Chapter 591: The Triumphant Procession Amidst a Whirlwind Part 1

Many once believed that mages were mere cowards, casting spells from safe areas behind the brave warriors who shed blood in battle. Hence, in the eyes of most Alliance soldiers, no matter how brilliant Duke's strategies were, or how commendable his administrative and logistical abilities, he was always just the Alliance's vice-commander. The true commander was Anduin Lothar, who bravely charged to the front lines, clashing with the orcs in bloody combat.

No one found this impression of Duke unsuitable.

Today, Duke's actions shattered that impression.

To say it was merely shattered might be an understatement; it was more like a dramatic elevation.

Every soldier who witnessed this scene felt a sudden fire ignite within them.

Without contrast, there is no highlight.

All of them fought for the Alliance. Who wouldn't want to return home in triumph, basking in the cheers and praise of the people after the war? For soldiers of other nations, a triumphant return to Lordaeron city was entirely different from returning to their own capital.

Alright, Lordaeron was the leading nation of the Alliance. After the final battle at the Dark Portal, they traversed the entire Eastern Kingdoms, nearly from the southernmost point to the northernmost.

Constantly on the move, marching at a rapid pace every day. Upon arrival, everything, be it supplies or campgrounds, was inadequate.

Allied soldiers ate coarse, hard black bread made from almost moldy grain, which, without soaking in water, could be used as a club. Meanwhile, Lordaeron's locals enjoyed the exquisite taste of white bread, even for their auxiliaries.

Despite the freezing cold, the hastily-arrived allied soldiers lacked supplies. Here, the Alliance soldiers had to file multiple reports just to get a coarse linen coat, shivering in the cold. Meanwhile, Lordaeronians could easily get cotton clothes.

With such differential treatment, the people of Lordaeron acted as if they were superior to everyone else. In essence, their attitude was, 'Without Lordaeron's support, you're just a rabble. Being invited to the triumph ceremony is a grace from Lordaeron. You should be grateful.'

Which faction hadn't been slighted?

Who would have thought they'd be treated like this upon coming to Lordaeron?

At this moment, Duke's gesture was immensely satisfying to many.

From soul to heart, an intense flame surged, boiling in every blood vessel, burning in every cell.

"Follow him! All follow him!"

"Follow Lord Marcus!"

"Right! We've bled and risked our lives for the Alliance! Why the differential treatment?"

Countless blades, swords, and long spears were raised high.

Blades stained with orcish blood emitted a faint, chilling crimson glow.

Numerous shouts converged into a massive roar, resounding throughout the camp.

Duke, riding tall on his horse, came shoulder to shoulder with Anduin to face General Abbendis guarding the camp's entrance.

"Step aside, or I'll tread over your corpse!"

Abbendis shuddered. He saw the look in Duke's eyes, clear as day: 'I saved you once, but I can also take that life back.'

By the Light! Duke was serious.

As a higher-up, Abbendis had inklings of King Terenas's intentions. He felt his king was somewhat unfair. Still, he had sworn to serve that king for life.

Trembling, it took Abbendis a while to muster the words, "Duke, is it worth it?"

Duke didn't directly answer. Leaning closer, he whispered to Abbendis, "Had the entire Alterac been destroyed on the spot, I'd have nothing to say. But now... If the leading nation can freely occupy an ally's territory, then we don't need such an alliance."

His voice was neither too loud nor too soft, just enough for Abbendis and Lothar nearby to hear.

At that moment, Lothar realized Duke's intentions.

"Duke! I stand with you!" Lothar's booming voice easily stirred even louder cheers from behind.

By then, the triumphant ceremony in Lordaeron city had been underway for an hour.

The first half was the most eye-catching part for the citizens: the presentation of prisoners.

25,000 orcs, their hands tied behind their backs and shackled with heavy iron chains, were paraded in groups of a hundred. Their heads hung low as countless citizens watched, their eyes following the procession down the wide streets.

Initially, the orcish prisoners drew gasps of astonishment from the citizens.

"My God! They're so imposing! Our warriors fought against such beasts?"

"Look at their tusks! Even wilder than a boar's."

"By the Light, our warriors defeated such foes."

Soon after the initial shock, a wave of anger from the citizens followed.

"Beasts! Give me back my husband!" A lady from a second-floor balcony hurled the first rotten tomato at the orcs.

"Give me back my dad!" A young child of about seven or eight threw the first stone.

In mere seconds, thousands of objects rained down on the prisoners from all corners of the streets.

The citizens couldn't breach the shield formation of the city guards on either side of the road. This was their only way to vent their anger.

It must be remembered that the Dark Portal War affected nearly all of Lordaeron's territories. Every family felt the heavy loss of life. Almost every home mourned a loved one.

No orcish prisoner was spared from the barrage, leaving them bruised and battered. Some even had their tusks broken, but they dared not retaliate or even roar. They simply walked, heads down, escorted through the streets.

Of the 25,000 orcs, only one held his head high: Warchief Orgrim!

His mouth was sealed, and his legs were shackled to a two-ton iron plate. Both wrists were firmly locked in place, forcing him to kneel.

Yet, his head never bowed!

Behind that cage, a sign reading "Horde Warchief" made Orgrim the primary target for the citizens. The items thrown at him were so numerous that the heavily-armored soldiers beside the cage, there to protect from the onslaught, couldn't keep up with the cleaning.

Eventually, mages had to step in to blow away the debris around Orgrim.

"Hang him!"

"Hang him! Hang the Warchief of the orcs!"

Enraged citizens raised their fists, their shouts echoing everywhere.

On the main balcony of the palace, King Terenas, flanked by his children Arthas and Calia, watched the scene with satisfaction.

Following the prisoner presentation was the actual triumphant ceremony. Numerous prepared workers with brooms swiftly emerged from every alley, efficiently cleaning the streets of debris. Within ten minutes, the triumphant path from the North Gate to the palace was spotless.

At that moment, King Terenas's expression suddenly froze.

Because, astonishingly, he saw through his telescope that the banner of Alterac's Mountain Falcon followed closely behind the Stormwind Lion, fluttering at the entrance of Lordaeron's North Gate.