Half-asleep, he heard someone walking around him, tweezers and medicine bottles dangling in the wooden tray. He heard people whispering, even standing beside his bedside, but they didn't show malice, and he didn't bother to listen to them. A hand touched his forehead and changed his dressing, and he sniffed out that the potion was a familiar smell, and let them go. As soon as they were gone, he went back to dreamless sleep, and waited until the next time someone approached, he pricked up his ears again and listened suspiciously.

Only once did they try to remove him from the bed, which made him growl in warning, struggling to open his eyelids that seemed to be glued together while reaching for his sword. Someone grabbed his hand in advance and gave him a gentle shush, and then a voice familiar to him said, "All he needs is rest, and it's the same wherever he rests." Let him sleep here. ”

"But Your Highness ......"

"Let him sleep."

So he went back to sleep, dreaming on and off. In the dream, he fought again with the enemies he had fought in the past, and walked the same path again. He slept until the pain dissipated from his bones and his strength returned to his muscles. At this time, he was dreaming of a battle in the Plaguelands, and under the dim sky, the figures of the undead loomed among the tombstones. He shattered every bone of the enemy in front of him, one after another. An axe slashed at him, and he stepped back and slipped into a dug tomb like a wild beast falling into a pit. So he roared, tensed up, and leaped out with all his might, out of the pit and out of the dream.

Dinen opened his eyes. He was still lying on the bed, facing the ceiling instead of the cloudy sky. The room was warm and quiet, there were no undead with rusty axes or anyone else, and another makeshift bed was empty, and the sheets had been removed. The light in the room was a little dim, but the sunlight still slipped in through the cracks in the curtains, reflecting the small wall in gold.

He rolled over and sat up, something scratching his hand. Dinen looked down as the dragon fangs had been sharpened by the hands of the frostwolf orcs as a new rope pierced around his wrists. He let them hang there, got out of bed, and opened the curtains.

The bright autumn sunlight poured down immediately, causing him to subconsciously squint his eyes, and it took him a while to see clearly. He was facing the large square in front of the church, and there were many people walking and chatting, looking sad but not afraid. Children who are afraid to slip away from their parents' sight get together, head to head whispering, exchanging secrets and small things, pets playing around on their laps.

Dineen studied everyone he could see, and then slowly, long breathed a sigh of relief.

***

"Seriously, you've missed all the aftermath." Alsace said.

They were hiding in the kitchen at this time, and no one usually came here to find a prince. They had just passed by lunch, and the kitchen had been relieved of the busy pre-meal preparation, so the chef was happy to take a nap and leave it to the two of them for the time being. Arthas sat on a bench by the window, his shiny armor hot enough. He opened all the windows, so that the occasional sound of horses snorting in the courtyard could be heard. Dineen took his place next to the stove, with the oven and soup pot at his fingertips, emitting a distinct heat and aroma.

The wooden table in front of them was full of food, and that's what the meeting in the kitchen was all about. Dinennin was indifferent to the smell of bread he repeatedly smelled when he slept, and when he woke up, he felt hungry enough to swallow a cow; After six months of wandering around and another breathless morning, Arthas did not mind running to the kitchen himself, rather than waiting for the servant to bring him to his room, as any nobleman does.

"I only slept for three days, not three." Dineen served him a bowl of stew, raising an eyebrow suspiciously, "You've got everything right?" ”

"Not yet." Arthas took the bowl he handed him, "But at least someone is doing everything." The church soothes the souls of the dead, the mages deal with the remains of demons, Lord Mograine and Lord Dasohan track down the remaining cultists, Captain Coravin and Tirio organize the men to clean up the rubble, Uther takes care of the whole situation, and I ......" he shrugged, "to talk to a group of people in the name of the royal family when needed, you know, the surviving nobles, plebeian representatives, and chamber of commerce owners." ”

He bowed his head and took a sip of the soup, then concluded: "The atmosphere in the city is relatively stable, especially after most of the wounded have returned home. But people are still grieving over the loss of their loved ones and possessions, and that's something we can't solve right away. ”

Dineh snorted: "Leave some problems for them to solve by themselves." You're their prince, not their mother, so you don't have to worry about it to this point. ”

Arthas glared at him. Dineen immediately made a gesture of surrender, even though he knew the other party was not angry. But who wouldn't want to behave better in front of a savior? Especially before the debt can be repaid.

Dinen wasn't going to tell Arthas, or anyone else, about this. Not because he was ashamed to admit his ultimate failure, but because if he was going to say it, he would have to explain the whole process. He considered the matter carefully and decided that it was neither fair nor necessary. Why should a young man who has done nothing wrong bear the burden of future crimes and suffering? Even if it were only a possibility, it would cast a lasting shadow on Arthas's heart, or tarnish his reputation with others.

Therefore, only Dinen will know that future. He will chew on those failures and sufferings over and over again, as he has been doing all these years, learn from them to face his enemies, and make sure that it all does not happen again. If he can't even save his benefactor, who is now his friend, then why should he damn save the world?

Arthas didn't know anything about his ideas. He cut a piece of baked potato and said, "I mean to tell you that you can and deserve to rest for a while." ”

"My injuries are healed." Dinen protested.

"I know, of course the priests here remember to break the bones before the treatment." Dinen couldn't help but laugh, and Arthas kept his face as tight as he could, "But the light can't replenish the blood that has been shed for you. Besides, you've done enough for Stratholme. If you want to relax for a few days and do something of your own, no one will mind. ”

"I don't have much to do." Dineen replied dryly. After accomplishing a feat, the heroes usually accept the gratitude and love of the rescued, inspect the spoils and rewards, reunite with family and friends to celebrate, and so on. But he couldn't stand being surrounded and praised by a crowd of people, and instead of getting any booty, he lost the only weapons and armor he had. However, he didn't feel any regrets, the tools made for the battlefield were destroyed on the battlefield, and it was a pity to let them rust and rot. As for the reward, it wasn't out of Dineen's mind from the start. He didn't care if anyone came to reward him. The Cursed Sect suffered a great loss and was chased by the Silver Hand and scurried around; Stratholme is still there, though not intact, but it will be restored in time; Arthas, on the other hand, sat here fine, and rushed to Northrend without righteous indignation to step into the Lich King's trap. These are the rewards that will satisfy him.

Except perhaps for one thing—Dinen glanced around, took a bottle of black wine from Dalaran, poured two glasses, handed one of them to Arthas, and clinked glasses with him.

"Cheers to our success." He said simply, and drank his glass of wine in one gulp. Arthas looked at him with a helpless look on his face, and followed him to finish the wine in his glass.

Celebrate the end. Dineen pushed the empty glass aside, "That's it." Tell me what you're really worried about. ”

Arthas raised his eyebrows and was silent for a moment before he said, "My father wants to see you." ”

"Ahh Dineen said, continuing to deal with his little lamb chops.

"You're not surprised at all?"

"You've been acting like you've been acting like you'd like I'd have something good to eat before I go to the gallows—hand me the salt shaker, thank you—it's hard to be surprised by that. Besides, don't forget that you, like Renault, ran away from home. They're up to you to explain to Mistress Mograini," Dienin paused as he sliced the meat, and there was a hint of joy in his voice, "I guess it's my turn, too." ”

Arthas smashed him with a baked potato. Dineen caught it easily, then hissed at the heat, but insisted on throwing it back on the table. It's not his habit to waste food.

"I'm sure what my father wants to talk to you about is what we're doing in the South." Arthas cocked his fork and signaled that this was a serious topic, "I have already told Uther about our experience, from beginning to end. I'm sorry, but I'm afraid that concealment and lies will make things worse. ”

"It's really getting to the point where the two of us can't solve it alone." Dinen agreed, "Don't worry, I'll explain my intentions to His Majesty the King and bear the consequences." ”

"I said I advocated it." Alsace said.

Dineen stared at him.

Arthas cleared his throat: "I just think that since he is my father, then he must be more tolerant of me than yours. ”

Dinen opened her mouth, but couldn't say anything. In the end, he just lowered his head and bit the tip of the knife with his teeth, and the composure of the previous moment completely disappeared. He was the older and more experienced one, and when he decided to do so, he had already thought of the consequences and was not afraid to bear it. But sometimes, Arthas just made him feel like he was still a kid.

"Thank you for drawing firepower for me." Dineh's voice was a little dry, and his eyes were still fixed on his plate, "I'm sure this will—"

He stopped talking abruptly and looked warily at the door. Arthas followed his gaze. Seconds later, a familiar touch of gold appeared.

"Gianna?" He said in surprise.

Gianna Proudmore peeked inside the kitchen before entering, "When Uther asked me to come to the kitchen to you, I thought he was joking. ”

"Why is he always so omniscient?" Arthas whispered about his pie.

"Did I disturb you?" Gianna asked, "I'll come back later, it's not a hurry." ”

"It's okay, I'm almost done." Dinen said, standing up from the bench and wandering his gaze over the table, looking for food to be taken away.

"Oh no, I'm actually here for you."

Dineh's hand reaching for the bread basket stopped, and he turned his head to look at her, "What?" ”

"I want to apologize for losing my temper with you before." Before Arthas had time to stand up, Gianna said dryly.

"Which time?" Dineen asked.

Arthas covered his mouth with one hand, but the curvature of his eyes indicated that he was clearly smiling. Gianna sighed deeply, sounding tired, "That time before we went to face the Dreadlord. I'm sorry I misunderstood your concern at the time. ”

"It's okay." Dineen said that he was actually still confused about it. But if Gianna feels the need to do it, let her do it, "I should apologize to you, Miss Proudmoore. I had some preconceived notions about you, but you proved it to be completely biased. ”

This wasn't a courtesy exchange, and Dineen was really biased against her. Although he acknowledges that Gianna is a prominent hero of the Alliance, he is resentful of Gianna's trust in the Horde prior to the tragedy of Theramore. For a veteran who has been in conflict with tribes around the world, peace is simply neither possible nor necessary. Therefore, when Dineen meets Gianna in Stratholme, he subconsciously treats her as an innocent little girl and treats her with a harsh and mean attitude. In retrospect, it was unfair. She has proven herself to be a reliable comrade-in-arms in terms of ability and attitude, worthy of his respect.

"So we're even." The mage shrugged, "I accept your apologies. So please just call me by my name. ”

Dinen glanced to the side. Arthas was smiling at them, a look of relief on his face. This made the feeling he had before even stronger. He grunted in frustration and nodded.

"Dinen Ellund," there was no need to hide it any longer, this time he said his full name, then reached out and shook her hand, "Nice to meet you, Gianna...... Again. ”