Chapter 438: Character Determines Fate

Before the Alliance forces from the northeast could converge, the Horde retreated like a receding tide. They even avoided the Alliance infantry that had circled to the rear of the Horde's formation, standing firm like a rock in the middle of a river.

At this moment, Duke was just a feather fan away from looking like a sage. The smile on his face was filled with an inexplicable confidence.

Even though he was only commanding known troops, it was as if he was controlling a magic box that could endlessly produce armies. He always summoned the most suitable troops at the most crucial times.

Orgrim's sharp surprise attack, under Duke's command, turned into a beautiful ambush from all sides. Just now, even the city walls of Lordaeron could see the fast ships from Dalaran and Gilneas coming from the direction of Lake Lordamere.

Arthas was first overjoyed to find that his hometown, his royal city, was saved. Then he was terrified to think of something.

"If the troops from Dalaran and Gilneas all come here, what about the Horde's southward attack in Silverpine Forest?"

Yes, what about that?

Not only Arthas, but several Alliance Marshals also wanted to know the answer to this question.

Duke really wanted to teach Arthas that 'not all who ride white horses are princes, they can also be monks. And those who mix with paladins can also become Lich Kings halfway.' However, for the sake of maintaining his image and not revealing the secrets of heaven, Duke pointed to the Alliance fast ships on the calm lake in the south, teasing Arthas.

"Your Highness, not all ships flying the Alliance flag are Alliance warships. Even if they are warships, it doesn't mean they are all carrying soldiers. The Horde will only see the Alliance's support coming continuously, but they will never know that only ships, food, and sailors are coming."

Whether it was Arthas or the other Alliance Marshals, they were all moved for a moment.

Duke pointed again to the huge military force in the northeast with a strict formation: "A hundred thousand army does not mean a hundred thousand elites! The real elites are only the first few squares. The rest are just farmers who have not been trained for three weeks."

That's right, Duke didn't have a magic lamp to conjure up armies. He just put the Gryphon Legion at the front to make a show. The rest were still the farmers provided by the local nobles of Lordaeron. After some training during this period, at least they looked somewhat like an army when marching. But once real swords and guns were involved, these guys who hadn't experienced blood and fire, no matter how shiny their armor, were still those timid farmers at heart.

The young Arthas was shocked: "This... this works?"

"Why not?" Duke casually flicked his sweat-soaked hair: "Didn't I gather all these troops to save Lordaeron City, which was on the verge of falling? As long as we hold on today, when your father's army arrives, it will be our Alliance's turn to encircle and suppress these two orc troops that have penetrated deep into the Alliance's territory." Arthas's eyes lit up.

Duke's timely commands, his realistic enemy disguises, his military arrangements that even fooled his own people... Duke's way of using troops, showing the real and the fake, opened Arthas's eyes and showed him what it means to be a commander.

The scenes Arthas experienced today, like a series of images branded on his soul, opened doors to a wider field for him, making him feel greatly benefited.

Suddenly, Arthas felt an impulse. He stepped forward and bowed his noble head to Duke: "Sir Marcus... can... can I become your apprentice and learn the art of war?"

Duke, as well as everyone else, was stunned.

Being the mentor to the prince of the strongest nation on the continent sounded quite prestigious! Unfortunately, when Duke thought of the historical Arthas who killed his father and his mentor, he felt a sense of disgust as if he had swallowed a fly.

Duke didn't answer. He cast his gaze far outside the eastern gate. There lay countless orc corpses, along with the bodies of more than two thousand civilians.

Duke's pupils suddenly contracted. He remembered the news that Lirath had told him about Arthas ordering the gates to be closed.

He was not a saint, nor did he have the ability to save every civilian in danger on the continent. In Duke's eyes, there was no option to choose between saving 300,000 people or abandoning 3,000.

If he had known about the enemy's attack in advance like Arthas, he would have arranged for these civilians to take refuge more securely, rather than deciding whether to abandon these civilians when disaster was imminent.

Before he crossed over, Duke often heard the old saying, "Do not commit evil, no matter how small."

The historical Arthas, because he wanted to take care of the overall situation, slaughtered the residents of Stratholme who were infected with the plague and about to become zombies, which led to his downfall.

Duke had wondered whether Arthas in this life would be different. After all, the current Arthas was just a teenager, a relatively innocent prince.

Duke suddenly realized that it was indeed character that determined fate. The scene of abandoning three thousand civilians was obviously unrelated to the original history, but Arthas still made a decision similar to that one.

Too ruthless!

The historical Arthas might have deserved sympathy, but this guy, at his core, was clearly a template for a hero!

With this thought, Duke made a decision. He pointed outside the east gate: "A commander can say that he must decide who will die at every moment. But the initial intention of a commander is to defend the country and the people. And the soldiers who carry out the commander's orders are willing to give everything for it. I think before you learn the way of the commander, Your Highness, you should first learn the principles of life and the way of the Light from Archbishop."

After saying that, Duke walked away without looking back, leaving the stunned Lordaeron Marshals and Arthas, who was dumbfounded as if struck by lightning.

Cleaning up the battlefield and counting the losses were of course not Duke's job.

Duke divided the troops into two parts: one part was the twenty thousand Stormwind infantry who had come from Hillsbrad. After one battle, there were less than fifteen thousand left. Duke let them all enter Lordaeron City; the other part was the army that came from the Northern Watchtower, with the Gryphon Legion at its core. They, along with the remaining less than six thousand cavalry, set up a large camp to the north of Lordaeron City, forming a horn-like formation with Lordaeron City. The main purpose was to prevent Orgrim's main force from merging with Grom Hellscream's hundred thousand orcs.

On this day, Orgrim was waiting for the arrival of the Ogre troops, while the Alliance was quickly organizing city defenses, also waiting for the reinforcements of Lordaeron's main force.

Finally, at noon on the second day, the Alliance first waited for Mograine, who had rushed back with his troops. When this future Ashbr

inger saw that the flag of Lordaeron was still flying on the city wall, this iron-like man dismounted and knelt on the ground, crying and kissing the land of Lordaeron...