The elf growled as he read the latest document an Equerry had brought him. “Baine, Arrested?” He frowned. “She goes too far, even for a Warchief, in fact especially for a Warchief, She must realise how this now looks…did we learn nothing from Garrosh, about how even a Warchief can be a Traitor?” he picked up a cigarillo and stuck it in his mouth, unlit, just inhaling the taste, he had promised his wife he would stop smoking since the twins were born, but some habits were hard, especially in times of stress, and these were times of stress…So he did not light the Cigarillo, it was not smoking if it was not lit, but the smell of the tobacco was soothing…
He examined the other reports that had reached his desk that day, placing some next to others, as if they were connected, and perhaps they were, making symbols with a pen next to points on one document and the same symbol on another, when the two seemed to correspond.
He had checked his ‘pigeonhole’, there was no immediate instruction from High Command, which meant that the Regent Lord was still deliberating on his course of action.
Brigante rocked back in his chair, he himself, a victim of Sylvanas’ fervent supporters. Something must have happened to get that Bull so riled up that he acted, of all the Horde Leaders, he was the most…passive, peaceable, Something did not add up here, Baine was loyal, what would make him turn against a people who Vol’jin had described as ‘Family’.
He paused, his hand clenched and a flame sprang from it, even though by the standards of his race he was a poor arcanist, he could yet perform parlour tricks, however with a grimace he moved the hand away and dismissed the flame, he would not light the Cigarillo. He had promised Tarrithael, and he -always- kept his promises, for good or for ill.
It suddenly gelled, as information does when received from different angles. He had heard rumours that Derek Proudmoore had been risen from the grave. Family. That was it, that was the key, so did Baine regard Jaina Proudmoore more as family than the Horde?
No, that was not possible. Brigante then frowned as he let the next thought form.
Did Baine regard Jaina Proudmoore more as Family than Sylvanas Windrunner?
Possibly…
The question was. Did He?
He filled in the documents on his desk, the munitions reports, the training flight schedules, overseas deployments and assignments but his thoughts kept coming back to that one thing…
“We were here with Garrosh, We have done this…Do we need to do it Again? Is that our Fate?”
“Last time it was Vol’jin, is it now Baine who is the warning sign?”
Brigante’s office suddenly seemed a lot smaller, and colder, as if it were a prison cell, as if the Horde itself, were a prison, with a Banshee’s laugh the jailor…