How beautiful, Thorwin mused. His feet led him through the Palace gardens, marveling at the breathtaking beauty that surrounded him. The vibrant colors of the flowers adorned the landscape like a painter's masterpiece, creating a symphony of hues that danced before his eyes. The soft fragrance of the blooms wafted through the air, filling his senses with a delightful aroma that felt almost intoxicating. Each step he took brought him closer to nature's canvas, and he couldn't help but feel a deep sense of awe and wonder at the wonders of the natural world. The summer sun beat down on him with relentless intensity, its rays casting long shadows across the garden path. Despite the heat, Thorwin found solace in the cool shade provided by a towering tree that stood alone on the grounds. The gentle rustling of leaves overhead provided a soothing backdrop to the chorus of cicadas, who sang their song with fervor, their buzzing melodies creating a symphony of nature's music.
Just a week ago, he had strolled through these very gardens with Lyanna, his mentor and confidante. She had been the one to introduce him to the world of cicadas, explaining how their vibrant calls served as a means to attract their female counterparts for mating. It was a fascinating glimpse into the intricacies of nature, and he found himself increasingly drawn to the study of the natural world. His curiosity had been piqued, and he now saw the gardens in a whole new light, appreciating the delicate balance of life that thrived within its borders.
Thorwin's interest in the natural world was an extension of his insatiable thirst for knowledge. Lyanna had nurtured this inquisitive spirit, encouraging him to explore not just his studies and training but also the wonders of the world around him. It was this guidance and encouragement that had led him to visit the gardens once more. As the cicadas' chorus filled the air and the sunlight filtered through the leaves, he felt a profound connection to the world around him. In this moment, he realized that knowledge was not just a pursuit of power, but a means to understand and appreciate the beauty and complexities of life.
"Isn't it lovely?"
A young girl stood before him, her soft hand gently touching his shoulder, Thorwin was taken aback by the unexpected encounter. "Princess," he stammered, his surprise evident in his voice. He quickly straightened his disheveled clothes, feeling a mix of awe and nervousness in the presence of Arthas' older sister. Calia was the daughter of King Terenas, and though he had caught glimpses of her in the Chapel before, their interactions had been limited, leaving him with the impression that she was somewhat of a recluse. Her sudden arrival and friendly greeting caught him off guard, and he felt a rush of emotions as he looked upon her. Her beauty was captivating, with her blonde hair cascading like golden threads and her pale, delicate features that seemed to have been painted by an artist's brush. In this moment, he saw her in a new light, appreciating her grace and poise.
"I'm sorry to surprise you, sir Thorwin," Calia said, her cheeks flushing with a tinge of embarrassment. She withdrew her hand in haste, realizing that the gesture she had made was not befitting of someone her stature.
"No need to apologize, Princess," Thorwin replied, attempting to regain his composure. "It's an honor to meet you, and I must admit, your sudden appearance took me by surprise. I hope I did not seem impolite."
Calia's smile was warm and disarming, putting him at ease. "Not at all, sir Thorwin," she assured him. "I simply couldn't resist exploring the Palace gardens on such a lovely day, and I'm glad to have run into you. I've heard much about you from Arthas, he had talked a lot about your trainings and how you were able to beat him and your friends."
Thorwin's cheeks flushed with a mix of pride and embarrassment at the mention of Arthas boasting about their sparring sessions. "Ah, yes," he replied, trying to be modest. "We've had our fair share of friendly competitions. Arthas is a skilled opponent, and it's always a great challenge to spar with him and the others."
Calia's laughter tinkled like the soft chimes of a bell, filling the air with a delightful melody. "I can imagine," she said with a playful glint in her eyes. "Arthas is quite competitive, but I'm sure you know of his skills. Though, I believe your skills are equally impressive to have earned his praise."
"Thank you, Princess," Thorwin replied, feeling a hint of satisfaction from her words. "Your kind words mean a lot to me. I have been fortunate to learn the art of combat from my knight, Sir Cedric, and my dwarven friend, Falstad. They have been incredible mentors, and I strive to be as strong and skilled as them in the future."
Calia clapped her hands with enthusiasm, her eyes alight with curiosity. However, she quickly restrained herself, remembering the expectations of proper decorum befitting her position as a princess. Still, the innocent smirk on Thorwin's face eased her tension, and she sought to engage him in a conversation that would diffuse any awkwardness.
"Ah, yes, magic," she inquired, trying to sound casual. "I've heard that you are also studying the arcane arts. Is that true?"
Thorwin nodded, knowing that actions often speak louder than words. He plucked a nearby flower from the garden and began chanting an unfamiliar language to Calia. To her amazement, the flower began to multiply through its stem and transformed into a beautiful bouquet. Thorwin offered it to her with a warm smile, his eyes gleaming with pride and excitement. Although he was forbidden from casting spells without the guidance of Khadgar and Lyanna, he couldn't resist the temptation to impress the princess with a spontaneous display of his abilities.
Calia's eyes widened in astonishment as she accepted the bouquet. "That was simply incredible!" she exclaimed, genuinely impressed by his display of magical prowess.
Thorwin's heart swelled with a mix of pride and humility as he witnessed Calia's genuine astonishment. "I wish I could show you more, Princess," he said, a hint of longing in his voice. "But I am forbidden to cast any spells on my own after what had occurred in the quarters."
Concern flickered in Calia's eyes as she recalled the incident during winter. It had been a harrowing experience for everyone at the palace, and she remembered how her father, King Terenas, had become even more vigilant about their safety, increasing the number of guards patrolling the palace day and night.
"I can only imagine how frightening it must have been for you," Calia said softly, her voice tinged with sympathy. She had heard whispers of the event from her father and knew that it had left an impact on Thorwin and his teachers.
Thorwin nodded, his expression thoughtful. "It was, indeed, a trying time," he admitted. "But my teachers have been unwavering in their support and guidance. They have protected me and taught me how to harness my magical abilities responsibly." As he spoke, Thorwin reached beneath his clothes and retrieved a small, intricately designed pendant. It depicted the shape of a lion and was crafted from a blend of gold and thorium. "They, along with my grandfather, gifted me this pendant," he explained, holding it up for Calia to see. "It is enchanted to absorb any spells directed at me, providing an added layer of protection. With their teachings and this pendant, I feel more secure in my magical studies."
Her eyes sparkled with admiration as she looked at the pendant. "It's truly remarkable," she remarked, her voice filled with awe.
As the late afternoon sun cast its warm golden glow over the palace gardens, Thorwin and Calia found themselves drawn together by the magic of their conversation. What had started as a mere chance encounter had blossomed into something more, a connection that went beyond mere acquaintanceship.
One day, while strolling the garden amidst the fragrant flowers and listening to the soothing melodies of the cicadas, they began to open up to each other, sharing their dreams, desires, and fears. As their conversation progress, Thorwin noticed a glimmer of tears in Calia's eyes. With gentle concern, he asked her what troubled her so. Her response was filled with vulnerability and honesty. She confessed that she had overheard her parents' conversation, which she is to be married for the kingdom's interest. However, she longed to marry for love, to be with someone she truly cared for and who cared for her in return. It was a simple yet profound wish, one that resonated deeply even with Thorwin's lack of understanding in matters about romance and the desire to be with someone who brings joy and happiness.
For Thorwin, the realization of the intricacies of Calia's life as a princess dawned upon him. He understood that her future, unlike his, was not entirely in her hands. Her fate lay in the decisions of her father, King Terenas, and the political machinations of their kingdom. She could be married off to a stranger, a man of high standing but devoid of love, all for the sake of the kingdom's interests. It saddened him to think that such a fate might await her, a life where her heart's desires would be sacrificed for the greater good. His heart swelled with empathy for the princess, and as the sun began to set, casting a soft orange hue over the horizon, Thorwin and Calia continued to walk side by side, their souls entwined in the magic of the moment. Though awkward when they first met, Thorwin began to admire Calia's grace and poise, and she, in turn, found comfort in his genuine and caring nature.
In the days that followed, Thorwin and Calia's friendship blossomed, weaving a tapestry of shared experiences and heartfelt conversations. Confined in the Palace grounds, Calia found solace in Thorwin's company, forming a bond that felt both effortless and profound. Amidst the tranquil gardens of the palace, they laughed like carefree children, lost in the beauty of the flowers that adorned their surroundings. Their laughter was like the gentle rustle of leaves, a harmonious symphony that filled the air with joy.
Their interactions didn't escape the attention of the trio of friends—Derek, Varian, and Arthas. Curiosity sparkled in their eyes as they exchanged glances each time, their interest deeply piqued by the growing rapport between Thorwin and Calia. Yet, amidst the intrigue, Derek's expression bore a tinge of unease. His concerns went beyond mere curiosity; they delved into the realm of worry, fueled by a deeper understanding of the political intricacies at play. As the heir of the Proudmoore family, he was privy to certain confidential conversations held in hushed tones between his father and Lord Stormsong, conversations that hinted at decisions that could shape the future of Kul Tiras.
Derek had learned of the unspoken agreements, the alliance to be made through a calculated marriage and strategic partnerships. In these past years, he learned that every interaction within the noble circles was laden with hidden motives and ambitions. The closeness between Thorwin and Calia, while seemingly innocent on the surface, if left attended, could carry far-reaching implications that could disrupt both their houses' plans. Derek's mind buzzed with a mixture of concern for his own family's standing and genuine care for his friend. They are only interacting out of innocence, he thought. A brief comfort to wash away the gnawing thoughts in his mind.
While pondering his thoughts, a familiar and gentle voice came from behind him. "What's on your mind, Derek?" The words floated to his ears, carrying a sense of genuine concern
Derek turned, his gaze meeting the inquisitive eyes of Thorwin. His friend's expression held a mixture of curiosity and warmth, an unspoken invitation to share his thoughts. Derek couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude for the genuine connection he shared with Thorwin. Time had woven intricate patterns in their lives, turning childhood companions into growing young men with aspirations and uncertainties of their own. Thorwin's very presence offered a sense of comfort, a reminder that amidst the growing complexities of their world, true friendships endured.
A small smile tugged at Derek's lips as he considered the passage of time. It was remarkable how swiftly the years had slipped by, transforming the young boy he had known into the formidable young man now before him. Thorwin's stature had changed, a testament to the growth and development that had taken place. Derek's eyes briefly swept over his friend's form, noting the unruly black hair that danced in the wind. Thorwin's insistence on keeping it uncut gave him a distinct appearance. At ten years old, he already stood at an impressive five foot four, a height that hinted at even more growth in the years to come.
Derek's thoughts were interrupted as Thorwin's voice, both gentle and steadfast, broke through the silence once more. "Is something bothering you?" The question hung in the air, underscored by the sincerity that resonated in Thorwin's gaze. It was a question that carried weight, an invitation to share not just thoughts, but concerns, fears, and hopes.
Derek's shoulders relaxed as he considered the depth of their friendship. Here was a friend who had stood by him through trials and triumphs, who had shared in the laughter and challenges of their upbringing. A sense of understanding flowed between them, a connection that didn't require elaborate explanations.
"Thorwin," Derek began, his voice a mixture of doubt and uncertainty. "It's just... everything. The rumors, the war to come, and…" He trailed off, a momentary hesitation settling over his words like a heavy shroud.
There was something unspoken, a truth that lingered in the air between them. Derek wrestled with his thoughts, a battle waged not with swords, but with the complexities of his own heart. He sighed inwardly, feeling a curious blend of amusement and exasperation at his own inability to confide in his dear friend. At seventeen years old, on the precipice of adulthood, he found himself grappling with a vulnerability he had not anticipated.
Sensing the unspoken layers of Derek's concerns, Thorwin's voice cut through the weighty silence. "I heard you're going to accompany Lord Proudmoore and his fleet when the war begins," he said, his tone gentle yet brimming with concern. "I will pray for your safety, Derek."
Derek offered a nod, a mixture of gratitude and resignation mingling in his expression. "Indeed," he replied, his voice a blend of pride and vulnerability. "Father believes it's time for me to gain firsthand experience in naval warfare. I'll be on my own destroyer, leading my own crew." The words held a measure of bravado, an attempt to exude confidence in the face of an uncertain future. But beneath that bravado lay the weight of reality—the understanding that battle could claim lives with an indiscriminate hand.
A thought flitted through Derek's mind, a thought he dared not voice directly. Instead, he posed a question that seemed unrelated to carry on the conversation. "Since when have you been praying?" he asked, a hint of curiosity lacing his words.
Thorwin's reply was immediate, a testament to the openness that characterized their friendship. "Since my time in Stormwind," he said, his voice carrying a trace of contemplation. "The priests there taught me about the power of answered prayers, though I can't say any of mine have been answered so far."
A wry smile tugged at Derek's lips as he considered the implications. "Can you imagine the upheaval if the tidesages and the folks in Stormsong Valley hear about their Lord Stormsong praying to the Light?"
Thorwin's grin was infectious, the weight of their conversation momentarily set aside. "In that case, I'll pray to both the light and the tidemother," he quipped, his words carrying a sense of lightheartedness and camaraderie.
In the quiet intimacy of their conversation, a subtle shift occurred within Derek. The weight of unspoken worries began to loosen its grip in the presence of his friend. It was a simple exchange, unburdened by complexities or formal agreements. Perhaps, in the grand tapestry of life, some matters were best left to the passage of time, allowing fate to weave its threads. Moving away from the confines of Derek's room, their aim was to catch up with Arthas and Varian, who had managed to secure Terenas' permission, accompanied by a contingent of guards, to venture to a farmstead northeast of the city. Arthas' persistence had paid off, and the promise of adventure beckoned. As they walked, the sunlight filtered through the windows, casting warm, golden hues upon the polished floors, a reflection of the warmth that had begun to grow bigger between Derek and Thorwin.
As they walked, Derek's thoughts seemed to drift back in time, to moments of shared laughter and childhood dreams. Suddenly, he spoke, his words carrying a touch of nostalgia and anticipation. "Remember when the three of us played pirates? After the war is over, I'm determined to take you and Jaina on a voyage across the seas. Perhaps we'll even stumble upon those mysterious creatures you once told us about."
Thorwin's eyes brightened with the promise of adventure, his curiosity piqued. "Is that a promise?" he asked, a playful smile tugging at his lips.
Derek's response was wholehearted, his hand resting over his heart in a gesture of sincerity. "Of course, my dear friend," he affirmed, his grin mirroring Thorwin's.
Thorwin's grin widened, his mirth infectious. The topic shifted, a reminder of Jaina's presence in their thoughts. "Speaking of our adventures and Jaina," he began, "Her letter just arrived. She apologizes for not sending you one, as the ships bound for Lordaeron were about to set sail. It was a hasty note, not suitable for sharing, especially since it's from a lady."
A mock pout formed on Derek's lips, his jesting tone evident. "That stings a bit," he remarked, hamming up his reaction before letting out a hearty laugh. "I can't blame her, though. She seems to like you more than her bearded older brother."
Thorwin chuckled, the bond between the friends allowing for playful ribbing. "Well, at least the palace maids seem to appreciate your stylish beard," he quipped, his words carrying a lightness that spoke of their easy friendship.
Derek was about to continue the jest, his voice lighthearted, when a sudden change in his demeanor halted his words. His steps faltered, and he came to a stop, leaving Thorwin slightly bewildered by the sudden pause. Derek's gaze was fixed on a figure not far from them—an old man, his posture dignified and straight despite the weight of age. He was draped in light blue robes adorned with symbols of the Light, a mitre crowning his head. Walking beside him was a younger priest, his features youthful and his hair a shade of honey blonde. There was a subtle contrast in their movements, the older man leading with a sense of purpose while the younger trailed slightly behind, as if preserving a respectful distance.
The atmosphere shifted, a sense of reverence and import settling around the pair. Derek's voice was low, carrying a note of recognition. "Look, Thorwin," he said, his words laden with significance. "That old man… He's none other than Archbishop Alonsus Faol, a revered figure in the Church of the Holy Light. And the younger priest is Brother Turalyon, Lord Alonsus' student."
As continued to walk, their initial hope had been for a simple exchange of formalities, a respectful nod and perhaps a word or two of greeting to acknowledge the presence of such esteemed figures. However, as if guided by an unseen hand, their plans were thwarted when the archbishop himself came to an unhurried stop just before their paths converged, his very presence commanding attention.
Alonsus Faol, a figure steeped in faith, possessed an aura that seemed to bridge the gap between the earthly and the divine. His eyes, like ancient pools of wisdom, first fixed upon Derek, and then they shifted to Thorwin. It was in that transitory moment that something extraordinary transpired—a fleeting yet profound connection that transcended words. A hidden gleam of happiness flitted across the archbishop's eyes as he regarded Thorwin, a gleam that hinted at a recognition that went beyond the surface.
"You must be Lord Anduin's grandson," Alonsus addressed Thorwin with a voice that carried the gentleness of a seasoned mentor. "May I perhaps know your name, my young friend?"
Thorwin, though caught off-guard by the archbishop's direct attention, managed a slight bow before responding. "Thorwin, Archbishop. It is an honor to meet you," his voice held a touch of awe.
Turning to Derek, Alonsus continued the exchange. "And you must be Derek, Lord Proudmoore's eldest son."
"Indeed, Archbishop," Derek responded with a respectful bow, a gesture that mirrored his acknowledgment of the archbishop's significance in the realm of faith. Despite his own personal beliefs differing from the teachings of the Light, he understood the reverence that was due to a figure of such stature.
"Let not formality eclipse the authenticity of our meeting, my young friends," Alonsus Faol's words carried a warmth that belied his status, his tone that of a caring elder rather than an austere religious figure. His hand, gentle as a breeze's touch, graced Thorwin's shoulder for a fleeting moment, a subtle embrace of indescribable warmth lingered on Thorwin's shoulder after his touch.
As the archbishop continued walking, leaving behind a sense of wonder and bewilderment, both Thorwin and Derek found themselves suspended in a moment that defied explanation.
One afternoon, as the sun shone through the windows, bathing the armory hall in a golden glow, Arthas couldn't resist asking Calia about her presence once more. He tried to hide the frustration in his voice as he returned his wooden sword to the rack and unfastened his training armor, his gaze locking onto his sister.
"Why are you here again, Calia?" he inquired, a hint of annoyance tainting his words. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate his sister's presence, but her claps and laughter after Thorwin's victories felt like a cacophony of insults to him.
"To watch you lose, of course," Calia replied playfully, her eyes dancing with mischief as she met his gaze. The hint of a smile played on her lips, knowing well how her brother would react.
Arthas scowled, feeling a mix of annoyance and affection for his sister. "You're getting on my nerves," he declared, sending a piercing stare her way.
Undeterred, Calia chuckled, her laughter as melodious as a gentle stream. "Arthas," she said, attempting to lighten the mood. "I'm only here to enjoy the spectacle of my little brother's skills and his never-ending rivalry with Thorwin."
Thorwin, standing nearby, couldn't resist chiming in with a good-natured smile, "Come on, Calia, there's no rivalry between me and Arthas."
Arthas smirked at his friend's remark, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "It's not much of a rivalry when you keep beating me in every spar." He admitted with a mix of amusement and frustration.
Indeed, there seemed to be no rivalry at all, for every friendly bout between them always ended overwhelmingly in Thorwin's favor. Even his matches against Varian and Derek now resulted in draws, leaving Thorwin as the seemingly invincible champion of their little circle. Despite their collective efforts to improve, Thorwin's prowess had skyrocketed, displaying superior techniques honed through countless hours of training. It wasn't just Cedric and Falstad who had been guiding his progress, but also his grandfather, Anduin Lothar, who dedicated his spare moments to shaping Thorwin into a formidable warrior.
Deep in thought, Thorwin couldn't help but wonder how today's meeting with the kings would unfold. Rumors had circulated about the previous day's meeting, ending in disappointment once again, but today, there was an unmistakable air of solemnity and preoccupation that seemed to seep into every corner of the palace. Earlier, Arthas was the first to break the ice, asking Varian and Derek about why everyone was in a somber mood, but they remained tight-lipped, leaving Thorwin feeling increasingly curious and anxious about the unknown. Adding to his restlessness was the fact that he was not originally supposed to be in the castle that day. The previous night, a Stormsong envoy arrived, bearing news that Lord Stormsong and his wife, Lady Adriana, were on their way, accompanied by a formidable armada of Stormsong warships. Filled with jubilation at the prospect of welcoming his parents, Thorwin had proposed to go to Stratholme, where the ships would dock and await orders. However, his grandfather, Anduin, had refused his request, insisting that Thorwin remain within the castle walls. Instead, Falstad and Cedric had been dispatched to carry out the duty, leaving the armory hall conspicuously empty.
Restlessly, Thorwin settled beside Calia on a stone bench, her presence offering a small measure of comfort amidst the anticipation. Arthas, on the other hand, stood nearby, his mind seemingly preoccupied. Meanwhile, Varian and Derek began to press forward against each other in their practice bout. Something seemed different, though, as their usual spirited pace appeared unusual and mechanical. It was as if their hearts were not fully invested in the fight, their minds elsewhere, distracted by the weight of the unfolding events.
Thorwin couldn't help but observe his friends with concern, sensing the unease that hung in the air. "What do you think happened?" he asked Calia softly, his eyes flickering with uncertainty.
Calia's delicate features mirrored the mix of emotions swirling within her—worry, curiosity, and a palpable sense of apprehension. Her words were carried on a whisper, laden with uncertainty. "I'm not sure," she confessed softly, her voice a fragile thread of sound. "But I have heard that there was grave news from the south, though mother did not tell me anything more. Perhaps today will be different, and we will finally learn the truth."
From the south… It cannot be! Thorwin's heart clenched at her words, the weight of his fears taking a tangible form. He was no stranger to the intricacies of politics and the gravity of potential conflicts, and the mention of grave news from the south sent a shiver down his spine. As he opened his mouth to voice his concerns, to share the shadows of suspicion that danced at the periphery of his thoughts, the armory hall's entrance erupted with a sudden boom, the door banging against the wall with a resonating thud. The intrusion brought an immediate hush to the room, silencing even the sounds of their practice and contemplations.
"Sir Uther," Arthas's voice broke, betraying his surprise at the unexpected entrance. "What brought you here that you would carelessly barge in?" Arthas's question hung in the air, directed at the armored figure that strode in. Uther's focus remained unswayed by the young prince's presence, his demeanor reflecting the urgency of his mission.
"The king calls for Prince Varian to attend the council, in due haste," Uther's voice carried a gravity that demanded immediate attention. His gaze then shifted to Derek. "Your father requests your presence as well, Lord Derek."
Varian and Derek, their training abruptly halted, promptly dropped their practice swords and moved with purpose. Their footsteps echoed through the hall as they left, flanked by the waiting guards, headed towards a summons that seemed to hold the weight of critical matters.
In the wake of their departure, Uther's attention turned to the remaining occupants of the armory hall—Calia and Thorwin. His demeanor shifted, the formality and urgency he carried earlier giving way to a gentler concern. "The guards outside shall accompany you back to your quarters, Princess Calia and Lord Thorwin," Uther's words were not a suggestion, but a clear indication of the king's orders.
Left with little choice, Calia and Thorwin acquiesced. Side by side, they exited the armory hall, walking towards their separate paths. The resonance of the heavy door closing behind them seemed to echo the uncertainty that lingered in the air, a poignant reminder that amidst the laughter and training, greater forces were at play, their consequences poised to shape the realm's future.