Chapter Nineteen: Katerina Presto

“Your Highness, His Majesty is looking for you.”

While Arthas was practicing swordsmanship in the training grounds, a royal attendant found him. Arthas sheathed his training sword, wiped the sweat from his face with a coarse cloth, and replied, “Understood. I’ll go immediately.”

After washing his face with cold water, Arthas made his way to the study where his father worked. He knocked on the door, and his father's deep, commanding voice came from within.

“Come in.”

“Good day, Father,” Arthas greeted respectfully, then noticed a stranger with chestnut-red hair sitting on the sofa. “And who might this be?”

“Allow me to introduce: this is Duke Bolvar Fordragon, the envoy from the Kingdom of Stormwind.”

“Pleased to meet you, Prince Arthas,” Bolvar said with a smile as he shook Arthas’s hand.

Arthas was surprised that the Grand Duke of Stormwind himself had come on a diplomatic mission. “The pleasure is mine, Your Grace.”

“Bolvar brings greetings from King Varian. He congratulates you on becoming a Paladin of the Silver Hand and on your brilliant victory in the Troll Wars,” King Terenas said, looking at his son with a kind gaze. “Bolvar and I have nearly finished our discussions. He also mentioned he has something to tell you.”

“That’s right. The reason is this: King Wrynn’s son has been born, and he invites you to Stormwind to attend the birth celebration of the young prince.” Bolvar produced an invitation and handed it to Arthas. “At the same time, King Wrynn is very eager to meet you.”

“I am honored by this invitation, but…” Arthas glanced at his father.

Terenas understood immediately and smiled. “You should go. I’m granting you an extended leave. Return after this year’s Winter Veil is over.”

“Thank you, my generous father,” Arthas expressed his gratitude, then turned to Bolvar. “When do we depart?”

“The mage tower in Stormwind is ready. As soon as we connect with the portals here in Lordaeron, we can leave at any moment.”

“I understand. Give me a day—I need to prepare a gift for my little nephew.”

“As you wish, Your Highness.”

After leaving his father, Arthas went to his residence beside the palace and entered his study. Just as he sat down, he noticed a letter on his desk.

He picked it up and began reading.

“Your Highness, our men have successfully landed in Northrend and begun establishing a camp. As you instructed, we set up on the southern shore of the Tundra and have started dispatching scouts to investigate the ‘spiders.’”

The letter was brief. After confirming the status of the Privy Council’s operation in Northrend, Arthas paid little further attention to the far northern lands. He had only sent a small team, all elite rogues and excellent scouts.

Their mission was to relay timely updates on Northrend’s situation. Arthas had no intention of acting in the North just yet; to obtain what he desired, he’d likely have to lead a force to the peak of Icecrown Glacier.

That would be too troublesome and costly. Arthas had the patience to spend years waiting to catch this “big fish.”

For now, he needed to select gifts for his friend and his friend’s son.

The next morning, Arthas and Bolvar stood atop the high tower in the mage district of Stormwind. Seeing Bolvar’s pale face, Arthas placed a hand on his shoulder and gently released a small burst of holy light.

“Thank you. I feel much better now,” Bolvar said, his previously ashen complexion improving. “I really can’t stand the dizziness from teleportation.”

“You’ll get used to it after a few more times,” Arthas said, surprised that the future renowned grand duke suffered from teleport sickness.

“I’d rather not use it at all if I can help it,” Bolvar smiled wryly as he led Arthas out of the mage tower. He preferred traveling by ship northward to Lordaeron rather than relying on the recently established portal network.

“Let’s go to Stormwind Keep. I believe His Majesty is already waiting for us there.”

The royal lineage of the Stormwind Kingdom traced back to the lords under Emperor Thaladin. He and his loyal followers left the North to explore the southern continent, hoping to find new lands to settle.

After enduring countless hardships and crossing many mountains and wildlands, they discovered a vast forest at the continent’s southern end. The first settlers of Stormwind established themselves in this forest they called Elwynn and built their capital, Stormwind City.

However, they faced challenges: to the south of the forest lay a vast primal jungle, frequented by numerous trolls who threatened human territory.

Thus, the first king of Stormwind, a military man, transformed his capital into a fortress city. Perched against the mountains, Stormwind Keep itself was his royal palace.

Sadly, during the First Orc War, Stormwind fell. No fortress could withstand the terrifying red tide of the orcs—marking the end of that war as recorded by historians.

The frenzied orcs burned the prosperous city to ruins in retaliation for the humans’ fierce resistance.

Today, Stormwind has been rebuilt, larger than ever, shining as a jewel of human civilization at the continent’s southern tip.

Prince Varian Wrynn, who fled north with Marshal Anduin Lothar during the war, had been Arthas’s childhood friend. Time had passed, and the boys who once sparred with wooden swords in Lordaeron’s palace training grounds had assumed different roles.

Arthas had become a Paladin of the Silver Hand, a hero against the trolls; Varian returned to Stormwind, wearing the heavy crown as the new King.

Older than Arthas by a few years, Varian was now married with a son. To honor Marshal Anduin—Stormwind’s last hope and the man who led humanity to victory against the orcs—he named his son after him.

—Anduin Wrynn

Walking through the rebuilt streets of Stormwind, Arthas sensed a subtle decay beneath the bustling surface. He shook his head. This was not how a newly born city should feel.

Though rebuilt, the hidden rot of Stormwind was smoldering beneath the ashes.

It was evident: while the city, streets, and houses were new, most faces in the crowds were not joyful. They seemed to live in constant anxious worry.

“Stormwind’s situation is grim as well,” Arthas thought. It was far worse than Lordaeron had ever been.

Before they reached the main gate of Stormwind Keep, a luxurious carriage drew alongside their group. A silk curtain was lifted by a delicate, pale hand, and a beautiful noblewoman smiled at Bolvar.

“My dear Grand Duke, what a coincidence to meet you here.”

“Good day, Countess Prestor,” Bolvar’s previously sour expression from teleportation instantly brightened.

“Oh, please don’t be so formal. Just call me Kathrena,” the countess replied in a sultry yet languid voice that could melt most men’s hearts.

Unfortunately, despite Bolvar’s great strength, he remained a man like any other, clearly fond of the Lady Kathrena Prestor.

Arthas subtly shook his head, but he couldn’t blame Bolvar entirely. After his wife died shortly after giving birth to their daughter, Bolvar had sent his daughter Tyelia away to the distant kingdom of Kul Tiras for her safety during the Orc Wars.

Having lost a complete family, Bolvar’s longing for what once was was understandable. And the countess clearly knew what he needed, effortlessly striking at Bolvar’s vulnerabilities with mere words and gestures—no enchantments required.

If she were just an ordinary human noblewoman, Arthas would consider it no great matter. But she was not.

Unbeknownst to most, including Bolvar’s daughter Tyelia, who might be shocked to learn her father once sought a dragon stepmother, the countess's true nature was revealed under Arthas’s soul sight.

Within her was not a frail human soul, but the powerful essence of a dragon!

This Lady Kathrena Prestor was none other than Onyxia, daughter of the Black Dragonflight’s Dragon Aspect and former Earthwarden, Neltharion.

Her visit to Stormwind served two purposes: to fulfill her father’s mad schemes to undermine human unity and to indulge her own unique perverse pleasures.

Tempting a mighty Paladin was clearly a source of great interest to the black dragon princess. Coupled with Bolvar’s yearning for tenderness, she held the grand duke’s heart firmly with no magic beyond her words and demeanor.

Thus, anyone observing would see Bolvar simply as a man desperate for love and affection, never suspecting “Kathrena” for what she truly was.

“Cunning tactics, manipulating human nobility so easily,” Arthas thought, assessing Onyxia.

In truth, Arthas was intrigued by her—not for her beauty, but for her draconic essence. She was a true dragon, a descendant of dragon kings!

Beyond her inherited knowledge, her dragon blood, scales, and sinews were priceless treasures—an ideal tool dragon, indeed.

Onyxia sensed Arthas’s burning gaze and almost smiled. She remembered him as the prince of Lordaeron, yet even he could not resist her charm. Ha! Men!