Chapter 386: The Crownless King

Regrettably, their prince was beaten like a dog in the initial battle by the Horde.

Despite the royal family and the Silvermoon Council tirelessly praising Duke's glorious achievements, every elf with a bit of sense knew that the high elves had failed once again and had to seek help from humans.

Rather than a grand welcome for a hero, this was a spectacle where a hundred thousand elves had to witness the noble and great high elf race being nailed to the pillar of shame once again.

The only difference was that this was not a humiliating surrender ceremony, but a welcome ceremony in the name of allies.

The Sun King and the Silvermoon Council were left with their last shred of dignity.

And they desperately needed this shred of dignity.

With an army of seventy thousand annihilated and ninety percent of their territory fallen, even the most optimistic elf wouldn't dare to hope that the high elves could weather this crisis alone.

The panicked citizens needed confidence.

The desperate and suffering soldiers needed hope.

And these were things that the Sun King and the Silvermoon Council could not provide to their citizens and soldiers.

Duke - the most formidable orc killer in the history of Azeroth, the main culprit behind the death of five hundred thousand orcs. His arrival undoubtedly injected a shot of adrenaline into the elves of Quel'Thalas, who were teetering on the edge of hell.

Therefore, Duke's arrival undoubtedly left the elves in a state of extreme conflict.

Joy, shame, unease, warmth... all sorts of thoughts were present.

At ten in the morning, the vast Farstrider Square was already packed with elven civilians. When their own king and council could not provide a sense of security, seeking a new lifeline became a part of the survival instinct.

If at this moment, Duke encountered some situation and couldn't make it, or if the portal was disrupted, preventing the promised reinforcements from arriving, it would undoubtedly plunge the elven citizens into deeper despair and fear.

Fortunately, Duke did not stand them up.

At exactly ten o'clock, in the center of the square, a huge circular portal as tall as a five-story building opened. Under the shimmering glow of arcane energy, ten high elf mages in uniform Morningstar robes quickly assisted in stabilizing the portal from the other side.

Under the gaze of a hundred thousand pairs of eyes, the portal revealed a rare sight in Silvermoon City at this moment - green mountains and clear waters, followed by the orderly and rhythmic sound of horse hooves.

A huge and pure white warhorse, as if performing a dressage, stepped out of the portal with rhythmic steps.

The first thing that came into the view of the elven citizens were twelve human knights in shining armor.

Despite their Stormwind Kingdom silver and blue knight armor, surprisingly, the flags they held were a hodgepodge of different designs.

At first, some uninformed citizens let out a low chuckle.

Just two seconds later, they let out a heartfelt gasp.

Because those banners were Horde banners, among them was a banner with the same symbol as the one currently besieging Silvermoon City - it was the banner of the Blackrock clan.

Not only were there banners, but there were also a dozen grotesque orc heads frozen in ice by frost magic. The banners stuck in the ice, written in Elvish, declared the identities of these heads. These heads were all those of Horde chieftains, the most conspicuous of which were the large characters 'Head of the former Warchief Blackhand'.

Yes! That's right!

These Alliance knights were displaying their battle achievements to the elves in the posture of victors, showing Duke's great deeds!

Following the twelve knights were twelve earth mages. As soon as they appeared, they stood neatly on both sides, their bodies bowing at a forty-five-degree angle, waiting for the arrival of the most crucial figure.

Finally...

With a loud thunderclap in the sky, Duke made a dazzling entrance.

Accompanied by that deafening thunder, Duke, who appeared in the portal, was wrapped in a tornado storm composed of five different elements.

The writhing chains of lightning.

The violently swirling shield of wind.

The incredibly hot serpents of flame.

The bone-chilling cloak of ice.

The unparalleled glow of arcane magic.

Five completely different forces were harmoniously combined, forming twelve rotating elemental energy spheres floating above Duke's head.

With this move, Duke directly outshone Prince Kael'thas, who had long been known for having three arcane energy spheres floating above his head. In fact, not only Kael'thas, but also the waiting Speaker Mornens, had a look of embarrassment on his face.

Duke was someone the Silvermoon Council had begged and pleaded to come, even if he was blatantly slapping their faces, the Silvermoon Council could only swallow their teeth with the blood.

Mornens pretended to see nothing, putting on a warm face and going up to greet him with Illyria.

"Welcome, Master Duke."

"Duke, you're here. My father has been waiting for you."

"I am Speaker Mornens, and on behalf of the Silvermoon Council, I welcome your arrival, Duke Marcus."

Three people, three forms of address, yet they didn't seem out of place in this situation.

Duke nodded slightly to Illyria, and the eldest daughter of the Barov family obediently stood behind Duke.

Then, with Prince Kael'thas on his left and Speaker Mornens on his right, the two most noble beings among the elves led Duke onto the red carpet, heading towards the hall where the Silvermoon Council was located.

The welcoming horn sounded, followed by thunderous applause and cheers that reached the sky. Countless petals were thrown onto the red carpet from the balconies of the high buildings on both sides of the road by beautiful elf maidens.

"Welcome, hero of the humans!"

"Long live Duke, the orc killer—"

"Quel'Thalas is counting on you, Duke Marcus!"

Regardless of how much of it was genuinely welcoming, at least at this moment, Duke received the treatment he deserved.

The arrogance of the high elves, which had lingered in Silvermoon City for thousands of years, seemed to have transformed into that welcoming red carpet, being trampled under Duke's feet.

A confident and slightly charming smile curled up at the corner of Duke's mouth.

"Silvermoon City, I am here! As a savior! If you are truly willing to lower your pride, then I don't mind guiding you out of your predicament! But if you are stubborn and insist on being foolish to the end, then don't blame me for letting you die."

Various aspects of Azeroth's world history flashed through Duke's mind.

It can be said that since the Dark Portal first opened, the entire world's history has been a history of war between the Alliance and the Horde. There might be brief periods of peace, but most of the time they were at war. Only when a larger and stronger enemy attacked, and they were unable to resist the foreign enemy alone, would these mortal enemies quickly resolve their conflicts and turn to alliance.

In history, Orgrim's troops merely took a tour in the Eversong Woods, set up a Storm Altar and left contentedly, leaving the miserable trolls to deal with the elves alone.

Now, history has significantly changed.

Without a doubt, the person who now controls the fate of the high elves is Duke.

Walking on the red carpet, Duke, who clearly had no noble crown on his head, was seen by the elves as an undeniable... Crownless King!