Journeys - K,J (Patreon)

I will make one update a week. Whether I get a second out will, for the moment, be dependant on whether I have the chapters ready beforehand – building a buffer is important both for stability and quality.

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The glass was cold beneath Katherine's fingers, buffeted as it was by the chill rains of the late winter storm. So heavy was the rain that, even from the vantage point of her husband's high office, she could scarcely see the waves where they crashed upon the wharves beyond the Seagate. Boralus had not faced such a storm unprotected in decades; not since the last time the Tidesages had been so severely depleted.

Her lips firmed into a harsh line as she remembered that last storm. Dark weather oft heralded dark times in Kul Tiras. It had before and it would again. A warning from the Tidemother, one they would do best to heed. No matter its source.

"I can't say I think much of this." Arthur mused, the sound of fingers tapping on wood belaying the intensity of his emotions behind his soft words. "What would we gain from it?"

"Not a thing. It isn't feasible." Priscilla declared loudly, her papers slapping hard against Daelin's desk. "An expedition? We already sent one. I understand your worries, storms Daelin, I do, but we've not the sailors for it. We won't match half of what we sent with her already, not even if we gut the patrols of Baradin Bay until the pirates sing your name and cut the merchant marine to the bone."

Daelin grunted, one Katherine knew well. He knew he was beaten but wouldn't surrender – not yet. "With Lordaeron's fall we scarcely have any trade for the merchants to carry."

"With Gilneas' reopening we have more trade than we did a single year ago." Priscilla countered swiftly. "And with little Calia safe she'll need supplies. From us, Stormwind, abyss, even Stromgarde will be chomping at the bit to keep her in place just to spite Gilneas." She sighed deeply. "Daelin, you know this."

Another grunt. "A single ship then." He relented, unhappy but willing to compromise at last. "The swiftest we can spare. To tell them to come home."

Katherine drew herself away from the window, moving to stand beside her husband. "You will not be on it." She stated, sharp eyes directed down at him. "There is too much at stake here and now. Jaina will... manage alone."

He met her eyes for a single moment before turning to glare at his desk. "I did not intend to. Captain Alverold will do."

"Hmm." Prisiclla rubbed at her heavy chin, frowning deeply as she debated the course of action. "Need to chart a course for future voyages..." Snapping her fingers at her husband, she was dutifully handed a sheaf of papers on which she started scrawling orders and plans. "There'll be something worth having there. So long as we've got a foothold we'd best make it profitable."

"I will ask amongst the sages who might be spared for the voyage." Brannon said softly. Unspoken was that there were precious few left; the young man was yet still unsuited to these meetings, far too unsure of himself and his authority.

Understandable in some ways. Failing to join the ranks of the Tidesages as a Stormsong was... a rare occurrence. Yet Katherine knew Kristain valued that same trait, desiring to pass the responsibilities of representing the Tidesages to one who would not be torn between politics and their duties to the Tidemother as he had been.

Perhaps she should speak with Kristain upon his return. Giving Brannon some responsibilities now would give him a chance to regain the confidence so damaged by the whispers that surrounded his inability to hear the Tidemother.

"Good." Daelin grumbled, hardly satisfied but accepting the compromise. "Priscilla, you mentioned the trade with Gilneas. Have matters been settled with Crowley?"

She waved a hand flippantly. "Beyond the absolute fortune in grain we are receiving for free? A return to the terms negotiated under Archibald's reign with little deviation, which is much to our favour. With Alterac defunct and Lordaeron's heartland... gone we will need their steel." She glanced at Arthur with pursed lips. "Unless, of course, Lord Waycrest is willing to increase the quotas he asks of his people?"

He hummed softly before shaking his head. "I will ask, but it is best we do not seek more of Drustvar than it provides willingly."

Priscilla scoffed at that. "Bah. Gilnean steel and cannon will have to do then. Some days I truly wish Ironforge had a proper port, what I could do with access to their foundries..."

"Very well." Daelin sighed tiredly, leaning back in his seat. Katherine rested a hand on his shoulder supportively. Neither of them liked Gilneas much, not after decades of dealing with Genn Greymane. "Bring the agreement to me and I will sign it, I remember father's terms with Archibald well enough. They were fair."

"I suppose..." Brannon said, freezing as Katherine turned her gaze to him, "ah, next is the discussion of how to aid Queen Calia? We can hardly–"

He was interrupted by Priscilla grabbing a folder and waving it at him. "Four ships already prepared. Two filled with building supplies, the third with weapons, the fourth preserved foodstuffs." She looked up at Daelin and sniffed. "I've taken the funds for them out of the budget for supporting the Alliance, which is a far better use for it that King Terenas' interment project ever was."

Katherine smiled at her friend's swift actions. Though Priscilla, coin counter that she so often was, hated charity, she knew what they would have planned and must have begun preparations the moment they became aware Calia had survived.

"With the Admiral's leave," Arthur said as he stood, "I offer the services of the Waycrest Guard to reinforce her position. The marines are, as ever, a terror upon the seas, but the guard are more familiar with land warfare. And..." His eyes turned grim. "The darker things that can emerge from the shadows."

"Because the guard has faced more than myths and stories, oh, three times in the last thousand years?" Priscilla asked mockingly. "Still, that will spare more marines for the patrols."

Rather than taking offence, Arthur simply smiled; something that infuriated Priscilla to no end, just as it always did.

Katherine knew that Arthur was a kind man, a good man, but sometimes he could be infuriatingly vague. More so than even Stormsong when he spoke of his visions of the Tidemother. As far as she could recall, his father had been little different – the Waycrests did so love their mysteries.

"Send those best able to train others." Daelin ordered. "Foremost we must rebuild Lordaeron's ability to defend itself. If we leave Queen Calia dependant on others for defence, Genn–" He cut himself off, face scrunching up in confusion and distaste. "There will be those that take advantage of her. I will not see Terenas' heir reduced to a puppet."

Arthur smiled lightly and dipped his head. "Of course, Admiral. I've just the men in mind to help get the Lordainian's back on their feet."

"Well then," Priscilla sniffed and brushed a few crumbs off of her jacket, "with that settled there's not much else except who were sending to represent Kul Tiras to the Alliance." She rolled her eyes dramatically. "And whether we're letting the Gilneans back in after all."

"The Lord Admiral will be going, won't he?" Brannon pointed out the obvious, failing to notice the rhetorical nature of Priscilla's question. "Who else would we send?"

"It is a matter of principle." Katherine said, taking pity on him as Priscilla shot him an undeserved disdainful glare. "This is a council and the Lord Admiral's rule is not absolute. Should you decide that another is more suited to represent Kul Tiras, then they will be the ones to do so." Though not without much argument from many a quarter.

Brannon nodded slowly. "I see."

In theory the Waycrests, Stormsongs, Ashvanes, and Proudmoores were equal rulers of Kul Tiras... yet over the years, especially since the wars against the orcs, the people had come to look to the Proudmoores foremost, and Brannon was too young to have known any other house to be ascendant. Last had been the Ashvanes, a long century of peace and prosperity lending a great headwind to the mercantile house and their endeavours.

"As to Gilneas' returning..." Daelin drummed his fingers on his desk, then let out a long irritated sigh. "I have found no reason to speak against their bid and I will not do so without due cause. Nor any others that might seek to join their forces with ours."

"Anything to stop the idiots from bottling up behind that wall again is good news to me." Priscilla said, moving to stand and smiling up at her husband as he jumped to his feet and offered her a hand. "We'll have the trade agreement on your desk by the morning, and I'll tell the ships to collect your men from Corlain, Waycrest."

She and James soon departed, Arthur giving his own farewells and following suit. Brannon lingered for a moment, seemingly expecting a dismissal, but after he flinched from a flash of lightning on the seas he left also.

Katherine looked to the window and at the storm once more, the ever rising tempest that sought to break itself on the walls of Boralus. The warning they were given, the herald of dark times. Just as it had been that fateful abyss-damned day of dragons and fire.

Her hand tightened around her husband's shoulder. "You should not have sent the girl away."

It was his own words which prompted her chastisement. What others might seek to return to the Alliance? What of Stromgarde, of Quel'Thalas? Would they recognise the folly of abandoning their allies in these uncertain times? Or those across the ocean, what peoples lived there before the expedition, and the orcs, arrived.

He looked over his shoulder at her, a fierce scowl drawing down his proud features. "How could I not?" He rumbled angrily. "She would have our daughter consort with orcs! With monsters! There must be consequences to such foolishness."

"There must." She replied, giving a sharp nod of agreement and releasing her grip on his shoulder. Such foolishness needed to have consequences. It needed to be corrected. Gwyneth Arevin did not understand the orcs, the evil they inflicted upon the world with their monstrous presence. She was young, she had not lived through that time, and further still she saw events through some strange future-twisted lens. It could be forgiven so long as the mistake was amended in time.

Another bolt of lightning fell from the heavens, and the roll of thunder soon followed. The storm showing no sign relenting.

Warnings and portents, prophecy and doomspeaking. The insult driven into her heart when accused of not trying to warn them of what was coming. "But still," Katherine said, her fingers pressing against the cold rain-soaked glass once more, "you should not have sent her away. It was ill thought."

An argument of forgiveness would not convince him of this. When it came to the orcs there was no forgiveness, no mercy, in her husband's soul. The memories of that dark day still burning as harshly as the fires that stole Derek from them.

But there was a reason why Katherine had believed the horrid possibility the Gilnean girl had presented. "Not long after she arrived in Dalaran Jaina wrote to me, of the wonders of the city, and of her journey with– with the prince." She couldn't bring herself to say his name, not alongside Jaina's. "One night they passed an internment camp and... he convinced her to sneak out to see the orcs.

"She wrote at length of what she had seen. Of the lethargy of the beasts, of the filth they resided in, of the abuse they received." No less than they deserved. "And how cruel it seemed to be – the sympathy and pity she felt. How no creature deserved such treatment."

Her hand clenched into a fist against the window before she pulled it behind her back, clasping her hands together stoically. Oh how she wished she had rebuked Jaina more harshly, made more of her foolish compassion towards the beasts, but she had brushed it aside. All to focus on Jaina's burgeoning companionship with the prince instead. The orcs had been beaten, captured, and in time would die out – it had seemed so unimportant.

Behind her, her husband's fist slammed into his desk, and she turned to see him quivering stood halfway out of his chair and with anger.

"Our daughter would have made her choices regardless of Gwyneth Arevin's words." She said softly. "She merely told Jaina what she would have done and warned of her what she would find. Sending her away was ill thought."

For more than a minute the only sound was the pounding of rain upon the glass, but eventually Daelin slowly recede into his seat, his arms folded in front of him with forced control.

"Foolishness leads to consequences." He chuckled tiredly. "Even my own. No doubt I have soured that well of goodwill."

"Likely." Katherine said drily. Finding a way to offer recompense prior to her departure would be difficult, if not outright impossible, but it would need to happen eventually. Even beyond her foresight she would soon have too much influence to be ignored. "Perhaps once Jaina returns she can be invited to a family dinner?" She offered. "It might even get Klinar and Finn to forgive you as well."

-oOoOo-

Feeling the warm glow of the sun's light upon her skin Jaina shifted, stirring from sleep and stretching the stiffness from her limbs. Sheets were tossed aside for another to handle as she rose to meet the day; a simple spell burned away the worst of the night's filth from her skin, and another set a brush to begin work on her hair as she gathered her robes from where they had been left.

After months on campaign the pleasures of having time to manage a morning routine could not be denied. The chance to sleep in, to not wake before dawn and sleep far after night had fallen, a luxury without equal.

Jaina began to hum as she looked over her notes for the coming day. Uther had returned late last night, along with a slew of other guests. Beyond the trouble his new green-skinned squire was going to cause, through no fault of her own, Jaina would need to ask Pained if there was any particular etiquette for interacting with dryads.

And make sure Anessa kept Aderic on a short leash as she learned from him, lest he antagonise them. How she and her father tolerated his insults Jaina didn't understand at all.

Scribbling down those thoughts, she paused. The dryads weren't exactly... human, were they? Would they need to make accommodations for where they slept? It was a complication, though hardly the largest – figuratively or literally – they'd faced considering the living island floating in the bay that kept telling long-winded stories to any child that lined up on the docks. Had she more time Jaina would listen in–

"Slept well, did you?"

In an instant Jaina turned towards the intruder's voice. All around her a barrier of ice and chill snapped into existence, and more coalesced in her palms, ready to strike down whoever thought themselves clever enough to sneak into her chambers and ambush her in her sleep. With an arcane word of power forming on her lips she took in the intruder.

A woman. Old by the greying of her hair and her milky white eyes, yet her skin was smooth and taut with youth. She sat calmly in a plush armchair richly coloured red with gold accents, one that would not look out of place in the halls of kings – and one that had not been there the night before.

Two things drew Jaina's attention further and gave her pause. The woman wore the robes of an archmage, the wide sleeves, the high crest behind the head... the magic thrumming within the fabric so very familiar. Yet, where those of the Kirin Tor were of blues and purples, those of Silvermoon reds and golds, hers was a serene white with only accents of purple. And upon her shoulder, meeting her gaze with a cocked head, was a raven with almost shimmering feathers.

Jaina lowered her hands slowly, bidding her racing heart to still as she dipped her head – but not her eyes – to the ones before her. "Magna Aegwynn." She said softly. "Guardian Medivh. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company this morning?"

The Magna snorted in a most undignified manner. "You mean our intrusion. Now, answer the question girl. Did you sleep well?"

It took a great deal of self control not to lick her lips nervously. "I did, yes."

"Good." The Magna smiled broadly. "You can never be too careful with Nathrezim, as often as not binding them is part of their schemes. Or else they are exceptionally good at improvising a new scheme when the last goes awry."

Eyes widening, Jaina felt a new, entirely separate, rush of anxiety run through her. There was a dreadlord here?! By the way Magna spoke it had been the cause of the nightmares plaguing the city since the battle. Nightmares that she and many others had assumed were mundane, caused by the horrors they had all witnessed, but if it was the work of a demon it lent a new danger to the outbursts that had been reported amongst those afflicted.

There would need to be an investigation, those afflicted tested for Fel taint at the very least; with Uther's return they should be able to ensure that no further ills fall upon them.

Mind racing, Jaina thought back to her own nightmares. Those of Thrall spurning her offered hand and leaving her to die to the undead, of the cold hand of... him reaching down to her from on high after she fell. Telling her she was a fool to think any other was worthy of her.

"They weren't just to traumatise us." She said quickly. "It was part of an effort to undermine the peace we have with the Horde, tenuous as it is."

"Quick, aren't you." The Magna said, an amused lilt in her voice as she raised an eyebrow. "Don't assume you have discovered the full depths of this one's scheming. Undoubtedly there is more to it than just that. But," she braced herself against her chair and rose to her feet, "there are more important things to done. We'll be late if we don't depart today."

More important things than a dreadlord in Theramore?! "But–"

"Bound and dealt with." The Magna brushed her off, the pat of a jewel on her belt that shifted to a disturbing Fel green at her touch little comfort. "I'll find somewhere to store them later. Now, get dressed! I'll not be late because you spent too long making yourself presentable!"

Jaina stared at the impatient old woman before her, a woman who had once been the greatest mage in the world, and found her respect waning. She was not a child to be ordered around.

"You cannot break into my quarters as I sleep," Jaina said, a hint of irritation slipping through her calm, "tell me that a dreadlord has been influencing my dreams, and expect that I will simply accept that it has been dealt with. Nor can go you distract me by declaring that I will be late for some event that I have no knowledge of."

Aegwynn crossed her arms and met Jaina's gaze. "You will find that I can. Unless you wish to miss the gathering of the Alliance in Ironforge? A face familiar to us both will be present to offer her case for her people to return to the fold."

Gwyneth, her mind supplied, and her eyes flicked to the now well-worn tome she kept beside her bed. But though she would like to meet the Gilnean girl again, there was more to what Aegwynn had said.

"You know what–" Jaina returned her gaze to where the Magna had been, only to find her gone. The only trace of her presence opulent armchair that sat in the corner of the room. "–is happening across the ocean." She finished to the now empty room. "Really? You just teleport away? What if I don't do as you ordered?"

Huffing at the rudeness of the Magna, Jaina returned to her morning routine. Being sure to be thorough, and slow, she went through the process of preparing herself for the day. To go about the tasks that would see Theramore grow and prosper...

Under Alicia's rule.

Looking out the window, at the swiftly growing skyline of the city that was being build largely in the Gilnean style rather than that of Lordaeron or Kul Tiras as she would have done, Jaina had to admit that this wasn't her city.

Much had changed from the predictions she had been given. She held no fast friendship with Thrall, the city wasn't hers, she wasn't even the leader of the people here. Respected, and many looked to her for guidance – Alicia counted her amongst the council of Theramore... but she wasn't the one they all relied upon as it might have been.

Some part of her felt envy for what Alicia had, sorrow over the companionship she had failed to build. Yet far more felt relief; relief that she was not responsible for so many lives and their well being.

"I could go home." She said softly, meeting her own gaze in the mirror and finding herself wavering.