World of Warcraft: Missive
Varian was proud of himself. He acted very professional when he was informed that Garrosh Hellscream had succeeded Thrall as Warcheif. He had simply scowled at the floor in silence as the SI:7 agent who gave him the report shifted on he feet in annoyance. She obviously wanted to be somewhere else.
Varian looked to the elf and extended his hand and accepted the woman’s report. “Dismissed.”
The blood elf gave him the insolent salute of her breed before she left quickly and surprisingly quietly in full plate armor.
Varian looked down at the report in his hand and leaned back in the chair in his study before he began to flip through the precise, unflourished code, the key beside him.
Garrosh Hellscream? He thought again in incredulity. What was Thrall thinking? The mud-skin can barely lead his own people-what makes Thrall believe the scum can lead the Horde?
Varian put the report to the side after he had skimmed the summary and shook his head in annoyance.
Well, at least it will make it easier to justify going to war against the Horde-Thrall was too…human…to really gain full support for wiping the creatures off the face Azeroth. Garrosh is obnoxious, prone to making enemies, and very, very orcish.
Varian smirked. This is definitely an opportunity I can’t afford to pass up.
Varian rifled through his desk and took out a writing set and paper that was obviously of Horde make as a salacious smile formed on his face.
He wrote a sentence, folded the paper, placed it in an envelope, and sealed it. He addressed the note and tucked it in his belt. He would send it out the next time the mail went to Kalimdor and instruct for it to be placed in one of the mailboxes there. The method was a little roundabout, but, given the situation, a degree of care that he disliked had to be kept.
Even more so now, Varian thought as he stood, and left his study to find the next messenger who was scheduled to head over to the other continent.
--
Garrosh turned the envelope over in his hands again, a frown on his features. It had come from a particular mailbox that was for private correspondences. He had told very few people the address, and even fewer people sought to use it.
The parchment in his hand was obviously of Horde make-there was no denying that. The way it was sealed was entirely Alliance, though.
It told him who it was from, but the question was: why was he writing? Given his new situation-which was still sinking in-there was no way they’d be able to meet as often as either of them would like anymore.
Garrosh’s curiosity eventually got the better of him and he broke the seal with a disgruntled growl. He drew out the folded paper, flipped it open, and read the short message.
Then read it again.
And again.
A slow, fierce smile spread across his face, and a low, dark chuckle filled his room.
The letter read:
I can think of an interesting way to solve factional disputes.