Originally written November 25, 2011.
I traveled often when I was younger, perhaps then it is natural for me to never remain in one place for long. There were few places in Lordaeron I did not see with my own eyes, and even now the plagued land tugs at old memory. Perhaps that is another reason why I am so drawn to the raising of Tranquility's Watch.
The Council debated its reveal over the entirety of a month, but there was no posturing, no banal deliberation. Its councillors debated security, sustenance, supply and travel. There was no gridlock, or lines drawn in the sand between the eleven members. The Blacksmith chose each councillor well, whether he intended the final result or not. In the coming days, as the Watch is seen by outsider eyes, the Council's mettle will be tested by the struggles of leadership.
It is simple to lead an army in comparison, war is the purpose, your enemy's demise the objective. But in the preservation of life and its most mundane yet profound purposes: waking, working, providing, caring, learning, sleeping, happiness, those are far more difficult objectives to obtain. I see troubles in the winter months as the Watch opens its doors, let alone other troubles at the moment unforeseen.
However, I now leave the Watch to stand on its own feet. I am a councillor to it, not its sole guardian. As the last of the readied refugees departed Hearthglen, so did I, but not for safer shores – for Kalimdor. I felt too removed from the front, far removed from the Templars' efforts in the Firelands. There was a moment or two that I doubted, and tested my weapon skill to ensure that I left behind nothing when I departed the war. No – I speak wrong, war is never left behind on Azeroth. I simply left one to partake in another. But instead of soldier, my role was caretaker.
In my time on the Eastern Kingdoms, Taldrus accompanied me on the days his company was not embedded in the Firelands. The refugee crisis kept me from taking too careful note of his dedication, and his attack on Svybia Vonghal likewise blinded me to the comforts of his presence.
At times I wonder whether our arguments are a reflection of the conflicts outside or within ourselves. I opposed his desire for vengeance against Vonghal, not for stubborn principle but for preservation: Taldrus is too passionate, too firey of a man to walk the path of vengeance and return unscathed. I could see him attempting justice, but turning it to bloodlust. He questioned whether I doubted him, and I answered truthfully. It was some days before we reconciled.
Since then, we have drawn closer than before. I contemplate a future both with and without him, and find one harsh and lacking in life's mundane that war lacks, but sorely so.
All these things remain close to mind as I return to battle once again. It is a familiar sense of anticipation, and it is simple to enter a meditative calm as simpler objectives occupy one's mind. I anticipated Kalimdor, but now I travel to Northrend. Again, it is a familiar land with few parts of it left unexplored by travels. My travels in Lordaeron were far more peaceful and simple, those in Northrend were fraught with danger and uncertainty.
My memories of the frozen wastes are not as fond, and I have no desire to carve out land for lasting life. No – Northrend is a land of death, but let it be the death of Azeroth's enemies, not its innocents, my allies, or my love.
Aye, Taldrus. It is penned in ink, perhaps as a promise, or lasting will. On a coming night before the madness of battle, I will tell you.
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