Every ruler, in their deepest vanity, craves the gilded veneer of absolute power. This was the essence of true coolness. Xavius, having just sung the Queen’s grand entrance, felt a nervous tremor. What if Duke, this ’messenger of God,’ found his performance lacking?
Fortunately, Duke remained impassive.
Queen Azshara swept into the chamber, a whirlwind of guards and maids trailing in her wake. Her stride was a confident, silent glide, quieter than a cat’s shadow. The moment she entered, the Queen’s keen perception registered Duke’s absolute lack of deference. Had it been anyone else, her wrath would have been swift and terrible. But this subtle, chilling indifference only served to affirm her conviction: Duke hailed from the realm of ’God’ himself. If he was a divine herald, transcending all mortal authority, then his power posed no direct threat to her imperial dominion.
Queen Azshara had meticulously positioned herself. With a graceful, almost languid motion, she lifted the hem of her resplendent gown and executed a flawless, elegant bow towards Duke.
"Forgive my intrusion, but are you the messenger sent by God—Lord Mark Dooku?" Her voice, a sweet, captivating melody, had enchanted countless high elves throughout the ages. Indeed, her entrance, her very smile, was a vision of perfect, breathtaking splendor. Even Xavius’s eyes widened in awe. She was the living glory of the night elves; with every breath she took, the world held its own, awaiting her command.
From the Moon Guards’ faces, it was clear: to please her, they would willingly charge a dragon, or even a foe more formidable, knowing death was certain, yet embracing it.
Grom’s eyes were wide, fixed on the scene. As an Orc, his aesthetic sense diverged wildly from that of humans and elves. Yet, he felt a primal fear. Who is Duke? A lecherous rogue who had charmed all three Windrunner sisters, including the Sin’dorei Queen Sylvanas, in one audacious sweep. Others might not know Duke’s true character, but Grom knew it intimately. He had fought alongside—and against—the Windrunner sisters on countless battlefields! Duke was an elf-lover. Though the Orcish understanding of that term was slightly different, the core meaning remained.
At this moment, Grom was genuinely terrified that Duke would lose control, that his ’grand plan’ would unravel in a moment of weakness.
But Duke didn’t even flinch.
Yes, Queen Azshara was undeniably a beauty: skin like polished silk, long silver hair cascading over her shoulders, its ends subtly curled. Her garments, a shimmering silver, perfectly matched the ethereal hue of her eyes, exuding an aura of elegant luxury.
But... who could truly be captivated by a night elf woman with dark purple skin? The Queen was exceptionally tall, even among night elves, towering over many males. Only Xavius surpassed her in height. Duke looked at her and felt an urge to shout, "By the gods! I’m not Yao Ming; I can’t handle this altitude!" Most men admired models, but few possessed the stature to truly match them. Duke was far from short among humans, but before the 2.10-meter (approximately 6’10") Queen Azshara, he felt utterly diminutive. If anyone ever asked Duke why he didn’t fancy Queen Azshara, his answer would be unwavering: "Sorry! I don’t enjoy the feeling of climbing trees."
Since Queen Azshara’s most potent legendary weapon—her ’Beauty’—held no sway over Duke, it was time to proceed with business as usual!
In response to Queen Azshara’s query, the highly anticipated actor, Duke, slowly rose from his chair. A terrifying, ink-black aura of dark power radiated from his form, and then, with deliberate slowness, he raised his right hand.
Queen Azshara subtly waved a hand, halting her nervous Moon Guards. At such close proximity, she could clearly feel the powerful, surging magical energy emanating from Duke, a force like a roaring ocean. Yet, a master manipulator of hearts, she detected no murderous intent, no sign of harm.
Then, Azshara’s gaze fixed upon a ring on Duke’s right little finger, a ring that pulsed with a terrifying aura of destruction. Upon it sat a two-horned demon head, seemingly wreathed in spectral flames. The exquisite, lifelike craftsmanship made the head appear to writhe with malevolent life. What she saw was not merely a small ring, but the visage of a colossal entity, a fire giant bathed in infernal flames, its body so immense it seemed to pierce the very sky.
"Azshara, High Elf! Kiss this ring, engraved with the likeness of our Lord Sargeras! Show your piety—" Duke’s voice was utterly majestic, yet imbued with an ethereal, almost trance-like quality, like the distant tolling of a morning bell from a towering spire, possessing a shocking, penetrating power!
Not just the Moon Guards, but even Xavius and Azshara herself, were utterly convinced that the ring before them, radiating immense fel energy, was a sacred artifact bestowed upon Duke by the very Lord of the Burning Legion.
Only Grom stood dumbfounded. In this scene, everyone would believe Duke was Sargeras’s most trusted, most favored lord and messenger. Only Grom knew Duke had never even seen Sargeras. And this ’high-end, classy’ magic ring? Duke had merely carved it himself that very morning. That bastard Duke had even had the gall to ask Grom to fetch him a few sweet potatoes from the maids to practice his carving!
Grom had initially believed Duke’s pitiful carving skills wouldn’t even fool an Orc. But who could have known Duke’s progress would be so swift? He’d found some unknown gemstone, finished his ’Sargeras’ sculpture less than ten minutes before the Queen’s arrival, and then injected it with high-purity fel energy. Everyone else believed Duke was loyal to the Burning Legion, but Grom was the first to know the truth: he was a fraud!
Well, it seems the high elves have been thoroughly duped.
Watching the high elves, stunned into submission by Duke’s trickery, Grom suddenly felt he understood how Duke had managed to unite the scattered Alliance nations. Logically speaking, Duke was incredibly arrogant; he hadn’t even addressed Azshara by her title, simply calling her ’High Elf Azshara,’ an act of profound disrespect.
But the high elves, almost maddened by their lust for power, loved this audacious display!
Indeed, the messenger sent by God is a true powerhouse!
Even a pile of divine excrement smells damn good!
After Duke presented the demon guards, demonstrated the epoch-transcending human body fel energy circuit engraving technology, and unleashed his formidable magical fluctuations, the high elves were utterly convinced that Duke would deliver what they had always craved: power beyond the mortal realm!
Led by Queen Azshara, and followed by Xavius, over a hundred high elves in the entire reception room dropped to one knee, their voices rising in a fervent chorus, chanting the name of their ’God,’ Sargeras.