Stormwind Wizard God-Chapter 614: The Naked Truth

Once upon a time, before Duke got caught up in this whole time-traveling circus act, there was this absolutely massive guy—we're talking wider than a barn door and twice as loud.

Picture this: It's a huge company party, and everyone's been shuffled around into different hotel rooms like a deck of cards. Well, some poor girl gets her wires crossed and mixes up her room number, thinking her roommate is chilling inside. So she rings the doorbell, all innocent and whatnot, only to have the door swing open to reveal this mountain of a man wearing nothing but a dingy bath towel that's barely hanging on for dear life around his considerable waistline.

Now, this situation was more awkward than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, but this absolute unit of a human being was quicker on the draw than a gunslinger at high noon. He immediately starts shrieking like a banshee: "THIS IS SEXUAL HARASSMENT! ASSAULT! CALL THE GUARDS!"

SLAM! The door gets slammed shut faster than you can say "awkward," leaving this poor girl standing in the hallway looking like she'd been hit by a freight train of confusion and feeling more wronged than a saint accused of stealing from the church collection plate.

That's right, folks!

Duke pulled the exact same stunt, because when life gives you lemons, you chuck them right back at life's face!

No matter what kind of curveball the universe throws at you, the secret is to put the other guy on the defensive first—strike fast, strike hard, no mercy!

Duke's words hit the pure-white-haired girl like a sledgehammer to the skull, and she froze up like a deer caught in headlights during hunting season.

It took her longer than a Sunday sermon to finally stammer out: "You, you, you absolute—"

After spitting out "you" three times like a broken record, her brain just gave up and went on strike.

This girl was obviously more innocent than a newborn lamb, and she looked like she was about to start bawling her eyes out harder than a kid who dropped their ice cream cone. Seeing her on the verge of tears, Duke felt his conscience kick him in the gut like an angry mule.

"Uh, sorry there, miss... I was just pulling your leg." Duke's wandering eyes couldn't help but notice that, despite it being the height of summer, this girl in her red high-slit priest robes had legs whiter than fresh snow and smoother than silk.

"WHERE EXACTLY ARE YOU LOOKING, YOU PERVERTED CREEP?!" The girl suddenly snapped to attention like a soldier hearing reveille, brandishing her staff like she was ready to turn Duke into a toad or something equally unpleasant.

And honestly, who could blame her? Here's some buck-naked stranger standing there like he owns the place—what if he decides to go completely off the rails and do something unspeakable?

"Whoa, whoa, WHOA! You've got me all wrong, sister! Your outfit just looks familiar, that's all. Are you with the Scarlet Crusade?" Duke wasn't entirely sure, so he was fishing for information like a man trying to catch dinner with his bare hands.

"It's the Scarlet Crusade LEGION!" the girl snapped back with the precision of a schoolmarm correcting bad grammar. "Uh, actually, I'm not really a member of the legion. I just... borrowed these clothes to wear."

And just like that, this sweet innocent girl showed her hand faster than a poker player with a royal flush.

Even though the difference between "Scarlet Crusade" and "Scarlet Crusade Legion" was just one measly word, the implications were as different as night and day. The former was a bunch of religious fanatics who'd gone off the deep end, while the latter was just a regular military unit serving the Kingdom of Lordaeron.

Duke immediately understood the lay of the land and figured out roughly where he stood on the timeline.

Hold up a hot minute!

Looks like he wasn't completely up the creek without a paddle after all.

"My sincerest apologies, miss! I'm from way up in the mountains—you know how us mountain folk are. Lost a bet with my buddies and they threw me in the drink as a prank. Got swept downstream faster than gossip in a small town. Could you maybe... tell me what time it is? What year are we talking about here?"

The girl looked Duke up and down—this half-drowned rat of a man who reeked like he'd been marinating in river water and God-knows-what-else—and gripped her staff tighter than a miser clutching his last penny. She took a cautious step backward, her eyes filled with more suspicion than a cop at a donut shop.

Still, her good manners got the better of her, and she answered Duke's question.

"It is the 15th year since the Dark Portal opened, and you are currently somewhere near Tarren Mill in the Hillsbrad Foothills, you... suspicious individual."

Well, I'll be damned!

Was he actually being looked down upon like some kind of lowlife scoundrel?

Was he—Duke, the devastatingly handsome, sophisticated, smooth-talking Casanova who had charmed more ladies than there are stars in the sky—actually being treated like pond scum?

At this moment, Duke's heart felt like it was being trampled by a stampede of wild horses, and his pride was getting kicked around like a tin can in an alley.

It took Duke a hot minute to pull himself together and get his wits about him.

"Look, I know how this looks, but I'm not the kind of guy you think I am."

The girl remained as wary as a rabbit in a fox den, her big doe eyes and platinum-white hair making her expression look colder than a witch's heart in a blizzard.

She was clearly thinking: Yeah right, buddy, and I'm the Queen of England!

Duke threw up his hands in exasperation: "You're a priest, right? For the love of all that's holy, could you possibly spare a set of clothes for a fellow down on his luck?"

The girl pressed her cherry-red lips together tighter than a clam at low tide. Since this stranger was invoking the Holy Light, she figured she ought to show some Christian charity. So she nodded reluctantly, then took three giant steps backward from Duke like he had the plague. After making absolutely sure that Duke couldn't leap out of that river and grab her in one bound, she spun around and took off running like her tail was on fire.

"Well, this is just... sigh..."

Just when Duke was convinced the girl was going to leave him high and dry and he'd have to fashion himself a grass skirt like some kind of primitive castaway, she came trotting back with a set of rough burlap clothes and a young boy who was clearly playing the role of her knight in shining armor.

The boy was tall as a beanpole and trying his best to look tough as nails, but his scraggly teenage beard gave away that he was barely sixteen years old, and his left hand trembling on his sword hilt revealed he had about as much confidence as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

Of course, Duke had no intention of causing trouble for these two kids. The moment the girl politely turned around to give him privacy, Duke scrambled out of the water faster than a scalded cat, dried himself off with the ratty old rag the boy had considerately left on the shore, and slipped into those coarse linen clothes he hadn't worn in more years than he cared to count.

Man alive, what a blast from the past! He was pretty sure he'd been wearing the exact same kind of scratchy, uncomfortable threads when he first got dropped into this crazy world.

Seeing that Duke had mysterious origins but didn't seem inclined to murder them in their sleep, the boy relaxed his guard just a smidge: "Sir, might I inquire as to your name?"

"Duke." Duke responded without missing a beat. "How about you two? I owe you both a debt of gratitude for your kindness. Least I can do is know what to call my Good Samaritans."

"Renault."

"Sally."

The young knight-in-training and the girl only offered up their first names, but just like Duke himself, they were keeping their family names closer to their chests than a poker player with pocket aces.

But the moment Sally heard Duke's name, her eyes lit up like the Fourth of July: "Oh my goodness! Your name is Duke too! After the last war ended, practically every other baby boy got named Duke in honor of the great hero!"

Duke couldn't help but crack a smile wider than the Grand Canyon when he heard that little tidbit.

"There is only ONE true Duke in this entire world!" Renault declared with the solemnity of a preacher delivering Sunday sermon.

"Absolutely right," Sally agreed without a moment's hesitation.

"Well then, as a knight candidate sworn to uphold justice and protect the innocent, I can't in good conscience just stand by and watch a stranger wander around these parts all by his lonesome. Especially considering how dangerous things have gotten around here lately. Sir Duke, I'm going to have to strongly insist that you travel with us for your own safety." Renault suddenly announced with all the authority his teenage voice could muster.

"Dangerous?" Duke's eyebrows shot up faster than a rocket. "What kind of danger are we talking about here?"

"Well, it's still just rumors and hearsay, but there have been reports of some seriously weird humanoid creatures lurking around these parts recently."

"Hmm? What kind of creatures exactly?"

"They look human at first glance, but they've got this nasty habit of eating people alive and their skin has turned this sickly dark gray color."

Duke's expression changed faster than the weather in springtime.

Holy mother of pearl, the Scourge was already making its move!?

This was worse news than finding out your barn was on fire while you were still inside it.

Duke found himself completely unable to pinpoint exactly when in the timeline this was all going down. However, it was crystal clear that Ner'zhul had already started flexing his muscles as the Lich King and spreading his influence like a plague. But whether the Cult of the Damned was still operating in the shadows or if Prince Arthas had already taken his infamous tumble from grace—that was still anybody's guess.

"We're burning daylight here—take me to Alexandros Mograine or Abbendis right this instant!" Duke's face turned darker than a thundercloud, and he spun around and started marching off like a man possessed, not giving two hoots whether the boy and girl decided to follow him or get left in the dust.

After spending more time in Azeroth than he cared to count, surviving three full-scale wars and facing down more hardships than Job himself, Duke knew exactly what needed to be done when push came to shove.

When young Renault suddenly heard those two legendary names drop from Duke's lips, the kid looked like he'd been struck by lightning and seen a ghost at the same time.

In the Scarlet Crusade, there wasn't a single soul alive who didn't know the earth-shaking significance of those two names. What absolutely floored both kids was the casual, almost dismissive tone Duke used when mentioning them.

You have to understand, these two men weren't just any Tom, Dick, or Harry off the street. Looking at the entire known world, you could count on one hand the number of people who had the stones to address them by their first names like they were old drinking buddies!

But this mysterious Duke character just dropped their names like he was discussing the weather.

Renault wanted nothing more than to give Duke a piece of his mind and shout "How DARE you show such disrespect!" But there was something about Duke's natural aura of command—that unmistakable presence of someone born to lead—that made Renault find himself automatically obeying this stranger's imperious orders like a trained hunting dog.

"Uh, this way, sir..."