At this moment, two beautiful women stepped forward from the periphery.
One was adorned with jewels, heavily made up, exuding the aura of a noblewoman with a hint of flirtatiousness.
The other wore a magical laurel wreath on her head, a gorgeous and expensive staff on her back, a beautiful, serene, and virtuous wife and mother.
"Greetings, Prince Arthas."
"Oh, it's Lady Anastari. What made you think of helping Fordring and them escape the city? The Cult of the Damned probably promised eternal life, something humans can't refuse, right?"
Arthas was a little curious. This Baroness would transform into a ghostly banshee in the future, one of the bosses in the dungeon.
The baroness glanced at her best friend, subtly giving her a flirtatious look.
"Lady Jaina is my good friend; she informed me with magic."
"I am a baroness of Lordaeron, and I would not want to become one of those ugly undead. Even if it means eternal life, I would not accept it. What woman would accept becoming ugly?"
Both Jaina and Sylvanas nodded in agreement.
If it meant becoming ugly in exchange for eternal life, they certainly wouldn't be willing.
Uther's Holy Light doctrine would not allow such a massacre to happen before his eyes, even if the city's residents were about to become undead.
As long as they hadn't become undead, he would never lay a hand on unarmed civilians.
"Prince Arthas, we cannot slaughter the residents of Stratholme in the name of 'purification.' Doing so goes against the Holy Light doctrine!"
"Fordring, does your Holy Light doctrine tell you to act against unarmed civilians?"
Fordring, questioned, gave a wry smile. If he hadn't narrowly escaped death from the siege of Stratholme...
If Arthas dared to speak of this massacre, with his character, he would have directly broken the crown prince's legs, taken him back to Lordareon Royal City, and personally apologized to King Terenas.
He would not allow the crown prince to do this, but now he was also wavering.
"Uther, you haven't experienced the speed of the undead's transformation. They don't even need a second to turn into ghouls with sharp fangs and claws. At that time, our soldiers' casualties will be even greater."
"I disagree with the massacre, but now the problem is before us. You cannot make Prince Arthas make such a difficult choice. You are his mentor; you need to bear this heavy responsibility!"
The impact of a massacre was too terrible, and facing relatives who hadn't yet turned into undead, could these soldiers really bring themselves to do it?
A massacre could delay the spread of the undead Scourge. Arthas was not wrong; if the undead here were not stopped, they would soon sweep across the entire Eastweald region.
At that time, the number of undead would not be 200,000; it could even be 300,000, 500,000!
Who could stop 500,000 of the undead?
The soldiers, civilians, and creatures killed by them would all be resurrected as one of them. Even a newly transformed ghoul would require a soldier to painstakingly kill it.
Not to mention, after death, Necromancers could resurrect them as skeletal warriors, virtually endless.
The Holy Light doctrine and the survival of the race clashed, leaving Fordring also confused.
"There will always be a way. We can station here and receive residents who haven't been infected yet."
"If The Scourge wants to leave the city, they will have to step over my corpse!"
Uther's words were worthy of a paladin; he was not wrong to stand by the Holy Light doctrine.
But he was not only a paladin but also the commander of the Silver Hand and the crown prince's mentor; doing so seemed very irresponsible.
Jaina, unwilling for her beloved to go to extremes, also spoke to persuade him.
"Arthas, perhaps you can give me a day or two. I can teleport back to Dalaran."
"I'll find my teacher, Antonidas, and call an emergency meeting. The samples you sent earlier might help us find a solution."
"This plague is caused by magic, so using magic to break magic is the best way. Furthermore, there might still be people in the city who haven't eaten the blighted grain, and we don't yet know the full extent of the plague in the city. Rushing into a massacre now might play right into the undead's hands."
"My beloved, I don't want to see you go down an extreme path. If you insist on doing so, I will follow you and fight by your side until the very last moment."
She started by persuading him, then it turned into a promise to fight alongside him.
She had also witnessed everything that happened in Hearthglen and understood her beloved's feelings.
The warming of their relationship, intimate contact, and a maiden's sensibility made her unable to abandon her beloved. This was her first love, and her only love.
Sylvanas listened to this moving confession, her long golden eyebrows twitching a few times.
She silently walked behind Arthas, proving herself with action.
"Arthas, don't forget you still have to accompany me back to Quel'Thalas to deal with the plague and the undead there."
"You are the commander of the allied forces, and I believe in and obey any decision you make."
Undoubtedly, both lovers stood with Arthas.
Whether it was sealing the city or massacring it, accompanying him was all that mattered.
Perhaps the process would be painful, but in their eyes, it was all worth it.
Liadrin, the high elf Priestess who came to assist, also looked at the ranger-general in surprise. An elf falling in love with a human?
"Prince Arthas, just one word from you, and I will personally lead the charge, without dirtying your hands, to send away those infected with the plague."
"I promise they won't feel any pain, and they will understand."
Mograine was fiery and fierce, full of vigor, but lacked subtlety, making him prone to breaking from too much rigidity.
From the crown prince's perspective, such a lord was the most loyal.
In fact, the rampant undead was not without its benefits; at least it could break the traditional situation, allowing King Terenas to reclaim large tracts of territory and manage them directly.
A vassal's vassal is not my vassal; a daughter's daughter is still...
Enough, any more and I'll be shot!
Lady Jaina stepped forward to explain.
"Prince Arthas, it will take time to break the plague; it's not something we can do right now."
"I also found that any villager who consumed the blighted grain, even if they didn't die, could be transformed into undead."
"Currently, there is no good solution for Stratholme. As long as Prince Arthas supports my research, I can produce an antidote for the plague within three days."
As a research-oriented mage, she knew she already had some clues on how to break the plague.
It just needed time to solve, and right now, time was precisely what was most needed!
"Lady Jaina, I will support you. If you can break the plague, I will allow you to become my personal magic consultant and erect your statue in Lordaeron."
"This honor will extend to your children. Lordaeron will remember you, and you will always serve as the Grand Magus of the Lordaeron court, enjoying excellent treatment."
Arthas solemnly promised. Putting aside her mature noblewoman charm, such talent was also something he desperately needed.
While everyone was still arguing, a dreadlord appeared at the city gates, its massive wings carrying the breath of death.
"Prince, you've finally arrived, heh heh heh. No need for futile resistance; you and your subjects will all become my slaves!"
"I want to play a game with you. Let's see if I can turn your subjects into slaves faster, or if you can kill your subjects with your own hands faster?"
"The game begins now. Come, amuse me, you lowly human, heh heh heh!"
With that, without waiting for a reaction, he directly slaughtered the city gate guards with the Frostmourne in his hand and resurrected them as undead before everyone's eyes.
This scene, even the old-fashioned Uther, was furious. This was no longer just a direct provocation; this was an insult