Who a King Must Do Ch. 19

Anduin got off the tram. His procession had deeply flushed skin, each and every single one of them, and they were reeking of great sex but at least their clothes were as untainted and undamaged as Jaina had promised. They were soon greeted by some sort of herald and then guided through the city. Not that Anduin needed the guide, he had been in Ironforge often enough to know himself around the underground city, but what was courtesy he shouldn't deny.

Out of the Deeprun Tram they first entered Tinker Town, the district granted to the smallest member race of the Alliance, the gnomes, by their friends the dwarves. They had completely remodelled the aesthetic to suit their own technocratic needs. Mekkatorque, High Tinker of Gnomeregan, was nowhere to be seen.

'Most likely part of the actual gathering,' Anduin thought as they were guided north, past the massive Hall of Explorers, an institution of long-standing importance, then south from there to the heart of the city: the Great Forge. Rather than torches alone, it was the vast amount of molten rock and metal that lit up the massive cavern at the core of Ironforge. The district was a large, uneven circle, with a massive bridge crossing straight from one end to another, a bridge they now crossed.

Smelting apparatuses, the size of houses, were all around them, pouring the liquid iron into large containers from where hundreds of dwarven smiths then continued to refine it with hammer and anvil. Even with Anduin's royal visit, the forges couldn't stop, the war effort was too important. Swords, armour, ship plating, nails, horseshoes, it all had to be made in rough quantities.

There was one anvil that went untouched, however, at the centre of the centre, bearing the sigil of Ironforge, a hammer with a circular emblem of fire over the handle. The aptly called Great Anvil required stairs for dwarves to walk up to its girthy surface and was a place too powerful to smith simple mass weaponry on. This was, after all, the anvil the bane of the undead, the Ashbringer, had been forged on.

More than a few smiths looked up from their work for long enough to give Anduin an enthusiastic "HAIL!" before going back to their work. Being a smith was one of the most honourable occupations one could have in dwarven culture, but it also came with long and exhausting hours. If the High King had to warrant a guess, each and every single one of the dwarves around spent his off day in Stormwind.

The symphony of hammers striking hot iron grew quieter as they stepped away but never quite left. Even as they entered the throne room, the so called High Seat, of Ironforge, the bell-like sounds still rang after them. The High Seat was largely empty, safe for a single, rather large, stone plateau with three thrones upon it, one for each present representative.

Falstad Wildhammer was on the throne to Anduin's right, a dwarf with typical red hair and a bushy beard, sitting on his throne in crimson plate armour with a Warhammer in arms reach. To the left was Muradin Bronzebeard, brother to the recently reborn Magni, and representative of the Ironforge dwarves. He also wore full plate armour, one clearly inspired from his years spent in the frozen tundra of Northrend.

In the middle was Moira Thaurissan, daughter of Magni and widow of emperor Thaurissan. Anduin immediately had doubts about making her part of his harem. There were women that became only more beautiful after they had a child. Moira, however, seemed intent on eating until no new man wanted to touch her. Her black satin dress was a waste over a body such as corpulent as hers, as those were curves nobody wanted to see in detail. She had a double chin, the kind of expression that made it seem like she was constantly constipated and the attitude that she was about to let him know.

"Ah, the 'High King' is finally 'ere," and she did let him know. "Lad, was it not just a few days ago that ye were stuck in this city and had to be saved by yer father?"

Maiev growled clutching her glaive and raising it up, pointing the serrated blade at the female dwarf. Immediately the guards, loyal to their purpose, of Ironforge tensed up. The Warden paid them no mind, certain she could slaughter them all on her own. "You WILL respect your High King!"

"What is a High King to an empress?" Moira spewed back and then looked dismissively at her nails, ignoring her fellow councilmen when they threw in comments meant to reign her in. Ever since she had stopped a troll invasion with her dark iron's, the redhaired woman had been able to concentrate most of the council's power on her. Dangerous, considering the comment just now. Either she wanted to supplant Anduin as leader of the Alliance or she was considering seceding. The High King could have neither. "Go on then," she waved off, "have your little meeting with this perverted boy."

"The Ironforge dwarves heavily apologize for her demeanour," Muradin grumbled a sentence Falstad soon echoed. "It is good to finally see ye again, lad, how is my brother?"

"When I sent him off, he was as energized as ever," Anduin answered, having sent Brann off on whatever adventure he wanted to indulge in again. Something about wanting to double-check something at the Shrine of Storms in Kul'Tiras. "I tried to convince him to at least visit with me, but..."

"Don't ye worry," Muradin waved off, "I know that lil'bogger, he'll come stumbling in drunk after some new discovery and gnaw me ear off with his boasting. I'll see him soon enough."

Anduin chuckled, that did indeed sound like Brann. At his side, Maiev finally took her weapon down, not without some more curses, however, "To insult Elune's chosen master of mine like this, an affront to decency thicker than demonblood." If Aclysia took offense to that, she didn't let it show.

"Anyway, we have some important topics to address," Anduin stated, wanting to start on the whole diplomatic front about the continued relationship between the two cities.

"We have nothing to address," Moira immediately forced herself back in the conversation. "As you can see, Mekkatorque isn't here. Our people share an ancient bond, a contract of mutual fate, and so we cannot hold any negotiations without him here."

"...What she says..." Muradin hesitatingly added, "...is true... the gnomes and us, we have an agreement since forever ago. We share the same mountains and we shall share the same fate, such said our ancestors." To a dwarf, few things were more holy than the promises of their ancestors.

"I see... where is he then?" Anduin asked, a break was not ultimately a bad thing for him, since it seemed he had to reconsider his plans.

"Where he always busies himself, in Gnomeregan, trying to get his infested city free," Moira stated and yawned, rising from her throne. "Now then, I have actual things to do, rather than sit on this ineffective government a foolish, foreign king forced on us."

Anduin felt a flare of anger at the mention of his father in such a disrespectful matter. Nevertheless, he smiled and wished her a goodbye. "I will see to it that Mekkatorque returns here in no time," the High King promised. That made Moira stop in her tracks for a moment.

"Ye're going out to fetch him?" she asked with an eyebrow raised, her sweaty forehead glistening.

"I will see to it that his situation is solved and allows him to return," he answered in a courteous way. Something was going on inside Moira's head and Anduin could guess what she wanted. Deciding to give her an easy in for his own benefit, he added, "I would be thankful if you could lend me some support in the matter. An advisor of yours, perhaps?"

"Yes, yes, of course!" Moira said with a friendly smile, which was suspicious on its own. "FENELLA!" she shouted and soon thereafter a dark iron dwarf appeared on the scene. Unlike her empress, this one was a fine example of her race.

Although her dark grey skin and fiery red eyes, glowing like magma, were certainly on the unusual side, her body had everything one could desire when asking for a dwarf in particular. She had a broader frame than humans, especially compared to her size, but looked nowhere near as square as the males of her kind.

Although muscular, her revealed shoulders and upper arms were still ladylike in their shortness. She wore a simple white shirt, and pants, accented with gloves, belt and boots from heavy leather and reinforced with iron. Simple as it was, her shirt also had a very deep V-cut, Anduin could almost see her solar plexus. Doubtlessly an adjustment against the heat. Many tools hung from her belt, making her appear to be some sort of engineer.

Her curves were rather impressive, large breasts that jiggled with every step and an ass that wouldn't quit, all on the short body that only reached up to the middle Anduin's chest. Indeed, she had that mixture of soft, stout and stacked that dwarven females, particularly their bar maidens, were famous for. Her long, red hair was bound together in a long braid that reached down to her kneecaps.

If they were more out there like her and less like Moira, not that Anduin believed the average dwarf had access to enough food to get that fat, than he had some hopes remaining for their future in his kingdom. Not that he would go around exterminating them if they were ugly, he just couldn't imagine a lot of men of any races going for them. Not with all the slutty elves going around, willing to be bred, especially.

"She will accompany you," Moira stated as if Anduin had already accepted. He didn't prove her wrong when she once more moved on to leave.

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Although it was autumn, the climate in the hills of Khaz'Modan could always be summarized in one word: cold. There was a chance for snow every day of the year, but it seemed they were luck today at least, as the sky was largely clear and transformed the ice-covered landscape into a sparkling beauty. They didn't get to see too much of it, though, as Anduin didn't have the time to wander the entire way. Instead, they were taking a ride in one of the many tanks, the continuous tracks allowing them to move moderately fast.

Anduin struck up a conversation with Fenella on the way, "So, how did you end up in Moira's service?"

"She blackmailed me to help in the reconstruction of a jade statue over in Pandaria," the woman answered in a typical dwarven accent. Immediately, her eyes widened, realizing what had just slipped past her black lips. "That is not what I-"

"Don't attempt to correct yourself," Aclysia chimed in, the black eyes in her green sclera giving the dwarf a short glance before closing again. "You cannot lie to our master. The Light beckons truth while the Shadow knows what is false."

"Does it ever," Xal'atath giggled.

"I am sorry if this is uncomfortable," Anduin made a sour expression, he didn't enjoy pulling out rather blunt tools like this, "but I need to know what I am dealing with. How is the relationship between the clans?"

"Everyone distrusts the dark irons," Fenella answered.

"Why is that?"

"Because Moira sends her agents to cause a ruckus every now and again," at this point the short and stacked woman looked rather afraid.

"What do you fear?" Anduin had a pretty good idea, but he still wanted to be sure.

"Her retaliation when she finds out I told you," yes, that was the expected answer.

He gave her a gentle smile, "You will be under my personal protection do not worry, no harm will come to you." Whether it was him, the powerful women he surrounded himself with or the simple soothing tone of his voice that made it believable, Anduin couldn't know, but Fenella did indeed seem to relax. "Why is she causing discord?"

"It is easier to govern my people while they still feel themselves at odds with the other dwarves. The years under the thumb of the Firelord have made my people accepting of tyranny," Fenella cowered in her seat. "And while the other two leaders are afraid of her backstabbing them, she moves out and plays the hero in military campaigns, while letting adventurers do the brunt of the work. Then she uses that as leverage and increases her own power and standing in the council. The people are to love her but hate us normal dark irons. I am powerless to stop her."

Anduin nodded with great understanding, "Thank you," towards the end, he had no longer needed to keep his magic active, she had told him willingly. "I see now that Moira isn't the solution to Ironforge's problems... she is the cause."

"What are we going to do about that, Anduin?" Jaina asked, disgusted by this turn of events. "Such corruption cannot stand."

"First, we get Mekkatorque," the High King answered. "Then we will see about this problem."

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They arrived in the save above ground areas of Gnomeregan later that day. Although Fenella was in the tank, Anduin had to have his dick sucked once during the trip. The outfits of his five present slaves, well, four of them, were just too sexy. None of them seemed bothered by the cold either, so they didn't put any extra clothing on.

The dark iron had been startled when Anduin had whipped out his massive cock, even more so when Jaina and Aclysia had gotten down on their knees in a hurry. The sight of the two women deepthroating the cock, that was as long as her arm from the elbow to the wrist, must have intimidating. More than that, it seemed she was turned on, clearly shifting in her seat in that betraying way. Her tits were humongous, bigger even than Jaina's, and because her hips were as wide as dwarven's frame demanded it to be, her massive ass squished nicely against the bare seat of the military vehicle.

Understandably, that drew Anduin's eye. When offered to participate by Valeera, who already had her hands on the redhead and caressed her with sultry gestures, Fenella had backed away and stammered something along the lines of 'I am good'. Anduin could have forced her to back that up, but he had no need to do so and didn't want to exert his power where it wasn't needed. If she wasn't comfortable, that was her choice.

The tank grinded to a halt in the snow and the door opened automatically. Ahead of every else, Anduin jumped out of the silver and bronze machinery. His plate boots made the white ground under his feet crunch, the High King had changed into his armour. Although heavier, it was conversely more easy to move in and more comfortable. Not to mention that he could just will it away to get naked. Xal'atath rested with Shalamayne in the pocket of the void he used for these purposes.

Although generally called safe, Anduin had the feeling that it was well-advised to stay away from the massive ventilation systems that spewed thick, green smoke into the air. They must have been connected with the core of Gnomeregan, still filled with whatever toxic radiation they had unleashed to stop the invading troggs. Unsuccessfully. The move had killed many more gnomes than troggs, the misshapen creatures turning out to be largely immune to the effects of the noxious energy.

"High King Anduin!" a high-pitched male voice echoed out of speakers over to the group. They were approached by steel giant, a suit of armour animated not by magic but nuts and bolts instead, with the gnome leader sitting between the pauldrons, operating it with a bunch of levers as if they were a true extension of his body. The pincer arms turned into a salute. "My oh my, I didn't expect you to be here," he was speaking in that typical, gnomish haste. "My apologies. I was assured you would take a couple more days to arrive in Ironforge."

"Not by Moira, as per any chance?" Anduin asked.

"Why, yes, indeed, by her and none other," Mekkatorque raised the crystal lenses of his googles and looked at the Alliance leader with a confused blink. "However did you know?"

Jaina stepped forth, ramming her staff into the ice. As a schooled frost mage, standing there and revealing her midriff was no problem for her. "We have reason to believe she is a traitor," she spewed out in a deeply aggressive tone. The arch mage had no sympathy for betrayals of any kind, having suffered through too many.

"Oh," the gnome's blinks only increased in frequency as he went through his memories like pictures in a gallery. "I see, yes, that hypothesis makes a degree of sense. I suppose we should hurry back and fix this situation?"

"No, Gelbin," Anduin gestured, "I already made my way over here, so I might as well look at the situation."

"As you wish, follow me," Mekkatorque turned his suit around and showed them around. Decontamination progressed, but only slowly. At the predicted rates, they would have cleaned out all of Gnomeregan in about 250 years. If it weren't for all of the troggs and leper gnomes, their radiated and crazed brethren, that was. One by one, they had to kill the former and cure the latter, a process that also took several weeks per individual.

Anduin hummed and glanced once more towards the pillars of smoke. "You can cleanse radiation, correct? Quickly, in small dosis?"

"In small doses it's basically no problem whatsoever," Mekkatorque confirmed, then watched Anduin walk towards the ventilation shaft. "I do highly discourage doing that, anyway! Radiation is not a pleasant feeling!"

"I will have to try something," the High King stated and reached out to the pillar. Up close, Anduin could see the whole system more clearly, a shaft that extended deep into the earth with a whirling piece of metal, not unlike a mill, below a metal grating.

An aura of light emanated around him. It succeeded in protecting his arm from the smoke, but it only parted around the fumes him and then they rose up into the sky anyway. He reached deeper into his magic. The aura flared up in golden brilliance, turning some of the smoke closer to white, but a green tinge remained. The Light alone was not strong enough to cleanse this deep, physical corruption.

'I could offer you help,' Xal'atath offered, 'the Shadow was always more apt at manipulating life than the Light was.'

'But what will you change in return?' Anduin asked. What the Void touched seldomly remained unscathed. 'Even the most basic Shadowhealing hurts the user after its been used.'

'Well, the effects are unpredictable, but if we use your gifts to mix both sides, I am sure it will be ultimately a beneficial change,' his third wife whispered into his mind. 'Do what you did with me and reign in fate to your desires, my master!'

He hesitated for a moment longer. Then he shouted to Gelbin, "I might be able to change this poisonous mist into something harmless, but it will come with unknown side effects. I cannot predict what exactly will happen..."

"Are you serious, Anduin?" Mekkatorque excitedly interrupted him and stalked over. Nearby gnome scientists stopped to look or shouted what Anduin had just said into ranged communications, the news of Anduin's announcement travelled quickly. "Do it, test it right now!"

"Gelbin, I..." Anduin wanted to tell the High Tinker that that was a terrible idea, but the gnome leader had already jumped out of his mech and was standing in the snow next to the blond king. His eyes stared with determination.

"I have released this poison, you say you have the cure, I am willing to sacrifice myself to test it," Gelbin put a hand on the human's hip, like a taller person would on a friend shoulder. "I have heard of your recent miracles and even if I hadn't, I would take this chance. Tens of thousands of my people will perish of old age before we can save them. If you can neutralize the gas, we can spend all our effort saving them! Test it, High King! I volunteer to see if it is safe!"

Taking a deep breathe, Anduin looked around. A gathered crowd of the small people were looking with anticipation and fear for their leader. "I will honour your dedication," he said and summoned both of his weapons from thin air and rammed them into the ground in front of the ventilation shaft. Using Shalamayne and Xal'atath as his mediums, he channelled his immense power. The green smoke began to crackle, turning white, then a bright pink. "This is as much as I can do," Anduin told the gnome leader who jumped inside fearlessly.