D101 Chapter 190

After receiving Karwl's request for reinforcements, he had sprung into action. 

“Rho'dan, put the Crossguard on standby, we're leaving in five minutes!” Varrus ordered the tall red head, who had come down into the arena to retrieve the Governor's corpse. 

“It shall be done, my Lord.” Rho'dan bowed, then began to send messages from his scrying orb in a hurry. 

Tossing out his flying carpet, Varrus levitated himself up to the booth where his mother and Lor'Themar were lounging. 

Nightsong must've recognized the look on his face, because she wordlessly jumped onto his flying carpet. 

Lor'Themar made to do the same, but Varrus held out a hand, motioning him to stay put. 

“What's the situation, Highlord?” Lor'Themar questioned. 

“Liadran's expedition has been ambushed. I intend to reinforce with my mother, and a small group of my House's Heroes.” Varrus quickly explained. He then puckered his lips, and whistled outward. 

A second later, the golden retriever, Omen, came blitzing out of nowhere, and leapt into his arms. 

Wagging his tail, and waving his tongue, Omen met Varrus’s chest like a cannonball. 

“Yes, yes, it is good to see you too.” Varrus rolled his eyes, and laughed as he pet the excitable dog. 

“Ruff, ruff!” Omen ran circles around Varrus, and sniffed at his hands. 

“Very well, I'll leave it to you. I'll be in the war room, directing the troops. Liadran should be in the mountains between our current position of Stratholme, and Deatholme. I'll send you the coordinates to your scrying orb.” Lor'Themar noded, then turned to depart. 

“Oh, and Lady Nightsong, we should do this again sometime.” Lor'Themar cracked a hint of a smile, and then left. 

“Yes, it was fun criticizing my son's form with you, he has much to learn.” Nightsong replied with a small smile of her own. 

Varrus barely withheld a groan, and patted his dog to distract himself. 

There wasn't anything more embarrassing than watching your mom flirt with another man. 

“Ruff, ruff!” Omen licked the palm of his hand. 

“Ain't that the truth.” Varrus shook his head, and wryly chuckled at himself. 

“Sir, we are ready!” Rho'dan cupped his hands, and shouted. 

“Right, let's go!” Varrus lowered the flying carpet, and motioned for the four man gank squad + Rho'dan to come aboard, then began to set off towards Liadran's location. 

Whilst they were flying towards their destination, the members of the Crossguard began to speak with Varrus. 

“It’s a pleasure, Lord Vandercross, we can't wait to tear the enemy apart by your side. The boys have felt rather useless since we protected you during the Amani invasion.” One of the guards stepped forward and saluted. 

“Your services have been spectacular up until now. Without the Crossguard protecting the flanks during the Sunwell restoration, I probably wouldn't have succeeded. For that, I cannot thank you enough. But don't you worry, there will be plenty of enemies to slay where we're going.” Varrus replied, feeling slightly guilty that he hadn't brought along his crack squad for more engagements. 

Generally speaking, these guys were the core unit that took to the front, or guarded the rear, preventing routes. They didn't really get a chance to fight next to him, because they were the ones in charge of gatekeeping enemies, so that the trash mobs didn't get to him. 

He was being genuine in his thanks to them too. Even a Demigod could die from a thousand cuts. Varrus wasn't arrogant enough to think he was invincible. If he was fighting another Demigod, and a handful of Heroes jumped him, the fight really could go tits up. 

As he was ruminating on the usefulness of the Crossguard, the various members began to make exclamations, and show off their loyalty. 

“Ha! Hear that lads? Sounds like we've got something to munch on!” The lead Crossguardsman slammed a fist on his armored thorium chestplate, and grinned at Varrus with a violent look on his face. 

“Yes, Highlord Vandercross, your enemies shall be smashed to bits by my mace! Already, I have claimed the skulls of 30,000 Undead!” Another replied. 

“My bow never misses! 80,000 Scourge have fallen by my arrow!” 

“The elegance of my blade has slain over 100,000 but this is nothing compared to our leader.” The last member said, and Blinked next to Rho'dan, creating afterimages. 

Varrus glanced at Rho'dan, and quirked an amused eyebrow. He often forgot how bloodthirsty and braggadocious these guys were. How he had witnessed them tear apart Zul'Jin with their bare hands until he gave up, pleading for mercy. Of how they relentlessly tortured dissidents within the Vandercross Estate dungeons. 

He really did employ a squadron of murder hobos, didn't he? 

However, they were loyal beyond loyal, and you needed such guys behind you if you wanted shit to get done on Azeroth. 

Asking ‘please’ and negotiating in good faith could lead to great things, like the alliance with Ysera. But sometimes, a good ol fashioned mailed fist was what was needed. 

Reacting to his raised eyebrow, and smirk, Rho'dan silently turned to the members of the Crossguard, and folded his arms. 

The men in this elite unit all stiffened, then, almost as one, all bowed at Varrus, and saluted.

“For House Vandercross!” 

The men then sat down in a four-way pattern, and began to act as lookouts in the NWSE directions. 

Varrus shook his head in disbelief. 

Rho'dan really had whipped this bloodthirsty group of childish murderers into a disciplined unit of sophisticated killers. 

It was really something praise worthy. 

Only, what bothered Varrus, is that Rho'dan must really be something else if this pack of animals got in line at something as simple as a gesture. 

“Honestly, the more I see you operate, the more I want to know about you.” Varrus matched Rho'dan's pose, and took a step closer to the stern man. 

“My duty is to House Vandercross.” Rho'dan replied without blinking. 

“Hah. I'm glad you all are by my side. Thank you. I know you men of the Crossguard are accustomed to more clandestine affairs under my father, and playing politics, but if bloodshed makes you happy, I want to let you know this is only the beginning. There are more than 5 continents on this world, and Vandercross is a name that shall be known on all of them.” Varrus cast his voice out, and made sure to praise his closest guards. 

These were the people he relied upon whilst he slept. The people he would rely upon whilst his children slept. It was essential he kept them on his side. 

Paying a little lip now was a small price to pay for safety, and peace of mind. 

“We appreciate the sentiment, Highlord. The Crossguard have followed your father since he first rescued us from disastrous fates. He kept the tedium of immortality at bay, and now we follow you for similar reasons.” The lead Crossguardsman said from his position. 

“We appreciate the power you have displayed. Never before have we been in a position to hold our heads as high as today. Not even the prissy braggarts in the Royal Guard command as much respect as us with the common people. Your honor is our honor, Highlord.” The bow wielder chimed in. 

“We haven't crushed this many skulls since the Troll wars! Never threaten us with a good time, Highlord!” The mace wielding Elf laughed. 

“Indeed. Your enemies shall be naught but dust in the wind. That Governor has been playing politics against Vandercross for centuries. We should round up his family and supporters, and make an example out of them.” The swordsman commented upon this act of murder with the casualness that one discusses the weather. 

Varrus turned to Rho'dan to seek his counsel. 

He really didn't want to go full dictator if he didn't have to. Varrus didn't mind shedding some blood, or killing Elves that blatantly made enemies out of him. However, going after family members, and close allies without proof wasn't his style. If he killed everyone who had even the slightest relation to his enemy, then he would be no better than Stalin. 

There wouldn't be a Covenant if he went down that road. 

“...There are only two who may secretly try and rally support against us, Highlord. The rest can be cowed into submission, or won over with sweet words, token promises, and small gifts.” Rho'dan gave his assessment. 

Varrus sighed to himself, and looked up at the sky. 

After a moment of thought, Varrus gave Rho'dan a nod. 

“Take care of it.” Varrus ordered. 

“It shall be done, Highlord.” 

Varrus saw that Rho'dan looked like he wanted to say more, but was ever slightly fidgeting in place. Something that never happened with Rho'dan unless he was trying to communicate something. 

“You can tell him under a shroud of Muffle, Rho'dan. I have no interest in the ugly affairs of Elven society, or the running of a Great House. I left such things to my husband, war is my arena.” Nightsong waved off Rho'dan, and gently pushed Varrus away from her side. 

“My apologies, Lady Nightsong, it is not my intention to hi-” 

“Save it, guard.” Nightsong snapped, prompting Rho'dan to tightly shut his mouth, as if it were a metal trap. 

Varrus sensed some hostility coming from his mother, and upon raising a shroud of Muffle around both himself and Rho'dan, was one of the first things he asked about. 

“So?” 

“Lady Nightsong is understandably wroth that we-I, failed to protect the two of you against the Bronze Dragons all those years ago.” Rho'dan explained, and hung his head in shame. 

“Huh, go figure, I'd probably be pissed at you too!” Varrus laughed, and good naturedly pushed Rho'dan on the arm. 

The solid mass of muscle stood completely still. 

For the first time ever, he saw…sorrow? Yep, sorrow from the stalwart guard. 

Varrus, who had been joking around a second ago, trying to lighten his nerves before he fought off a possible Daedric incursion, realized he had expresso-depresso'd his number one follower. 

Taking a deep breath, Varrus never thought he'd have to be the responsible one between the two of them, but mopey emo Rho'dan was not on his bingo card. Now wasn't the time for this, but Rho'dan had been with him since the beginning, he was someone he genuinely cared for and viewed like an Uncle. 

They were minutes away from Karwl's location right now, but that didn’t mean he couldn't have a brief heart to heart. 

“Hey. We all fail. For my entire life, I've been a laughing stock. People have made fun of me for what I wear, how I speak, what I sound like, saying things like I look diseased, and ignoring what I had to say. For every play and performance of mine, 99 out of a hundred left negative feedback…it is depressing. But life finds a way. If a loser can retake a country, and somehow bring back the Sunwell, than even a so-called failure of a guard can accomplish his dreams.” Varrus spoke with the greatest sincerity that he could muster, and pulled upon both his experiences as someone who lived on Earth, and Azeroth. 

As someone who preferred reading in the library at school compared to the company of other children, he had experienced most generic nerd culture, and how nerds were treated by the public. Oh, it was nothing awful, but he knew what it was like to feel down. To feel at a loss. 

The ultimate loss of transmigrating, of knowing he would never see his friends & family again was still a raw wound, one he tried not to think about as he prioritized the future. 

“....” Rho'dan hung his head low, his long crimson hair hiding his expression. 

Ordinarily, Varrus would give someone space if they wanted to be quiet, as he respected them and their emotions. However, now was an extraordinary time. Emotions were fragile, but they had to fight on. Karwl, Liadran, and their entire Legion were counting on them. 

“Dammit Rho'dan, I need you. Look at me, damn you!” Varrus lifted Rho'dan's chin telekinetically, and held him still within his invisible grasp. 

“I've failed my Lord twice. Once is too many when the soul is on the line.” Rho'dan slowly, hallowly uttered. 

“Don't you fucking cry on me now, Rho'dan! You don't have the right to cry! My father tasked you with my defense, and: Here. I. Am.”

Staring one another down, Varrus refused to yield. In fact, he even began to unconsciously radiate the majesty of his Imposing Presence, warping the air around them. 

“You've grown up so fast…where has the time gone?” Rho'dan whispered wistfully to himself. He then turned to Varrus, and bowed.

“Apologies, Highlord, it seems the recent dangers have compromised my senses. Should you wish to replace me with another, I would understand, and be more than happy to recommend anoth-” 

“Alright you cheeky sod, no one is replacing you. You've had a cry, and are all better now, yeah? Now let's just get back to business as usual, all this sappy nonsense is making me sick.” Varrus waved Rho'dan off, broke his telekinetic hold on the guard, and rolled his eyes. 

“Yes sir. Now, if you recall the names of those detractors, we can start with them.” Rho'dan leaned forward, and cracked his knuckles threateningly. 

“Just tell me what you wanted to say that couldn't be said in front of my mother, we're literally five minutes out from Liadran's position.” Tekai tiredly rubbed his eyes, and held out a hand to forestall any more bs coming from Rho'dan's lips. 

“Very well, Highlord. Your blatant, tyrannical actions have begun to be noticed, and whispered about. The people are thankful for all you have done, but also fear that they might be the next victim of your and I quote ‘random, and deranged outrages.” 

“What? This can only be the political elite still being sour at being paralyzed at my last party, right? Bunch of influential jerks must be jealous that an upjumped youngster, and failed playboy actor took their spotlight, am I right?” 

“That about sums it up, yes.”

“So, what's your recommendation? I mean, I don't know if you've noticed, but we're halfway into a war right now.” Varrus sarcastically remarked. 

“True, and because of that, no action is being taken. Openly. However, I have noticed some discrepancies regarding trade with the Humans, and Kobolds on our end. It appears that many in Silvermoon are being difficult on purpose. It is a delicate situation that cannot be simply resolved with force.” 

“Well, maybe being openly hostile would be stupid, but Syra and I could probably do some serious subterfuge.” Varrus suggested. 

“That is one angle of attack, and something to consider. Your act of slaying the Governor-while legal-sent a message, one that will cow the majority of your detractors, but also convert some into diehard antagonists. To root out these enemies of ours, I have several suggestions, however, cleaning house can wait until the war with the Scourge is over. I simply wished to bring this concern of mine to your attention.” 

“See, Rho'dan? This is why you're paid the big bucks. Keeping me informed of this nonsense is literally what is keeping Quel'Thalas from sinking into anarchy. You're a valued bodyguard, advisor, and part-time Uncle. Appreciate you.” Varrus said with a smile. 

“Hm, yes. Well, Highlord, it appears we have arrived.” Rho'dan gestured down below. 

Taking a peak, Varrus realized that they were, in fact, not fighting above ground, as he saw the entrance to a mine. 

“Caves, it just had to be caves.” Varrus bemoaned his fate, and began to land. 

“Look on the brightside, Highlord.” Rho'dan cheerfully supplied. 

“Well? I'm waiting.”

“Hm?” Rho'dan quirked an eyebrow of his own. 

“You're a real comedian Rho'dan. A real laugh riot.” Varrus deadpanned, and dismounted his flying carpet. 

“Whatever do you mean?” Rho'dan steadily, seriously replied. 

Varrus didn't deign Rho'dan with a response, and dropped the shroud of Muffle. 

Clapping his hands to get the Crossguards attention, Varrus addressed them a second later. 

“Let's go people, lives are on the line!”