With a reverence befitting a sacred relic, Galen retrieved an exquisite package from the depths of his treasure chest. It was a parting gift from Thoras, a legendary Spellweave Pouch woven by the arcane artisans of Dalaran, its sixteen slots a testament to its magical capacity.
Within this enchanted satchel lay the tangible fruits of Galen's burgeoning enterprise – the accumulated gold coins earned by his shrewdly managed trade caravan – alongside his trusted weapons and adventuring gear. Every last coin was carefully included; they represented potential, the raw material for the foundations of his secret base.
The following dawn, Varokal's crisp report announced the caravan's assembly, poised for departure at Galen's command. At the castle gate, a familiar figure stood amidst a contingent of well-armed guards: Danath, ready to escort Galen on the initial leg of his journey.
Together, Galen and Danath entered the castle one last time, a brief audience with Thoras preceding their departure.
The letter of introduction to King Magni remained tucked away, its purpose already served as a plausible pretext for his journey. Galen's true intention was to veer off the established trade route before reaching the Thandol Span, leading a select few of his most trusted soldiers into the rugged, uncharted terrain near the future site of Stonefist Hall.
The small company passed through Stromgarde's formidable main gate, stepping onto the historic Valor's Path. Galen paused, turning back to gaze upon the city he was leaving behind. Its gray-white walls, punctuated by imposing fortresses every few dozen meters, stood as a proud testament to a millennium of resilience. Majestic and ancient, it exuded an aura of invincibility.
Yet, a chilling premonition gripped Galen. His memories of the game painted a starkly different future: Stromgarde reduced to desolate ruins, its once-proud avenues overrun by savage trolls and lumbering ogres.
Unfathomable it seemed that this thriving heart of human civilization would succumb to decay and destruction in a mere decade.
Galen and his small band turned eastward, their footsteps echoing on Valor's Path.
This ancient thoroughfare, a legacy of the mighty Arathor Empire, stretched from Go'shek Farm in the east to the now-ruined Wall of Arathor in the west, the very spine of the Arathi Highlands.
Perhaps due to the proximity of the distant ocean to the southwest, a keen chill permeated the highland wind as they left the city's protective embrace.
Their journey unfolded through a tapestry of rolling grasslands dotted with quaint villages. Packs of swift raptors blurred across the plains, their movements a testament to the wildness of the land. Once, a hungry wolf pack dared to challenge their passage, only to find their hides added to the travelers' growing collection of spoils.
Fifteen days after their departure, the moment for separation arrived. Danath and his contingent continued east towards Go'shek Farm, while Galen steered his smaller group south.
Three days later, Galen's trade caravan wound its way along a dusty track.
Harmon Kaven, the seasoned caravan supervisor Galen had entrusted with leadership four years prior, approached the prince. "Your Highness," he announced, his voice carrying over the creak of wagon wheels, "a large lake lies just ahead. From there, we can follow the river directly to the Thandol Span." Harmon, intimately familiar with the Ironforge trade route, often regaled Galen with tales of the lands they traversed. Seeing the prince's interest in the unfolding scenery, he continued, "The source of this lake is the pure spring water cascading down from the Faldir Mountains. It forms three truly spectacular waterfalls. We should reach the first one by tomorrow."
Galen recognized the river Harmon described. He had navigated its digital representation countless times in his past life. It was the waterway he would follow north from the Wetlands, eventually passing beneath the shadow of the Thandol Span, where a prominent waterfall marked its origin. The water then flowed eastward, splitting into two branches: one snaking north to form the very lake they were approaching, the other plunging south into a narrow strait.
The waterfall that now roared into view dwarfed its pixelated counterpart. An endless torrent of water thundered down the sheer mountain face, its impact creating a deafening symphony. Galen couldn't help but marvel at the profound difference between the game world and the raw, untamed beauty of reality.
Reaching this landmark confirmed their location. With a final check of the detailed map, Galen summoned Harmon Kaven.
"Harmon," he began, his tone decisive, "I intend to take a few guards and venture out on my own from here."
Surprise flickered across Harmon's weathered face. "Your Highness? You won't be continuing with us to Dun Morogh?"
The trade caravan's journey was not solely focused on Ironforge. Along the way, they would trade with the dwarven mountain patrolmen in the Wetlands, exchanging highland goods for crocodile hides and other local resources. Sometimes, depending on demand, the caravan would even return to Stromgarde before reaching the dwarven capital. This time, Harmon had assumed the prince's presence meant their destination was undoubtedly Ironforge.
"My purpose in this journey is exploration and adventure," Galen explained. "Ironforge was merely a direction, not necessarily the final destination. Continue your trade with the dwarves. I will remain in this region for approximately a month. Unless unforeseen circumstances arise, we will then return directly to Stromgarde."
Galen entrusted the majority of the guards to Harmon, ensuring the caravan's safety through the wildlands of the Wetlands. He retained only Omar, Varokal, and five other trusted soldiers.
Omar and Varokal, both in their early twenties, were formidable warriors, one a seasoned seventh-rank fighter, the other a powerful eighth-rank. Omar, the elder of the two, possessed a slight edge in strength. Combined with Galen's own seventh-rank prowess, this small group possessed more than enough martial might to safeguard the trade caravan, a fact that had eased Harmon's concerns about relinquishing most of their escort.
Beneath the thundering cascade of the waterfall, the group rested for the night. The following morning, they followed the river eastward until its course diverged. One branch flowed north to the lake they had previously encountered, the other plunged southward over a precipitous cliff, carving a path through a deep canyon into the distant landscape.
With practiced efficiency, Galen and his men constructed a simple raft, ferrying themselves across the hundred-meter-wide river to the eastern bank. They were now tantalizingly close to Galen's chosen sanctuary.
Galen's eastward trajectory had been carefully calculated to avoid the Drywhisker trolls who infested the northern territories. The endeavor he was about to undertake demanded absolute secrecy, a veil of discretion that would need to extend even to Omar and Varokal once the base began to take shape.
To the east and south loomed the imposing Alterac Mountains, a natural barrier isolating the coastline. To the north lay the kingdom's border, a contested region partly claimed by the Drywhisker trolls. The west was defined by the river, a vital water source teeming with raptors and the occasional giant spider, drawing sporadic troll hunting parties.
The kingdom's military presence was concentrated at Go'shek Farm and along the main road, safeguarding the eastern supply lines. Few patrols ventured this far into the rugged, isolated mountainous terrain.
As long as they remained vigilant against troll warbands, the inherent secrecy of this location suited Galen's needs perfectly. The immediate priority was to ascertain whether the southernmost reaches of these mountains offered a hidden passage to the Thandol Span. With this goal in mind, Galen led his small adventure team southward along the cliff's edge, their hunts yielding several Highland Raptors and a pack of unfortunate wild wolves, further confirming the area's sparse population – a fact that greatly pleased Galen.
Finally, the dense forests and towering peaks gave way to an open expanse. The grassland before them abruptly ended.
They had reached the Thandol Span.
Gazing across the chasm, the steep cliffs separated by hundreds of meters, Galen spotted a concealed, thorn-choked slope on the eastern side leading down to the canyon floor. A sigh of quiet triumph escaped his lips.
Seeing this hidden access, his decision was made. It was here, in the shadow of the ancient bridge, that he would summon the base of the Heart of Origin. The future of Stromgarde, and perhaps Azeroth itself, was about to be irrevocably altered.