Sielic received the missive, and sent a reply. It took a few days, but the response eventually arrived.
The letter read,
To Sielic Trugran,
The remains in question bore a ring with the name Trugran inscribed on the inside band. We require your assistance to determine if any of the recovered can be identified, and to provide answers to those who have lost loved ones in the areas of Hillsbrad and Alterac. Please make haste northward.
In service,
Jacob Moore
Alliance Clerk of Court
Sielic began preparations to leave at once. He notified the church of his impending travel, and locked his house up. He purchased a gryphon at a premium, and regretted every coin turned over, but made his way to the north. The journey was not short enough for his taste, but he was glad to arrive and be done.
The wars had taken a vast toll on these areas, but some minor settlements remained in out of the way spots. It took some searching to find any sign of civilization in the Foothills, but eventually Sielic located a traveling settlement. Heavy wooden wagonhouses, with canvas drapings, all stood together in a small cluster of trees. Humanfolk mostly, with a few dwarves. They looked like farmers, lumberjacks, and miners. Sielic showed he meant no trouble, carried no serious weaponry.
“Not many around these parts any longer. ‘less yer Syndicate or Horde.” A dwarf slowly spoke to him, and seemed to be the de facto leader. A halberd leaned nearby in easy reach, and seemed to be the badge of office. “But ye don’t look Syndicate or Horde, so what business brings ye this north?”
Sielic explained the missive, and the situation, and the dwarf nodded. “We saw some men in Alliance colours headed north of Taren. They made a camp where the Foothills meet the mountains few days past. Ye may find them still there.”
Sielic gave thanks and traveled back to his gryphon, and took flight. Some time later, he found a camp. Alliance livery was being flown, and soldiers made patrols. He set the gryphon to land and made his way to camp.
“Hail camp!” He called, some distance away. A clattering of arms and armor met his call.
“Here to identify the recovered?” A footman asked, his voice growling and low. Others gathered in the camp, and Sielic saw people that did not look like military with sullen faces waiting. He nodded at the question, and they showed him in. He heard sobbing, and saw a gnome run out of a closed tent in tears. A brief look inside showed him a dead gnome, with the same hair colour and nose as the gnome who had run past with his face in his hands.
Sielic walked the camp, waiting for his turn to claim what was his, and receive the closure he sought. ‘Was it my brother? My mother? My father?’, he thought idly. He peered into an open tent. Belongings were gathered and being dispersed. A familiar cross on white stood out. Sielic frowned. He rummaged in his bag and produced a guildstone, old and grimey.
“Arialynn, nay… Templars. There’s tabards here at a camp between the Foothills and the Alterac mountain range. You may want to send some folks, might have some remains to identify.” Sielic sighed, waiting for the response.
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