The assault on Quel'Thalas did not come without warning; even Kael'thas and the other High Elf officials had long been mentally prepared for the Amani Trolls' return.
The very reason Ranger-General Sylvanas was stationed at Tirisfal on such an important national holiday was to guard against any unexpected incidents.
Although some arrangements had been made in advance, the ferocity of the Amani onslaught still exceeded expectations.
The Sunstrider Royal Family had already received warnings from their Night Elf allies about Zandalari activity, yet they had not anticipated the Zandalari would provide the Amani with such high-intensity support.
The Zandalari Golden Fleet needs no mention—cross-sea operations would naturally deploy them.
According to intelligence relayed by Halduron, the Zandalari are offering the Amani Trolls all-around assistance short of committing loa, including heavy siege weapons like fire-bolts.
Andreas remained at the embassy awaiting fresher reports from the front lines, while simultaneously contacting Kalimdor, Northrend, and other regions through special channels to monitor the Zandalari movements in real time.
Just as Andreas expected, the Zandalari were not limiting themselves to aiding the Forest Trolls; the Jungle Trolls of Stranglethorn Vale and the Frost Trolls of ZulDrak were also stirring.
The Drakari Trolls had lived under the shadow of the Night Elves for millennia; after several major wars in Northrend they had gained a very clear understanding of Night Elf military might and had no wish to risk getting dragged into this mess.
Although the Zandalari Trolls repeatedly sent envoys to persuade them, the Drakari remained unmoved, merely reinforcing the western ramparts of ZulDrak—perhaps fearing that Night Elf fury, once roused by the Zandalari, might engulf them as well.
By comparison, the Gurubashi Trolls were far more active.
The perennially civil-war-torn Jungle Trolls, now reconciled by the Zandalari, massed at ZulGurub and readied themselves for a full-scale northern assault on the Kingdom of Stormwind's territories.
With Jungle and Forest Trolls striking simultaneously from the north and south of the Eastern Kingdoms, the main Zandalari force seized the chance to invade the recently unlocked continent of Pandaria.
"Hah—"
Andreas gave a cold laugh. "Let them. Lei Shen is long gone, his power reclaimed by Loken. I'd like to see how the Zandalari plan to break through Pandaria's defenders."
Shandris asked worriedly, "Is it really safe? If Lei Shen's hidden legions are exposed by the Zandalari, won't Loken be put on high alert ahead of time?"
"No need to worry," Andreas shook his head. "Loken knows his limits. At least until the Zandalari break through the Pandaren and the august celestials, the Titan Construct army stationed in The Jade Forest won't be so easily discovered."
This was not the Zandalari's first invasion of Pandaria; over ten thousand years ago, after Lei Shen's death, they had fought a great war with the Pandaren.
With the appearance of the Pandaren Cloud Serpent cavalry, the still-recovering Zandalari were routed and forced to retreat to their own lands to lick their wounds.
Though the Pandaren are usually gentle and amiable, once invaded their ever-smiling, honest monks reveal their true strength; it would be impossible for the Zandalari to overrun Pandaren defenses any time soon.
"They've committed over a hundred thousand each to support the Amani and Gurubashi, three hundred thousand as the main force against Pandaria, and tens of thousands lying in wait in Northrend for an opening."
After tallying the total forces the Zandalari had spread out, Andreas rubbed his chin with interest. "This still shouldn't be their absolute limit; I wonder whether that ambitious God-King Rastakhan has any follow-up moves."
Although the High Elf army is elite, their total population is small, so troop numbers are limited.
Before his coronation, Kael'thas ordered Royal Guard Captain Thalorien to lead the army in his stead; fifty thousand regular troops marched in formation through the Ban'dinoriel Barrier, heading to reinforce the Amani Forest.
Because Kael'thas was influenced by Celeste from childhood, he was far more pragmatic than most face-saving High Elves.
To ensure no loss of territory and to minimize Quel'Thalas' damage, he immediately sent someone to ask Andreas for help.
The envoy was an acquaintance of Andreas'—Alleria, who had come to Silvermoon City for the coronation on behalf of the Windrunner Family.
Even had Kael'thas not asked, Andreas had already intended to teach these reckless trolls a lesson.
After hearing Alleria's account, Andreas readily nodded. "No problem. The Night Elf Republic's Third Flying Fleet is on standby at Suramar; I'll have them redeploy at once."
The First Flying Fleet patrols and guards Kalimdor; the Second Flying Fleet remains stationed in The Jade Forest of Pandaria, where it should also prove useful against the Zandalari invasion."
The Fourth Flying Fleet, now forming in Suramar City, has only just received its airship allocations; the new force still needs time to drill before it's combat-ready.
Although flying fleets are highly mobile, flying from Suramar is not something that can be done in mere hours.
Until then, Quel'Thalas' situation would still have to be handled by the High Elves themselves.
The Sunstrider Royal Family seemed completely unworried about the Amani Forest situation, starting the grand coronation ceremony right on schedule.
Among the many kings and chieftains present, Varian, upon learning of the Gurubashi Trolls' movements, was first to apologize and take his leave of the Sunstrider court.
Anxious about his realm, Varian hastily stepped through the portal opened by the royal mages and returned to Stormwind City, leaving Grand Duke Bolvar Fordragon to witness the rest of the coronation in his stead.
Representatives of the Alliance's other nations were relatively calm; after all, the fire had not yet reached their territories, and with the Kingdom of Stormwind holding the line against the Gurubashi, the situation should not deteriorate too quickly—for the moment.
Under the gaze of envoys from every nation, Kael'thas knelt reverently before Anasterian, allowing his father's trembling hands to place the crown upon his head and to present him with a great fire-red sword of curved blade.
Most High Elf citizens below still knew nothing of the crisis in the kingdom's south; they cheered excitedly, celebrating the smooth transition of their realm's highest power.
Suppressing the turmoil within, Kael'thas completed the ceremony with proper etiquette, then, amid the people's cheers, entered the Sunstrider Court's main hall and sat firmly upon the throne.
What transpired inside the court was no longer something ordinary folk could know.
His mission accomplished, Anasterian, supported by handmaidens, slowly withdrew in relief; the old Sun King, free of burdens, could at last enjoy his remaining years in peace.
King Kael'thas' first command after ascending was one of war: he ordered the scattered garrisons across Eversong Woods to be unified and readied to rush to the Amani Forest's aid within the shortest possible time.
Aside from Fordragon, who hastily bid the Sunstrider court farewell, the other national leaders did not rush off after the ceremony.
The kingdoms of the Eastern Kingdoms had little knowledge of the mysterious Zandalari Empire and took this chance to observe their combat strength up close.
"Then let us be off."
Crowned Kael'thas swung the artifact Felo'melorn, just received from Anasterian, and personally opened a portal to Tirisfal.
The new Sun King gestured gracefully. "Leaders of every nation, if you please."
When Andreas and the others stepped through the portal into Tirisfal, the military town was already steeped in the scent of war.
The enchantment-reinforced walls shook under the Zandalari voodoo fire-bolts, and spells rained onto the defensive barrier, sending ripples across it.
Ranger-General Sylvanas, cloaked in her green hooded mantle, still stood on the wall directing the defense. Every arrow she loosed found its mark among the attacking troll coalition, each shot claiming at least one life.
None of Sylvanas' chosen targets were mere grunts; each was at least a squad leader with some command authority.
At a glance, Tirisfal's defense remained rock-solid; the Amani and Zandalari host would have a hard time breaching this fortress blocking the main road to Eversong Woods.
Alleria stepped from the portal, unslung the artifact war-bow Thas'dorei, and with a few nimble leaps mounted the wall. A wind-arrow of pure energy lanced toward a troll officer lurking in the rear.
"Ugh!"
The Zandalari officer had no time to react; his pupils dilated as a hole appeared in his forehead, life and soul fleeing together.
While nocking arrow after arrow, Alleria asked casually, "How are things?"
Sylvanas' lips curved slightly, then grew stern. "Not good. The trolls have spread through the Amani Forest. Tirisfal and the Farstrider camp are safe for now, but the surrounding villages can't be sure."
Except for Windrunner Village held by the veteran Lireesa, every major settlement in Amani Forest is teetering under troll assault.
Above all stands Antheris, built on the ruins of the old Amani capital; its very existence is an unmitigated insult to the Amani Trolls.
Warlord Dakara—second only to Zuljin among the Amani—leads the charge against Antheris. Lirath' five-thousand-man garrison is under crushing pressure; nearly a third have fallen in just a few hours.
At the same time, Goldenmist Village and Sungraze Village are under attack by troll detachments; the entire Amani Forest is aflame.
Sallorian's first relief troops have split up to reinforce several villages.
Sallorian himself leads ten-thousand elite around Lake Elrendar to the Farstrider camp, joining the hard-pressed Farstrider commander Halduron and pushing the front back toward Antheris to relieve Lirath as fast as possible.
"What about Mother?"
"Hah." Sylvanas chuckled. "Still lively. But her numbers are small; after the initial raid she's stuck in positional warfare. Had you come a little later, Windrunner Village might have fallen too."
The moment Kael'thas arrived in Tirisfal he teleported to the top of the mage tower to survey the battlefield.
The Amani Forest blazes everywhere; tranquil woods now show scorched swaths, black smoke from burning groves partially blocking Kael'thas' view.
Sungraze Village on Lake Elrendar's west shore was first to be relieved; reinforcements from Eversong drove off the troll detachment and reopened the supply line to Tirisfal.
Using the Moon Temple as their forward base, the troll coalition is locked in seesaw combat around Goldenmist. Superior numbers favor the trolls, but upgraded arcane golems let the High Elves hold the line against further northward pushes.
Flightmaster soared skyward on his gryphon, studying the differences between Zandalari and Forest Trolls.
Because of their height, Forest Trolls usually hunch while moving through the woods.
Zandalari Trolls stand utterly straight, looking more confident and upright, their bearing far prouder than their forest cousins.
As the oldest truly civilized troll empire, Zandalar abandoned cannibalism long ago and leads every troll race in technology and magic.
Zandalar's unique construct, the Dreadguard golem, matches High Elven arcane golems blow for blow, and their full complement of professions makes them tougher foes than Forest Trolls.
Warriors who revere Rezan's Light act much like paladins, rallying comrades and healing wounds on the field.
Raptor Druids shift into mighty Pterrodax forms to contest the skies against High Elven Dragonhawk Riders.
Flightmaster descended again and grimly relayed his observations to the gathered kings of the Alliance.
"Zandalari Trolls are far harder to handle than Forest Trolls. Fortunately this war is led by the Amani; had those two-hundred-thousand troops been Zandalari…"
Out of respect for the High Elven hosts, Flightmaster left the sentence unfinished, but the message was clear to every leader present.
"King Flightmaster is right."
Kael'thas teleported back from the tower, his delicate golden brows knit. "Had this been a purely Zandalari elite force, the Amani Forest garrisons could never have held them this long."
Lord Rhonin of Lordaeron shrugged. "So the Amani, desperate to reclaim their capital, are actually holding the war effort back?"
"Hardly surprising."
Andreas, whose people knew the Zandalari best, spoke plainly. "The Zandalari predate even us Night Elves; they were the first true Mortal civilization on Azeroth."
In culture, technology, and magic, the Zandalari—guided by the loa—have always walked the proper path. Had certain coincidences not sped up kaldorei civilization, Zandalar would still be the mightiest empire on Azeroth."
Many players claim humans are Blizzard's favorites, but before humans, Night Elves were the favored "cheat-race" of Azeroth's will.
Without stumbling upon the Well of Eternity, the Dark Trolls would never have evolved into Night Elves, drawn the moon goddess Elune's gaze, or bonded with the Wild Gods of Mount Hyjal and the Dragon Aspects.
The Well accelerated Night Elven civilization, condensing millennia of progress into a single thousand-year span.
Had Queen Azshara not courted disaster, had the War of the Ancients not halved the kaldorei through civil war and demon slaughter, humanity would never have risen; the Night Elf Empire would span all of Azeroth.
"For years the Zandalari were pinned on their isle by a mighty foe, unable to expand."
Andreas warned gravely, "Ten years ago the Old God Ghuun was cast into the dust of history by Zandalar. After a decade's rest they have no more worries at home."
"Helping the Amani reclaim their capital is only the beginning. Since Zandalar has chosen to reveal itself to Azeroth, we'll be 'seeing' much more of them. Let every leader prepare accordingly."
Andreas' briefing served as a warning to the gathered envoys and planted a subconscious wariness—and hostility—toward Zandalar in their minds.
This time, Zandalar's return left no doubt: they intended to vie for the position of top power in the world.
Setting aside whether they truly have the strength and confidence, as one of Azeroth's oldest empires, a direct clash between Zandalar and the Night Elves would inevitably trigger violent upheaval.
Before wiping out the parasites plaguing the planet, Andreas had no intention of wasting military might on such a conflict.
Moreover, Zandalar's people are short-lived; their birth rate far exceeds that of the Night Elves. If the Zandalari Empire cannot be crushed quickly, the longer the war drags on, the worse it becomes for the Night Elves.
The best solution is to incite other short-lived races to view Zandalar with suspicion and hostility.
Zandalar's assault on the High Elves under the pretext of helping the Amani Trolls reclaim their homeland is, from a moral standpoint, barely defensible.
Yet sometimes sentient beings' subjective opinions aren't swayed simply because one side has the moral high ground.
To humans, Gnomes, and dwarves, trolls are savage, brutal man-eaters.
Andreas gave an unbiased account of Zandalar's history, noting that the practice of cannibalism had long been abandoned.
But for the Eastern Kingdoms delegates, whose first impression was of the ferocious, battle-hardened Zandalari Trolls, Andreas' explanation did little to dispel their instinctive negativity.
Andreas' subtle nudging stopped at just the right moment; being too overt would only arouse suspicion.
As the High Elves' second wave of reinforcements arrived, the previously disadvantaged battlefield gradually evened out.
It was at this moment that Andreas received a transmission from the Third Skyfleet.
They had spotted a small Zandalari Golden Fleet at sea and asked whether they should attack.
"Fire!"
Andreas gave the order without hesitation. "Since Zandalar has bared its fangs at our allies, we needn't show the trolls any courtesy—sink them!"
With explicit orders, the Third Skyfleet immediately opened fire on the Zandalari fleet below.
Even before deciding to re-enter the world stage, King Rastakhan and the Prophet Zul had studied the Night Elves in depth; aerial fleets were notoriously hard to counter. Thus, Prophet Zul had outfitted the Golden Fleet with dedicated anti-air weaponry.
They were still Voodoo Fire-Bolts, but those mounted aboard the Golden Fleet's vessels had been specially modified by Zandalari engineers for high elevation, aimed squarely at large aerial targets.
As the skyfleet commenced its assault, the Zandalari navy below began evasive maneuvers and returned fire, the two sides trading barrages across the sea.
Overall, the Night Elves soaring above continued to hold a clear advantage—only natural given the circumstances.
Compared with the open, unobstructed sky, dodging and turning amid the vast ocean is far more difficult, rendering seaborne vessels less agile than their aerial counterparts.
Worse, the Zandalari anti-air fire-bolts suffered from a critical flaw—range.
Even with Prophet Zul's improvements, the bolts could barely reach the skyfleet's standard combat altitude.
When the admiral ordered the fleet to climb, the anti-air fire-bolts could no longer pose any threat.
"Open fire! Blast them to pieces and send them to feed the fishes!"
"Boom! Boom!"
Low-altitude destroyers, maneuvering at high speed, practically fired point-blank; their small-caliber arcane cannons swept the decks of Zandalar's Golden Fleet.
At maximum altitude, battleships loosed salvos of tremendous power—each direct hit guaranteed to sink a seagoing warship.
From Moon Temple, Zuljin could hear the fierce naval exchange. Initially confident, he grew increasingly anxious as the battle progressed.
His old adversary had changed much in the dozen years since their last encounter; High Elven forces now fought with markedly greater effectiveness, and the towns' defensive strength far exceeded Zuljin's expectations.
Multiple factors underlay Quel'Thalas' military improvements, foremost among them Kael'thas' crackdown on military discipline, followed by the new arcane weapons sold by their Night Elven allies and the High Elves' own refinements to arcane golem combat efficiency.
Mention must also be made of Kael'thas' construction of defensive systems.
In the past, High Elves scorned the idea of city walls, accustomed as they were to guerrilla warfare and rarely fighting defensive battles within towns.
Educated under Celeste's progressive ideas, Kael'thas did not relax his vigilance simply because the Forest Trolls had departed.
Even without trolls, the lessons of orcs and the Scourge remained etched in his memory.
Rather than cling to pointless tradition and suffer grave consequences, better to prepare defenses in advance.
The High Elves were hardly short of gold; spending a little to fortify their cities was but a drop in the bucket relative to national revenue.
As events proved, Kael'thas' foresight played a vital role in this sudden war.
Though Moon Temple and Sun Temple had fallen before defenses could be raised, that was largely a matter of personnel, not flaws in the defensive systems themselves.
Using several heavily fortified towns as pivot points, High Elven forces began compressing the front, pinning the troll coalition in the middle of Amani Forest between Moon Temple and Sun Temple.
After the Night Elf Republic's skyfleet sank the Zandalari navy, and at Alleria's request and with Kael'thas' tacit approval, the skyfleet headed south first to Windrunner Village.
The veterans under Lireesa's command were few; although pre-laid traps and ambushes had mauled Ji'A'lai badly, the disparity in numbers remained vast.
When the skyfleet arrived above Windrunner Village, the outer defenses had already crumbled. Enraged troll cavalry, charging into the evacuated village, engaged the High Elves in brutal street-to-street fighting.
"Boom!"
Without a word, the skyfleet delivered a saturation bombardment onto the troll rear guard. The cavalry, battered and scrambling for cover, could do nothing against the aerial onslaught, and Ji'A'lai hastily ordered a retreat toward Moon Temple.
"Whew…"
Watching the trolls finally withdraw, Lireesa sank to the ground, massaged her cramping legs, and gave a wry smile. "Truly getting old…"
In her prime, Lireesa had been confident she could wear down these troll blockheads with guerrilla tactics, but age had long since robbed her of the stamina and physique of youth.
Hours of continuous fighting left her increasingly exhausted; had reinforcements arrived a moment later, she had been ready to lay down her life for Quel'Thalas.
In the ruined square of Windrunner Village, an Azure Portal took shape. Aurora leapt through first, scanned for danger, then waved the others forward.
Shandris guided the heavily pregnant Celeste through the portal; the sight of Windrunner's devastation tightened her heart, but seeing Lireesa slumped by the fountain, she exhaled in relief.
Lireesa wearily raised a hand in greeting. "Sister Shandris, Sister Celeste, over here."
Shandris sighed, entrusted Celeste to Aurora's care, strode to Lireesa, and helped her up.
"You're no longer young either; why don't you take better care of yourself? Leave the fighting to the youngsters."
"Haha—" Lireesa teasingly poked Shandris' waist. "Look who's talking, Sister Shandris—to you, I'm still a child."
Shandris gave a helpless smile. "Still joking at a time like this."
After a moment's hesitation, Shandris finally voiced what she had long kept inside.
"Lireesa, if I ask Andreas, he could make an exception for you…"
"No need."
Before Shandris could finish, Lireesa knew what her old sister meant.
With a serene smile she waved her off. "My children are grown and have their own lives; I have no regrets in this lifetime."
"My husband went on ahead and is waiting for me in the next world; let me live out my days in peace."
Shandris had known Lireesa since her youth; back then she was still green, slowly drawing strength under her mother's shadow.
Three millennia later, that once-vibrant girl had become the silver-haired matron before her, and Shandris, who had never lost contact, felt a pang in her heart.
The unspoken half of Shandris' sentence was easy to grasp: as fellow kaldorei descendants, the High Elves would face no barrier receiving the World-Tree's gift of immortality.
Yet Lireesa had voluntarily surrendered that eternity, living her finite span to the fullest.
Eldest daughter Alleria, though rebellious, treasured family; to her siblings she was a mischievous yet utterly reliable big sister.
Second daughter Sylvanas, competitive and meticulous, inherited her mother's mantle and became an outstanding Ranger-General, deeply trusted by the new King, Kael'thas.
Third daughter Vereesa, innocent and winsome, brimmed with charm but lacked guile—ill-suited for central office; the post of ambassador ferrying messages and tending foreign ties suited her perfectly.
Youngest son Lirath, once spoiled rotten by his three elder sisters, matured as each embarked on her own path, standing on his own before their parents passed.
After her lifelong husband preceded her in death, Lireesa wished only to wait quietly for her own end—without regret—and gently declined Shandris' offer before it could be voiced.
Shandris sighed inaudibly and respected Lireesa's choice, mentioning it no more.
As the sky-fleet pierced the naval blockade and entered Quel'Thalas, the deadlocked war began to shift.
Deprived of air supremacy, the troll coalition buckled beneath Quel'Thalas' counterattack; no amount of Zuljin's raving could halt the slide.
Reading the tide, the Zandalari overseer coolly advised Zuljin, "Time for Plan Two—pull back."
"Tch! Damn elves!"
Zuljin slammed the Moonwell's wall. "Withdraw! Swing toward the Gate of Sargeras—one day I'll reclaim all that is Amani!"
Unlike hot-headed Zuljin, the Zandalari had foreseen kaldorei reinforcements and prepared a contingency.
On Zuljin's order, scattered troll forces regrouped and surged south as one.
The Gates' garrison was sizable, yet geared to ward the undead of the Eastern Plaguelands; inward defenses proved thinner.
Before Kael'thas could arrive with the main host, the troll host smashed the gate and fled into the Eastern Plaguelands under the astonished eyes of the High Elves.
Per later reports from Quel'Lithien, Zuljin led the remaining two-hundred-thousand trolls east into ZulMashar—and never emerged.
"ZulMashar?" Kael'thas tapped his brow. "The old Mossflayer citadel, lost during the Scourge—why settle amid shambling corpses?"
Andreas murmured, "Perhaps the Zandalari have means to command troll-dead."
After ten millennia, the Zandalari have weathered far worse; a few undead hardly faze them.
Their brazen march into Mossflayer ruins bespoke prior preparations against the zombies.
"I wager they mean to swell their ranks with those corpses."
Andreas looked up. "Sun King, how many Mossflayer undead remain?"
Kael'thas shook his head. "Uncertain, but given their numbers—at least a hundred- or two-hundred-thousand."
The Eastern Plaguelands were a tangle of wary, mutually suspicious powers.
First came the ever-bickering Scarlet Crusade and Argent Dawn.
Though Queen Jaina had bullied the two splinter knightly orders into uneasy cooperation—purging lingering Scourge and trying to heal the land—skirmishes never truly ceased.
Hardly fire and water, yet they could never quite see eye to eye.
Next, the Scourge remnants driven from Stratholme: Baron Rivendare led the undead into a secluded southern hollow locals dubbed Mushroom Valley.
Then came the Forsaken now holding Stratholme; under Nathanos they had signed a truce with Lordaeron, both striking the Scourge remnants from opposite flanks.
Yet every observer knew the accord would last only until the last Scourge corpse fell.
Stratholme was Lordaeron's key bastion east of the Plaguelands; once Jaina rebuilt her realm, retaking it from the Forsaken would be only a matter of time.
Finally, the High Elves maintained an outpost at Quel'Lithien—few in number, content to watch Forsaken and Scourge, intervening in no one's quarrel.
ZulMashar lay within Dawn's sphere; once intel reached Baron Maxwell Tyrosus at Northdale, he dispatched a probing strike.
"As expected."
Fresh from inspecting battered Antheris, Kael'thas sighed upon the report. "Mossflayer zombies held the Dawn off. Speaker Moonshadow, as you surmised—the Zandalari chose ZulMashar by design."
Antheris, bearing the war's brunt, saw its outer walls razed; of five-thousand defenders fewer than a thousand wounded survivors remained.
When Amani Overseer Da'kara withdrew, every bastion was half-slag; only the garrison's will forged a living wall.
When Sylvanas and Alleria raced from Tirisfal with relief, the spent Lirath collapsed on the spot, bloodied fists still clenched around his war-bow.
When Lirath awoke from exhausted sleep, the Amani Forest battle was over; the trolls had left only ruin behind.
Though Kael'thas itched to settle the score with the trolls holed up in ZulMashar, cold reckoning stayed his hand.
Via Quel'Lithien he furnished Tyrosus with detailed intelligence on Amani and Zandalari, opting for the stratagem of borrowing another's blade while Quel'Thalas healed.
Andreas surveyed half-ruined Antheris. "Sun King, name your needs; between our realms, no ceremony is required."
Kael'thas smiled courteously. "My thanks, Speaker. Should the need arise, I shall not stand on courtesy."
"Yet the Zandalari assault was not aimed at Quel'Thalas alone—how fare the other fronts?"
Andreas narrowed his eyes dangerously. "Still within bounds—but it may be time to teach Rastakhan and Zul a lesson they will never forget."
Andreas had no desire to fight a drawn-out total war with Zandalar; if he wanted to stop them once and for all, he had to inflict losses so agonizing on Rastakhan and Zul that they would never again entertain such notions.
After returning home, Andreas cut his vacation short and summoned Shandris, Jarod, and other commanders to discuss countermeasures.
"A lightning strike?"
Jarod rubbed his chin. "It's doable. Right now Zandalar's main army is tied down fighting the Pandaren in Pandaria. If we can wipe out that force in one blow, Zandalar will be crippled."
Andreas drummed his fingers on the table, lost in thought. After a long while he looked up at Shandris. "How's the Fourth Sky Fleet in Suramar coming along? Can they handle basic patrol duties?"
Shandris nodded. "Simple patrols are fine, but their training is still lacking; they'll perform poorly in real combat."
"Good enough for now."
Andreas smiled coldly. "Move the Fourth Fleet back to the homeland in secret; have it patrol a wide loop over Moonglade airspace."
Jarod's eyes lit up; sudden understanding flashed across his face. "So that's it—I see what you're planning."
Talking to smart people was always easier. Andreas gave Jarod a faint smile. "Then it's settled. Handle the arrangements, Jarod."
"No problem."
Shandris watched Jarod stride out of the office, her head full of question marks. "…What kind of riddle are you two playing at?"
Andreas chuckled and shook his head. "You'll know in a few days."
…Originally Andreas had meant to wait until Celeste gave birth safely before starting the war, but as the saying goes, plans can't keep up with change.
After lying low for ten years following Ghuun's death, Rastakhan could no longer suppress the restlessness in his heart and finally made his move.
Although the God-King and the Prophet never aimed directly at the Night Elf Republic, their real intention of stirring up the various troll empires was obvious—especially their long-term seduction of the Drakari.
Navaz's post-Draenor vacation ended early; he was reassigned to Suramar City to command the Northrend Army, stationed in Northrend alongside Governor Roddick.
The orcs living in Northrend also sensed the undercurrents. Go'el intensified scout reconnaissance, trying to find where the disturbance was coming from.
But with Orgrim gravely ill, the Warchief currently had little time to focus on such intelligence.
Intent on testing and training new blood, Go'el temporarily handed overall intelligence coordination to Jorin.
May, Year 25 of the Dark Portal: the situation in Pandaria continued to heat up.
Seeing the deadlock persist, Zandalar dispatched still more troops from its home island into Pandaria.
Though the Pandaren were also an ancient empire, their philosophy and domestic policies left them somewhat weaker in combat compared to Zandalar.
Were it not for the august celestials holding the line against the loa, the Pandaren—lacking experience in wars beyond the Serpent's Spine—would long ago have been overwhelmed by Zandalar's endless reinforcements.
The Golden Fleet based on the Isle of Last Hope gradually broke through Pandaren sea-and-air defenses, landing along the Dreadwake Shore, while detachments raced toward the Isle of Thunder.
The main reason for focusing the offensive on Pandaria was to awaken the Thunder King and gain the backing of the Mogu Empire.
Though Zandalar secretly directed hostility toward the Night Elf Republic, Rastakhan and Zul were keenly aware of the power gap; to overthrow the Republic's dominion over Azeroth, they needed a mighty and reliable ally.
The pact between Zandalar and the Mogu Empire dated back more than ten thousand years, to when the Thunder King still lived.
The Thunder King knew perfectly well what the Zandalari wanted: the secret of immortality.
But there was no secret—his immortality stemmed solely from having semi-permanently converted his body into that of a Titan-forged.
Each side schemed against the other: the Thunder King coveted Zandalar's versatile sorcery and sought to unravel its mysteries, while the Mortal Zandalari hoped to wrest the secret of eternal life from him.
The current God-King, Rastakhan, was a ruler of great talent and vision—so much so that even Rezan, who often forgot the names of kings and prophets, approved and used his own power to extend Rastakhan's lifespan.
Yet as a Mortal, no matter how extended, life had its limits; neither Rastakhan nor Zul wished to die so soon.
If they could awaken the Thunder King, Zandalar would gain a mighty helper and, from this resurrected Mogu emperor, learn the secret of eternal life—what could be better?
Sadly, Pandaria had been sealed too long, and the Pandaren felt no obligation to inform their enemies; Rastakhan and Zul knew next to nothing about the continent.
Driven by longing for immortality, Zul personally led the Golden Fleet to land on the Isle of Thunder.
But what greeted Zul was a long-collapsed ruin; inside there was no Thunder King—no Horse-Faced Thunder King either.
Unwilling to give up, Zul used his prophet abilities to dig up a Thunder King guard reduced to a stone head, extracting vital information.
The Thunder King's corpse was not buried in the Throne of Thunder, but in the true-and-false tombs of the Kun-Lai Range.
His confidence restored, Zul left the Isle of Thunder, returned to the Dreadwake Shore front, forcibly broke the tottering defenses of Zhus Watch, and marched into Kun-Lai to search for the tomb.
On the verge of "success," Zul failed to notice that the Pandaren had deliberately weakened the defense of Zhus Watch—precisely why the Zandalari were able to break through.
With the Sunspear Peak and the Temple of the White Tiger both pulling back their forces, Zul sent part of his men to seize Mogushan Vaults while he himself led troops into the Valley of Emperors within the snowy mountains.
After searching all seven tombs, Zul stood in the valley, his mind full of question marks.
Snowflakes swirling around him, the prophetic vision he had been blocked from finally returned.
"Not good—we've walked into a trap!"
Face paling, Zul urgently spurred his mount. "Retreat—out of this valley, now!"
"Heh~ leaving now—don't you think it's a bit late?"
The mocking voice from above sank Zul's heart; looking up, he saw a Night Elf hovering not far away.
"Andreas!"
With a snap of his fingers Andreas dispelled the wide-range mental misdirection spell, and Zul's men gasped in horror as the previously empty valley mouths were now blocked by grotesque stone Mogu.
At the same time, three air flotillas closed in from different directions; the sentries Zul had left at the valley mouth had already been wiped out by the stone Mogu.
Lightning flickered in Loken's eyes. The Great Guardian glared at Zul—it was he who had sealed the prophet's foresight.
"Mortal, I am Loken, Great Guardian of Azeroth. You sought power that was never yours—are you ready to pay the terrible price?"
As lightning-charged clouds blotted out the sky, crackling bolts struck the valley at random.
Loken raised his right hand, drawing all the lightning from the clouds into his grasp.
"Zandalari Trolls, the Thunder King you sought was merely a failed agent who stole my power. Now that I've reclaimed what is mine, can you guess his fate?"
Thunderbolts ripping across the heavens lit Zul's ashen face; every exit was sealed, and even with all his prophetic might Zul could find no way out.
"Boom!"
Andreas watched coldly as arcane cannonss and lightning storms engulfed the Zandalari host; screams echoed endlessly through the valley.
"Why do you all trust your prophet sight so much? Against foes above your level, the ability to glimpse timelines is meaningless. Those who are good with water drown in it—don't they, 'Prophet' Zul?"