“See?” Voca Lodestone said, gesturing, “This is what you get if you don’t build the tavern first.”

It was as though Stormwind City produced a seed, which the Alliance had planted in the dark damp soil of Northrend. White stone walls, topped with snapping blue and gold banners, surrounded the still-growing city. The sounds of construction came from within, and two ships were in port. For the moment, the cannons that faced inland, toward the lands of the Lich King, were silent.

“Whatever,” Belsun Grimaxe scoffed, with mumbled agreement from the other dwarves.

The group marched across the damp gray sand toward the new city on the shores of the Borean Tundra. They had traveled through regions Ely Flinthammer had identified as the Howling Fjord, Grizzly Hills and a desolate, Scourge-haunted region known as the Dragonblight. (In Dragonblight, they’d spent the night in an apparently empty cave, only to be woken up and chased out by a centaur-like creature that appeared to be half-mammoth, half-giant.) On the far side, they’d come out into a wide open expanse with no shelter from the elements, but clear enough sight lines that the group had been able to travel safely at a forced march ever since.

The human guard at the gate, wearing what looked like a more ornate tabard of the City of Stormwind, looked over the motley crew with a look that mingled curiosity with disdain for the filthy travelers.

“Welcome to Valiance Keep. You clearly have been stranded here for years, by the …”

“Shut your noisehole,” Beli Flinthammer snapped. “You came from Stormwind, aye? Any from the district come with ye?”

“The dwarven district,” Ringo Flinthammer supplied for his wife, since humans tended to not understand that to dwarves their district was Stormwind, and the rest of it was “the human district.”

“Er, yeah,” the young guard said, blinking in surprise. “There’s some in there building the …”

“Noisehole!” Beli barked, marching past him and into the city. “Shut it!”

The rest of the group shrugged an apology and hurried after Beli, leading Frostmaw, their rams and mechanostriders.

Inside, there was a line of volunteers from the Eastern Kingdoms enlisting. Apparently they were arriving in Northrend by any means, eager to fight the Scourge, and only joining with the Alliance forces after they arrived.

“Right,” Ely said, straightening up, “They’re going to need a quartermaster, I expect. Rifles to maintain, ammunition to keep track of.”

He gave them a wave and joined the line.

The rest of the group just looked around them, wondering where to start in this bustling city.

“Drop our bags at the inn?” Widge Gearloose suggested, lamely, raising his voice over the sounds of construction.

The gnomes and dwarves walked toward the high peaked inn when there was a sound of a beast roaring and something black streaked off the inn’s balcony, slamming into Frostmaw. The two beasts roared and snarled, claws and fangs flying, forcing open an empty circle in the middle of busy Valiance Keep.

Finally, the fight was over, and a black lion was holding Frostmaw down, one massive paw on the polar bear’s neck, and the cat was grooming the humiliated bear against his will.

“Lucky!” Beli gasped. “If ye’re here, then that means …”

“Beli!” a voice boomed from the frame of a building under construction. “Ringo!”

A dwarf leapt from the framing down to the hard stone and rushed toward the group, his whiskers coated in sawdust.

“Bael,” Ringo said, shaking his father-in-law’s hand, and the two dwarves gave the one-handed shoulder slaps that counted as hugs in their family. “Is Dorae here, too?”

“Aye,” Bael Rockbottom said, twirling his mustache. “The Scourge brought the fight to us, so we figured we would bring the fight right back to him, by Khaz’goroth! Yer mother will be glad to see ye, Beli … Beli?”

Ringo looked around.

“She was just right here,” Ringo said. “Where did she …”

“There,” Widge said, pointing up at the inn’s balcony.

There, Beli Flinthammer clutched her only child to her bosom, looking like she would never let him go.

“Mama!”