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| Details |
| Author: | inkie |
| Summary: | The Heroes of Llane's Oath are invited to Stormwind Keep to squire Prince Anduin around for a day in the life of a leader. It happens to be a more exciting day in the life of a leader than usual. Some big revelations are made. |
| Rating: | M for Mature 17+ |
Atley wears his Knight's Colors tabard and awaits in front of the massive statue before Stormwind Keep. He is not chewing jerky today.
Bran swoops in on Bronzebird, dressed in… an attempt at patriotism? He's wearing blue and white, anyway. He has a hood pulled up over his head, possibly because hiding his hair is easier than tidying it. "How are ye?" he greets Atley.
Atley turns to peer at Brannagen through the slit in his helm. "Afternoon, Bran. How's the day?" He extends a hand.
Auralind hops down from the plinth where she had been lost in thought, and pads quietly over to Dane and Bran. "Elune adore."
Cressidha approaches with her brother, exactly on time. The Aspenwood Standard.
Colson is dressed for the occassion in his… usual plate armor. Well, it's military fashion, okay. At least he looks like a paladin, as usual. He is also almost exactly perfectly on time.
Atley offers Auralind a hand. "And here are the Aspenwoods."
"Good afternoon, everyone." Cressidha nods.
"Good afternoon, everyone," Colson says. Here are the Aspenwoods.
Aura hears a familiar shifting of armor and extends her hand, letting Dane find it.
"Look a' me!" Bran says cheerfully. "Look practically ready ta join Blue Squad!" He laughs merrily.
This is foreshadowing.
Atley half-nods as Auralind finds him. He takes a step back to look at each of them. "Right then. All squared away, are we?"
"I've got on a blue cloak an' tabard an' gloves," Bran explains to Auralind.
Auralind 'looks' at Bran. "You looks wonderful, Prospec–" Aw, he ruined her joke.
Cressidha smiles faintly.
Bran about dies laughing at Auralind.
Auralind smirks. She turns to nod to the twins. "Ishnu dal dieb, Aspenwoods."
Atley looks between them. "Right. Let's not keep the King waiting."
"I can always count on Auralind not ta be bothered by my lack o' fashion sense," Bran says affectionately.
Auralind chuckles. "I have to trust that I, myself, do not look garish."
The throne room is today empty of courtiers and chatter. Royal guards stand at attention around the walls, and King Varian stands on the dais before his throne and watches the group’s approach impassively.
Atley marches into the throne room, and stops before the steps to remove his helmet. He takes a knee and bows his head. "Your Majesty."
Bran bows deeply, then looks to the others belatedly to see if he's doing it right.
Colson kneels before the king.
Cressidha kneels before the king.
Bran was not. He kneels.
Aura follows suit to kneel, if a bit reluctantly.
Varian nods to the group. “We are pleased that you have answered our summons. Cobalt Company is famous for having served this kingdom and the Alliance well and loyally. Your team’s recent deeds in Deepholm aboard the Llane’s Oath have shown your diligence and courage admirably.”
Bran is polite enough not to reply 'damn straight' or anything of the kind.
The familiar blond-haired boy standing beside the King smiles at the group. King Varian puts a hand on his shoulder as he continues to address the Cobalt team. “Great burdens have been placed on my son’s shoulders in his short lifetime, and I fear his responsibilities are only going to grow. He will never learn leadership confined to the keep, but I am loath to send him forth without an escort — particularly at this moment, when Twilight cultists lurk in our city. I believe you would be excellent mentors for Prince Anduin.
“There is some pressing business you can attend to for us, and Anduin will accompany you to observe. Please, introduce yourselves. You’ll find my son is anything but shy.”
He stands aside from the Prince and smiles a welcome of sorts at the group.
Cressidha blinks. Well, it's no sewers. Yet.
Atley rises slowly, and solemnly keeps his helmet tucked under his arm. "At once, sire."
Atley marches halfway up the stairs to present himself to Anduin Wrynn. "Your Royal Highness, I am Sir Dane Atley, the Red."
Anduin takes him in wide-eyed. “You're one of the fiercest-looking warriors I've ever seen, Sir Atley!”
Bran gives Anduin a big smile, his eyes disappearing, almost. "Prospector Brannagen Stillwall! Ye can call me Bran."
“I'm training to be a priest, myself. One day I hope I can command as much power as you,” Anduin tells Bran earnestly.
"Ye look properly priestly in tha' white tunic, lad," says Bran warmly to Anduin, showing no sign whatsoever of deference, just the usual amiable respect he shows to everyone.
Cressidha rises gracefully and bows to Prince Anduin. "I am Cressidha, of House Aspenwood. A pleasure to see you again, your Highness."
Anduin turns to her, his gaze sparkling enthusiastically. “You're a mage, like Jaina Proudmoore? How long have you studied the arcane? It seems so difficult to master.”
Colson rises to a stand. "I am Colson of House Aspenwood," he says, after his older sister.
“You're a paladin?” Anduin asks in a tone of hushed respect. “Highlord Fordragon was, as well. He taught me a great deal. I… I still miss him.”
Moment of silence.
Auralind bows to the prince, "I am Sentinel Auralind Mistwalker, Your Highness."
“My father has taught me to be pretty handy with a bow, myself,” Anduin beams.
No, Anduin.
Cressidha gestures to Thaeru'kal. "This is Thaeru'kal, a spirit guide."
Anduin acknowledges the spirit cat with a wide-eyed nod. He is is already alight and overflowing with curiosity. “I’ve heard so many stories of Cobalt Company! Have you seen the World Tree? Are the tales of Vashj’ir true? Did you really meet the Dragon Queen in Northrend?”
"Aye!" Bran says, speaking for the Company as a whole.
Colson inclines his head in affirmative.
Atley sets his jaw and nods. "All true, Highness."
Auralind chuckles, already regarding the prince with a kind of maternal affection.
King Varian smiles fondly at his son, and then surveys the Cobalt group again. “Excellent. Anduin will learn a lot by shadowing you. Stay within the city’s borders and keep him out of trouble. Above all, guard him with your lives.”
He turns to his son. “Anduin, no ‘adventures.’ Stay with Cobalt Company.”
Atley turns back to King Varian and inclines his head. "Of course, Sire."
Auralind nods to the king, "Any who dare threaten the prince will not have the time to regret it, Your Majesty. I swear it."
Anduin nods solemnly. “I’ll be safe with them, father.”
Varian studies his son for a moment before addressing the group again. “There are two tasks you can perform for me. First — Stormwind is preparing the available ships of our new fleet. We intend to assault the Twilight Highlands.”
Atley knits his brow at King Varian Wrynn and listens attentively.
"We believe that Deathwing’s lackeys have holed up there, and possibly allied with the Dragonmaw orcs, who have become increasingly aggressive toward our allies in Khaz Modan.”
Atley scowls and tongues the inside of his cheek.
The King continues. “Fleet preparations, however, lag behind. Perhaps the men at the docks would be inspired and motivated by a visit from their Prince to remind them of the bright future. I want Anduin to observe how a natural leader handles the situation.”
Cressidha smiles gently at Anduin. "As you wish, your Majesty. And the second task?"
Varian’s expression grows grim. “Yes, the second matter: The city is still reeling from the seditious acts of the Twilight’s Hammer at Remembrance Day. They prey on peasant fears and corrupt even our noblest citizens.
“We suspect they may be behind not just grand public plots but acts of intelligence-gathering and sabotage from their concealment within our own populace.” Varian looks across the chamber to a man in Stormwind’s armor. “I tasked Major Samuelson some weeks ago with heading up the investigation. He’s just over there. See if you can assist his efforts.”
Atley grinds his teeth together. He follows Varian's gaze and nods. "Of course, Sire."
Colson flexes his hands at his side, but says nothing, his expression a mild neutrality of the Aspenwoods.
Atley gives Varian another crisp nod before he turns to Anduin. "Let's speak with Major Samuelson first, Highness," he growls at the boy.
Anduin nods solemnly up at Atley, his eyes shining.
"By your leave, your Majesty," Cressidha says, and steps down from the dais to address Major Samuelson.
Colson takes his leave of the king with another bow, and steps alongside Dane and the others.
The square-shouldered man with the severe haircut looks the group over. He nods curtly.
"Major Samuelson. We've come to aid in the investigation," Atley explains gruffly.
“Ah,” says the Major. “My investigation of the Twilight’s Hammer, yes. His Majesty wishes you to assist me?” He glances up at the throne. “Of course. Your aid will be valuable."
Samuelson leans toward the group and lowers his voice. “The King has noted the delays in outfitting the fleet. My investigations reveal it’s likely that there’s trouble among the Stormwind dock workers.”
Atley squints and grunts as he listens.
“Longshoremen are a coarse and shifty lot,” Samuelson says, “no doubt simple targets for bribery or corruption. I recommend you go down there and shake a few of them down, find out what you can. Go root out some of those infidels.”
Colson blinks at Samuelson. He is an Aspenwood. He has never 'shook someone down' in his life and he's not likely to start today. He glances at Dane.
Bran strokes his beard, an atypical frown appearing on his face.
Atley nods slowly. "Consider it done."
Cressidha smiles politely. "We can interview some of them, yes."
Auralind nods sharply.
The Major nods confidently. “Good luck, Cobalts.”
Cressidha bows properly to the king before leaving.
Colson inclines his head politely, and bows to the king before they leave.
Atley turns and marches out of the keep.
As the group turns away, Anduin touches Dane’s sleeve and murmurs, “Since we’re going down there for my father’s task anyway, may I help you with the Twilight’s Hammer investigation?”
Atley pauses and regards the Prince, before he looks to his comrades. "Don't see any harm in having you join us, Highness. You're wise beyond your years, and well-protected with this lot."
"You may advise, Your Highness. But you are to stay out of harm's way," Auralind says sternly. "We will deal with any danger."
Anduin beams again. He nods earnestly at Auralind.
Bran leans over to speak to Anduin; he doesn't have to bend down, but nor does he have to look up very far. "Now lad, I didna want ta say this in front o' the Major, as I didna want ta seem to contradict such an important man, but…. It's important fer a future king ta know tha' not all longshoremen are shifty. They're as different as any other lot o' people from each other."
Cressidha says, "That was a gross generalization on the part of Major Samuelson, and unkind of him. Many people are 'simple' targets for corruption and bribery."
Anduin nods seriously, looking from Bran to Cressidha. "That did seem… uncalled-for, yes."
Colson nods in support of both Cressidha and Bran. "I am relieved to hear you say so, Your Highness."
Bran nods solemnly at Anduin. "I'm glad ye understand. Yer a good boy."
Cressidha smiles gently at Anduin.
Aura gives Anduin a smile of motherly pride. He is her son now. It is decided.
"The Light teaches us that respect of all is a cornerstone of our faith," the paladin says.
Anduin nods seriously at Colson.
"Aye!" Bran agrees cheerfully.
Atley tugs his helmet on and keeps a sharper gaze than usual with the Prince in tow.
As they make their way through the city, Cressidha keeps an eye out for danger to the Prince.
Supply Sergeant Graves is a graying, tired-looking man. Armed with a clipboard, he is making chalk marks on crates stacked around him, muttering to himself.
"Supply Sergeant Graves?" Atley growls.
The man looks up at Cobalt’s approach, spots Anduin, and snaps to attention. He bows respectfully to the Prince.
Cressidha nods politely.
Atley steps in. "The King's sent us to assist in your logistical efforts. We understand there have been struggles."
Graves' expression crumples wearily. “Please understand, Your Highness, friends — the men are already working double shifts. The scale of this operation is enormous, and there have been so many… odd mishaps and miscommunications. No one is more frustrated than we are. But you have my word we are working as best we can to wrap things up.”
Cressidha makes a faint sympathetic noise
Atley regards the man sternly.
"Dinna fash, lad," Bran says to the supply sergeant. "We'll hear ye out. Sorry if the Major has given ye any attitude."
Colson inclines his head. "That can be most wearying, Supply Sergeant."
"Odd how?" Auralind inquires.
"Cargo missing, numbers altered, unexpected shortages," Graves tells Auralind, and waves his clipboard. He hesitates and then glances across the dockyard at a black-bearded dwarf standing among the siege engines. “But listen — something has gone amiss just this morning.
A whole shipment of siege engine parts was misplaced, and now my men are finding them scattered all over the yard. Would you be willing to help gather them up? They need to be delivered to Flintlocke there, so that he can finish construction.”
He nods toward the dwarf. The black-bearded one, not Bran.
"Whatever's gone amiss, we'll sort it out," Bran assures him.
Atley grunts inquisitively. "Of course, Sergeant." He turns to peer at Fargo Flintlocke from afar.
"Thank you. Thank you very much. Your Highness." Graves bows again to the Prince.
Colson murmurs a blessing of the Light for Supply Sergeant Graves, a blessing of Kings, because it's thematically appropriate. "The Light is with you," he reassures this man and his clipboard.
Supply Sergeant Graves smiles at Colson, wan but sincere.
Cressidha murmurs, "Siege engine parts…" Her last time collecting siege engine parts was in Deepholm. They were very large.
As they move away from the sergeant, Anduin asks, “Are you often sent to collect things for people? I suppose a hero’s work is never done.”
"Cobalt Company has made a name for itself by solving any number of problems, Highess. Simple and complex," Atley explains to the youth.
Bran chuckles. "It en't always glamorous, son, but we do what needs doin'."
"You would be surprised, Your Highness," Auralind chuckles.
"Yes, quite often," Cressidha answers honestly.
Anduin nods earnestly again.
"Keep a sharp eye, you lot. You can help us as well, Highness," Atley offers.
Colson keeps a sharp eye out.
"Also, lad,” Bran confides, “I swear I didn't try ta dress like ye today. Just coincidence. Ye wear it better, though."
Anduin beams. "I hope it means I look properly priestly."
"You do, Your Highness," Colson agrees.
Anduin straightens the front of his jacket and stands proudly.
Cressidha produces a very nice Emberweave bag and offers it to Anduin. "Here," she says, smiling. "It'll fit quite a bit inside, even these siege engine parts."
Anduin reaches for the bag Cressidha offers. "Oh, thank you, Lady Cressidha!" He opens the bag and peers into its interior.
"You're quite welcome." Cressidha nods.
The bag is empty, but it looks very deep.
"Amazing," murmurs Anduin, and closes it again carefully.
"I bet et's magic," Bran whispers conspiratorially to Anduin.
"While we're at it — you there!" Atley calls out to a Stormwind Dock Worker.
The man straightens up and eyes Atley narrowly. "Eh?"
"Notice anything strange afoot on the docks? Any sign of the Twilight's Hammer?" Atley grills. Subtle.
The dockworker’s eyes widen, but it looks more like indignation than unease. “I don’t know anything about that bloody cult! Let me get back to work, we’re running behind as it is.” He turns away, shaking his head exasperatedly.
"Of course," Cressidha says, and moves along.
Colson frowns faintly, but he nods mildly. "Of course."
Atley grunts mildly in his helmet and presses on. He points out a siege engine part to Anduin. "That's about your size I warrant, Highness."
Anduin steps forward and collects it carefully, tucking it into his new bag.
Atley raises a hand. "Afternoon."
The sweaty man lugging a crate eyes Atley dubiously. "Aye. Afternoon."
"We're scouring the docks for Twilight's Hammer," Atley explains to the dock worker, studying him.
"Have you noticed anything unusual?" Cressidha asks.
The dock worker's look turns dour. “The likes of me, a cultist? I just schlepp boxes, mate.” He looks around the yard. "You want unusual? Unusual's us working double-time because some fools keep fouling up."
Colson takes no offense at the words, as he blesses the worker with a Blessing of Might. "Thank you.”
Atley grunts. "Carry on."
The dockworker snorts at Atley and carries on.
Bran is hanging back and talking priest-shop with Anduin in a low tone. He might be deliberately distracting him from scary cult talk. Or he might just be enthused about shop talk.
"Excuse us," Atley says to another Stormwind Dock Worker as he repairs a ballistae. "We're looking for the Twilight's Hammer. Seen any about?" Atley growls.
This dockworker, a younger man than the others, pales and steps back, looking around anxiously. “What, that end-of-the-world cult? Here? Does the Guard know? Are we safe? How will I tell if I see one?”
"We're safe," Atley reassures.
"They're often dressed in purple robes," Cressidha says gently, "but not everyone who wears a purple robe is a cultist. You're more likely to identify them by their preaching."
"See to your duties, sir." Atley marches off.
The dock worker stands gazing forlornly after the group.
Auralind approaches another dock worker. "You. Have you encountered anything suspicious around the docks? Any sign of cult activity?"
This man steps back from his work to wipe his brow, and regards the group wearily. “Look, we’re all just here to work, and we’re doing that as fast as we can.” He looks around the busy yard. “There’s no man here has a minute to slack, let alone get up to cultish horseshit. And if one of them was trying to cock shit up on the job, the rest of us would have his hide. Last thing we need right now.”
"That's perfectly understandable," Cressidha says.
"Mind your tongue. You're in the presence of the Prince," Atley snarls.
"I'm sure the lad's heard worse," Bran says wryly.
I mean, his dad is his dad.
The dock worker looks at the boy. "Beggin' your pardon, Highness," he says, with what seems like Maximum Politeness for him, if not really for a normal person.
Anduin nods gravely. "Quite all right. Carry on." His cheeks are a little pink. Cussing! Neat!
Auralind nods curtly to the worker. "Go about your business."
Atley eyes the dockworker for a moment before he presses on.
Colson blesses the dockworker all the same. "Light be with you."
"Yer da' ever use words like tha'?" Bran asks Anduin mischievously, eyes twinkling.
Atley shoots Brannagen a Look but says nothing.
"Not… on purpose," Anduin confides, and grins.
Bran grins back at the Prince wickedly.
Atley waves down another dock worker. "You there. Notice any strange behavior in your workings here?"
The man squints. "Strange behavior? Like how?"
"Cultish behavior," Atley says, studying the man's response.
The man peers skeptically at Dane. "How would I know what cultish behavior was if I seen it?"
"You'd know," Atley growls ominously. "Carry on." He marches off.
"This particular cult is not especially subtle. If someone invites you to surrender yourself to the darkness and embrace the Masters, that is a cultist," Colson says mildly.
Bran chortles. He gives the poor man a wink as they leave.
The man gazes dubiously after them, then shakes his head and turns back to his work.
Bran casts Power Word: Fortitude on the nearest dock workers. He gives Anduin an unsolicited and cheerful lecture about Power Words.
Cressidha tries approaching a man repairing a support beam. "Pardon me," she says politely.
The man looks up and straightens at the address of a Lady. "Mum?"
Atley glances over and watches.
Cressidha offers him a bottle of conjured water. "Water, if you'd like. Have any guards been down here asking about Twilight's Hammer lately?"
The man eyes the water and accepts it gratefully. "Cheers, mum. Guards? I don't think, no. About that cult? Reckon I'd remember that." He shakes his head apologetically.
"That's quite alright. Thank you for your time." Cressidha nods to him and moves along.
Atley turns to them, and Prince Anduin. "Warrant that's enough inquiry. These dock workers know nothing."
Anduin looks up at Atley. “Does this… feel like a wild goose chase to you?"
Atley ponders for a moment. "It often seems that way, Highness," he explains to the Prince.
"Hm," Colson says in response to the Prince, a faint frown on his neutral face.
Anduin is frowning, gazing around the dockyard. “It… doesn’t make any sense. Would Major Samuelson send us on a wild goose chase? Something doesn’t feel right.” He looks up at the group, his blue eyes wide and earnest. “We should poke around a little on our own, don’t you think?”
"Yer a smart boy," Bran says to Anduin. "If somethin's hinky we'll sort it out, dinna fash."
Atley coolly regards the Prince, before he looks to the others and scoffs in amusement. "Wise beyond your years, indeed. Wot've you got in mind, Highness?"
Anduin nods. “I happen to know that some local farmers came recently to petition my father about some missing livestock. One of them reported ‘suspicious figures’ loitering around his fields. The city guard is stretched so thin right now it’ll be weeks before they investigate some missing cows. Will you come with me to interview Farmer Wollerton?”
"Of course, Highness." Atley nods.
"I love yer initiative, lad! Yer gonna make a fine keng." Bran beams at him.
"Oh? Certainly. Let's just turn these siege engine parts in first, shall we?" Cressidha gestures towards Flintlocke.
Anduin smiles, relieved and proud. "Thank you. And — yes, of course."
Atley approaches Fargo Flintlocke. "We've recovered a number of missing parts, Master Flintlocke."
Between his oil-smudged goggles and his bushy black beard and moustache, the dwarf’s face is obscured entirely except for the bulb of his nose. He looks up at the Cobalt team. “I’m tellin’ ye, ye can’t build a tank without parts!” he grouses. “If ye did, it’d be small. And pretty innerfectual.”
“That is so," Colson agrees with the dwarf.
Atley growls with amusement. "You'd be the one to know," he says to Flintlocke.
Cressidha opens her bag and begins laying out the parts she found.
“Eh? Wot? Ye found ‘em?” Delightedly, the dwarf rubs his grimy hands together and surveys the parts.
Bran admires the nearby rumbling tank.
Flintlocke begins rifling through the parts the group has brought him.
"Shouldna they have lion heads though? … I suppose lions are nae pointy enough…" Bran studies the tanks.
Flintlocke straightens and folds his arms across his chest. “But where’s me powder, eh? Can’t make explosives without powder. Pretty innerfectual.” He might be scowling at the group. It’s hard to tell.
Colson inclines his head. That is how technology works, as far as he knows.
Atley squints at Fargo thoughtfully.
“Ye go and tell these Stormwind fellas no powder, no power. No sense leavin’ port without our kersplosions.” Flintlocke tugs on his beard irritably and waves the group off. He is muttering about powder under his breath.
Cressidha nods politely.
Atley grunts and looks to Anduin. "Misplaced explosive powder…?" he growls aloud.
"A real unfortunate theng ta misplace," Bran agrees with the growl.
Colson says nothing directly, but he glances over at his sister. "Hm."
Anduin studies Flintlocke for a moment, his expression troubled. "That seems… worth following up? But this looks like a dead end, here. We've confirmed no one seems to know anything. Let's speak to Farmer Wollerton, meanwhile?"
Atley grunts. "At once, Highness. Let's move."
Colson moves, still frowning faintly.
Atley leads them to The Wollerton Stead, nestled in the heart of Stormwind itself. "Mr. Wollerton?"
"That's right," the man says, and looks around.
At the sight of the Prince, Farmer Wollerton takes off his battered brown hat and collapses awkwardly down on one knee. “Y-your Highness!”
Atley glares approvingly.
Cressidha gestures Anduin forward encouragingly and allows him to speak for them.
Anduin smiles at him. “Don’t worry about all that. I’m here with my friends from Cobalt Company because I heard you’ve had some cows go missing, and seen some shady figures around?”
The farmer tries to pull himself together. “Cows? M-my — you’ve come about my cows? Personally?” He looks over his shoulder at the ridge of hills behind him.
A handful of nervous-looking cows stand huddled together, close to the farmhouse.
Atley grunts at Wollerton.
Bran moves over to help the man when he decides to rise; he's lower down so it's easier.
Farmer Wollerton seems disinclined to rise any time soon. It's the Prince! On his farm!
“I normally just let them graze there, back of the house,” Farmer Wollerton says. “For years, no trouble at all. But now, lately — some mornings I come out and one’s… missing. And there’s… sometimes there’s blood. On the grass.”
Atley squints.
“My wife, Betsy, she says she looked out one night and saw some people by the trees there. She didn’t get a good look — said she felt like they were looking back, gave her a bad feeling. I took the shotgun and went out myself, but there was no one there. Another cow missing, though.” He wrings his hat in his hands.
Anduin is frowning. “I agree, that’s concerning. We’ll go and have a look.”
Farmer Wollerton’s eyes practically bug out. “You? Yourself? Your Highness? I….”
Anduin gestures cheerfully at the group around him. “I’m with Cobalt Company. We’ll be all right.” Without another word, he heads around the side of the house, past the worried cows, toward the back grazing area.
Atley glares at the idea of peasants being terrified and follows Anduin.
Auralind hurries after her s– the Prince.
Bran playfully casts a Power Word: Shield on Anduin when he gets too far ahead. He chuckles.
Atley squints as they find scattered piles of gore. "Looks fresh." He turns to Auralind. "Senses picking up anything?"
Cressidha pulls up her ice barrier.
Auralind crouches to sniff close to the ground. "This way."
Cressidha allows Auralind to take the lead.
Atley pointedly steps in front of Prince Anduin.
Anduin looks up at him, a little startled, but dutifully falls in.
"Ye should get used ta people tryin' ta protect ye, lad," Bran observes amiably.
Colson follows the others, a mindful eye on the trail as much as around them, a hand faintly glowing with the Light, a ready [Hand of Protection] for their precious escort.
Aura leads them along the scent trail, from one bit of gore to the next. "This trail feels deliberate," she opines.
"Stay sharp," Atley mutters calmly to Cobalt Company upon Auralind's opinion.
Cressidha stays sharp.
Colson stays sharp.
At the top of the ridge, an unnatural cloud of fog comes into view.
"Oh that en't right," Bran says mildly.
Atley squints at the cloud fog and grunts in agreement with Bran.
Aura sniffs. "There's something else…."
Within the fog, a bloodied stone altar stands.
“What is this place?” asks Anduin, looking around in horror. “Ugh, and that smell.”
"Looks like a lead, Highness," Atley says.
"Tie somethin over yer mouth an' nose, lad, an' have all yer spells ready," Bran advises.
Anduin approaches the gory altar cautiously. “Some sort of rituals were being performed here. It looks like a kind of… pagan initiation ritual that Velen once told me about. Bloody. Disgusting. What do you think — Look out!!”
Assassins! From the shadows! Everywhere!
"Protect the Prince," Atley snarls, transmuting the attacking cultists into more ground gore.
Colson protects the prince.
Cressidha calls down a blizzard, curving it around her allies to hit her enemies even in the fog.
Anduin casts shining shields around the members of the group as fast as he can.
Colson removes the poison that infects Dane in between strikes of his sword empowered by the Light.
The assassins fall.
"Your Highness! Are you alright?" Auralind is worried.
“You did it. They’re fleeing.” Anduin takes a deep breath and looks wide-eyed in the direction the cultists came from. “Assassins. Still right here in the city.”
Atley nods in agreement and growls at Anduin. "Curs. We'll root them out of our city, Highness," he says reassuringly.
"Tha' was well done lad!" Bran enthuses. Then he turns to the others. "Er… maybe we dinna mention this bit ta His Majesty?"
Anduin nods at Bran and makes puppy eyes at the team. “We don’t… really have to tell my father about that little ambush. It could have happened to anyone who came this way, and those cultists were no match for Cobalt Company. Really, we did a service for innocent citizens like Farmer Wollerton.”
Atley regards Anduin mildly, and pointedly doesn't overtly agree with a desire for discretion.
"Yer good a' this, lad! I'd say ye should join Cobalt Company when yer older if ye didna have other plans, heh heh." Bran gives him a thump on the shoulder he would probably be arrested for in the presence of Stormwind Royal Guards.
Anduin jolts a little with the force of the thump, but beams again.
Atley scoffs with approval and amusement at Brannagen.
“Say, what’s this?” Anduin picks up a badge lying on the altar among the candles. It shows a crossed axe and hammer. “It looks old. Maybe if we keep poking around, we can find out what it means?”
Atley inspects the sigil and grunts. "I warrant we can, Highness."
Anduin pockets the badge, frowning thoughtfully. “You know, it almost seems like Major Samuelson was intentionally trying to waste your time, too. The dockworkers didn’t know anything. And the Major didn’t even mention explosives missing from the Harbor, which you’d think he would if he knew you were heading that way.”
"This is lookin' pretty bad, aye," Bran agrees, without seeming particularly alarmed.
Colson nods slowly, lips pressing into a line.
The Prince shakes his head. “You know what I think? I think Samuelson knows more than he’s letting on. He probably already has a lead on the cult and wants all the credit for himself. We should go have a look at his investigation reports at the SI:7 headquarters and see what he really knows. If you take me there, they’ll certainly allow me to have a look.”
Atley nods. "A sound plan, Highness. We'll make it for it at once."
"Should we tell Farmer Wollerton?" Cressidha asks.
"A pass along the way is warranted, but we can't tarry long. We've to get ahead of this," Atley says.
Anduin nods earnestly. "We can tell him… he won't have any more trouble. We probably shouldn't mention the cult?"
"Not yet. We don't need a panic," Atley agrees.
"Very well," Cressidha says.
"Lo there ser!" Bran greets Wollerton.
Farmer Wollerton drops to one knee again. He's gonna have a bruise.
Bran pats him gently.
Atley says gruffly, "We've seen to the issue of your cows. At the moment, we can say nothing further, but know that you and your property are safe."
The farmer gazes up at the group round-eyed. "Truly? Thank you! Thank you, Your Highness. Cobalt Company."
Atley inclines his head and turns to leave.
"You're quite welcome," Cressidha says, and follows Dane.
Colson heals the farmer before they go. Sorry about your knees, buddy.
They head for SI:7 Headquarters.
“This is the place,” says Anduin. “Samuelson’s files should be on the third floor, all the way up.”
Atley grunts. "Right, then." He marches upstairs.
Bran rubbernecks in a way that indicates that unlike Atley, he has not been here before.
"Careful," Cressidha murmurs. There's no railing on the inside of this spiral staircase.
Bran playfully casts Levitate on Anduin, so he doesn't fall.
Anduin grins over his shoulder at Bran.
“Here we go,” says Anduin, and confidently approaches a cupboard. “Nobody here will question it if the Prince wants to glance through some files.” He takes out a handful of folders and spreads them on a nearby crate to page through each in turn.
Atley scoffs with amusement and nods.
Bran peers over his shoulder. No one has educated Bran on the proper amount of personal space to give a prince, apparently.
Anduin’s frown deepens. “This is all wrong. There’s nothing at all in here about the Twilight’s Hammer. What he does have is… a complete catalog of the missing explosives. What’s Samuelson playing at?”
The Prince takes a paper from one of the folders and shows it to the group. It does, indeed, appear to be a list of explosives of various kinds and measures. Drawn at the bottom is the emblem of a crossed axe and hammer. He takes the badge from his pocket to hold it up alongside the paper. “This can’t be a coincidence. Samuelson’s definitely up to something, but we need a smoking gun before we can accuse one of my father’s most trusted guards.”
Colson gives the prince an appropriate amount of space, even as he listens attentively to him. "Of course, Your Highness."
Atley squints. "Indeed, Highness."
Anduin gathers the folders up and tucks them back into the cupboard (in the correct place) — all save the list with its suspicious emblem. He closes the door and turns back to the group. “There’s one man we can trust to sort this all out: Mathias Shaw. You take these and show them to him.” He holds out the paper and the badge. “See what he thinks. Meanwhile, I’ll go back to the keep and watch Samuelson like a hawk!”
Atley turns his head to the side. "Only if you take a pair of guards with you as escort, Highness. Otherwise I cannot leave your side."
Colson nods with relief to Dane. He's not one to contradict royalty, but sure seems like a bad time to let a prince go around unescorted.
"That's all right," Anduin reassures the two, and takes a familiar white stone from his pocket. He brandishes it cheerfully, and in a greenish glow, disappears.
"Bit cheeky," Atley comments with a gruff fondness.
Bran grins.
Atley looks to the others. "Right then. To the Spymaster. Look smart."
"Ah. Well." Cressidha nods and heads down the stairs to speak with Shaw.
Atley descends the stair and removes his helmet, approaching Mathias Shaw.
Mathias Shaw surveys the approaching tabards and smiles tiredly. “Cobalt Company. I’d heard you were here with His Highness. What are you mixed up in now?”
"I'm Prospector Brannagen Stillwall, by the way," Bran says to Shaw, and then adds with a cheeky grin, "but I suppose ye already know tha'."
Shaw looks down at Bran. "I already knew that," he agrees.
Bran grins.
Atley offers the paperwork and suspicious badges. "We need your input on this, Spymaster. We're in the midst of a Twilight's Hammer investigation. We've been working with the Prince. We came across a number of Cultists slaughtering and sacrificing cows near the Wollerton Stead in the city limits."
Cressidha fills him in on what they found at the Wollertons', and the origin of the badge.
"We hope it is nothing of consequence," Auralind adds. "But…experience tells us it is likely otherwise.”
Shaw turns white. “Anduin has been… investigating the Twilight’s Hammer? Weren’t you supposed to keep him out of trouble?”
"The lad made a specific request, an' we didna feel it was our place ta tell him nae," Bran explains.
Shaw accepts the paper and the badge and raises his eyebrows. “Of course I know the symbol. Before Deathwing’s attack on the city, it belonged to the guard unit in the Old Barracks, west of town overlooking the harbor.”
"Ah," Colson says.
Atley squints at Shaw and nods slowly as he listens.
Shaw looks up. “Your timing is impeccable, actually. One of our agents, Jack Bauden, has been trying to infiltrate the cult for me. Last night, he went missing. This mark may mean the cultists are holed up in the Old Barracks.
“Time is of the essence now. Head to the barracks, take out any cultists you find holed up there, and see if you can rescue Agent Bauden.” He pauses and surveys Dane. “And Atley? Tell your wife good luck in her new endeavor.”
Atley pauses, and eyes Shaw for a moment. "I shall pass your condolences along." He tugs his helmet back on. "Let's move, you lot."
Bran blinks at Atley. Atley has a wife?
Colson glances from Shaw to Dane, eyebrows raising slightly. The what now who huh.
Cressidha starts unrolling her carpet right here in the building. "Understood." She moves.
Atley shakes his head with disdain as they pass the destroyed parts of Stormwind.
Bran sketches them.
The Old Barracks are charred and half-collapsed in the wake of Deathwing’s attack on the city, but that does not mean they are deserted.
Atley scowls as he sees Crazed Cultists wandering the ruins of the Old Barracks. "Kill them all," he growls.
Colson exhales slowly, adjusts his gauntlets, and gets to work killing them all.
Cressidha uses violence about it, as directed.
"Watch yer step, friends," Bran says amiably, ignoring the cultists as he picks his way over rubble and tosses out heals.
Colson watches his step.
Crazed Cultists charge them. "I will prove myself to the master!" one cries. "The master will end everything!" shrieks another.
Auralind leaps down from a wall, filling a cultist with two arrows before she lands on the ledge below.
Bran keeps her healed.
Cressidha makes her way carefully down a staircase that seems to be still in one piece.
Most of the barracks are not in one piece.
Cobalt’s team descends into a basement.
A muscular blond man whose FC is the actor Kiefer Sutherland is tied unconscious to a chair.
"Brannagen —" Atley growls and points at Jack Bauden, charging over.
When he sees the unconscious man, Colson rushes to his side, a heal at the ready by reflex.
Cressidha remains on guard.
"Let's get him some healing, you lot." Atley growls.
Bran casts a Flash Heal on him.
Colson gets him some healing.
The man lifts his head and squints blearily at the group. “W-what are you doing here?”
"Savin' ye!" Bran says cheerfully.
Atley grunts in agreement. "Shaw sent us."
"We are Cobalt Company," Colson explains slowly. "Are you Jack Bauden?"
“Shaw did? Yeah, I’m SI:7 Agent Jack Bauden, and this has been the longest day of my life.” This is a reference to a television show I never watched.
Atley grunts. "Right."
“Don’t worry about me right now,” Bauden tells them grimly. “I’ve uncovered the cult’s plot. They’ve been stealing and stockpiling explosives coming into Stormwind Harbor.”
Atley narrows his eyes.
Bauden continues urgently. “Somehow they’ve gotten exclusive access to the catacombs under the Cathedral of Light. They’ve mentioned a man on the inside they call ‘the Black Bishop.’ There’s no time to warn the guard! I have no idea how long I was out for, but this thing was already underway. Get to the Cathedral and disarm that bomb or thousands of people will die!”
Bran's eyes go wide.
Colson frowns heavily enough that it's definitely visible on even the stoic paladin's face. "Understood," he says calmly. "We will not let that happen."
"Move. Now!" Atley growls, whistling for Thoras.
Colson's aura shifts as he calls down Bunny from the sky.
Cressidha burns the ropes binding Jack Bauden away very neatly as she hops on her carpet.
Atley rides Thoras directly into the Cathedral, nearly knocking over a priest, to the chagrin of many of the devout.
It's Colson. Colson is the devout. He sends the priest a quick Holy Shock as he follows Dane into the Cathedral.
Atley swiftly dismounts and produces Thunderfury. "To the Catacombs!" he barks.
People scatter uncertainly at the dramatic arrival and the shout. Are they supposed to go — ? No, oh, okay.
"There's a bomb," Cressidha says vaguely, blinking off her carpet. You can panic now.
People panic.
"Evacuate!" Cressidha yells as she runs downstairs.
Bran assists the people in panicking in the right direction, then hurries after the others.
Cobalt’s team rushes downstairs to find the catacombs infested with babbling cultists.
"Cut them all down! We can't be delayed!" Atley roars.
Colson cuts them down. He cannot be delayed.
Auralind obeys the order without hesitation. Arrows fly, felling cultists one after another.
Bran was briefly delayed in reminding people which way was EXIT, but he is all caught up now.
Some cultists are so mentally rent that they don't even seem to react to Cobalt Company's arrival. "Shethnoth, ol'goth, Grell. Such is the mantra of those who come…" babbles one. Atley idly bashes him with a shield as he passes.
In the deepest chamber of the catacombs, a man in all-black bishop’s regalia stands across the vault from them. Behind him, a shimmering magic barrier protects a genuinely horrifying stockpile of gunpowder and explosives of all kinds.
"That is genuinely horrifyin'," Bran observes calmly.
The Black Bishop turns as Cobalt enters. His smile is unpleasantly off, an expression that belongs on someone else’s face. “So. The game begins.”
"This is where it ends, cur." Atley snarls before he charges in.
Colson glows with the Light, his eyes a shining gold. "This is not a game," he says.
The Bishop laughs. "Bishop takes pawns!" He casts a shadowy spell.
Cressidha snaps her fingers in a Z-formation to counterspell it.
Colson bonks him on the head with a Hammer of Light.
A lot of chess references ensue, but in the end it’s checkmate, Black Bishop.
After the Bishop falls, Atley leaps over to the explosives, yanking off a gauntlet. He dabs his fingers with saliva and douses the live fuse.
Beneath the unfired explosives is a litter of papers: evidence, it seems, that the cultists intended to destroy in the explosion.
Atley glares and sifts around through the papers, though he does regularly glance at the pile of explosives.
Included among the papers is a roster of names — and a letter signed by Major Samuelson, outlining the plot to his fellow cultists in detail.
"Welp," says Bran.
Colson, very unpaladinny like, curses sharply under his breath. Colson Marie Aspenwood. Gosh.
Bran raises a brow, smiling.
Atley growls and swipes up the letter. "Gather it all, you lot. Major Samuelson. Seems we're attending a beheading today."
Cressidha puts explosives in a bag. The loud dwarf at the docks can probably get the powder from these later.
"The lad was right on it, aye? He's got good enstencts." Bran beams. Because it's good news that a traitor is hanging out right next to the king, I guess.
"His Majesty and His Highness are in danger," Colson observes. "We must move swiftly. Samuelson may suspect that we have halted this plot when the explosion does not sound."
Atley gathers the evidence and rushes out. Some Babbling Cultists linger, 'harmlessly' cringing and jabbering in corners. "Aye. Leave this lot. They can be questioned later."
Meanwhile, Thoras has knocked down a candelabra and screeches deafeningly at a beleagured priest. Atley hops on. "Pardon," he growls before riding out.
Cressidha hops on her carpet and flies after Dane.
Bran too. But gryphon.
They fly swiftly and directly toward the keep.
"Take the side entry!" Atley growls.
Atley once again rides Thoras right inside the keep and dismounts. The Stormwind Royal Guards snap to murderous attention at the abrupt arrival.
In the throne room, Major Samuelson still stands to the King’s right, at attention in his gleaming Stormwind armor. At Cobalt Company’s dramatic arrival, he narrows his eyes. “Back so soon? What did you learn from the dock workers?”
"That yer a rotten liar," Bran says amiably.
"A traitor," Atley adds.
Auralind keeps her ears sharp, listening to the reactions of the other guards.
Cressidha pulls up her ice barrier.
"And a pawn of Twilight's Hammer," Colson says with all the righteous fury of the Light's judgment.
"It's over, Samuelson,” Atley growls. “We know who you are and we've put a stop to your scheme at the Cathedral."
Bran continues smiling. Somehow it's ominous.
Major Samuelson begins to laugh, as badguys do. “Yes… yes. It's all true. I am not ashamed. The powers I submit to make mortal kings look like insects.” He draws a hidden dagger. “But I am not yet finished. Death to the King!”
Samuelson dives toward the throne.
Anduin cries, “Father, watch out!” He casts a radiant shield over King Varian, and Major Samuelson falls back.
Colson throws a [Hand of Protection] on Anduin.
The Major yells, “Gods of shadow, lords of twilight … give me strength! Al'golath mal shal'nel… darkness consumes….”
At Samuelson’s cry, he is wrapped in tendrils of shadowy energy and lifted above the floor of the chamber. He writhes and screams in the shadows’ grip, and then his human form seems to boil away and there is a n’raqi in his place.
Colson closes his eyes briefly, but stands at the ready to defend the King and the heir.
Bran has gone white as marble.
The Faceless One drops to the floor and bellows triumphantly at the King, preparing to charge.
Varian stands fast behind Anduin's glowing shield.
Atley growls and calls out, "To arms!"
Colson does not have to be ordered to act, as the ground beneath their feet glows with the holy Light, and the paladin moves to defend his king and prince with all he has.
Atley charges the monstrosity, Thunderfury crackling.
Auralind whips out her bow and unleashes a torrent of arrows at Samuelson. No mercy for traitors.
The other guards in the room leap to assist, but Cobalt Company has the situation well in hand, and the monster is cut down in a matter of moments.
Atley drives Thunderfury through its horrific face one last time for good measure before he turns to the King and the Prince.
Bran's amiable manner has completely fallen away; he looks shaken ever since the guy transformed. (This may be why he failed to shield anyone.)
King Varian, too. looks shaken. “What… was that thing?”
"N'raqi…" Bran manages.
"A servant of the Old Gods, sire." Atley growls.
The King shakes his head slowly. “Samuelson — I can’t believe it. Corrupted by the Twilight’s Hammer? This must have been going on for… years. In the upper ranks of the Guard — right here in the Keep!”
Varian looks the team over somberly. “It seems the kingdom is once again indebted to you, Cobalt Company. The city and its people could have suffered a grave harm. Words alone can’t do justice to your heroism this day.”
"There are still some cultists beneath the Cathedral," Cressidha says to the nearest member of the guard.
The man nods grimly at Cressidha and jerks his head to beckon a pair of his fellows. They head down the hall, orders being barked as they go.
The King turns to Prince Anduin. “And once again, I may have underestimated your command of the Holy Light. You saved my life, son, if not the entire kingdom.”
Prince Anduin straightens, glowing with pride. He turns to Cobalt Company as well. “Thank you for… everything, today, friends. It certainly was an educational day.”
Atley removes his helmet and inclines his head with respect. "The future of the Grand Alliance is in good hands, Your Highness," he says.
Auralind bows her head to Anduin. "You have shown your mettle as a hero of the Alliance today, Your Highness."
Colson nods, his face caught in a mask of neutrality, his gauntlets still bright with the Light.
Bran still looks not quite himself, a bit pale and shaky, but he manages a smile and a wink at Anduin.
Atley bows low, and holds it, before he looks to his comrades and walks out the side entrance to reunite with the mounts.
Colson waits for the sign of dismissal from the king before he bows to him, and the prince, and follows Dane.
Cressidha bows properly to the King and his son and follows Dane.
Atley stops at the ledge and overlooks the city. He turns to Bran and firmly clasps him on the shoulder. "We've seen worse, haven't we. Remember that wretched cavern beneath Icecrown Citadel?"
Bran is in no way reassured by the reminder of the cavern beneath Icecrown.
Atley grunts and shakes his head, taking his hand off of Brannagen. He turns to look the others over. "How are we, then?"
"We have cultists operating out of our most holy order, and corrupting our city," Colson says stoically. "Not well, I should say."
Cressidha pats her brother's arm. "I believe I have quite a bit of gunpowder to return to the docks," she says dryly.
"Could've been werse," Bran says with a feeble smile. "We stopped these ones."
Atley nods at Brannagen. "We may've cut the head off this thing in the city. I recommend we each linger, and spread out, see wot' stabilizing needs doing."
"I must speak with Mordecai," Colson says. "Light be with you all." Everyone gets one more Blessing of Kings, thematically appropriate for the day.
"I'll see to Mr. Wollerton." Atley looks to Brannagen and inspects him.
"I thenk we all need ta acknowledge just how much worse things might've gone without the lad's — the prence's initiative," Bran says solemnly.
"I am pleased to see that our prince has good instincts and a good heart," Cressidha says.
"That's one special young man," Bran says.
Atley inclines his head. "He's a wise lad. A good Prince. The kingdom is fortunate to be ruled by the Wrynns."
Cressidha nods.
Atley hops off the ledge. Thoras catches him and they zoom away.