FIVE
A Trial of Will
Tirion sat in a small holding cell that was adjacent to the Hall of Justice, where his trial was to be held.
Through a small window, cut high into the cell’s wall, he could hear the sounds of commerce and activity
emanating from the bustling marketplace of Stratholme. Periodically he heard hammering sounds coming
from the main square. The city’s clamorous sounds were very different from the relaxing rural din of
Mardenholde keep. Fervently, he wished he were back there now. He had no idea how his trial would
go, but he had the distinct impression that no matter what happened in the court, his life would be
irrevocably changed. He thought about his family and the life of affluence and ease he’d shared with
them. Despite himself, he wondered if he hadn’t thrown it all away on a fanciful, selfish whim.
He had been held in custody for three days. Today he was to be tried for treason against the land he had
spent his life defending. He could scarcely believe it, but depending on what the court decided, he could
face either execution or spending the rest of his days in prison. Karandra would never forgive him for
taking such a risk for the sake of honor alone. He wondered if he’d be able to forgive himself if his wife
was forced to raise their son alone. He laughed softly to himself. He always believed that the only thing
that could possibly keep him from his loved ones was the enemy.What have I done? he asked himself
over and over.
He was surprised to hear footsteps echo through the adjacent corridor.Surely, the proceedings
haven’t started yet, he thought miserably. He heard the guards outside the door question someone as
the latch clicked and the door opened.
Arden walked somberly into the room. Tirion brightened somewhat and shook his friend’s hand.
“It’s good to see you, Arden. Have you been home since my arrest? Have you spoken with my wife?”
he asked hurriedly.
Arden shook his head and motioned for Tirion to sit down on his cot. “No. They won’t allow me to
leave until the trial is finished, milord,” the captain stated flatly. “I don’t know if Karandra’s been told or
not.”
Tirion scowled. He knew she must be beside herself with worry. “What of the orc?” Tirion asked.
“What did they do with him?”
Arden tensed. “Why do you care, Tirion? It is your enemy! I don’t understand why you’re so concerned
about it! There’s no way the creature would have saved your life! It’s a mindless brute!” Arden spat.
Tirion looked him square in the eye. “Just answer me, Captain,” Tirion said as calmly as he could. He
had to watch his tone—Arden might be the only friend he had left.
“They’ve been interrogating the creature for the past few nights,” Arden said. “Apparently, it didn’t offer
up anything they didn’t already know. I heard some of the local guards boasting about how they’d beaten
the hell out of it. They’re going to hang the wretched beast tomorrow morning in the square.”
Tirion’s heart sank. Eitrigg was going to die, and it was all his fault. Somehow, he had to find a way to
make amends—to put things right.
Arden sensed Tirion’s tension. “Milord, they might execute you for this,” Arden began. “If you confess
and claim that you lost your senses, maybe they’ll relent and let you go. Surely this matter isn’t worth
dying for! You’re a Lord Paladin, for the Light’s sake! People depend on you! You’ve got to snap out of
this!” the captain finished heatedly.
Tirion only shook his head. “I can’t, Arden. It is a matter of honor. I swore to protect the orc, and I
betrayed that vow. Whatever punishment they charge me with, it is well deserved.”
Arden ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “This makes no sense, Tirion. Think about your wife
and child!” Arden yelled.
Tirion stood up to face him. “I am, old friend. What kind of example would I set for my son if my word
counted for nothing? What kind of man would I be seen as then?” Tirion asked.
Arden turned away, bristling. “It’s not that simple, and you know it!” the captain bellowed. “Just admit
that you made a mistake! Admit that you were wrong to side with the orc, and they might be lenient!
Why do we even have to discuss this? Have you lost all sense, man?”
Just then the door opened and two guards stepped in. “You’ll have to leave now, Captain,” one of the
guards said. “We are to escort the prisoner to the Hall now.” Arden gave Tirion a last, pleading look and
marched out the door in a huff.
Tirion straightened and attempted to look as proud and confident as he could. “I am ready, gentlemen,”
he said to them. They bound his hands and led him outside. The bright, midday sun caused Tirion to
wince slightly. His limbs were tired and cramped from the past few days of inactivity. The guards
marched him across the square toward the imposing structure of the Hall of Justice. Out of the corner of
his eye, Tirion caught sight of the gallows’ scaffolding being erected. He surmised that it was the source
of the hammering he had been hearing. Briefly, he visualized Eitrigg standing upon the gallows with a rope
tied around his neck. Tirion had to work hard in order to keep his forced semblance of confidence. If
Eitrigg died, then all his efforts would have been for nothing.
* * *
An hour later, Tirion was seated in a large oaken chair in the middle of the polished courtroom floor.
Before him was an immense stage adorned with four throne-like chairs. At the center of the stage,
directly in front of him, was a large lectern where the judge would conduct the trial. Above the stage was
an enormous white flag bearing a stylized blue letterL, which signified the Alliance of Lordaeron. Lining
the vast walls of the chamber were other huge banners representing the seven nations of the Alliance. A
large blue banner embroidered with a golden lion signified the kingdom of Stormwind. Another banner,
black with a red-gauntleted fist, represented the kingdom of Stromgarde. Tirion was too nervous to look
around at the others.
Though he could not bear to turn around and see his comrades’ accusing faces, he could hear a hundred
voices whispering and muttering at once throughout the grandiose chamber. Through the din, he
discerned that everyone in attendance was shocked to hear that he had betrayed them. Many of the
onlookers had served under his command during the war, and many others he considered to be good
friends. He could feel their communal confusion and scorn buffet him in waves. His trial would not be an
easy one.
Far to his right, he caught sight of Barthilas sitting in attendance. The young Paladin had a condemning
look in his eye as he gazed intently at Tirion. Tirion wondered why the youth had turned on him so
completely and been so eager to see him disgraced. He turned away from Barthilas as another armored
Paladin made his way to the front of the stage.
“Defenders of Lordaeron,” the Paladin said in a clear voice, “today we stand in judgment of one of our
own. The trial of Lord Tirion Fordring will now commence.”
Tirion realized that his palms were sweating. He had to physically restrain himself from shaking. He knew
that the four jurors would enter the Hall soon. Every major trial in Lordaeron was presided over by four
of the highest-ranking lords within the Alliance. Tirion was sure that he’d recognize many of them as his
peers. The attendant onlookers hushed as the first of the jurors entered.
“All hail Lord Admiral Daelin Proudmoore of Kul’Tiras,” the Paladin said as the tall, lanky figure walked
across the stage. Lord Proudmoore took the throne-like seat on the far right with a look of disquiet on
his proud face. Tirion knew Proudmoore well. Despite being a tactical genius, the Lord Admiral was one
of the greatest heroes of the war. His officer’s uniform and large, ceremonial hat were deep blue and
adorned with golden medals and pins signifying his rank as master of the Alliance’s navies.
The Paladin spoke again. “All hail Arch-Mage Antonidas of the Magocracy of Dalaran,” he said as the
second juror strode in. A hush descended upon the crowd as the mysterious wizard took his seat. His
lavender hooded robe was adorned with black and gold trim, and he carried a great, polished staff in his
hands. Ever distrustful of magic, Tirion hadn’t had many dealings with wizards over the years, and was
somewhat disconcerted to find that his fate was now in the hands of one. He looked back to the Paladin
as the last two jurors were announced.
The venerable Archbishop, Alonsus Faol, who had anointed Tirion as a Paladin long ago, walked in and
took a seat next to the lectern.
Following the Archbishop was the young prince of Lordaeron, Arthas, who had only recently been
made a full Paladin. Tirion had never met the young prince before, but he could see that the handsome
youth radiated goodness and wisdom despite his relatively young age. Tirion wished fervently that
Barthilas had had the prince’s composure, days before.
With the jurors assembled, the Paladin motioned for everyone to rise for the judge’s entrance. All of the
attendant men and women rose as Uther the Lightbringer entered the Hall and walked forward to the
ornate lectern. The mighty, holy patron of the Knights of the Silver Hand scanned the assembly with stern
eyes the color of ocean storms. His ornately etched silver armor seemed to reflect every light source in
the vast Hall—bathing Uther in a halo of shimmering beauty. Uther was the first Paladin, and was held to
be the mightiest warrior amongst the armies of the Alliance. He was also held to be the wisest and most
noble of all the holy Paladins. Everyone in the room was cowed by his commanding presence.
Tirion’s mind reeled. Up until that point, he was resolved to stand by his decision and accept his fate
with honor. But, looking up at the stern visage of his powerful superior, his courage wavered.Perhaps
Arden was right? he thought frantically.Maybe he should beg for the court’s mercy and forget that
he ever made a vow to an enemy of humanity? His thoughts were disrupted as the Lightbringer’s
powerful, melodious voice filled his ears.
“Lord Paladin Fordring,” Uther began. “You are charged with treason against the Alliance and failing to
obey a direct order given to you by your superior. As you know, this is a dire charge. The noble lords
gathered here will hear your case and judge you accordingly under the Light. How do you plead to the
charges against you?” Tirion clenched his fists to keep them from shaking. He barely found the voice to
answer.
“I am guilty as charged, milord. I accept full responsibility for my actions,” Tirion said.
A hundred angry voices flooded the room at once. Apparently, many of the onlookers had believed the
charges to be greatly exaggerated or false. The assembly was shocked to hear Tirion admit his guilt so
openly. Tirion looked behind him to watch the crowd’s raucous reaction. He caught sight of Arden sitting
right behind him. The captain’s tortured expression seemed to plead to Tirion to reconsider his position.
Tirion had to look away. Arden believed in him and had always served him loyally. But the captain would
never understand. . . .
Uther’s voice boomed out as the mighty Paladin commanded the assembly to silence. The gathered host
went quiet as if it had been struck by lightning. Tirion could almost feel an electrical tension in the air. He
braced himself.
“Very well,” Uther said evenly. “Let the record show that Lord Paladin Fordring has entered a plea of
guilty.”
Tirion watched as the four jurors conversed amongst themselves for a brief moment. Lord Proudmoore
ended the discussion and motioned for Uther to continue.
“Let Lord Commander, Saidan Dathrohan, come forward and give his testimony,” Uther commanded.
The crowd stirred slightly as Dathrohan walked toward the stage. He stopped and stood solemnly next
to Tirion’s chair. The two friends exchanged fleeting glances. Dathrohan could only nod sorrowfully at
Tirion.
“Lord Commander Dathrohan, you have charged this man with treason. Please explain for the court the
occurrence and the nature of this man’s alleged infraction,” Uther said.
Dathrohan cleared his throat and straightened slightly. “My lords, I do wish to state for the record that
Tirion Fordring has always been a man of honor and nobility. But I cannot deny what I saw with my own
eyes. Four days ago, I led a detachment into the Hearthglen Woods in search of renegade orcs. Lord
Fordring assisted me with the exercise and helped me to track down the orc that we currently hold in our
prison for execution. When I gave the command to arrest the creature, Lord Fordring turned upon my
men and attempted to set the orc free. I asked him repeatedly to desist, but he would not relent. It is with
a heavy heart that I give this testimony,” Dathrohan finished. Once again, murmurs and hushed whispers
floated through the Hall. The jurors discussed Dathrohan’s words as Uther addressed the court again.
“Is there anyone here who can give credence to Lord Commander Dathrohan’s testimony?” Tirion’s
whole body clenched as he saw Barthilas spring up from his seat.
“I can, milord,” the young Paladin stated excitedly. “I was there, under Lord Dathrohan’s command,
when the incident took place. I bore witness to Tirion’s treachery firsthand.” The scorn in his voice was
evident when he spoke his superior’s name. Tirion could hear Arden groaning behind him.
Uther dismissed Dathrohan and motioned for Barthilas to come forward. Dathrohan gripped Barthilas in
a searing gaze as they passed each other. Apparently, the youth’s efforts to win his way into the Lord
Commander’s good graces were not working as well as Barthilas had planned. With surprising calm,
Barthilas took his place near Tirion’s chair. His face was proud and intent.
“State your claim,junior Paladin Barthilas,” Uther said icily. He was obviously disgruntled by the
younger Paladin’s lack of respect for his superior. Guilty or not, Tirion was still to be addressed by his
title.
Undeterred, Barthilas continued. “Just as Lord Commander Dathrohan said, milord, I sawLord Fordring
fight to save the orc from capture. He said that he had made a pact with the creature and would be
damned if we incarcerated it,” Barthilas said matter-of-factly. “You see, I knew he was up to something.
I had a feeling that thisvile traitor was untrustworthy even before we set out to capture the orc!”
“Silence!” Uther shouted, his voice reverberating through the chamber like thunder. He ensnared the
now trembling Barthilas with his overpowering gaze. “You will learn to control your tongue,junior
Paladin. I have known this man for years. We saved each other’s lives more than once, and stood
victorious before the enemy more times than I can clearly remember. Whatever he may have done, he
certainly deserves more than to be harangued by an unseasoned boy like yourself.” Barthilas turned white
as a sheet and looked as if he might faint. “Your testimony has been heard and will be reviewed by the
court. You are dismissed,” Uther finished. Reddening in embarrassment, Barthilas hurried back to his
seat. Tirion watched as the jurors once again began to converse with one another.
The four lords finished their deliberations and motioned that they were ready to proceed. Uther turned to
stare down at Tirion. His gaze seemed to look straight into Tirion’s heart, searching for some explanation
for his friend’s unprecedented behavior.
“Lord Paladin Fordring, do you have anything to say in your defense?” Uther asked Tirion levelly.
Tirion stood up and solemnly addressed the court. “My lords, I know that the notion must sound
preposterous, but the orc saved my life. In return, I gave him my word as a Paladin that I would protect
his as well. The orc’s name is Eitrigg, and he is as honorable an opponent as I have ever faced.” Jeers
and shocked gasps erupted from the assembled onlookers. Tirion continued unabated. “You must
understand me when I tell you—in order to follow my orders, I would have had to betray my honor as a
Paladin. That I could not do. That said, I will accept whatever punishment you deem fit.”
Uther strode over to the four jurors and knelt beside them. He argued with them briefly, pointing his
finger as if to stress a point. After a few moments, it appeared as if the jurors had relented and Uther
walked back to the lectern, victorious.
“Lord Paladin Fordring,” he began, “this court is well aware of your long years of service in defense of
Lordaeron and its allied kingdoms. Every man here is aware of your courage and valor. However,
consorting with the sworn enemies of humanity, regardless of their supposed honor, is a grievous crime.
In granting the orc amnesty, you took a terrible risk and gambled the safety of Hearthglen on a personal
whim. In light of your service, this court is prepared to offer you a full pardon if you will disavow your
oath to the creature and reaffirm your commitment to the Alliance.”
Tirion cleared his throat. It would be so easy to simply give in and go home to his wife and son. He
turned to see Arden wringing his hands in anticipation.
“Please, milord. Commit to them and be done with it,” Arden whispered anxiously. Tirion saw
Dathrohan take a step forward, as if urging him to forget about the orc and clear his good name.
“Let’s put this nonsense behind us, Tirion,” Dathrohan exclaimed under his breath.
“Lord Paladin Fordring? What is your answer?” Uther asked suspiciously, seeing Tirion’s hesitation.
Tirion braced himself and faced the court members boldly. “What is to be done with the orc, milord?”
The great Paladin looked surprised by the question, but saw fit to answer anyway.
“It will be executed, like any other enemy of humanity. Regardless of your personal experience with the
creature, it is a savage, murdering beast that cannot be allowed to live.”
Tirion bowed his head and thought for a moment. He pictured Taelan’s innocent face in his mind’s eye.
He wanted to go home, so badly . . . .
He raised his head and saw Dathrohan give him a pleased smile; the Lord Commander seemed
convinced that Tirion would make the right decision. Tirion saw his course plainly. He would make the
only decision honor would permit.
“I will remain committed to the Alliance until my dying day. Of that, have no doubt,” Tirion said
confidently. “But I cannot disavow the oath I took. To do so would be to betray everything I am and
everything we, as honorable men, hold dear.”
This time the entire gathering erupted in fury and shock. None could believe Tirion’s brazen decision.
Even the noble jurors gaped openmouthed at Tirion. The tired Paladin thought he heard Arden weeping
behind him, and his heart sank even lower. Dathrohan sat down heavily in his chair, shaking his head in
dismay. Barthilas seemed to be on the verge of jumping out of his seat in excitement. Many of the
gathered warriors began to shout obscenities at Tirion and call him a traitor. Some spat at him as he
stood motionless before the stage.
Rubbing his eyes wearily, Uther motioned for the court to fall silent once more. He was beside himself
with anguish over what he must do, but Tirion had stated his position clearly.
“So be it,” Uther said ominously. “Tirion Fordring, from this day forth you are no longer welcome among
the Knights of the Silver Hand. You are no longer fit to bask in the grace of the Light. I hereby
excommunicate you from our ranks.”
The audience gasped at Uther’s words. Excommunication was a rare, harsh punishment that stripped a
Paladin of his Light-given powers. Though it had only been used a few times, every Paladin lived in
mortal fear of it. Tirion could not fathom what was about to happen. Before he could utter another word,
Uther made a sweeping motion with his hand. Immediately, Tirion felt a dark shadow pass over him,
choking out the holy power of the Light. Panic threatened to overwhelm him as the grace and
strengthening energies of the Light fled his body. The blessed energies, which had been such an integral
part of him for so long, ebbed away just as if they had never been. Though the light of the Hall never
wavered, Tirion felt as if he had been wrapped in darkness and cast down into oblivion. Unable to
withstand the raging despair and hopelessness that washed over him in waves, Tirion lowered his head in
abject despair.
Uther continued. “All trappings of our order will be stripped from you,” he said as two Paladins came
forward and viciously ripped the silver plates from Tirion’s wracked body, “as well as your personal titles
and holdings.”
Tirion struggled against despair. Never in his life had he felt so naked and powerless. Images of Taelan
and Karandra sifted through his tortured mind. He had to get a grip on himself. He had to think of his
dignity. On wobbly legs, he stood and faced the court once more.
“You shall be exiled from these kingdoms and live the rest of your days amongst the wild things of the
world. May the Light have mercy on your soul,” Uther finished.
Tirion felt dazed, His head spun and anxiety threatened to overtake him. He was barely conscious of
Uther’s next words to the assembly:
“Though it goes against my better judgment, it is the will of this court that Paladin Barthilas take over as
regent governor of Hearthglen, effective immediately. Barthilas is to remain here to oversee the morning’s
hanging and then return home to his duties. The exile, Tirion Fordring, is to be escorted back to
Mardenholde keep. There he will collect his family and be escorted to the borders of the Alliance lands.
These proceedings are over,” Uther said, smashing his armored fist against the lectern. He gazed at Tirion
in frustration, clearly disgusted with the trial’s outcome.
“My lord, I have one last question,” Tirion barely managed to say. Uther paused to listen—a final
gesture of respect and friendship for his former comrade. “My wife and son . . . are they to be exiled as
well? Will my sin damn their lives as it has mine?” Tirion asked shakily.
Uther bowed his head in sorrow. The man before him was a good man. This was no way for a hero to
be treated.
“No, Tirion. They may remain in Lordaeron if they so desire. This was your crime, not theirs. They
should not be punished for your pride,” Uther said. He then turned his back on Tirion and departed. Lost
in a haze of despair and grief, Tirion was barely aware of the guards hauling him out of the Great Hall.
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