Lady Constanza Montrose looked out from her balcony in Stormwind, took a deep breathe of the warm, summer air and wished for the entire bloody city to burn. Not the now-familiar dragon-fire that nearly sacked the entire city, but the familiar, Scourge fires that still burned in Stratholme. It was not too long ago that this would have been a real possibility: That the combined armies of the horde and the bloody alliance would be far, far too busy dying in The Lich King’s citadel to deal with the war at home.
Then Magdalena Maunt, that wretched woman, squandered everything on revenge. She was foolish, wasteful, prideful and better off dead. That though gave Lady Constanza some small comfort. Comfort enough to smile for a brief moment.
It was a brief moment, ruined by the recent past. Maggie’s squandered resources set the entire Stormwind cell on edge. And by the time it was settled…
“Bloody dragon,” she said to no one in particular.
Just as she consolidated her rule, Deathwing wreaked havoc on the city. She should have seen it coming. When her rank-n-file started reporting the new cult, she should have done more to either remove them or co-opt… But that was neither here nor there. She absently began to twist the ring; the white ring around her ring finger.
She did what she always did: she rebuilt. It was a long, hard slog, but Lady Constanza had her people and her city back. This time, she was ready to deal with anyone who got in her way.
“IVOR!” She shouted as she walked back into the manse. “Come here. We have work to do.”