World of Warcraft: The Shattering: Prelude to Cataclysm Page 0,71

orc who was a personal glory-seeker.” Cairne snorted. “I wonder, now. Considering what he did with the money.”

Orgrimmar had indeed been rebuilt, but it was barely recognizable. All of the damaged buildings had been replaced, but not with the wooden, thatched, or hide-covered roofs that had been in place before. Citing a need to keep Orgrimmar “safe from future fires,” Garrosh had commissioned metal instead of combustible materials. One could argue that his choice was a reasonable one.

One could also, as Cairne had upon beholding the new buildings in Orgrimmar, feel a shiver of unease at how very, very much the new architecture resembled the old. He had never traveled to Draenor himself, but he had seen images of Hellfire Citadel and some of the other buildings created by the orcs when they were in the grip of the demonic bloodlust. Black iron, wrought into jutting, pointed, brutal-looking buildings that were practical but unwelcoming. Now, here in the Horde capital city, one could imagine tools of torture lurking within, rather than the simple groceries and items the buildings actually housed.

He had left Thunder Bluff for Orgrimmar upon Thrall’s departure to be physically accessible to the new young leader Thrall had appointed against Cairne’s advice. As ruler over their people in his absence, Cairne had appointed his son, Baine, a fine warrior with a cool head like his father’s. Baine had had no difficulties in his father’s absence.

As the time stretched on, Cairne had found his advice was not particularly welcome, and indeed was often ignored. As he watched the hostile-looking architecture go up, Cairne had realized that this was no longer a place for him to be. He had asked to see Garrosh, explained that he was returning to Thunder Bluff, and had been surprised at Garrosh’s reaction.

He had expected relief or indifference. Instead, Garrosh had risen and gone to him.

“We fought together well once, in Northrend,” Garrosh said.

“That we did,” Cairne agreed.

“And yet I know you did not agree with many of my decisions.”

Cairne peered at him for a moment. “Both things are true, Garrosh. But I think that my disagreement with your decisions interferes with my ability to aid you.”

“I … Thrall entrusted me with the care of the Horde. He is a symbol of it, as are you. I have no wish to offend you, but I have to make my own decisions. And I will do so. I will do what I think best for the honor and glory of the Horde … and its overall well-being.”

Cairne liked the words. And he was willing to believe that Garrosh actually meant them. But he knew Garrosh perhaps better than the orc knew himself. Cairne had known of Grom, had known countless other hotheaded youths and watched so many of them come to violent and often senseless ends. He had no wish for Garrosh to join their number, and worse, drag down the Horde along with him.

But it was pointless for him to stay. Garrosh would do exactly as he wanted. If he wished Cairne’s advice, he would find a way to justify requesting it so he could do so without losing his pride. And Cairne would let him keep it.

He bowed, courteously, and Garrosh bowed lower, and then Cairne returned home to Thunder Bluff.

The Kor’kron, the elite guards that were always near the warchief though usually unobtrusive, had shown him out. Cairne had always thought them fiercely loyal to Thrall; indeed, Thrall had revived the order. But it would seem that while their loyalty was certainly fierce, that loyalty was not to any one individual, but to whoever led the Horde. Cairne had listened carefully for any quiet protests or grumblings from them about the new direction the Horde was taking, at least in Orgrimmar, and heard nothing. Indeed, if there were any whisperings or mutterings, they would likely echo approval of the “glory days attitude” that Garrosh had brought to his style of leadership.

“I have not seen Orgrimmar since the rebuilding, nor do I have any desire to,” Hamuul Runetotem rumbled, jolting Cairne back to the present moment. “But, old friend, I do not think you asked me here to comment upon architecture.”

Cairne chuckled. “Would that were the reason, but you are correct. I wished to inquire as to how the negotiations with your kaldorei contacts in the Cenarion Circle are proceeding.”

At the feast to honor the returning veterans, Cairne had spoken up with a suggestion to reestablish relations with the night elves through the Circle,