As the Lich King's icy grip loosened in slumber, a chilling silence descended upon the undead legions of Northrend. Meanwhile, within the once-proud royal city of Lordaeron, Dathrohan and Rivendare, Arthas's appointed custodians, felt a tremor of dread as the Alliance war machine began to stir. Their dominion, they knew, was fragile against such a unified and righteous force.
...
Tragically, in a darker iteration of fate, Terenas's missteps had led to Lordaeron's overbearing dominance, a reign that alienated Gilneas, prompted Quel'Thalas's withdrawal, drained Stromgarde's strength, and exploited Alterac. When the shadow of the Scourge finally fell upon Lordaeron itself, no external support remained. Amidst the ruins, the remnants of Lordaeron yearned to rebuild, but destiny had elevated Garithos, the highest-ranking survivor, to a position of unexpected leadership.
As the sole remaining human authority of Lordaeron's lineage and the most formidable warlord in the ravaged lands, he drew reinforcements from sympathetic human nations, as well as the steadfast dwarves of Ironforge and the resilient high elves of Quel'Thalas. Yet, Garithos, a tactician of questionable skill, clung fiercely to a belief in human supremacy. His prejudice and arrogance led to the catastrophic alienation of Kael'thas Sunstrider, driving the magically potent blood elves to sever ties with the Alliance and ultimately align with the Horde, their mortal enemy. Later, his ill-fated collaboration with the Forsaken against their enigmatic queen dissolved into further disaster, leaving the Mograine-led Crusade mired in misfortune and despair.
Fortunately, the currents of time had shifted in this reality. Galen's actions had wrought a profound change, not only saving countless lives but also strategically positioning Calia Menethil at the forefront during a pivotal moment. Many of Lordaeron's seasoned ministers, finding a renewed sense of purpose, rallied to her banner, no longer solely reliant on Garithos.
When Galen finally returned to the heart of Lordaeron, the Alliance army had encircled the northern, western, and eastern walls of the capital in an iron embrace, hundreds of thousands of soldiers stretching as far as the eye could see.
"Galen, you're here." Turalyon greeted him, relief evident in his voice.
"Yeah!" Galen responded with a curt nod.
Within the recaptured Brill Hall, the Alliance's senior commanders convened. Turalyon, with a subtle roll of his eyes, gestured for Galen, the often-absent Alliance marshal, to take the central seat of command.
"Let us proceed," Turalyon announced, his gaze sweeping across the assembled leaders. "The royal city has endured two major reconstructions in the past decade. The first followed the orcish siege, necessitating extensive repairs. The second was driven by a surge in population, demanding outward expansion."
Turalyon indicated the sprawling map of Lordaeron's royal city. "Gentlemen, how shall we prosecute this assault?"
Bolvar Fordragon, commander of the Stormwind Seventh Legion, his voice thick with resolve, stepped forward. "Our Seventh Legion seeks the honor of leading the assault on the North Gate. Our prince suffered grievous wounds within this city at Arthas's hand. This is a stain upon our honor that must be washed away in blood!"
"Hold!" Danath Trollbane countered, his tone firm. "Your Seventh Legion has fought valiantly from Silverpine Forest to this very point. They have earned respite. Stromgarde's two legions remain strong and should spearhead the attack!"
Dathrohan, his imposing figure radiating authority, interjected, "Gentlemen, the royal city is the birthright of the Lordaeronians. We are deeply grateful for the unwavering support of our allies, but the privilege of avenging this desecration should fall to us, the sons and daughters of Lordaeron!"
Within the city walls lurked at least half a million undead, though the majority were skeletal soldiers and ghouls. Arrayed outside stood the elite forces of the Alliance, bolstered by numerous priests and knights of the Silver Hand. While the task would be arduous, the scales of victory tipped firmly in the Alliance's favor.
Galen listened to the spirited debate, a flicker of bemusement in his eyes. With their overwhelming numbers, the extensive city walls presented an opportunity for a broad, multi-pronged assault.
"Enough with the east and west," Galen declared, tapping his finger sharply on the wooden table, drawing all eyes to him. "Stop this incessant debate and heed my words!"
"Galen, regardless of our approach, we must designate a primary axis of attack!" Admiral Daelin Proudmoore stated, speaking as the representative of the combined staff. "Concentrate our main force on that point, while the other three sides serve as diversions or supporting actions. Given Lordaeron's dilapidated defenses, a decisive breach will allow us direct entry."
"No need for such distinctions," Galen interjected, dismissing Daelin's tactical considerations with a wave of his hand. "With our current strength, every direction shall be our main assault!"
"I have brought the full might of the Stromgarde artillery battalion, supplemented by numerous newly forged cannons," Galen announced, a confident smirk playing on his lips. "When the moment arrives, we shall unleash a simultaneous barrage from every gun, flattening the city walls into dust. Then, we shall simply surge inward as one, cleansing every corner of undead filth. While you are thus engaged, I myself will hunt down and eliminate their commanders!"
Galen's combat doctrine was brutally simple: artillery annihilation, overwhelming assault, and decisive decapitation of the enemy leadership.
A wave of exhilaration washed over the assembled commanders. While the Lordaeron city walls were indeed weakened, the undead had been diligently reinforcing them. A conventional breach would consume precious time. Not every kingdom possessed the wealth and military might of Stromgarde, with its formidable and well-established artillery corps. Even the dwarves and gnomes, the originators of gunpowder weaponry, lacked such national-level artillery power. With a concentrated artillery barrage, the walls would crumble swiftly. Once the Alliance legions swarmed through the breaches, the undead, stripped of their defenses, would surely face utter annihilation.
"Since this plan meets with your approval," Turalyon declared, his voice ringing with newfound confidence, "our armies shall rest for one more day, replenishing their strength. We shall launch our assault at the first light of dawn tomorrow, striving to conclude this battle before nightfall!"
"Galen," Dathrohan began, his brow furrowed with concern, "what of the southern approach to the city?"
Lordaeron Lake lay to the south, the primary route of escape for the city's populace during the initial Scourge invasion. Should the undead face defeat, they would undoubtedly attempt to flee south into the Hillsbrad Foothills, presenting a new and unwelcome threat.
"The mages of Dalaran and the high elves of Quel'Thalas lie in wait amidst the ruins of Dalaran," Galen stated with a grim satisfaction. "Should any undead dare to cross the lake, they will be met with a devastating confluence of ice and fire!"
The mages of the Kirin Tor and the high elves, eager to unleash their pent-up power, rejoiced at Galen's assignment to block the undead's retreat.
As the first rays of dawn painted the eastern sky, the Alliance's hundred-thousand strong army marched forth from Brill, their boots thundering on the road to Lordaeron City. The artillerymen, divided into three contingents, followed closely behind. As the city walls came within their firing range, they began the methodical work of establishing their gun emplacements. These were not the crude mortars of early sieges, but formidable siege heavy artillery! Each cannon boasted a caliber twice that of naval warships, forged using Stromgarde's advanced level 4 blacksmithing techniques. The ammunition consisted of solid iron balls propelled by potent level 4 high explosives, their destructive power already proven during the defense of Mount Hyjal.
As the sun finally broke free from the horizon, bathing the battlefield in its pale light, the order to unleash hell echoed across the ranks of the artillerymen!
Then, the earth-shattering roar of the cannons ripped through the morning air!
"BOOM!"
"BOOM!"
"BOOM!"