Upon arriving at the destination, Feron politely announced toward the tent in a loud voice, "Commander Jarod, Druid Feron has brought Mr. Andreas."
A gentle yet deep male voice responded from within, "Mm, thank you for your hard work. Please, let him in."
Guided by Feron, Andreas stepped into the central command tent and immediately scanned the room.
Several individuals with varying temperaments were gathered around a male Night Elf with long silver hair. They were frowning and pointing at a map on the table, conversing in low whispers. As the temporary leader of the Sisterhood, Maiev was naturally among them.
"With all due respect," a brawny Night Elf, whose voice was like a resonant bell and who stood half a head taller than his kin, slammed his fist on the table. "Commander, while your steady and cautious strategy fits the current situation, I fear Archdruid Malfurion will not agree with your approach."
This resolute-looking Night Elf had a mess of grass-green hair. Aside from the feathered leather pauldrons on his shoulders, his muscular upper body was bare of any clothing or armor, looking very much in tune with "nature."
The silver-haired man leading the group was indeed Jarod Shadowsong, with whom Andreas had briefly interacted before. He shook his head with a bitter smile. "True. Considering Priestess Whisperwind's safety, the Archdruid's attitude is understandable."
"But I hope he can focus on the bigger picture." Jarod reached out and tapped the location of Zin-Azshari on the map. "Although we took advantage of the demons' lack of preparation and pushed the front lines to the outskirts of the capital with the help of the demi-gods, advancing any further will be exceptionally difficult."
"In the battles of recent days, the Burning Legion has gradually begun to adapt to the demi-gods' assaults."
"With generals like Mannoroth, Malchezaar, Kaz'rogal, and Hakkar the Houndmaster appearing on the front lines one after another, even a demi-god would be in danger of falling if they were to inadvertently charge too deep into enemy lines."
Jarod rubbed his brow tiredly. "Allies. We need more allies."
"With our current numbers, we can only maintain a stalemate with the Burning Legion. We cannot push further to breach and close the Well of Eternity portal. Meanwhile, the Legion continues to pour an endless stream of demons into Azeroth from the Twisting Nether."
"If we don't receive support from fresh forces, we will sooner or later be ground down by the Burning Legion's infinite reinforcements."
Andreas strongly agreed with Jarod's long-term vision, and he knew something even more critical.
The most powerful force of this Legion vanguard, Archimonde the Defiler, had not yet appeared on the battlefield. This proved he believed the situation was still under control and didn't require his personal intervention.
From the familiar appearance of the bare-chested Night Elf, Andreas recognized his identity—this was the number two figure in the Druidic sect and Malfurion's most prized apprentice, Fandral Staghelm.
"Tch! What a mess." Fandral scratched his head irritably, making his already unkempt green hair even more chaotic.
"We've already mobilized every ally we could call upon. The demi-gods brought their kin from Mount Hyjal, and we've been joined by nature allies like Chimeras, Dryads, and Faerie Dragons. Where are we supposed to find more reinforcements?"
"Um..." Hearing this, Andreas raised his hand to interrupt the argument. "May I make a suggestion?"
Jarod nodded welcomingly. "Of course, Mr. Andreas. My sister said you have a talent for strategy and the big picture. We invited you here hoping for some inspiration, so please speak freely—even if it's just a sliver of a possibility."
Andreas shot a slightly surprised glance at Maiev. The leader of the combat priestesses showed no change in expression, remaining perfectly calm.
Maiev thinks that highly of me?
Fandral walked over with a smile and, without any sense of being a stranger, slapped Andreas heavily on the back several times.
"I heard the envoy group was ambushed by demons on the way to Eldre'Thalas. I thought everyone had perished."
"The Archdruid was riddled with guilt for a long time, believing his mistaken orders had doomed you all. I didn't expect you to escape that disaster with your life."
Fandral's grip was incredibly strong. Andreas winced from the slapping and reached out to brush off the man's "talons."
"Unfortunately, I didn't come away unscathed. Due to a severe head injury, I've lost most of my past memories... By the way, who are you?"
The smile on Fandral's face suddenly froze. He looked at Andreas in a daze. "Amnesia? You're joking, right? I'm Fandral. Fandral Staghelm."
Maiev, crossing her arms over her chest, spoke up flatly. "Regrettably, it is true. In the entire envoy group, only he and the novice priestess Shandris were lucky enough to survive."
"When Andreas arrived at the Vault of the Arch, the hideous half-meter-long scar stretching from his chest to his abdomen was still clearly visible. He clearly fought through a bloody battle to break out."
"Uh..." Fandral scratched his head awkwardly, momentarily unsure of what to say. No matter how much he talked about the past, a memory-wiped Andreas wouldn't find any resonance in it.
Andreas gave Fandral's thick arm a casual pat. "Don't mind it. Past memories are gone if they're gone. What matters isn't the past, but the future."
At this point, Andreas' expression turned serious. "And if we want a future, we must first successfully expel the Burning Legion invading our world."
"We can talk about my amnesia in private later. For now, let me answer Commander Jarod's question."
Fandral was not someone who couldn't prioritize. He took two steps back to clear the space, and Andreas solemnly scanned everyone present.
"You've fallen into a logical trap regarding reinforcements. Your first thought is still to dig deeper into our own race's potential. However, the reality is harsh: it's very difficult for us to gain more support from within our kin."
"This war hasn't just started yesterday. Those with the heart to join the Resistance have basically already stepped forward and declared their stance."
"The few remaining are restricted by irresistible external factors. It would be difficult to get them to risk their safety and stand up for us in a short period."
"Therefore..." Andreas extended his right index finger. "Let us broaden our horizons and look toward other races that might send reinforcements."
"Seeking help from other races?" A pale, beardless male Night Elf by the conference table appeared hesitant. Judging by the ornate armor he wore, he was likely a Highborne.
"Mr. Andreas, I don't mean to dampen your spirits, but due to the Night Elf Empire's relatively aggressive foreign policy during its peak, gaining support from other races under these circumstances... I fear it will be very difficult."
Seeing the surprise and confusion in Andreas' eyes, Jarod introduced the man. "This is the leader of the Black Rook Hold Spellblades, Vorta Moon-Scar."
Andreas smiled and nodded in thanks to Jarod, then turned his gaze back to Vorta.
"Mr. Vorta, I understand what you mean. You think I want to seek help from the Trolls, don't you?"
A flash of surprise crossed Vorta's face. "Is it not so? The only ones with the capability to help us in this situation would be the Trolls, who were the world's hegemons before the rise of the Night Elves."
Andreas shook his head with a smile. "Of course not."
"I am well aware of the Trolls' attitude toward Night Elves. They likely wish for the Burning Legion to wipe us out entirely. Those short-sighted guys will definitely not step forward to send us aid."
"The reinforcements I am referring to are the Tauren living at the foot of Highmountain and the Pandaren of Pandaria."