#traegus

Ran'thas looked into the amber liquid in his glass thoughfully, his mind racing about with recent events.  Things had been quiet for too long and he new it.  The past finally catching up to him came at no real surprise.

He just always dreaded it.

The Magister quickly downs the last of his glass of fine alcohol, the desk resonating with a satisfying thud as he sets the emptied cup down.  The Ronaestriders had no idea - there is no way they could have known where the orders actually came from.  He walked over to the window, peering out upon the twilight with his hands clasped behind his back.

His small estate in Southern Quel'thalas on the border of the Ghostlands was a great place to come to think, to isolate himself from the greater affairs of Silvermoon, and to conduct private or personal business.  He sighed as he looked over to his desk again, his eyes scanning the documents he had there - the files of the fallen Knights of Valiant Fury, the military unit he himself had commissioned those years ago.  The same unit Ruthar and Rehmaar Ronaestrider had overseen as it marched upon its fateful expedition into the Twilight Highlands.

It's not my fault they failed - I told them what would happen if they opened the ranks to the impure lesser races.  A pity good Elven blood was wasted thanks to incompetent Horde mongrels.

Ran'thas' mind returned to times past when Rehmaar Ronaestrider had approached him in this very office.  His black and red armour glinted in the candlefire as the Magister listened to his advice.  They were friends and colleagues for a very long time - Rehmaar was a prolific alchemist in the days before Silvermoon's fall while Ran'thas tended to one of the libraries which Rehmaar frequented.

He never could see reason, always thinking of grander plans.

It was Rehmaar's idea to open up the Knights to accepting other members of the Horde.  He had preached that they needed to reach out to their capable allies in order to strengthen their bonds with the Horde and to ensure Thalassian security.  Ran'thas, however, saw it as a serious threat.

The Orcs will run us into the ground with their bloodlust, their desire for war and conflict.  We will never know peace alongside the likes of them.

Rehmaar had none of it, however - he was stoic in his beliefs to a fault.  Ran'thas tried for an extended period of time to get Rehmaar to see eye-to-eye with him, but it was simply no use.  The Blood Knight would do everything and anything in his power to get his way.  The Magister knew his ties to the Order were strong, putting Ran'thas in a precarious position.

I was right afterall.

Ran'thas snapped a finger as the candles in the room illuminated, their flickering glow casting shadows upon the walls.  He sat behind his desk, his elbow upon the wood propping up his head.  His eyes moved over to the parchment to his right, the bold words on the top seemingly looking right back at him.

ATTN: TWILIGHT HIGHLANDS ACTIVITY - REQUESTING ASSISTANCE

I knew it would be the proper test - to finally show them that those not of our lineage are lesser.  Hopefully they've realized it themselves.

The loud knock on his door snapped the Magister out of his memories of the past.  The clanking armour plating indicated to Ran'thas that his associate had finally arrived.

"Master Frostbane of the Undercity," he said in an authoritative tone as he raised himself to stand behind his desk.