Rommath was confident. With the human kingdoms relocated and their assets seized or scattered, aside from the founding elders of the Stoneheart Horde, no single clansman possessed wealth that could rival his.
The resources at his fingertips represented the accumulation of the Blood Elf Race over millennia. It was a treasury of unimaginable scale—old money that made the new wealth of the Horde look like copper pennies.
Stoneheart City.
The streets were alive with the roar of the populace and the savory smoke of cooking fires.
Three giants—Redfang, Cedric, and Bastien—along with the gnoll, Ludo, walked down the main thoroughfare. They were silent, their expressions a collective mask of shock and numbness.
"Cedric, hit me."
Redfang suddenly stopped and turned to his friend, making the unreasonable demand.
Acting on reflex, Cedric threw a heavy punch, connecting squarely with Redfang's jaw.
CRACK.
Redfang's jaw dislocated instantly.
"Hss... That hurts like hell!"
