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Saving Azeroth (By Stealing the Black Dragon Princess) - 12
🕑 Added 2025-10-14 15:24:04 +0000 UTCChapter 12: Jaina's Warning
In the wilderness outside Theramore, the scorching sun baked the cracked earth until it resembled shattered pottery. The air hung thick with a salty mixture of alkali dust and sea breeze that coated the tongue. Onyxia leaned against a heavily weathered boulder, pitch-black scales gleaming with cold metallic luster in the harsh light. Her dragon tail slapped the ground impatiently, raising fine dust clouds with each irritated strike.
"You two had better hurry." She narrowed her vertical pupils until the golden irises contracted to hairline slits, gaze fixed on the distant white-walled city-state of Theramore. "I have no interest in sunbathing all day." Her fingertips ignited a strand of black flame that she casually directed at a rock fragment, burning it into molten glass that dripped to the ground with sharp hissing sounds and acrid smoke.
Deren was adjusting the "Agricultural Advisor" badge at his collar with meticulous precision. Hearing her complaint, he looked up with a cunning smile. "Relax. Just signing some documents. Will not take long." He patted his tailored dark-patterned robes, cuffs embroidered with wheat sheaves and explosion patterns—the insignia of "Barrens Agricultural Development Company," understated yet carrying an unmistakable hint of danger for those who understood.
Nearby, Chromie had transformed into a gnome girl wearing round-framed glasses, with golden pigtails tied with obsessive neatness. She clutched a thick ledger against her chest, its cover emblazoned with gold-stamped lettering reading "Chief Financial Officer" that gleamed in the sunlight. She pushed up her glasses with one finger, lenses reflecting cold light, adopting a deliberately affected gnomish accent. "Let us proceed, human. Remember to address me as Chief Financial Officer Miss Milo—if we are exposed, I will convert your entire operational budget to copper coins!"
Onyxia snorted with palpable disdain, dragon claws carving deep scratches into the stone that glowed faintly with residual heat. "If Jaina discovers your deception, do not expect rescue from me." Her gaze swept toward Theramore's distant high tower, where arcane energy fluctuations shimmered visibly in the air like heat waves. "That heaven's favored daughter harbors no fondness for dragonkind."
Deren shrugged with casual confidence, pulling a document covered in official stamps from his spatial bag and waving it like a victory banner. "Legal procedures, legitimate business. Who could refuse an enthusiastic agricultural merchant?" His tone was casual, but his eyes tracked toward Theramore's harbor—where several goblin merchant ships were docked at the crucial node in their plan to transport special materials.
Chromie stood on tiptoe, patting Deren's arm with surprising force for her small size. "Stop dawdling. Time is money—though I possess unlimited amounts of the former." She winked mischievously, fingertips flashing with bronze temporal energy that left afterimages in the air. "But delay further, and Onyxia's patience might prove thinner than goblin contract paper."
Onyxia's tail swept violently across the ground, raising a sandstorm that stung exposed skin. "Quiet, gnome." Her draconic aura leaked slightly, the surrounding air instantly heating until it wavered visibly.
Deren raised both hands in timely surrender. "Alright, moving quickly. Onyxia, you handle backup contingencies. Chromie, you handle documentation. And I..." He grinned with wolfish anticipation. "Will visit city hall for official procedures."
Three figures separated in the wilderness, heading toward their respective objectives with practiced coordination. Sunlight stretched their shadows impossibly long across the cracked earth, as if foreshadowing that beneath this seemingly ordinary agricultural venture lurked undercurrents capable of shaking all of Azeroth.
Theramore City Hall's marble steps gleamed with cold white light under the merciless noon sun. Deren straightened his collar one final time, ensuring the "Agricultural Advisor" badge was prominently displayed, then strode up the steps with the confident bearing of a successful merchant. Chromie followed closely, clutching her heavy ledger, golden pupils behind round glasses glinting with calculated shrewdness.
Pushing open the carved oak door released a wave of cool air that felt like salvation after the brutal heat outside. The hall's interior was simple yet dignified, with Alliance blue-background lion banners hanging from both sides of the vaulted ceiling. Several uniformed clerks bent over documents at various desks, quills scratching parchment with rhythmic persistence.
Deren approached the outermost counter, behind which sat a young human clerk with a freckled face that still carried traces of adolescent awkwardness. Gold-rimmed spectacles perched precariously on his nose bridge, eyes behind the lenses revealing bone-deep exhaustion and professional suspicion.
"Barrens Agricultural Development Company?" The clerk pushed up his glasses, slowly reviewing Deren's application documents with the careful scrutiny of someone who had learned not to trust merchants. His brow gradually furrowed deeper with each page. "You wish to establish a trade transit station in Theramore?"
"Precisely." Deren displayed a merchant's characteristic sincere smile, fingers lightly tapping the counter in a casual, friendly rhythm. "We primarily deal in high-efficiency fertilizer and soil amendment products, planning to transport them through Theramore harbor to Kalimdor's interior agricultural regions."
The clerk's gaze swept suspiciously between Deren and Chromie, finally settling on the gnome—a chief financial officer was uncommon enough, especially one whose glasses faintly radiated bronze temporal light.
"Fertilizer?" The clerk repeated with obvious skepticism. "But Theramore's surroundings consist almost entirely of saline-alkali wasteland where even hardy weeds barely survive. What fertilizer could you possibly sell here?"
"That is precisely the opportunity!" Deren suddenly raised his volume with theatrical enthusiasm, as if hitting his favorite topic. He quickly pulled a small cloth bag of white crystals from his satchel, pushing it before the clerk with the eagerness of a man sharing treasure. "Our specialized potassium sulfate compound fertilizer specifically targets salinized soil with remarkable yield enhancement results!"
The clerk hesitantly accepted the bag, fingertips pinching the powder inside experimentally, then unwisely sniffing closely—immediately choking violently from the pungent chemical odor that assaulted his nostrils.
Chromie timely presented a beautifully bound volume titled "Experimental Data Report," cover stamped with an expertly forged agricultural research institute seal, the edges lined with genuine gold leaf. She pushed up her glasses with academic precision, using her saccharine gnomish accent to supplement, "After six months of rigorous field testing, our fertilizer achieved doubled yields on wasteland cultivated by Lordaeron refugees—of course, given Lordaeron's current unfortunate situation, we decided to expand business operations to Kalimdor's more stable markets."
The clerk flipped through the report with glazing eyes, the densely packed data tables and technical charts making his head swim. He hesitated for a long moment, finally sighing with resignation and heavily stamping the document with bureaucratic finality. "Fine, approved. But all cargo entering and leaving the harbor must undergo thorough inspection—Theramore's security regulations cannot be compromised under any circumstances."
Deren's smile brightened genuinely. He reached for the stamped document, fingertips inadvertently brushing the clerk's sleeve as a small gold coin silently slipped into the pocket with practiced sleight of hand.
"Of course, we absolutely cooperate with all inspection protocols." He nodded with such sincere conviction it seemed beyond reproach.
Chromie had already opened her ledger, quill scratching rapidly across parchment while muttering calculations about "harbor taxation" and "storage facility fees," presenting the perfect image of a meticulous chief financial officer obsessed with accounting precision.
As they turned from the counter toward the exit, Deren's peripheral vision caught the clerk discreetly feeling his sleeve pocket, discovering the unexpected gift. His lips curved slightly—the gold coin had worked its predictable magic.
However, just as they were about to exit City Hall into the bright sunlight beyond, a low, deliberate cough sounded behind them.
"Wait."
Deren's steps halted immediately. Chromie's pointed ears perked up with alarm.
The clerk pushed up his glasses, lowering his voice to barely audible levels. "If you truly intend to conduct business here..." He paused meaningfully. "Best not to cause trouble of any kind." His gaze swept over Chromie's magical glasses with pointed significance. "Theramore's ruler is not particularly friendly toward magical beings—especially those with draconic affiliations."
Deren's smile remained perfectly unchanged, simply nodding lightly with appropriate gratitude. "Thanks for the warning. Much appreciated."
Exiting City Hall, brilliant sunlight once again bathed them in oppressive heat. Chromie exhaled deeply with relief, the ledger snapping shut with a satisfying sound. "Successfully completed!"
Deren squinted toward the harbor where ships bobbed at anchor, lips curving with meaningful satisfaction. "Now we can openly transport fertilizer shipments to Theramore without suspicion."
In the plaza outside City Hall, sunlight filtered through scattered clouds onto white marble pavement that still radiated stored heat. Deren and Chromie had just descended the steps when the air suddenly rippled with unnatural distortion. Arcane energy spread like water disturbed by thrown stones as the surrounding temperature abruptly plummeted several degrees, raising goosebumps on exposed skin.
"Careful—" Chromie's golden pupils contracted sharply to pinpoints, her small hand already pressing the temporal hourglass at her waist in preparation for emergency escape.
An azure portal suddenly tore open reality before them with a sound like ripping silk. Jaina Proudmoore stepped through with movements both elegant and deeply dangerous, like a predator that had decided to investigate potential threats personally. Her golden hair floated slightly in the arcane energy's residual wake, and the crystal atop her staff glowed with cold blue light that hurt to look at directly. Theramore's ruler currently displayed no welcoming expression whatsoever.
"Bronze dragon." Jaina's sharp gaze locked directly on Chromie with the precision of an arrow finding its target, her voice carrying the bite of northern wind across frozen tundra. "What exactly are you doing in my city?"
Chromie pushed up her round glasses with deliberate slowness, her face instantly adopting the characteristic fawning smile of gnome merchants caught in awkward situations. "Just part-time financial consulting work, esteemed Lady Proudmoore. You understand how it is—time magic proves particularly convenient for auditing complex accounts and detecting financial irregularities."
Jaina's staff tapped the ground once with sharp authority. A circle of frost spread from her position as the center, advancing steadily until it stopped mere inches short of Deren's boot tips. Her piercing gaze turned to Deren with barely concealed suspicion. "And you—a human merchant employing a bronze dragon as your accountant?"
Deren spread his hands in a gesture of innocent reasonableness, revealing his most harmless smile. "Professional talent deserves reasonable compensation. We are simply legitimate fertilizer merchants here to conduct honest business."
Jaina's gaze swept between them with the intensity of someone accustomed to seeing through deceptions, finally stopping at Deren's company badge. Her fingertips condensed a strand of arcane energy that she directed toward the badge's surface, lightly tracing it as if detecting hidden magical signatures.
"Barrens Agricultural Development?" She spoke the name slowly, each word laden with obvious doubt. "Theramore does not welcome troublemakers or those who would destabilize the region."
Chromie suddenly pulled official parchment from her ledger, the document covered in various authenticating stamps. "All our documentation possesses proper governmental approval! Including certification from Dalaran's Agricultural Research Institute!" Her voice carried just the right amount of indignant innocence.
Jaina accepted the document with obvious reluctance, fingertips pausing noticeably on a particular stamp. Deren noticed her brow furrow almost imperceptibly—that forged Dalaran seal probably could not fool this former Kirin Tor mage's trained eye.
The air seemed to crystallize into frozen tension. Guards stationed throughout the plaza unconsciously lightened their footsteps, instinctively giving the confrontation wide berth. Several passing merchants wisely detoured around this dangerous area.
Finally, Jaina tossed the document back into Chromie's hastily outstretched arms with dismissive force. Her voice emerged very low yet carried unquestionable authority that brooked no argument. "For your sake, I hope everything is as you claim. Remember this—in Theramore, my eyes observe everything. Nothing escapes my notice."
With a cascade of falling ice crystals and a flash of brilliant blue light, Jaina's imposing figure had vanished back through her portal. Only intricate frost flowers remaining on the marble pavement proved she had been there at all.
Chromie exhaled deeply with visible relief, round glasses having slid down to her nose tip. "Did she detect the deception?"
Deren wiped nonexistent cold sweat from his forehead with theatrical flair. "Uncertain. But at minimum, we are now officially registered as legitimate merchants operating within legal parameters."
Twilight deepened across the wilderness, dyeing the landscape in dark golden hues as the sun sank toward the horizon. Onyxia sat leaning against the weathered boulder, fingertips toying with dancing black flame that cast eerie shadows across her features, dragon eyes glowing dangerously in the gathering shadow.
In the distance, Deren and Chromie's figures finally appeared on the horizon like mirages solidifying into reality. Chromie trotted along with characteristic energy, golden pigtails swaying with each bouncing step, while Deren strolled leisurely, playing with the stamped permit like a trophy.
"One moment longer and I would have seriously considered burning this entire wasteland to glass." Onyxia snorted coldly, her threat entirely credible. Black flame extinguished in her palm with a soft hiss, dissipating into wisps of dark smoke.
"Apologies for the delay. We encountered a small complication." Deren shrugged with affected nonchalance. "Jaina personally welcomed us to Theramore."
Onyxia's pupils suddenly contracted to dangerous slits. "She noticed?"
Chromie jumped onto the boulder with surprising agility, patting dust from her skirt with fastidious care. "Difficult to determine with certainty. She examined me like viewing a ticking time bomb poised to destroy her precious city." She adopted a mocking imitation of Jaina's cold, authoritative tone. "Theramore does not welcome trouble—as if we represent terrorist threats!"
Deren chuckled with dark amusement, retrieving a bottle of dwarven spirits from his spatial bag and popping the cork to take a long swig. "The good news is we successfully obtained the official permit."
Onyxia naturally took the bottle without caring that Deren had already drunk from it, tilting her head to drain the remaining contents in one go. Her draconic constitution left her expression entirely unchanged by the potent alcohol. "My father could never imagine his ultimate destruction would arrive as a shipment of agricultural materials." Her lips curved in a fierce, predatory smile. "Beneath dragon scales lie mortals' laughable blind spots—and that will be his downfall."
Chromie pulled out her ledger, quickly flipping to a densely annotated page. "The first batch of raw materials arrives at the harbor in approximately three days. According to our operational plan, we will transport them to the warehouse at Dustwallow Marsh's edge under the official designation of soil amendment products." She pushed up her glasses, lenses reflecting cold calculation. "Of course, the actual final destination is your lair."
Deren unfolded the detailed map, finger tracing a deliberately circuitous line between Theramore harbor and Dustwallow Marsh's interior. "Jaina will almost certainly have intelligence operatives watching our activities. Therefore, the transport route takes an elaborate detour—first heading north, appearing to travel toward the Barrens. Halfway through the journey, you intercept the caravan. If no one survives to report the incident, who would ever suspect this particular shipment was commandeered by a black dragon?"
The three exchanged knowing glances as the last light faded from the sky, their dangerous conspiracy taking its next calculated step forward into darkness.
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