Archbishop Benedictus stood adorned in his finest robes and trinkets, representing the pride of Stormwind’s culture for the great day at hand. Next to him stood a small and grimy man carrying a large bundle of wrinkled scrolls.

Benedictus looked up eagerly as Varian emerged from his private quarters. “Light bless you, King Varian.” He smiled as Varian descended the stairs.

“And you, Father,” Varian said. “You look dressed to meet your maker.”

Benedictus waved his staff in a well-rehearsed and solemn gesture. “In such times as these, we must all stand ready to join the Light at any moment.”

At the archbishop’s side, the rumpled and nervous-looking fellow fidgeted with his overloaded bundle of papers and city diagrams. Varian suddenly realized it was Baros Alexston, the city architect. He was barely recognizable with all the mud covering his face and clothes.

Varian motioned for them to continue following him down the stairs. “How go the city repairs, Baros?”

“As well as can be expected, Highness.” Baros nodded, trying to keep from dropping his scrolls. Benedictus reached over and patted the architect on the back. “He is being entirely too modest, Your Majesty. Baros here has pulled off miracles getting much of Stormwind back in order, even making some notable improvements to the city.”

Varian felt a sense of relief. It was good to see some optimism returning to his advisors. “So what is most pressing?”

The architect nodded and went to nervously unroll one of his many scrolls as he walked, causing at least three others to slip from his grasp and tumble to the ground.

“My apologies, sire… yes, here it is.” Baros pointed to a place on the map, his dirty fingers leaving earthy smudge marks behind. “We’ve investigated the damage to the two main towers at the entrance to the city.” He shook his head and blew out with a whistle. “That black dragon must be even heavier than his massive size would suggest—likely the beast’s dark elementium armor. We’ve tunneled down, and the damage to the tower foundations is quite severe.”

One thought on “Benedictus

  1. So the Light’s vaunted justice has finally arrived? Shall I lay down Frostmourne and throw myself at your mercy, Fordring?

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