Arthas: Rise of the Lich King Read Online Free PDF Page B

jerked to attention, wondering if he’d missed something important. “May the Light’s blessing be upon him in every thought, word, and deed, so that he may thrive beneath it and grow to serve it as its paladin.” Arthas felt a sudden calming warmth flow through him as the blessing was laid upon him. The stiffness and soreness vanished, leaving him refreshed and at peace. The bishop turned to the queen and the princess. “May the Light shine on Her Royal Majesty, Lianne Menethil, that she—”
    Arthas grinned and waited for the bishop to complete the individual blessings. He’d name the girl then. Arthas leaned against the back room of the wall.
    “And we humbly request the Light’s blessing on Lady Jaina Proudmoore. May she be blessed with its healing and wisdom, that she—”
    Aha! The mystery girl was a mystery no longer. Jaina Proudmoore, a year younger than he, daughter to Admiral Daelin Proudmoore, naval war hero and ruler of Kul Tiras. What did intrigue him was why she was here and—
    “—and that her studies at Dalaran go well. We ask that she become a representative of the Light, and that in the role of a mage, she will serve her people well and truly.”
    That made sense. She was on her way to Dalaran, the beautiful city of magi not too far from Capital City. Knowing the rigid rules of etiquette and hospitality that were so pervasive in royal and noble circles, she’d be here for a few days before traveling on.
    This, he thought, could be fun.
    At the end of the service, Arthas, already located near the door, stepped out first. Muradin and Trollbane were the first out, both looking slightly relieved that the service was over. Terenas, Uther, Lianne, Calia, and Jaina followed.
    Both his sister and the Proudmoore girl were fair haired and slender. But the resemblance stopped there. Calia was delicately boned, with a face right out of old paintings, pale skinned and soft. Jaina, however, had bright eyes and a lively smile, and she moved like someone who was well accustomed to riding and hiking. She obviously spent a great deal of time out of doors, as her face was tanned with a smattering of sprinkles across her nose.
    This, Arthas decided, was a girl who would not mind getting a snowball in the face, or going for a swim on a hot day. Someone, unlike his sister, he could play with.
    “Arthas—a word wi’ ye,” came a gruff voice. Arthas turned to see the ambassador peering up at him.
    “Of course, sir,” Arthas said, his heart sinking. All he wanted to do was talk to this new friend—he was already sure they would get along famously—and Muradin probably wanted to scold him again for the embarrassing display earlier in the armory. At least the dwarf was discreet enough to walk a few paces away.
    He turned to face the prince, stubby thumbs hooked into his belt, gruff face knotted in thought. “Lad,” he said, “I’ll get right tae th’ point. Yer fightin’ form is terrible.”
    Again, Arthas felt the blood rush to his face. “I know,” he said, “but Father—”
    “Yer father has many things on ’is mind. Dinna ye be saying a thing against ’im.”
    Well, what was he supposed to say? “Well I can’t very well teach myself fighting. You saw what happened when I tried.”
    “I ken tha’. I’ll teach ye if ye like.”
    “You—you will?” Arthas was at first disbelieving, then delighted. The dwarves were renowned for their fighting prowess, among many things. Part of Arthas wondered if Muradin would also teach him how to hold his ale, another thing dwarves were known for, but he decided not to ask that.
    “Aye, that’s what I said, wasn’t it? I’ve spoken wi’ yer father, an’ he’s all for it. Been put off long enough as it is. But let’s get one thing straight. I’ll take nae excuses. And I’ll be pushin’ ye right hard. And if at any moment I say tae mesel’, ‘Muradin, ye’re wastin’ yer time,’ I stop. D’ye agree, boy?”
    Arthas fought back an incongruous