“Our people suffer, Varian,” said Broll quietly.
Varian softened. “I know, my friend,” he said. “But this is a chance to cut the head off the beast. Regardless, the Horde ships will leave Darkshore and come to the aid of Orgrimmar.”
“It sounds like madness,” said Genn, growling a little and looking at Varian with narrowed eyes. “But the audacity and unexpectedness of it—it just might work.”
“It will save time as well,” said Taluun. “It is faster to reach Orgrimmar than Darkshore.”
Varian looked around. A few still seemed unhappy, but no one was protesting anymore. He hoped that he was right. If Garrosh found out what was being planned, or if for some other reason this attack failed, then he would lose nearly the whole of the Alliance fleet. All that would be left would be the elven ships still trapped in Darkshore and elsewhere.
But he couldn’t shake the sense of rightness he had about it. And that was what made a king—the willingness to make decisions and bear the responsibility for either success or failure.
The ships in the harbor were finally ready. More had come to join them, exquisite elven and draenei vessels that had fortunately been traveling elsewhere when the blockade had been enacted, no less formidable for their grace and beauty than the more practical human-, dwarf-, and gnome-crafted ships. The cluster of proud vessels filled the harbor to overflowing and seemed to reach all the way to the horizon.
The docks were thronged with citizens. Most of them were from Stormwind itself, but many others had traveled to participate in this historic occasion. It was a sea of living beings next to the sea itself, Varian thought, and wondered how many of those gathered to see their loved ones off would have the joy of welcoming them home safely.
The weather could not have cooperated more fully. It was a bright day with blue skies and sufficient wind to harness but not enough to make the sea rough. A band played cheerfully, inspirational martial music, and traditional anthems of each country and race to remind everyone that they belonged.
For all the air of celebration, as he scanned the faces in the crowd, Varian saw that there were somber expressions, even tears. This was war, not a mere skirmish with the soldiers back for supper. He had planned for it as best he could and was going himself to lead the troops, although his nobles had tried to convince him to remain. He could not send men and women off to face death without standing shoulder to shoulder with them. And when he walked out to the third tier of the harbor, beneath the great statue of the lion of Stormwind, the gathered populace cheered. For they knew he was one of them.
He lifted his arms as he marched out, with Broll, Greymane, Mekkatorque, Taluun, and the three Ironforge dwarves accompanying him. Banners of all colors were waved and the crowd roared. Varian lowered his arms, calling for silence.
“Citizens of the Alliance,” he said, his voice carrying to the eager listeners, “only a handful of days ago, the Horde perpetrated an act of villainy so calculated, so heinous, that it could only be answered by a call to war. And you have answered. You stand before me, ready to fight and die if need be, in order to preserve what is decent and good in this world. It is the Horde who started this war, not we… but by the Light, we will finish it!”
The crowd roared. Tears glinted on faces, but those faces were smiling.
“The attack on Theramore cannot even properly be described. There are opponents, and there are enemies; there are civilized beings, and there are monsters. There was a time when I made no such distinction. But being able to now makes our path even clearer and more righteous. By choosing to detonate a mana bomb over a populous city—an abominable act of utter cowardice—Garrosh Hellscream has clearly demonstrated what he is. And as he and those who follow him have chosen to be monsters, we will treat them thus.”
He continued. “We will never retaliate in kind. For we choose differently. But we will fight. We will stop them so they cannot continue their methodical conquest. We will embody all the Alliance stands for, and we will do so united. I stand here not alone today, but with King Genn Greymane. His people have turned a curse into a gift. The worgen will battle with greater hearts than you have ever seen—proving that they, unlike our foes, are not monsters. Without the aid of our dwarven and gnomish brothers and sisters, these glorious vessels could never have been built in time to save the rest of Kalimdor from falling to the Horde. The kaldorei, long our allies and to whose aid we go, already have many ships waiting to join us as they fight to free themselves. And the draenei, who have been as sure a compass of righteousness as any that could be imagined since their arrival in our world, stand here ready to spill their blood for others.”
He stepped back and spread his hands, indicating that the crowd should show its appreciation. His own could not have been more sincere. Never had Varian been more appreciative of both true friends and level heads. For long, long minutes, there was no sound but the cheering of grateful people.
Varian resumed his position. “As is common knowledge, I will be with our brave marines as we depart today. I leave behind one who is worthy to lead you, if need be. One who has already led before.”
Varian nodded. Anduin, who had been standing off to the side behind one of the massive cannons until he was called, stepped forward. The prince was dressed in the blue and yellow colors of the Alliance, a simple silver circlet atop his golden head, and was flanked by two draenei paladins resplendent in their glowing armor. And although he was much smaller than they, he was the one all eyes focused on. He was greeted by cheers and applause, and blushed a little; he was not used to public appearances. He lifted his arms, encouraging the crowd to quiet, and began to speak.
“I fear I will never be one to send off men and women into battle with joy,” he said. “Even though there could scarcely be a more just reason for doing so. The Horde has acted against us in a manner too terrible to ignore. All who believe in justice and decency must take a stand against the horrors of Theramore.” Varian, listening intently, recalled how the aftermath had been described, how it had turned Jaina from a rational, compassionate woman into someone who wanted—nay, hungered for—violence and revenge.
“If we do not act now—if these brave soldiers and sailors of the Alliance do not set forth now—then we condone what was done. We encourage, even invite, more violence, more slaughter of the innocent. Garrosh Hellscream has said bluntly that he wishes to drive out the Alliance from the entire continent of Kalimdor. We cannot meekly accept this. There comes a time when even the kindest heart must say, ‘No, enough.’ And that time has come.”
He lifted his hands and closed his eyes. “And to prove the rightness of what we do, the purity of the purpose for which this fleet now sets sail… I call upon the blessed Light, to touch all who would sacrifice, to protect the innocent.”
A soft light began to glow around his raised hands. It moved to envelop his body and then rose to hover above the crowd, showering down upon those who were prepared to fight and those who loved them.
“I pray that you fight with courage, and decency, and honor! I pray that your weapons be guided by the justness of what you do. I urge you to remember, as you go into the heat of battle, to refuse to allow hate entrance into your heart. Keep it a sanctuary, a temple to the memory of those so tragically slain. Remember at each moment you are fighting for justice, not genocide. Victory, not vengeance. And I know, I know with all my being, that if you go into battle with these things so firmly in your heart that no anger, no pain, can shake them, we will triumph. Blessings on you, soldiers of the Alliance!”