Diplomacy 101 Chapter 186

(Happening at the same time as Karwl's expedition) 

Almost a week had passed since the invasion of Stratholme, and Varrus was relaxing on the balcony of one of the many rooms that were on Quel'Vanar's central tower. 

Over the last week, he had cleansed maybe about  hundred miles worth of plagued land, and had personally rescued over five thousand survivors. 

The Humans of Lordaeron had been gaunt, and had haunted looks in their eyes. Their bony shoulders stuck out, and they often had pot bellies; all signs of malnutrition. 

They often told him horrifying stories of scavenging during the day, and scurrying from cellar to cellar. 

Nowhere was safe in this medieval zombie apocalypse, and the people were on the verge of total collapse. 

Their figures were like that of holocaust survivors, it was a harrowing sight. 

Varrus had almost killed the first survivor he came across, since he looked so ghastly. It was only thanks to the Detect Living spell that he could distinguish friend from foe. 

Seeing the people in such miserable states only served to strengthen Varrus's resolve. 

Currently, most of them were recuperating in a camp within the ruins of Stratholme. The provincial capitol had been burnt during Arthas's assault earlier in the year, but the castles and keeps remained, and served as housing for these poor souls. 

It wasn't all bad news, however, as he had also come across a few pockets of priests and mages. 

Particularly, he was happy to have found a handful of hamlets and towns so far out of the way, that they had survived the brunt of the Scourge invasion. 

During his purging of the land, he had also come across a contingent of students from Dalaran. 

The magically gifted Humans were all sent to Dalaran, the city-state famous for teaching magic. Since its destruction at Arthas's hands, its mages had retreated to the four corners of the Eastern Kingdoms. 

Dalaran had been a longtime friend of the Elves, and it was customary for an Elf to sit on their ruling council. 

However, despite all these long standing friendships, the mages of Dalaran in canon had moved upon Garithos's order, and held Kael’Thas's army in their anti-magic holding cells. 

Whilst Varrus was hesitant to work with another group that could potentially match Quel'Thalas in the magic arts, and one that had sided with Garithos over long standing friendships, it was a fact that mages were an important component in any army. 

Ultimately, it would be beneficial to rope them into the Covenant. He didn't know how keen he was on including people like Jaina, as her decision making abilities were highly suspect. However, there were a few badass mages, such as Rhonin. 

Besides, any worry he may have over the threat of Dalaran was diminished by the fact that the fertility potions were just about finished with their trial period. 

With all the mass death in the Kingdom of Lordaeron, Varrus could foresee this vast land one day playing host to High Elven families. 

One Elf in four had the potential to become a mage, whereas it was more like one in a hundred for Humans. 

Once Varrus established the new education system and culture of the modern Elven youth, he would no longer feel threatened by any other kingdom on the continent. 

However, that was an idea for another time. 

For now, Varrus was focused on search and recovery, as well as cleansing the land. 

Meanwhile, the Covenant forces had split up into fast moving units, and were absolutely bodying the dispirited, leaderless, feral Undead. 

Without any tactics, the Undead were taken down wholesale by the well organized minds of Quel'Thalas. 

Just a few days ago, Syra had gone on the offensive, and claimed Corin's Crossing, one of three majorly important zones within the Eastwald. Even now, she was endlessly pressing the edges of Scourge held territory with her little possie. 

Varrus had grown quite proud of the Covenant. 

They had really started to come together. The shared adversity of slaying Undead was something that any warm blooded creature with intelligence could get behind. 

Popping a grape in his mouth, Varrus enjoyed his moment of basking in the sun and doing absolutely nothing. 

Spending hours upon hours of spraying the ground with Infinite Light was cool at first, but like any repetitive task, it wore on his spirit. Then, in between this grind, Varrus would create Mana Stones to advance his Alteration skill, and chip away at his next level. All this, and he still had to make time for studying magic, and give his wife attention. 

Sadly, no amount of infinite endurance via the Sunwell could cure the drudgery of work. 

“Highlord, your briefing has been prepared.” Rho'dan's voice came from the other side of the door to his room. 

“Come in, it's unlocked.” Varrus lazily called out from his reclining chair. 

“You really shouldn't be so lax about your safety, Highlord.” Rho'dan frowned as he approached Varrus, a stack of papers in hand. 

“Spare me, as if a locked door would prevent someone who meant me harm.” Varrus waved his Chief Guard off, and took a sip from a nearby goblet. “Want some lemonade?” Varrus offered. 

“Apologies, Highlord, but this is strictly business. As soon as I am finished, I must execute your orders, and handle the affairs of House Vandercross.” Rho'dan drily replied. 

“Pity. Well, at least take a seat or maybe stand to the left a bit, and block the sun from my eyes.”

Rho'dan silently shifted to the side. 

“Ahh, that's better. Now, what do you have for me today?” Varrus stretched, then placed his full attention on Rho'dan. 

“First is our listed casualties, and estimated enemy losses. We have had 201 fatalities this week, and 1,839 injured. In return, our logisticians figure our forces have slain between 250-300,000 Undead.” 

“Hey, that's not bad!” Varrus exclaimed. 

“Please don't be shouting such things from the rooftop, who knows who could be listening in.” Rho'dan lightly admonished. 

Varrus rolled his eyes at the slight burn, and cast a shroud of Muffle. 

“There, you happy?” 

“The wounded have mostly been taken care of, however, 257 of them have been gravely injured.” Rho'dan continued speaking, not bothering with replying to Varrus's childish nonsense. 

“They're waiting in the hospital, are they?” Varrus murmured almost to himself. 

“Indeed. They await your ministrations.” Rho'dan nodded. 

“Damn. Those types of injuries are alwasy the worst to deal with.” Varrus blew his hair, and looked up at the blue sky. 

A moment of silent reflection passed, and Rho'dan coughed in his hand. 

“Alright, alright, I'll go after this meeting has concluded. You have that look about you, what's next?” Varrus lazily waved his hand, urging Rho'dan to continue. 

“General Nightsong and Ranger General Lor'Themar worry that the campaign shall not conclude before the onset of winter. Thus, they have requisitioned winter clothing for the troops, and made special note of socks. They made special note of the silk from the Kobolds domesticated spiders.” 

“Shit, winter is coming, eh?” Varrus rubbed his chin, and looked out the balcony. 

Indeed, the sun was barely visible, as many clouds were gathering on the horizon. 

“The first snow has already been reported. In anycase, will you-”

“Yes, yes, hand over the paper to sign.” Varrus testily replied. 

“The Kobolds demand for wax has been met for now. The head priest is requesting enchanted picks as recompense.”

“Ugh. It can be done, right? We have the wood from Gilneas, and iron from the Kobolds is cheaply imported as per our prior agreement. Yes, it should work. I'll sign off on this, but don't let him take advantage of us when you negotiate the sale of these picks.” Varrus said aloud to himself in thought, then turned to Rho'dan, and shoved the requisition orders back in his hands after he signed them. 

“As the steward of House Vandercross, I shall always strive to do my best for my Lord.” Rho'dan formally bowed, and slammed his gauntleted fist into his chestpiece. 

“Alright, enough goofing around, you said there was a lot to get through, and I've got those guys waiting on me in the hospital, let's hear it.” Varrus tiredly sighed. 

“We need replacements/repairs of our iron equipment. The numbers are as such: 

5,000 swords

15,000 spears

2,200 axes

20,000 chest pieces

50,000 gauntlets

The majority of which should be easily broken down by your smithing magic, then reforged.”

“Ugh. That sounds tedious.” Varrus made a guttural sound from his throat, and closed his eyes in annoyance. “Whatever. It needs to get done. Organize a time in my schedule, and make a pile of that gear so I can get it all done at once. I refuse to deal with this in a piecemeal fashion.” 

“It will be done.” Rho'dan nodded, and inputted several notes into his scrying orb. 

“Next is a report on our forward progress.” 

“Wow, this was less important than the socks?” Varrus raised his eyebrows, and said in surprise. 

Rho'dan once again ignored Varrus's outburst, and continued with his presentation. 

“The northern half of the Eastwald is 60% contained, and the southern half is at 20% containment.” 

“That mountain range splitting the northern half of the province from the southern half is a pain to manage, eh?” Varrus rhetorically questioned. 

“Yes, but the Covenant forces have made great gains. The route from Stratholme to Corrin's Crossing is secure. This information comes with high confidence from both the scouts, and the on the field commanders. 

Forward progress had advanced all the way to Darrowshire-the last great bastion before the Western Plaguelands-where your wife, and her unit, the ‘Saints’ have laid siege.” 

“Seriously, what kind of awful nickname for a unit it that? Syra is the only one who uses the Light, and there's a bloody Troll on the team! Rho'dan, tell me honestly, no one is calling them the Saints, right?” Varrus said in disbelief, and shook his head, baffled by this development. 

Rho'dan paused, and took a deep breath. 

‘Ah shit, you know it's real when even Rho'dan is out of sorts.’ Varrus grimly thought to himself as his typically blasé guard “acted out of the norm.” 

“The Illidari Council haven been recording Lady Vandercross, Queen Greymane, and….Mistress Jan'alai during their combat sessions. Sharing this imagery, they have accrued a rather sizeable fanbase amongst the troops. Surprisingly, it is considerably effective for morale. Your wife is famous.” Rho'dan almost cracked a mocking smile at that last part, but kept his face relatively placid throughout the entire report. 

Varrus sighed and rested his forehead in his open palm. 

“Seriously, the Illidari really are the most troublesome fanboys.” 

“....should I arrange for them to disappear?” Rho'dan flatley replied. 

“Ha! Tired of the competition, eh? No, let them be. Now please, tell me that is all to your report, Rho'dan.” Varrus looked up at the tall, muscular, rugged redhead with hope in his eyes. 

“Two more to go, then we're finished for the day.” Rho'dan steadily replied. 

Varrus eyed the man with dead-fish eyes. Wordlessly motioning for Rho'dan to continue, he awaited what came next. 

“Telonicus requests 500 Legendary Mana Stones for Quel'Vanar's repairs.” 

“Seriously? That man is a blood sucker. 100 LMS's was all it took to power this thing in the first place. We'll send him 125, and if he asks for more, tell him to provide a summary. In 1,000 words or less, he must simply explain what he needs them for.” Varrus sternly ordered. 

If he didn't set those parameters, the brilliant scientist was likely to provide an essay's worth of data, and techno jargon that would only make Varrus want to slap him upside the head, or punt him down some stairs. 

Varrus appreciated, and admired Telonicus's scientific genius, but by God, that man really was a representative of the peak of what it meant to be a nerd. 

“Message sent.” Rho'dan replied. 

“Okay, good, great. Now that that's over, what have you saved for last?” Varrus sarcastically demanded. 

“Your presence has been requested to preside over an honor duel.” 

“I guess that could be fun. What's it about?” Varrus sat up in his chair, vaguely interested in this reprieve from the daily tedium of work. 

“A regiment of 100 were investigating a village when they were set upon by all sides. The officer in charge, an Elf, is claimed to have fled the scene without giving the order to retreat. The rest of the troops fought to the last man. 98 of them died, among the dead were 3 Elves, 34 Kobolds, and 61 Humans.” 

“I see where this is going, the lone survivor is challenging the officer, right? And the officer is claiming that he did no wrong, that the soldier wasn't following orders or some such?” Varrus questioned. 

“Astute as always, Highlord.” Rho'dan nodded in agreement. 

“Alright, I'm invested in this. After I heal the people in the hospital, I want a crowd assembled in the square outside, and some snacks on hand as I officiate this duel.” Varrus clapped his hands, then stood up from his seat with a renewed sense of vigor. 

Rho'dan ever so slightly shook his head, then bowed his way out of the room. 

“What? Everyone likes snacks!” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

AN: I'm going on vacation Monday and Tuesday (the 10th and 11th of march). I may not release on those days. Just a heads up.