Chapter Twenty-Seven: Who Dares Ambush the Mountain King?!

Regardless of the lives the orcs led in the Alterac Mountains or what their intentions might be, Arthas had no interest in them; all he wanted was the result of the orcs leaving the Eastern Kingdoms.

On a small island in Darrowmere Lake, Jaina held a bouquet of white chrysanthemums and placed them gently beneath the largest monument in the center.

She rested her hand against the cold marble and whispered, "History will remember everything you sacrificed for humanity. May you rest in peace."

Arthas embraced the young woman. "They will, and we shall remember them forever as well."

Jaina leaned into Arthas’s arm. "Sometimes, I truly don't understand why our world is always plagued by such disaster and hardship."

"The cold universe is more ruthless than anyone, Jaina," Arthas said, looking up at the azure sky, his gaze so profound it seemed to pierce directly into the infinite void. "But we will protect all of this, no matter the cost."

"I will always be by your side, Arthas." Jaina could feel the heavy weight in the prince's words; she knew her greatest support was simply standing beside him.

—Beep, beep, beep, beep!

Jaina froze, staring at Arthas. "What is that sound?"

"Uh," Arthas fished a communication orb from his robes and gave a sheepish smile. "Sorry, this thing is ringing."

"Is someone looking for you? To use a communication orb to contact you directly... it must be quite urgent."

"Let me see."

As soon as Arthas connected the magical runes on the orb, a loud, gruff voice boomed out.

"Hey! Can you hear me? —Why is there no sound?! You over there, check if this blasted thing is broken!"

Arthas’s eardrum nearly shattered. He replied, sounding annoyed, "Muradin, don't shout so loudly. I can hear you."

"Oh! You can hear me? That’s good, I thought this mage-gadget had malfunctioned again." The dwarf’s signature booming voice didn't let up. Muradin practically yelled at Arthas, "Aren't you supposed to be coming to Ironforge? When will you arrive?"

"I might have to stay in Stormwind for another day or two. You'll have to wait."

"Hey, what’s there to do in that newly built place called Stormwind? Come to Ironforge! I’ll treat you to roast cake and dwarven spirits!" Muradin chuckled.

"Muradin, don't think I don't know what you're after. Are you just eyeing the rare metal ore I have?"

The dwarven prince, his intentions laid bare, felt no embarrassment at all. Instead, he huffed, his mustache bristling. "Me, eyeing your little stash of thorium? My chair is made of thorium!"

"Then I’ll go ask His Majesty Magni for the favor instead, and you can go back to your adventuring?"

"Ha! My big brother is busy with matters of state day and night; no need to trouble him!" Muradin’s voice faltered, and he tried to change the subject. "Although my skill might not match Magni’s, I can certainly handle a bit of thorium."

Jaina snatched the communication orb and said with a smile, "Don't worry, Muradin, Arthas will definitely come to find you."

"Jaina? So you're with him. No wonder this lad hasn't been willing to come to Ironforge to visit an old dwarf," Muradin realized. "Then it doesn't matter if you arrive a few days late. I'll be in Ironforge all winter. That's that, we'll talk then. *Crackle—*"

Jaina handed the orb back to Arthas and claimed credit, "Solved it for you. How will you thank me?"

"Hmm..." Arthas feigned deep thought. "Shall I treat you to dwarven spirits as well?"

"Who would want to drink that spicy, bitter swill?" Jaina rolled her eyes at Arthas. "When you go to Ironforge, take me with you."

"In a couple of days. Let's enjoy ourselves here first. When we go, I might have to stay there for a week or two."

"Stay that long? I'll be back in Dalaran by then." Jaina’s expression fell; she suddenly felt that her teacher had given her too short a vacation.

"When I return to Lordaeron from Ironforge, I'll come to Dalaran to see you, and we can spend the Feast of Winter Veil together. How about that?"

"It's a deal!"

...

Ironforge is the city of the dwarves.

When the dwarves awakened in the mountains of Khaz Modan, they made their home amidst these towering peaks, and Ironforge stands as a microcosm of their ancient civilization.

Skilled at excavation, the dwarves hollowed out a mountain in Khaz Modan, constructing the city of Ironforge from steel and stone. At its heart lies the Great Forge—a natural furnace formed by surging, molten lava.

Master dwarven smiths have forged countless legendary weapons and armor upon the Great Anvil, and the finest blacksmith among them today is none other than the dwarves' own king, Magni Bronzebeard.

Under the leadership of this wise and formidable king, the dwarves repelled the frost trolls in the mountains and resisted the orcish invasion, ensuring the safety of their homeland.

As Jaina and Arthas stepped out of the Hall of Mysteries on the outer ring of Ironforge, they were immediately met with the dry, scorching heat of the air. Jaina had to pull down her hood and use frost magic to cool herself.

"Do you need a frost shield?"

She looked at Arthas, a cluster of frost energy coalescing in her hand.

Arthas shook his head. While the environment was unbearable for an ordinary human or a mage of average constitution, it had no effect on him, and there was no need to waste Jaina's mana.

The mage dissipated the magic in her hand and looked around the magnificent city of Ironforge. Constructed in a circular, multi-layered design within the mountain, the city spanned eight levels in total. They were currently on the fifth level, which connected the city to the outside of the mountain and served as the central hub of the metropolis.

Compared to the dwarves, who only reached the waist of an average human male, their city was incredibly vast and grand. At the very least, in the kingdoms of men, Jaina had never seen such expansive spaces.

"This is truly spectacular." Jaina blinked. This was her first visit to Ironforge, and the dwarven city was unlike any architecture she had ever seen.

They stood at the entrance of the Hall of Mysteries for a full ten minutes, yet there was no sign of Muradin, who had insisted on coming to meet them himself.

"Strange. Didn't Muradin say he would come to meet us personally? Where is he?"

Just as Arthas began to wonder about the missing dwarf, a stout figure wearing a fishing hat and sporting a long, reddish-brown beard came running over, breathless. He waved at them as he approached, "Ar... Arthas!"

"Brann?" Arthas looked at the dwarf in surprise—he was Muradin’s younger brother, the third of the Bronzebeard siblings, and a dwarf who aspired to be the greatest explorer in the history of Azeroth.

Brann Bronzebeard took off his hat and caught his breath. "That damn Muradin, I'm going to pull his beard out later! Sorry to keep you waiting, Arthas, and Jaina—my foolish brother fell asleep holding a keg of ale!"

Brann had heard that Arthas was coming and intended to join in the festivities at Muradin’s place, only to find the dwarf sprawled across his table, snoring away with a half-empty keg in his arms.

From his brother’s muddled, dream-filled ramblings, Brann heard him mention that he still had to pick up Arthas and Jaina. Brann knew then that they were likely still waiting for the sleeping dwarf to come and get them.

Brann had tried kicking Muradin’s backside, but found it impossible to wake the dwarf, who was dead to the world. Left with no choice, Brann had run over to find them himself.

"This..." Arthas found himself at a loss for words.

"I apologize on his behalf. Let me take you to him."

—Splash!

Muradin jolted up from the table, instinctively reaching for his warhammer and roaring, "Who dares ambush the Mountain King?!"

"The way you're drinking, even a troll whelp could twist your head off!" Brann, holding an empty water bucket, mocked his older brother mercilessly.

Muradin, with wet hair and a dripping beard, locked eyes with Brann, then spotted Arthas, whose mouth was twitching, and Jaina, who was covering her mouth to hide her laughter.

"Oh, Arthas, you're finally here!" Muradin pretended not to notice as he wrung the water from his beard. He glared fiercely at Brann and lowered his voice. "Couldn't you have used a more dignified way to wake me up?"

"I tried. I kicked your backside, but you didn't react at all."

Muradin covered his face with his large hand—damn it, how could he have fallen asleep after just a bit of ale? This was truly embarrassing!

A moment later, the old dwarf sat by the hearth, drying his damp beard and speaking to Arthas, "Well, I really am sorry. I meant to just taste the ale, but I accidentally drank too much in one go."

"I only returned to Ironforge a few days ago; it’s been ages since I’ve had such authentic Thunder Ale," Muradin laughed sheepishly.

Arthas didn't mind the blunder caused by the drinking, but asked out of curiosity, "You only just got back to Ironforge? Where have you been?"

"I went to see a few old friends. We're planning to set a date to head to Northrend and take a look; I heard someone discovered something incredible there."