Retooling

Right now I'm retooling the first few chapters of the story, changing some minor things that allow for better story flow.

In the meantime, here's a little intro to one of the main antagonists in the story, Falt Greyhaft:

Far to the north, Layette Manor stood safely ensconced within the foothills of the Alterac Mountains. To the south lay Strahnbrad, once a jewel of the former kingdom, now a festering ruin full of brigands, rogues and mercenaries- just the kind of people with which Falt Greyhaft had recently surrounded himself. As a liason from the Scarlet Crusade to the Syndicate, he worked with lowlifes and criminals on a daily basis. His orders came from the highest levels of the Crusade, but he didn't particularly mind them. He didn't hold himself so high and holy as others in the Crusade, and was in fact glad to work away from the tireless and desperate struggles against the Scourge.
With the Light's blessing, the Scarlet Crusade had held its own since the Third War and stood strong in several places. But the Scourge hadn't let up in the slightest, despite their huge setback in the far lands of Kalimdor. With the fall of one master another had risen- this mysterious Lich King, of whom one of the Light's greatest servants had become a lieutenant. Many in Lordaeron, or what remained of it, were bitter against former prince Arthas Menethil, and rightly so. He had stood poised to become Lordaeron's next champion, the greatest student of the legendary paladin Uther Lightbringer. But as the Scourge devastated the kingdom to which he was heir, Arthas lost himself in madness and desperation, to the point where he became consumed by a desire to avenge his kingdom's loss. Somewhere in the insanity that followed he betrayed his own people and allies, taking up arms against them as the Scourge's general in Lordaeron. At last report he had gone to Northrend for some unknown purpose, but his minions in Lordaeron were relentless in their continued attacks. The seemingly endless carnage and defeats had started to wear on many of the Crusade's bravest soldiers- only by the resolve and strength of its leaders had they remained steadfast.
One of those generals had just sent a missive to Greyhaft, updating him with the goings on up north. He saw Dathrohan had nothing of great import to pass along, just the usual casualty numbers and territory changes. Greyhaft noted that fewer soldiers had been lost this month as compared to the last. Well, it was the little things that mattered, isn't that what everyone said?
Putting the missive down, he picked up another letter, this one from much further south and not from any Crusader, though in Greyhaft's mind this was no less Scarlet business. It was old business, relatively speaking, but important nonetheless. Unfortunately, he saw, there was nothing to report. He put the letter down and walked to the window. It was past midnight, and storm clouds had begun to gather to the west over Lordamere Lake.
It had been almost three years to the day when Nikolas Tien had slipped out of his grasp. A captain at the Monastery when they met, Greyhaft had disliked Tien from the start. On the scout's third day, he had reported to the captain for orders. Falt had ordered him to duty in Hearthglen, knowing the precious need for good scouts in that part of the kingdom. When Tien asked if the post was permanent, Greyhaft replied that it was. At that point, in front of a good dozen soldiers or so, Tien had shown the gall to defy the order, saying he intended to stay near the Monastery. When asked why, the scout said he wanted to keep his sister safe. Greyhaft matter-of-factly told him that the sister, a priestess in the Monastery, would be perfectly safe, and that he was needed in Hearthglen.
Then that upstart refused again, at which point Greyhaft said it was an order, not a request. Tien smugly replied that he was not some conscript, that he had volunteered, and was going to stay near the Monastery regardless. With the others watching, Greyhaft had had little choice but to relent, not wanting to seem tyrannical. So he asked if Tien might be pleased with scouting duties in Tirisfal, with the occasional job of taking messages to and from Hearthglen. The latter agreed, even smiling at the compromise, but for Greyhaft, the damage had been done. He knew from that day that Tien would be trouble and a malcontent, though the degree of the problem could not have been known, not at that time. Falt decided to keep an eye on the scout, reporting every infraction to his superiors: in a cause as important as fighting the Scourge, there was no room for chinks in the Crusade's armor, no matter how small.
Over the next few months, to his dismay, Greyhaft had found little with which to criticize Tien. The man's work had been very useful, and for a while it seemed there'd be no problem. Then Greyhaft had begun to hear rumors that Tien was becoming...discontent. Through sources loyal and well-placed, he learned Nikolas had started to express doubts about the Crusade and they way they fought the Scourge. He felt the soldiers and leaders were becoming too brutal and extreme in their methods.
What that...dissenter...failed to realize, Greyhaft now remembered, was that the war to reclaim Lordaeron was more than a seemingly-futile battle. It was a war against evil itself, a war against demons and devils and all that was dark. The Undead had ripped life itself from the land and those living on it, and turned both into aberrations of nature, blasphemies to the Light itself. True, Greyhaft admitted to himself now, some of the methods employed by the Crusade were unpleasant, but they had been absolutely necessary. Faith demanded that all measures be taken to wipe every last abomination from existence. For good to prevail, not one particle of the Undead taint could exist, and removing it was the sacred charge taken up by the Scarlet Crusade.
With time, Tien's complaints grew into treachery. He began resisting orders to carry out the simplest of tasks, claiming he wished to know more about the Undead before he attacked them. His sister, the priestess, had tried to make him see reason, to see the truth of their cause, but the man's mind would not be assuaged. Repeated attempts by leaders spiritual and marshal to bring Tien back to reason failed. Greyhaft began seeking cause to have the man arrested and tried for treason, for in war desperate as the one in which the Crusade fought, anything less than total allegiance was the same as betrayal. Falt's efforts were in vain, however, as the traitor somehow managed to skirt a fine line and avoid going too far.
Then, Greyhaft remembered with a grim smile, Tien did the unthinkable. He and a footman patrol came upon an Undead straggler hiding in the mountains. Their orders at the time were to hold all Undead alive and take them to the Monastery, where they would be subjects for experimentation. But somewhere during the journey north, Tien had lost his mind and attacked his comrades, trying to free the abomination. The two escaped, but soon ran into another patrol. Tien and the monster had been promptly arrested and imprisoned in a farmhouse until both could be moved- the monster for his experiments, and Tien for the Monastery dungeons. Now, in the present, Greyhaft clearly remembered learning of this and his feeling of victory at finally getting his hands on a traitor.
But only two days later, Tien managed to get away, taking the monster with him. To make matters more serious, one of the Crusaders had been killed in the escape, two others wounded. Somehow, when finally within reach, Tien had escaped Greyhaft's grasp. He remembered the pure rage he felt, almost as if he'd had a demon itself in his hands only to watch it blow away with the wind. He had been so close. And he hadn't been about to give up.
For months following, Greyhaft had sent scouts and runners in all directions, trying for even a sniff of Tien's whereabouts. There were many who began turning against the Crusade- many, especially, after the death of Highlord Mograine- but few had proven so elusive. It seemed, to most, that Tien had truly disappeared. Greyhaft tried his sister, Katia, but to no avail. She maintained she knew nothing of his whereabouts, and was quite convincing. But when he planned more extreme interrogations, Katia's mentor- Inquisitor Whitemane- had intervened and commanded Greyhaft to cease his fruitless search.
And so he had, at least officially. From that time he worked in secret, hiring bounty hunters and others to be his eyes and ears, watching always for some little sign.
Greyhaft knew, years later, that his desire for justice had grown into an obsession. He had managed to let it go enough to where it didn't consume his as it had. Over time, the numbers of seekers he had out looking for Tien dwindled, though there were still a skilled few. He rarely lost sleep over the matter anymore, but then there were occasional nights, like tonight, where it all came back to him.
As he looked toward distant Lordamere, Falt Greyhaft wondered, not for the first time, if he might die never seeing the fruits of his dedicated search.