Thoras's official duties for the day proved surprisingly light. With the few pending documents addressed, his thoughts drifted towards the recent armed clash between the kingdom's Highland Cavalry Regiment and the forces of Alterac.
The Kingdom of Alterac, he mused, was a nation of modest size and limited strength. Even accounting for the private armies of its various nobles, Alterac's standing military numbered less than ten thousand soldiers.
Thoras knew Alterac's terrain intimately. The Trollbane family's ancestor, Ignaeus, hailed from the ancient Alteraci tribe nestled within those very mountains. In military terms, Stromgarde held no fear of Alterac.
The current King of Alterac, Aiden Perenolde, a man of affluent lineage, possessed the countenance of a shrewd merchant – timid and prone to seeking petty advantages. His sole commendable act was the promotion of General Hath, a brilliant soldier and tactician, the only figure in Alterac's ranks who warranted Thoras's cautious respect.
Since the fragmentation of the once-mighty Arathor Empire, the human nations, bound by shared ancestry, had largely maintained a fragile peace. With the dominant power of Lordaeron acting as a stabilizing force, conflicts between the kingdoms remained localized skirmishes, never escalating into full-scale wars.
King Terenas of Lordaeron often mediated these disputes, and both Thoras and General Hath, as rational military men, exercised considerable restraint, carefully managing the scope of their armies' interactions.
It was precisely this state of perpetual low-level conflict that Thoras found so irksome.
He would far prefer a decisive engagement with the Alterac army to the tedious and unproductive haggling with the likes of Aiden Perenolde at the negotiating table. Such exercises in diplomacy were nothing more than a waste of breath, leaving him with a profound sense of distaste.
When the guard finally announced the return of Prince Galen, the lines of worry etched upon Thoras's brow softened at last.
But the subsequent words struck a discordant note in the otherwise pleasant reunion.
"Father, I want a piece of land."
King Thoras, who had greeted Galen with a genuine smile, found his expression faltering, a momentary disconnect between the welcoming curve of his lips and the dawning astonishment in his eyes.
Years of wielding the crown, however, had honed his ability to swiftly regain composure. Knowing his son's forthright nature, he bypassed the immediate "why" and instead inquired directly, "My son, which piece of land has captured your interest?"
Faced with Thoras's unexpectedly direct question, Galen's carefully rehearsed arguments faltered. He had meticulously crafted a multitude of persuasive reasons to justify his request for a fiefdom, yet his father's immediate agreement left him momentarily adrift. Had his five days of painstaking deliberation been entirely unnecessary?
"Father… you agree?"
A constellation of question marks seemed to hover above Galen's head. This sudden, unresisted happiness felt like a whirlwind, leaving him slightly disoriented, a nagging suspicion that he might be experiencing some elaborate hallucination. A second confirmation was definitely in order.
Before his audience with Thoras, Galen had been confident in his ability to sway his father's decision.
The Kingdom of Stromgarde, like most human nations, traditionally granted royal children a fiefdom upon reaching their majority, the size and significance largely dependent on the king's disposition.
When Galen's cousin, Danath, had come of age, his father had bestowed upon him a fertile mining region at the northern foothills of Hillsbrad, a grant that had sparked a considerable degree of envy in the younger Galen at the time.
Although Thoras had gifted him several smaller manors in the vicinity of Stromgarde, these lacked the autonomy and prestige of a true fiefdom.
Galen's confidence in his current request stemmed from his decade-long bond with his father, a relationship built on deep affection and mutual understanding.
The only potential obstacle he foresaw was his relative youth, a concern that Thoras might perceive him as ill-equipped to manage a significant territory.
However, Galen had a strategic counter to this concern. The land he desired was not prime, internally held territory, but Stonefist Hall, situated south of the foreboding Deadwood Forest. This former royal mining area, while technically royal property, had been abandoned for various compelling reasons.
Its current state of abandonment meant no existing populace to govern, eliminating that potential complication. Even if settlers were to arrive, he could readily recruit administrators to oversee their affairs.
Then came the more significant hurdle: the region's inherent instability, its proximity to the territory of the hostile Witherbark tribe.
This, however, was precisely where his ultimate objective came into play: to request Thoras's approval to establish his own dedicated military force to protect his prospective fiefdom.
To this end, Galen had deliberately preserved the severed head of the troll witch doctor from their recent encounter, a tangible piece of evidence demonstrating his capability in confronting the trollish menace.
This carefully considered, multi-layered approach stemmed from Galen's unique perspective as someone who had once known a world where kings systematically dismantled feudalism in favor of centralized power. Military authority, he understood, was a delicate and fiercely guarded prerogative. Which monarch wasn't wary of independent armed forces?
Galen himself harbored a degree of apprehension. Had he not been a transmigrant, the original Prince Galen, according to his unsettling future knowledge, would have seized the throne through patricide within two decades.
Oh, if I broach the subject of raising an army and inadvertently anger Father, triggering some tragic display of paternal betrayal, wouldn't that be a significant setback?
The above scenario was a melodramatic royal tragedy Galen had mentally conjured – father against son, palace intrigue, usurpation, mutiny. If Galen were to have children in this life, it could easily become an Azerothian adaptation of Shakespearean opera, perhaps even a future production at the Karazhan Opera House.
However, Galen had underestimated the depth of his father's love and his aspirations for his son. Revitalizing Stromgarde was Thoras's lifelong ambition. Now, the kingdom's strength was rebounding, its army stood at its peak, and its people enjoyed a hard-won peace. Only the persistent troll threat in the southeastern highlands remained a minor, albeit irritating, thorn in their side.
Then Galen had been born, displaying extraordinary talent and remarkable maturity from a young age. Thoras held high hopes for his heir.
No ambitious king would refuse an exceptional successor.
From the tender age of ten, while instructing Galen in the arts of war, Thoras had also begun to introduce him to the intricacies of governance. Yet, the young prince had shown little interest in worldly affairs, his focus laser-sharp on mastering the skills of combat.
This near obsession had almost turned Thoras's hair prematurely white, leading to moments of regret for ever having encouraged his son's martial pursuits, fearing it had somehow skewed his priorities.
What he heard today, however, was a welcome surprise.
His son, who had shown an almost singular passion for martial prowess since childhood, was actually requesting a fiefdom. Thoras, too, felt a rush of unexpected happiness, prompting his unguarded reply: "My son, which piece of land has captured your interest?"
One sought information with cautious hope, fearing rejection; the other had long desired to grant a significant responsibility but hesitated, fearing disinterest. Communication, it seemed, was indeed paramount.
"Father, I desire the abandoned mining area in the southeast. Would that be acceptable?"
Here it comes, Galen thought, recognizing the familiar progression of his carefully laid plan.
"Three years ago," Thoras replied, his brow furrowing slightly, "the inhabitants of that region relocated to Go'shek Farm, unable to endure the constant harassment from the trolls. A territory devoid of people, yielding no production… what are your intentions for it?"
Perfect, Galen thought, the pieces falling precisely into place. He immediately countered, "Father, I intend to establish a knightly order to protect the mining area, and subsequently recruit laborers to restore the mine's productivity."
Thoras' expression turned serious, his gaze direct and probing. "Galen, that land borders the territory of the forest trolls, a tribe that has been our bitter enemy for generations. You understand the weight of the name Trollbane. Are you truly prepared to face the trolls?"
Thoras's question hung in the air, heavy with paternal concern and a king's responsibility. His son's desire for a fief was not unwelcome, but the choice of land, situated beyond the kingdom's established defenses, was unexpected.
What followed was even more surprising. Galen sought to raise his own army to combat the trolls. Thoras had no inherent objection to his heir wielding military power; Galen was his only son, the future of Stromgarde.
But he needed to know if his son truly understood the gravity of the challenge he proposed to undertake. Was he truly ready to confront the enduring menace of the trolls?