Until then, let's do as much as possible." Arthas looked at his father proudly.This is why people love Tenaris so much, and why the king always turns a blind eye to his son's "adventures" among the common people.Tenaris valued his people very much, and he instilled this in his son. "Shall I ride out to meet them, father?" Tenaris looked at his son, then shook his golden head. "No. I think you'd better not attend this meeting." Alsace felt himself hit.Do not participate?He is nine years old!A boy not much older than himself lost his father in the catastrophe of an important ally.He felt a sudden pang of anger.Why does the father always hide him like this?Why was he not allowed to attend important meetings?If he was alone with his father, he would definitely retaliate, but Alsace swallowed his words, he couldn't argue with his father in front of these people, even if he had nothing to lose. He took a deep breath, then bowed and stepped back. An hour later, Arthas Menethil sat comfortably on the indoor balcony overlooking the throne room. He smiled to himself, if someone poked his head in to check, he could still hide under the seat at his current size.But it might not work in another year or two, he thought a little uneasy. But in a year or two, my father will definitely understand that I am worthy of attending such an event.I don't have to hide anymore. The thought pleased him.Arthas wrapped his cloak into a roll and used it as a pillow.Braziers, torches, and the heat from the crowd in the cramped space warmed the room.Coupled with the lullaby-like hum of discussions, he almost fell asleep. "Your Majesty." The loud and powerful voice woke Alsace up. "I am Anduin Lothar, Knight of Stormwind." Here they come!Lord Anduin Lothar, the former warrior of Stormwind... Arthas got out from under the seat, stood up carefully, and peeked out from behind the blue curtain of the box. Lothar looks like a complete fighter, Arthas thought.He was tall, muscular, and quick in spite of his heavy armor, apparently accustomed to the weight.He had a bushy mustache and a short beard on his chin, but his head was mostly bald, with the few hairs tied back in a ponytail.Beside him stood an old man in a purple robe. Arthas' eyes fell on the boy, who must have been Prince Varian Wrynn.Varian was tall and thin, but with broad shoulders, and he was sure to grow stronger in the future.He was only a few years older than Alsace, and he looked pale and exhausted, bewildered, alone and frightened. However, when someone asked him a question, Varian seemed to recover a little, and answered politely.Tenaris, a veteran at calming others, quickly dismissed the crowd, leaving only a few courtiers and bodyguards behind, then stood up from his throne to welcome the visitors. "Please sit down." As he spoke, he did not return to the glorious throne, but sat down on the highest stone steps of the Majesty's platform, pulling Varian to his side like a loving father.Seeing this scene, Alsace smiled. The young prince of Lordaeron hid there and watched, and the voices of men came from below, and the stories they told sounded almost fanciful.However, when he saw the pale face of the legendary warrior of Stormwind and the future king of that magnificent kingdom, Arthas realized with horror that none of this was fantasy.On the contrary, they are both deadly real and deadly scary. There are mentions of creatures called "orcs" somehow invading Azeroth.Huge, green, fang-toting, brutal and bloodthirsty monster.They formed a "horde," like an unstoppable tide—"enough to sweep the entire continent," says Lothar.It was these terrible monsters that attacked Stormwind and displaced its inhabitants—or killed them, Arthas thought.Some courtiers or others did not believe Lothar's words, so the conversation became heated.Lothar began to lose his temper, but Tenaris defused the situation and brought the meeting to an end. "I will summon the monarchs of the neighboring countries," he said. "None of us can stay out of it. Your Majesty, as long as you need it, you can stay in my house and accept the protection of the royal family of Lordaeron." Alsace smiled.Varian will remain at the palace, living with him.And he was glad to have such a well-born playmate.Arthas got along well with Kalia, who was two years older than him, but, well, she was a girl after all.He also enjoyed playing with Jalim, but knew that their chances of being together were limited.But Varian, like Arthas, is a nobleman of the royal family. They can practice boxing, ride horses, and explore together—"You want us to prepare for war." The voice of the father king ruthlessly interrupted his thoughts, Arsa His mood became gloomy again. "Yes." Lothar replied. "It's a battle for the survival of the race." Alsace swallowed hard, and slipped out of the box as quietly as when he came. Prince Varian was shown to the guest chamber shortly after, as Arthas had expected.Tenaris himself was with him, a hand tenderly wrapped around the boy's shoulder.Tenaris showed no surprise at seeing his son waiting for them in the guest room. "Arthas, this is Prince Varian Wrynn, the future king of Stormwind." Arthas bowed to the boy of his stature. "Your Highness," he said in a formal tone, "welcome to the Kingdom of Lordaeron. It is a pity that we could not meet under more pleasant circumstances." Varian returned the salute gracefully. "As I said to His Majesty Tenaris, thank you for your country's support and friendship during this difficult time." His voice was stiff, tense, and tired.Arthas gazed at his cloak, coat, and breeches.These beautifully embroidered clothes made of runecloth and magicweave were dirty as if they had been worn for half a lifetime. Varian had obviously scrubbed his face, but there were still smudges on his forehead and under his fingernails. "I'll send some servants over later with food, towels, hot water, and tubs. You can rest and refresh yourself, Prince Varian." Tenaris took the trouble to continue calling the boy's title, Arsa Si understood the meaning of the king's emphasis.Having lost everything but his life, Varian needs to be told that he is still born and respected. Varian pursed his lips and nodded. "Thank you," he said. "Arthas, I'll leave it to you to take care of him." Tenaris patted Varian on the shoulder reassuringly, then closed the door and left. The two boys looked at each other, and Arthas' mind went blank.There was an uneasy silence for a moment, and finally Arthas blurted out, "I'm sorry about your father." Varian stepped back, turned and walked towards the huge window overlooking Lordamere Lake.The snow that had been gloomy all morning finally fell, and the silence covered the ground like a blanket.That's too bad - you can see all the way to Fenris Keep from here on a clear day. "Thank you." "I believe he must have died honorably on the battlefield, causing the enemy to pay a heavy price." "He was assassinated." Varian's voice was harsh and heartless, and Arthas turned sharply to look at him.Varian was now facing Arthas sideways, his figure reflected in the cold winter light, showing a strange indifference.Only those brown eyes, bloodshot and hateful, showed some anger. "A trusted friend managed to have a private meeting with him, and she killed him. A sword through the heart." Arthas stared at him.An honorable death was sad enough, and this—he reached out and took another prince's arm suddenly and impulsively. "I witnessed the birth of a foal yesterday," he said.It sounded so stupid, but that was the first thing Arthas could think of at this moment, his voice was sincere and true. "When the weather is better, I'll take you to see him. He is the most amazing thing." Varian turned his head and looked at Arthas for a long time, his face changing rapidly - offense, doubt , gratitude, yearning, and understanding.Suddenly, tears welled up in those brown eyes, and Varian turned his head away.He folded his hands and curled up, his shoulders trembling uncontrollably.He tried his best to suppress his sobs, but couldn't help crying out.The voice was shrill and anguished, a mournful wail for the loss of a father, a kingdom, a way of life.Perhaps it was only at this moment that Varian was finally able to let go of the grief in his heart.Arthas took his arm, feeling his fingers feel like a stiff rock. "I hate winter," Varian cried.The deep pain revealed in the seemingly unreasonable short words made Alsace discouraged.He couldn't face the grief, powerless to do anything for Varian. Arthas put his hands down, turned and stared out the window. The heavy snow is still there.