At night, the ruins of Lordaeron fell completely silent, and the corpses scattered on the ground emitted a pungent stench.
The soldiers, who had just rested for a while, began to move the skeletons, piling them up and laying down a large amount of flammable material.
As a fireball ignited, scorching flames rose, incinerating the rotting corpses.
The raging flames would burn away the defilement of the old days; the deceased were gone, the past's defilement eliminated, replaced by the hope of the living.
Arthas began casting his cooled-down teleportation, sending both the living and dead soldiers back to City of Hope.
Even with the aura's blessing, achieving zero casualties was impossible; this cleanup of the Lordareon Royal City ruins still resulted in over a hundred deaths.
The dead would be buried, and the living would become stronger.
A compassionate leader cannot command troops; for soldiers to survive, they must be constantly tempered.
If they couldn't rise to the challenge, they could only resign themselves to death.
His miraculous teleportation spell once again astonished everyone, especially those from a mage background, who could truly understand the difficulty of such large-scale teleportation.
It required not only mastery of spatial knowledge and anchoring coordinates but also abundant magical energy to sustain it.
Continuous spellcasting placed a huge burden on the body, let alone the most strenuous teleportation magic.
Yet, the prince before them showed no fatigue, his spirits high, though his expression wasn't exactly joyful.
After all, with his homeland destroyed and his father dead, even avenging them wasn't a cause for much happiness.
Having personally witnessed Arthas' achievements, even the blue dragon Tarecgosa, who was usually quite unyielding, had no taunts, only deep admiration.
No matter the race, strong power commands the respect of others.
Returning to her temporary residence, Maiev didn't see anyone, simply locking herself in her room.
This unusual behavior made her adjutant, Nathsa, a little worried, wondering if something had happened to her mistress.
From a distance, the trade district occasionally buzzed with noise; the port was lit all night, cargo ships brought in large quantities of supplies, then loaded expensive elven crafts to be shipped to the Stormwind Kingdom in the south.
The taverns were even more lively, with adventurers from all over temporarily settling there, hoping to get a share in the chaotic world.
In places ravaged by the undead, there were still many ownerless treasures.
Many fleeing nobles also recruited adventurers here, attempting to reclaim their lost territories.
Don't expect the kingdom to help them; if they want to reclaim lost lands, they must go themselves.
Once the kingdom intervenes, everything in that area will become the kingdom's property.
Back at his residence, Arthas immersed himself in the bathtub, the comfortable, warm water slightly easing his fatigue.
The Lordaeron Kingdom, in its nascent stages of recovery, had little time for reorganization; he still had to deploy troops to Kalimdor for support.
The room door opened, and the golden-haired, blue-eyed Jaina walked in, carrying a tray with a plate of roasted bread and ham, and a bottle of wine.
"You've been busy all day; are you exhausted?"
Though younger, after marriage, she had taken on the appearance of a virtuous wife and mother, like an elder sister.
Isn't it natural for a wife to take care of her husband at home?
The city's governor was none other than Arthas' sister, Calia, managing affairs.
Were it not for the impending war, she would have preferred to be a priest; perhaps after her nieces and nephews were born, she would even help care for them.
Now, with few trustworthy people, Calia could only reluctantly step up.
Moreover, with no king now, and Arthas unwilling to hold the succession ceremony immediately, it had to be put aside for now.
Such ceremonial matters were not important; stable development was. It wouldn't be too late to discuss these things once everything had stabilized.
Terenas and Admiral Daelin died in the attack on Lordaeron; perhaps this ending was much better than being stabbed by his son and betrayed by his daughter.
It sounds somewhat ironic, but that was indeed the reality.
Everyone wants to live to a ripe old age, to live until the very end and then die; a natural death is every creature's basic desire.
Arthas again recalled his fall into a death knight, picking up Frostmourne and stabbing his father; that scene of filial piety could never be whitewashed.
Perhaps it was obsession, or perhaps arrogance, that led him to exploit his inner weakness and become someone else's puppet.
He looked up at the exquisite face before him, with golden hair, blue eyes, and big waves, truly a beautiful Western woman's face, a complete stunner.
The ethereal aura cultivated from years of arcane study, and the nobility of a princess from a maritime kingdom, combined with a touch of charm in her gentle smile, were now vividly before him, making his heart pound.
"What's wrong?"
Jaina tilted her head slightly, unaware that she had deeply captivated her husband.
"Nothing, it's very late. Let's rest early, ahem, rest together."
Arthas blinked; this was the benefit of life. If he were undead, how could there be such a good thing?
If he couldn't experience such wonderful joy, he might as well die.
The night passed without a word.
After the tumultuous passion came endless tranquility; thoughts were emptied, bringing an ethereal clarity that seemed to accelerate his thinking.
Jaina didn't concern herself with governance; she still preferred to study arcane magic. Many mages could reach very high limits.
But they were often entangled in mundane affairs, unable to focus on their studies. Sometimes it was a helpless situation; people couldn't live completely in seclusion, and wherever there were people, there were disputes and interests.
Moreover, mages were a profession that couldn't do without a large amount of magical materials for practice, spending money like water, with each purchase costing thousands or tens of thousands.
How could one possibly earn so many gold coins relying solely on oneself?
Aside from collaborating with others, one would have to divert energy to deal with it, and efficiency would naturally decrease.
Therefore, Jaina didn't want to manage affairs; in the future, she would bear the title of queen of Lordaeron, but would not concern herself with anything else.
It wasn't that she lacked talent in this area; no matter how unskilled, trying to learn would lead to good results.
She simply didn't want to do it. With a high elf and a black dragon princess helping out at home, she truly didn't need to do more.
For the impending war, she had to become stronger.
Arthas was so strong that it put a lot of pressure on her; having too excellent a spouse was sometimes not a good thing.
The purpose of an army is to carry out tasks that are not strictly necessary for oneself to do.
For example, clearing scattered undead is not too dangerous, but the undead are too dispersed.
Relying on one person alone, it would take forever to clear the undead, to the point of exhaustion.
This was the advantage of having an army: sending them to do tasks while he could focus on more difficult threats.
To prepare for the upcoming rescue mission, Arthas specifically sought out the Watcher Maiev, who had not yet left, to learn her signature skill, Blink!
Maiev was to return to the Broken Isles with the fleet, taking the Watcher forces back to support Mount Hyjal.
Facing Arthas' request, she agreed after only a brief thought, but with one condition: he had to defeat her!
The result was unquestionable; after a surprisingly uneventful battle, she lost very decisively.