"I have formed a nonaggression treaty with the Horde," Perenolde replied. "We will not hinder their progress through the mountains, and in return they will leave Alterac unharmed and untouched."

His officers looked troubled, a few of them even angry or ill. "You would have us conspire with the orcs, your Majesty?" Hath asked softly, disgust evident in his tone.

"Yes, I would have us conspire with them!" Perenolde snapped, losing his composure. "Because I would have us survive!" He let his anger, and his terror, boil over into his words. "Do you have any idea what we are facing? The Horde, the entire Horde, is planning to sweep through these mountains! Through our home! Do you have any idea how many of them there are? Thousands! Tens of thousands!" Hath nodded grudgingly, as did a few of the others—they had seen the same reports he had. "And do you have any idea what these orcs are like? I have seen one of them, no farther away from me than you are now. They are enormous! Nearly as tall as trolls, and twice as wide! Massively muscled, with tusks and fangs—this one carried a hammer it would take three men to lift, and he waved it about as if it were a child's toy! No man could stand against that! They'll kill us all, don't you understand? They've already destroyed Stormwind, and Alterac will be next!"

"But the Alliance — " Hath began. Perenolde laughed bitterly.

"The Alliance what?" he demanded. "Where are they now? Not here, I'll tell you that! We formed the Alliance to protect our kingdoms against exactly this sort of attack, but here we are with the Horde breathing down our necks and the precious Alliance is nowhere in sight. They've abandoned us, don't you see?" He could hear his voice rising to near—hysteria, and sought to rein it back in. "It is every kingdom for itself now," he told them as calmly as he could manage. "I have to think about Alterac first. The other kings would do the same."

"Yes, but these brutes—" another officer, Trand, started.

"— are monstrous and deadly, yes," Perenolde cut him off. "But they are not incapable of reason. I met with their leader. He spoke Common! He listened, and he agreed to leave us in peace if we do not hinder their passage."

"Can we—can we trust them?" A junior officer named Verand asked, and Perenolde let out a small sigh as he saw a few others nod. If they were asking that, they had already accepted that such a treaty might be necessary—now they were only worried about whether it would be upheld.

"We have no choice," he replied slowly. "They can crush us with barely a thought. If they betray us, we are finished. But if they hold to their word—and I think they will—Alterac will survive. No matter the cost."

"I still do not like this," Hath said stubbornly. "We gave our word to the other nations." He looked uncertain, however, and Perenolde knew the general was considering the situation and realizing that this might in fact be their only hope for survival.

"You do not have to like it," Perenolde replied sharply. "You only have to obey. I am king here, and I have made my decision. You have sworn oaths to me, and you will abide by them." He knew that would not stop them if they disagreed, but he hoped he had managed to convince them, at least enough to let their fealty sway them the rest of the way.

Hath studied him for a moment. "As you say, your Majesty," he stated finally. "I will obey." The others nodded as well.

Perenolde smiled. "Good. And as for the Alliance, I will accept any and all consequences personally." He turned back toward the map. "Now then, the Horde will come through here, here, and here," he said, indicating the southern passes on the map. He was annoyed to discover that his hand was shaking. "We have merely to leave these passes unmanned and the Horde will pass by without our ever encountering a single orc."

Hath was studying the locations. "They must be planning to strike Lordaeron from the north," he mused, tracing a line across the edge of the tapestry to where the city would lay if the image continued. "I would not have taken that approach myself, but then I don't have their numbers—or their arrogance." He turned back to Perenolde, his expression dubious. "The men may object, your Majesty," he stated coldly. "They may feel this is a betrayal of our oaths, or worse." His tone left little doubt that he agreed with them. "If they revolt, we will be unable to stop them."

Perenolde considered that. "Very well," he said after a moment. "Tell the soldiers that the Horde is planning to use only the three northernmost passes. If any ask how you acquired this information, hint that we had scouts and spies discover it at the cost of their own lives." He nodded, pleased with his own cleverness. "That should keep everyone occupied and safely out of the way."

Hath nodded brusquely. "I will station our men there at once, your Majesty," he promised crisply.

"That's fine." Perenolde favored the general with the warmest smile he could manage, to show that all was forgiven. "Now you'd best get them moving. We don't want to risk the orcs arriving while our troops are still moving into position."

The officers saluted and filed out of the map room—all except Hath.

"What is it, General?" Perenolde asked, not having to fake the weariness in his voice.

"There's been a messenger, sire," the general answered. "From the Alliance. He arrived while you were…resting." Hath gave a pointed glance at the cloak that lay tossed on a chair in the corner, his look saying clearly that he knew Perenolde had been outside the castle, and why. "He's waiting outside, sire."

"Show him in at once," Perenolde replied, striding over to the chair and scooping up his cloak. "Did you speak with him?"

"Only to ascertain who sent him," Hath assured him. "I knew you would want to hear his news first." The general was already at the map room door when he said this, and he beckoned to someone waiting outside. A young man in travel—stained leathers entered, looking down at the floor nervously.

"Your Majesty," the young man said, glancing up briefly and then away again. "I bring you greetings and a message from Lord Anduin Lothar, Commander of the Alliance."

Perenolde nodded and crossed to stand near the youth, tugging his cloak around him as he moved. "Thank you, General, that will be all for now," he told Hath, who looked relieved as he obediently left the room, shutting the door behind him. "Now, young man," Perenolde continued, turning back to the messenger, "what is this message you carry?"

"Lord Lothar says you are to bring your troops to Lordaeron," the young man replied nervously. "The Horde is likely to attack the city there, and your forces must aid in its defense."

"I see." Perenolde nodded, rubbing at his chin with the fingers of one hand. He reached out and laid the other arm across the youth's shoulder. "And does he expect you to report back on our progress?" he asked.

The messenger nodded.

"I see," Perenolde said again. "That is a shame." He turned toward the youth, his arm tightening to tug him closer, and stabbed with the dagger in his other hand. The blade passed up below the ribs and into the young man's heart, and he jerked, blood spilling from his mouth, before collapsing. Perenolde caught him before he could hit the floor, and eased him down.

"It would have been far better if the message had been a written one," Perenolde said softly to the corpse, wiping his dagger on the body before resheathing it. Then he dragged the body across the room and to the garderobe in the corner, tipping it in and listening to the dull thuds as it bumped the walls on the way down. As an afterthought he removed his cloak, now blood—spattered beyond any hope of cleaning, and tossed it in as well. A shame—he'd quite liked the embroidery.

After waiting a minute, Perenolde closed the curtain over the garderobe and walked back across the room. If Hath was waiting outside he would tell the general that the messenger had needed to leave so urgently he had allowed the use of his private exit. Otherwise he would simply tell Hath next time they met that the young man had returned to the Alliance. And of course his message had been simply to hold fast against the Horde. Perenolde smiled. He could all but guarantee that no orc would force its way past their defenses. The other mountain paths were another matter entirely.