Varian wanted to say something—his lips moved slightly—but in the end, he remained silent.
Under the moonlight, Allen turned toward the maid's skeleton and softly asked the remaining, less important questions.
The maid answered each one. Her voice grew weaker and weaker, until it finally faded into a sigh as she slowly lay back down in the coffin.
Allen picked up the shovel.
This time, he personally filled the grave, one shovelful of dirt after another.
When he finished, he stood there, facing the crude wooden marker—Emily Buck, a poor soul he had never known, yet whose rest he had disturbed because of himself—and gave a deep bow.
"Thank you," he said softly. "Rest in peace."
...
When they returned to Stormwind, the sky was already turning pale with the first light of dawn.
After a sleepless night, the group dragged their exhausted bodies and stopped in front of the Pig and Whistle Tavern.
Varian and Shaw stood across from them. The two groups locked eyes for a brief moment through the thin morning mist.
"Well then… we part ways here," Varian said, his voice a little dry.
Allen nodded without speaking.
They turned and walked off in different directions.
...
Inside the tavern room, Allen sat at the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the gleaming gold coin in his hand.
It was the deposit Wren had given him—one gold coin.
Wren was packing his belongings. Noticing Allen's silence, he turned his head.
Allen stood up and walked over to him.
"I'm sorry," he said softly. "Stalvan might not be the person you're looking for. But I have to find him."
He held out the gold coin.
The meaning was obvious—he could no longer help Wren keep a low profile in Stormwind.
The deposit from before… he was returning it.
Wren lowered his gaze to the coin, then looked back at Allen.
Then he smiled, speaking in a voice only the two of them could hear: "Don't get it twisted. I'm the employer." There was a hint of teasing in his tone. "The job isn't finished yet. Find Stalvan, and only then will I pay you the rest."
Allen looked up in surprise.
The truth behind Stalvan's crimes wouldn't be revealed until World of Warcraft Classic. Eight years after the Dark Portal, a high elf lingering in Stormwind had no reason to come here for this case.
Wren closed Allen's fingers around the coin and pushed his hand back.
Allen felt a strange warmth.
Of course… he was referring to the coin in his palm.
Stella walked in carrying a large bundle of engineering parts, just in time to see the two grown men standing unusually close together. Suspicion filled her small face.
Still, she bounced over to Allen, tilting her head up at him, her bright blue eyes full of seriousness: "Benefactor! I want to come too! I'll definitely help you!"
Allen looked at the tall one and the short one in front of him. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end, he simply nodded.
"Alright," he said.
...
The next morning.
Stormwind Keep.
Varian sat by the window, staring motionlessly at the rising sun outside.
He had been sitting like this for a long time.
Shaw stood behind him, looking at his king's profile. His brows were tightly furrowed, his gaze drifting, lost in thought.
"Your Majesty," Shaw said softly, a note of persuasion in his voice, "you should have breakfast."
Varian did not respond.
Shaw sighed and continued: "Still thinking about last night? Your Majesty, forgive my bluntness, but for a king to involve himself in such a minor case is a waste of your time and energy. Even if you solve it and catch that Stalvan, those nobles on the regency council won't think any higher of you—they'll only believe you're neglecting your duties, playing around with trivial matters."
He paused, his tone growing more earnest.
"You are the King of Stormwind. Your energy should be spent on governing the realm."
Shaw's words made perfect sense.
And yet, Varian couldn't stop recalling Allen's gaze—the disappointment in it.
That look… as if it were saying: So you're nothing special after all.
Just then, the door was gently pushed open.
A figure stepped inside.
It was a young woman, with long golden hair cascading softly over her shoulders, her features gentle, her expression warm with a soft smile. She wore a light blue dress, and her slightly rounded belly made it clear—she was pregnant.
Seeing her, Shaw tactfully bowed and withdrew.
The woman walked behind Varian and gently wrapped her arms around him.
"What's wrong?" Her voice was as soft as a spring breeze. "Something on your mind?"
Varian's body stiffened for a brief moment, then relaxed.
He lifted his hand and covered hers, gently caressing it.
"No, it's nothing, my love," he said.
She smiled, releasing him and stepping around to stand in front of him. She leaned forward slightly, resting her forehead against his.
"You think I don't know you?" she said softly, with a hint of fond indulgence. "I don't know what happened, but I want to tell you this…"
She straightened up, cupping his face in both hands, making him look into her eyes.
"These past couple of days… you've felt like you did back when your father was still alive." Her eyes shone with warmth. "So full of energy, so full of passion… like you're doing something you truly want to do. I don't know why—but I like it."
Varian froze.
Tiffin Wrynn—the Queen of Stormwind, the love of his life—smiled at him, her expression like sunlight pouring into his heart.
She turned and left, leaving Varian sitting alone by the window.
Sunlight streamed in, casting dappled shadows across the floor.
Varian gazed outside, his eyes passing over the rows of rooftops, beyond the towering city walls, beyond the lush greenery of Elwynn Forest in the distance—looking somewhere unknown.
What was he thinking?
Perhaps… even he didn't know.
...
Pig and Whistle Tavern.
Wren had rented another carriage, now parked outside the tavern.
It was a spacious enclosed carriage, drawn by four fine horses already harnessed, snorting impatiently.
The three of them were packing their things in the room.
To be precise, Allen was helping Stella pack.
The blue-haired Gnome had brought an absurd amount of stuff—engineering parts of all sizes, a thick book of blueprints, and a pile of metal contraptions of unknown purpose, all spread across the bed.
As Allen stuffed things into the bag, he couldn't help muttering: "Are you moving house or going to war?"
"They're all useful!" Stella retorted confidently. "You never know when they might come in handy!"
Wren leaned against the doorframe, watching the scene with a faint smile.
"You're that certain Stalvan is in Duskwood?" he asked.
Allen paused for a moment, then continued packing.
"I've been to Darkshire before," he said, calm but certain. "I heard that two or three weeks ago, a strange madman appeared in the forest north of the town. After committing the crime near the logging camp in eastern Elwynn Forest, it's very likely Stalvan fled south along that route into Duskwood. It makes perfect sense. And the timing matches."
Stella hugged a bundle of engineering supplies, pretending to think deeply, nodding seriously.
"That's exactly what I think too."
Wren smiled.
"Then if we're wrong, how about you cover the travel expenses, Stella?"
Stella's expression collapsed instantly, her face turning pale with alarm.
"W-Well… I don't think we can jump to conclusions just yet!"
Allen, on the other hand, was very firm.
"Trust me. I have a feeling Stalvan is definitely hiding in Duskwood."
"Really? Then it looks like we'll solve the case very soon."
A bright, cheerful voice suddenly rang out beside them.
Allen looked up in surprise, following the sound.
Then he froze.
At the tavern entrance, bathed in sunlight—
A young man sat atop a tall white horse. The horse was pure white all over, with only its mane and tail in a silvery gray, shimmering under the sunlight.
The young man wore a simple dark blue outfit, yet he still couldn't conceal the natural heroism in his bearing.
The sunlight poured down from behind him, outlining his figure with a golden glow.
Leaning slightly forward in the saddle, he looked at Allen with spirited confidence, a proud smile on his lips.
"Va—" Allen almost blurted out his real name, but caught himself in time. "Matthias? What are you doing here?"
The pride on Varian's face deepened. He tugged the reins, and the white horse reared up with a neigh, striking a strikingly dashing pose.
"What are you talking about?" he said loudly. "This is our first big case together—how could I miss it?"
Then, he suddenly switched to a more conspiratorial expression, lowering his voice and glancing around like a thief before leaning closer: "I think we should get going quickly," he said, winking. "I snuck out behind my cousin's back!"
Allen looked at his face—clearly asking for praise—and for a moment didn't know what to say.
Varian straightened, flicked the reins with flair, and turned his horse.
Bathed in sunlight, with the white horse's mane flying, he looked back and extended his right hand toward Allen—
"Come on," he said, his smile bright enough to chase away all gloom, "justice is still waiting for us to uphold it!"
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