Flames always bring warmth.

In this sinister place, it is the happiest thing to have a sheltered room, a burning fireplace, and a cup of hot tea.

Now that I have all three, I feel like I should be happy.

Although this thing doesn't belong to me.

"Ahem... It's rare to see strangers nowadays, in this ghost place. ”

The old man sitting across from me smiled and poured tea into my cup, which warmed my heart a little, especially after a long period of solitude, and the kind of care between people was hard to refuse.

And the old man was also a talkative man, and it was evident that he might have been a real big man at one time, as could be seen from his bearing, and the average old man would not let a stalker with weapons walk into his hut.

In the midst of the old man's friendly attitude, I decided to listen to his story.

Any old man has an endless story to tell, and you and I know that.

So I answered,

"Yes, the Eastern Plaguelands are not a good retreat, old man, why don't you go to the Arathi Heights, or the Hillsbrad Hills, where there are human settlements, where people like you should live, it is too dangerous for you. ”

"Dangerous? no, it's not dangerous here!"

The old man looked at me with a smile and pointed to the weapon he had placed in the corner, and I followed his finger and looked at it, tsk, good fellow, there was a war hammer hidden between the shovel and the pickaxe.

It's not the kind of rag guy made of stone, it's a real steel war hammer, judging from the pattern, it should be a standard war hammer produced by the army when the Lordaeron Kingdom still exists, and it is also engraved with the emblem of the Lordaeron Kingdom, generally speaking, being able to wield such a heavy weapon, at least it means that the old man in front of him can kill 3 ghouls head-on.

This combat power... No wonder he survived here, as long as he didn't venture into the pile of the dead, he could live here until he died.

I had a great time chatting with the old man until half an hour later, when I felt that it was almost time and it was time to go.

After all, I have a mission to deliver that damn letter to the Chapel of the Light's Wish, the last fortress that is still on the most dangerous front lines in these dark times, to a guy named Nicholas.

I don't want to travel at night, when the undead of the plaguelands will treat me like a piece of walking meat and pounce on me and bite me.

But just as I was about to say goodbye, the old man suddenly asked,

"You're going to the Chapel of Light's Wishes, right?"

"Well, yes... Is there anything I can help me with?"

I asked subconsciously, and then I expected that he didn't need my help.

But the old man thought about it for a while, and still spoke,

"If you're going to the Chapel of Light's Wish, I want you to do me a favor, in Zulmatha, to the northeast of the Chapel of Light's Wish, where I fought those mossy trolls, my last battle as a soldier, I remember a battle flag was lost there, can you bring it back for me? ”

Seeing that the old man pretended not to care, but in fact there was a hint of pleading, I was going to refuse but I couldn't say it, but the stalker's instinct to explore the secret still made me can't help but ask,

"Yes, yes, but can I know why?"

Without waiting for him to speak, I stretched out a finger and shook it in front of my eyes, "Don't lie to me that it's the old man's remembrance of memories, if you were 10 years younger, I might not be able to beat you, let alone those rotten moss trolls, so, tell me the real reason, and then I'll help you get that flag back." ”

The old man hesitated, I could see the struggle and pain on his face, and I even wanted to take back my words, but before I could speak, the old man made a "please take a seat" gesture.

"Well, if you have time, listen to the story of an old man's past. ”

I sat down in my chair and instinctively told me that this would be a wonderful story, and that there was nothing better for the Night Elves than to collect stories, and that I would record them and take them back to the Black Shore to share with my people, and that these stories would eventually become part of our history and be passed on forever with the World Tree.

"My name is Tirio, Tirio Fordin, and I used to be a paladin. ”

The old man was caught in the memories, and that look of remembrance, I had seen on the faces of many old people, but even so, I was still shocked by the beginning of this story.

Sure enough, it was a wonderful story, I knew it, but I didn't expect that I would actually meet this living legend in a house in this ghost place.

Even in the Night Elf society, the name Tirio Fording is known to many, thanks to our battle with the savage orcs in the Ashen Valley on another continent, and we know the stories of the leaders of the orcs, including an orc wise man named Triig, and I dare believe that the story of Old Fording is definitely related to Triig.

Because more than once, Cui Yige told the same story to those orc soldiers.

"I was born in Lordaeron, in the Valley of the Hearth, a beautiful place, a small town that used to be peaceful, I grew up there, and then I went to study in the Kingdom of Stormwind, and became a priest, and my mentor was named Alonthos Fao, the archbishop of the Church of the Light. ”

"I know, under the crown of Fao, the great man who single-handedly established the Knights of the Silver Hand!"

I interjected, and the old man looked at me and smiled kindly,

"Yes, the Mentor is a true wise man, I followed him to study at the Northshire Monastery for several years, and then we waited for the bad news, the orcs invaded, you know? Those green-skinned orcs, they ruined the entire Stormwind Kingdom, and even the Mentor and the royal family of Ureon were forced to migrate to Lordaeron with their people, also in my homeland, the Mentor gave me and my companions, Uther, Gavin Rad, Dasohan, and Tulayan, gave us five chances to become paladins, and we succeeded. ”

"The light surged in our bodies, and we also had the physique of warriors, and with such power, more paladins appeared, and then when the orcs besieged Lordaeron, we defeated those orcs, and that was war, a brutal war, and we were victorious, but we also lost our great commander, Lothar, and in the Burning Plains, I witnessed the end of a hero. ”

"I thought I would hate those orcs, but when I returned to my hometown as a nobleman, in my fiefdom, in the valley of the hearth, on the path of my hometown, my 12-year-old son asked me, 'Father, are all orcs bad?', and I thought of the orc mothers who protected their children with their lives, the frostwolf orcs who hid in the mountains and did not want to go to war, and the historical documents of the orcs we captured, so I told him. ”

When the old man said this, he couldn't help puffing up his chest, and the breath of a warrior returned to him, and I could even guess the proud look on his face when he answered his son.

I told my son that "race does not speak of glory, and one should not make rash judgments about beings who are different from themselves." ”

Old Fording paused, then shook his head, his face full of loneliness,

"I thought that was my motto in life, but I didn't expect that after the war, I would really face the test of fate, and the period after the war was the happiest day after the war, and watching my son grow up day by day, I felt that it was my responsibility to guide him on the right path, and I did the same, until Cui Yige appeared in front of me. ”

I couldn't help but take a sip of water, and in the beating of the fireplace flames, I knew that the best part of the story was coming.