《The Unified Theorem》


 The Holy Light Nets a Reality Check (I)

    "-. April 1, Year 579 of the King''s Calendar .-"


    ?


    The very first time the Light filled you, it was a revelation.


    Probably not the sort of revelation I''m undergoing though, thought one Wayland Hywel. Which is to say, myself. While I had no doubt that many of the people around me were attending the Archbishop''s visit hoping for some manner of enlightenment about their path in life, I doubted any of them experienced that revelation inwards and backwards. Certainly not so far backwards as to recall an entire eon of being happily dead, never mind a life before that, on a different planet in a different time that somehow turned the most grand and grim visions of Azeroth''s future into trite entertainment.


    Not that I was one to talk, considering how much time I devoted to said trite entertainment before need and want made me grow out of it. After a decade or three. Out of a total of nine and change. It might have taken longer if the lore didn''t completely lose the plot mid-way through Northrend. The retcons and inconsistencies in literally everything reached critical mass and just kept going, to the point where even the eternally incompetent Bronze Dragonflight couldn''t scapegoat everything. And that was just the things shown on screen. By the time I stopped playing games, the entire lore of Azeroth had become a meme unto itself. Of the ''this is proof we''re in a simulation'' variety.


    Now I was inside the simulation, so to speak. Wasn''t that lovely?


    I wasn''t upset though. I''d chosen this all by myself. I hadn''t been bored, exactly, but after an eternity of self-actualisation in the Boundless Ether ¨C which did not, in fact, lend itself to the emergence of almighty interdimensional corporate slave traders or random omnipotent bastards with arbitrary capacity for unchallenged tyranny matched only by their childishness ¨C I''d finally finished elucidating every last grain of inner meaning. I was ready to explore outer meanings again for a while. Why not by venturing into the neighbours'' burning house to help put out the fire?


    Sure, these particular neighbours were the neighbourhood''s busybodies that peeked and snooped and stuck their nose through everyone else''s business until they convinced themselves they could shape the world to accommodate their desires instead of the other way around. But imitation was the sincerest form of flattery and the consequences of ignoring reality had already gotten the Titans killed, so I was willing to forgive them. You don''t kick a god when he''s down. You especially don''t kick a god while his soul is being tortured into post-mortem insanity by the one big disaster that isn''t the sole consequence of his own actions, never mind an entire family of them.


    "The sermon is over, boy."


    A plated boot stepped into view¡­ actually it had been there for a while. I suddenly realised I was kneeling in the middle of the¡­ not empty street, Strahnbrad''s streets were almost never empty, but positively barren compared to when Alonsus Faol was holding his sermon and casting his glowing blessings of wisdom on all and sundry from up on the church balcony.


    Hours ago.


    "Lad, are you alright? Do you need a hand up?"


    I blinked and looked up at¡­ "Knight Uther." That''s right, Uther Not-Yet-The-Lightbringer would have had to be active for decades before paladins were first invested. And for him to be a direct disciple of Alonsus Faol, the man would have had to be in his service in some manner. Why not as a member of his guard? Though on that note¡­ "How can I help you?" What I really wanted to ask was what the heck are you of all people doing out here corralling a spacing out teenager? But then I saw the man''s face and realized he was barely in his thirties right now. He also looked positively taken aback, even awestruck for some bizarre reason. It was a jarring look on a face so manful and that beard looked positively exalted with not one shadow on it ¨C oh. I''m glowing. The Light''s Blessing that Alonsus Faol had cast on the gathered crowd hadn''t left me. Or, rather, the Light had come back in force after it did. This must be why everyone else is giving me such a wide berth, I thought. Though I think my parents, at least, would be different.


    They probably meant well, though. They weren''t particularly pious, the people of Alterac were more materialistic than the other kingdoms in general, despite Tirisfal Glades being practically next door, but they were true believers. They wouldn''t want to interfere with whatever work the Light was enacting upon their flighty only child.


    Uther shook himself and seemed unsure whether to feel worried or amused. "I thought I''m supposed to help you, lad. Unless this isn''t you prostrating yourself in a bid to be accepted as an acolyte? I dare say you''ve a fair chance of being accepted, though you might need to travel a ways if the local parishes aren''t to your taste. I can''t imagine any of them turning you away."


    "Oh no, I''m going to be an engineer." I made the decision on the spot because Enlightenment was useful like that. I rose to my feet feeling light and strong, the Light suffusing me with all the strength that could rise in mankind, before it finally began to fade now that Enlightenment was complete and a-ta-ta-ta-ta, where do you think you''re going? We''ve not even begun to make a better future!


    The Light stayed.


    Which was good because the enlightened thing to do without any power backing me up would be haring off into the mountains to become a hermit.


    The glowing eyes were a waste of energy though. Better if it went to something more useful like enforcing the flexibility of the eye lens and the rest of the ¨C there we go, at least my eyesight wouldn''t hold me back, and with more practice it may even get better. No small thing in this time and place when the dwarves and gnomes still kept to themselves. Did humans even have the notion of microscopes? In this world without the smaller races being forced to share their technology on account of being made refugees ¨C never mind the various more advanced things humanity itself should have had by now, like electricity and materials science ¨C telescopic vision and literal seer powers may yet bridge the gap. Well, one of them. A small one. Hopefully the Light''s utility didn''t need too many hoops jumped through to figure out, or I''d have a tough time giving mankind the technological edge in time for the orcs.


    At least the Light had been quite intuitive so far. But then, it would have to be, wouldn''t it? The first paladins completed their training in just a few weeks, never mind the insane progression rate of ''adventurers''. For all that could be trusted, which was not a lot considering the nonsense that was the so-called warrior class.


    But this was just one of the theories about the Light''s mechanics that I needed to verify now that it wasn''t mere fantasy. I looked at the knight. At his familiar face. The complete lack of mystic glow and grey hairs had ''opportunity'' written all over it. "Knight Uther, what is the Light?"


    Sir Uther was surprised. He also thought my question was theological.


    It wasn''t.


    Neither were the next twenty five.


    "-. .-"?


    Not entirely contrary to what I had expected, Sir Uther did not, in fact, shoo me away in annoyance when my questions started going over his head. Instead, the man bid me and my awkwardly trailing parents to follow and led the way straight to the Archbishop himself.


    Well, more or less. We had to wait for the Clerist Preeminent to finish his one-on-one meetings with his many petitioners. But that was alright, the Archbishop didn''t visit Alterac every day, and Strahnbrad was ultimately just a stop on the way to Alterac City. Sir Uther ''distracted'' me by asking me about myself, and the man was even willing to reciprocate for as long as it offered a reprieve from my ''dauntingly erudite approach to interrogation.''


    His words.


    I already knew that Uther would have been over sixty years old during the events of the Third War, so I was unsurprised to learn he was already a knight at the age of thirty-one. I was a bit surprised at how it happened, though. The man had been given by his parents to the Old Monastery in Tirisfal Glades ¨C the eventual headquarters of the Scarlet Crusade ¨C to live as a monk because they had too many children. It was practically the opposite of how Alexandros Mograine ended up there. Also unlike the future Highlord, Uther didn''t stay.


    "I don''t begrudge my mother and father, and truth be told I''m starting to think I''ll come around to that way of life, but as a young man I chafed. I left in search of adventure, and I soon found it. Mercenary work can pay quite well, and courier work was an embattled profession that soon acquainted me with the whole of Lordaeron and many of the people that keep it running under the surface, as well as the many elements that seek the opposite. I can only thank the Light that when I inevitably misjudged my patrons, his Holiness ¨C still a mere cleric then ¨C took pity on me and prevailed on the local marshal to enlist my ''help'' to undo my foolishness. Unravelling a doomsday cult wasn''t anywhere near what I expected, but it certainly gave me a better eye for who to take jobs from. Soon after, the marshal offered me a temporary military commission to put the mess behind me. His Holiness never said so, but I''m convinced he interceded on my behalf for that as well. That commission soon turned permanent and now, here I am."


    Is that personal experience why you''re going out of your way to humour me right now? ''Adventurers'' didn''t come out of nowhere after the Third War, it turns out. "I''m surprised you''re still a guard then, is the knight title as empty in Lordaeron as it is here? You could go to Stormwind though..."


    "I''d be lying if I said that didn''t figure into things, but in truth I find more meaning serving among people than against trolls and beasts of unknown lands. Besides, though I''ve certainly mustered the grit for it, I do not actually want to leave Lordaeron."


    Achieving the Knight rank technically elevated you to nobility, but Lordaeron ¨C like most of the other Kingdoms of Azeroth, as the continent was currently known ¨C had long since parcelled away its territories, so it was just an honorary title these days. The only exception was Stormwind, which was the only human kingdom not entirely surrounded by sea or allied polities. Conveniently for the Wrynn line, this practically meant that the most competent men of every generation got a big parcel of land on the frontier, which they then spent their own blood, sweat and gold pacifying of beasts and trolls and murlocks and whatever other dangers. A lot of young men left the other kingdoms in hopes of better prospects down there, and they in turn were dwarfed by the ambitious locals, and so Stormwind grew larger and more prosperous with each man that climbed through the ranks. It was a shining story of success that no one had expected of such a far-flung country, especially one whose closest neighbours were Gurubashi troll tribes and Dark Iron dwarves.


    It was also a story that the other kingdoms'' nobility was doing everything they could to make sure wasn''t repeated at home, because every new noble meant a threat to existing holdings. Also, ennoblement via the military path meant their loyalty was to the Crown first, not any other lord. Which meant the King of Stormwind had much more power in practice than all the other human kings.


    The irony was not lost on me.


    "Is that what you''re thinking of doing?"


    I came out of my introspection. "Pardon?"


    "Stormwind, lad, are you thinking of seeking your fortunes there? The dwarves and gnomes are on the way if you''re serious about taking up more unusual crafts, though I''d still recommend a ship."


    "Not at the moment." In fact, despite my nebulous overall aims, my mind was considering more eastward directions as well. Also¡­ "I need to make a few things to leave for the family, and build up some coin."


    Uther looked between me and my hand-wringing parents that continued to not muster enough courage to barge into our conversation. "That''s more thought than I put into things at your age."


    Since I was only thirteen, that wasn''t the ringing endorsement Sir Uther clearly intended. Then again, fourteen was apparently old enough to be a guard at the Stockade. On the one hand, questionable age of consent for job hazards. On the other hand, this world was clearly better about not forcing its youth to waste our best years regurgitating information we''ll never use in real life, while shut in a room with a stranger who controlled everything about our lives up to when we get to sit, stand, speak, eat, sleep or take a shit, in a mockery of the system of indoctrination that the greatest fallen civilisation in Earth history only forced on slaves.


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    No, those weren''t unresolved issues. You can''t achieve enlightenment if you still have unresolved issues. But the thing about resolved issues? They''re still issues if no one does anything about them.


    For better or worse, that issue, at least, is well out of my hands now.


    Too bad Azeroth had even bigger issues looming on the horizon, most of which would be made worse by the very kingdom I was reborn in. In the immortal words of Terry Pratchett, in Alterac there were two types of people. One, the peasants, craftsmen, artists, bards and even the rare noble who had to do things and were often quite human. And two, the other lifeforms. Unfortunately, the other lifeforms controlled everything. It was impossible to exaggerate their baleful stupidity. And Kind Aiden Perenolde was practically the worst of the lot, for all that he could still pretend humanity. Deathwing''s mind magics would barely need to do much, when the time came.


    Not that you were allowed to say any of that.


    I can''t stay here, I decided. The world doesn''t have time to waste on oppressed underdogs.


    Movement ahead. Uther stood from the pew where the two of us had been sitting and waiting. "Your Holiness."


    "Uther. And this is the child from outside?" Seems that kneeling in the middle of the street for hours gets around fast. "You were right about him being an aspirant then?"


    "No, Holiness, he¡­ Actually, you should just talk to him."


    "Indeed? Then I shall."


    Finally, the Archbishop of the Church of the Holy Light stood before me. Alonsus Faol. He was a short and stout man with a large, groomed beard and a friendly face. Light brown hair that would probably seem blonder if not for the contrast to the golden shimmer in his hazel eyes. The only reason I couldn''t see him playing the part of Greatfather Winter was because his beard wasn''t white yet. But then, some flour could fix that right quick. "Archbishop." I bowed my head but maintained eye contact and didn''t kneel. "I didn''t request this but am thankful nonetheless that you are willing to giving me a moment. I might need a bit longer than that, though, so if you''re short on time I''ll just leave you be and go home."


    "I always have time for meaningful petitions, especially those so well-spoken."


    Alonsus Faol''s presence was¡­ actually very pleasant. Just watching him created a sense of peace and clarity. He was no poser. It seemed that the Church of the Holy Light really was no false doctrine put in place just to mentally and spiritually enslave the populace for self-aggrandisement and coin. The Light was deeply invested in this man. "Let me preface this by saying I am not here to question the theology of the Church of the Light, so if it sounds like I am it''s not my intent."


    "Even if you do, that is fine as long as your own ears are not closed."


    Not an ideologue either. "All the same, I''d rather not waste time with dogmatic debate that will not change anything, I already believe that you are not as prone to confirmation bias as the local preachers, but you also have the advantage of reading ahead."


    Alonsus Faol sent my parents a glance far too commiserating, but when his gaze returned to me it was neither indulgent nor reproachful. "I will endeavour to let unintended slights pass. The Light, in the end, is a power of peace."


    Cannibalistic ogres, blood sacificing trolls, Dark Iron dwarves and Odyn begged to differ, but I easily let that go. Napoleon may have been right about the churches of Earth when he said they were there just to keep common people quiet and prevent them from rising in revolt. But that didn''t apply here. For all that people in my previous life loved to deride the Light as amoral and hypocritical zealot fuel, they also loved to deride the Church of the Holy Light for being pacifistic, even blaming the massacre of the Northshire priests on that instead of, oh, the psychopaths who butchered them. But see, it wasn''t pacifistic. It never had been. The founding values of the Church of the Holy Light were sacrifice and courage, the Three Virtues were respect, tenacity and compassion, and the librams that Alonsus Faol gave to the first five Paladins of the Silver Hand weren''t just the two about holiness and compassion, but also of protection, justice and retribution. Two out of three, three out of five, four out of seven, seven out of ten, those were actually pretty good slants for self-determination and anti-tyranny.


    What the Church was and had always been was non-militant, and honestly, I was fine with that. The fact that the religion wasn''t spread at sword point was the main reason why I didn''t hold it in contempt like all the organised churches on Earth. And it wasn''t like Azeroth had invalidated this non-militancy ¨C even opposing war sides that weren''t human avoided harming priests, like in the Gnoll Wars.


    It said a lot that it would take an army of literal alien invaders to wreck that balance away from virtue and towards ideology. Honestly, the very idea was offensive.


    "Do take your time, lad," Alonsus Faol dryly told me.


    An eon spent dreaming real dreams has left me prone to them even awake, it seems. "Archbishop, what is the Light? Is it a form of matter, energy, or a force? Some of them? All of them? None?"


    The Archbishop''s eyebrows climbed right up. "I understand your preamble now, but that is something ¨C child, can you read?"


    That the man could so earnestly ask that without it sounding insulting or even awkward was frankly impressive. "Yes."


    "I see, apologies then, I wasn''t sure because the answer to this question is the first thing related in the Holy Book. The Holy Light is the Primal Force of Creation, the endless, shimmering sea of energy situated outside the barriers of reality, the most fundamental force in the cosmos from whom all things were born. Before life began and before even the universe existed, there was only the Light, a boundless sea of living energy, swelling across all of existence, unfettered by time and space. As the ever-shifting sea expanded, pockets of various shades and brightness appeared, until the Light''s shades manifested as the many realms of the Cosmos. That is why there can be no pure Light in the world without unmaking it, but shades of it can nonetheless manifest in the form of the holy arts. So, to answer your question, the Light is equally matter, energy and force, as you were right to suspect."


    Sounded like the Chaoskampf if you started reading it in the middle, after the gods or whatever came out of the Ginnungagap already went through the big bang, or whatever other word you used for the primordial Chaos. Seemed that the Church didn''t know or didn''t admit knowing about the Void to just anyone. Probably the former, or there would have been more tensions or cooperation with Dalaran, perhaps enough to put up an actual fight when Archimonde broke it. "What kind though? In matter form I guess it would be crystals or reagents, but energy and force? Radiant energy is a given, but the Light can literally undo sprains and bone warps, and can affect emotions and cognitions and be affected by them, so if it can affect biology all the way to neuroplasticity, is Light energy also kinetic, elastic, chemical, electrical? If it''s a force, what kind of force? Creative, generative, motive, transformative, regenerative? There are spells to purge swellings and infections, which basically means the Light is breaking things down and accelerating the chemical reactions of tissue purge, does that mean it''s also a destructive force? And since it''s a force, what does it act on? Matter, energy, other forces? How much does it use existing potential energy as opposed to itself? Does the Light just tell reality to sit down and shut up, or does it transform into other forms of matter and energy to make things happen within natural law? If I use the Light to enhance my strength to ¨C dad, give me that cane, will you, you haven''t needed it in months, thanks ¨C if I use the Holy Light to overcome my natural limits and do this."


    The hardwood cane snapped like a twig.


    "Does that mean the light just unlocked my biological limits and I was always technically capable of doing this? Was it just a mental trick, or did it transform into adrenaline? If it wasn''t just biology, did I do more than my best self would have managed? Did it unleash the potential energy I already possessed, or did it turn into additional potential energy? And if the Light can heal something as complex as a human body without you knowing what you''re doing, shouldn''t it also be able to repair things if I throw it at this cane and want it fixed up really hard?" I was going to have to try this at some point, why not in the most controlled circumstances I was likely to see for a while? I wanted the Light to cast forth and heal the cane.


    The Light cast forth in a flare of gold.


    The snapped halves, alas, remained separate halves. They did look very pristine and polished now though.


    Everyone was staring at me, which was just as well. "If the Light responds to emotions and can heal something so much more complex like a living organism, why didn''t this work? Believe me when I say I feel very strongly about this."


    Alonsus Faol, bless him, gaped at me. Briefly, but it happened. The man closed his mouth, looked in something very close to amazement between my parents and me, cleared his throat and said. "Perhaps your faith is not strong enough."


    "Irrelevant, the Light is a provable and verifiable reality, faith is unnecessary." Now everyone was torn between being astounded and aghast. "And if the failure was on my end, then why did it beautify the wood? Does that just happen and the Light has a personal sense of aesthetics? I suppose it''s not out of the question, probity and beauty are tightly entwined, ugly art is the first sign that culture has been given into the hands of degenerates. If faith isn''t strictly required and certainty is already in supply¡­ maybe the key is to have a real need?" The Light within me swelled. "Well, a starting point at least." I looked at the positively fascinated Archbishop and held out the snapped halves. "Could you fix it?"


    Alonsus Faol shook his head in bemusement, a reaction much more contained than the naked shock of almost everyone else there. "I''ve found that certain material tools and symbols can serve the Light or help one call on it for various purposes, but I''ve yet to see the Light serve crude matter in turn. It has been theorised that the Light can heal the living because we are more than crude matter and the soul retains a memory of the body''s wholesome state. But I''d be wary of anything that assigns limits to the Light, especially human ones. Your deduction about the catalyst being true need is a better path to walk."


    Maybe morally, but practically? Odyn didn''t need to cause all-destroying blasts of disintegration to ''test'' the adventurers that were only there to solve all his problems. "Well, at least I got one thing right."


    "¡­ Perhaps more than one." The Archbishop turned away and I was expecting him to end my ''petition'' right then and there, but instead the man gestured to the nearby pew. "Uther, Turalyon, please turn one of the pews around, it seems we shall be here awhile."


    "Yes, Your Holiness."


    Turalyon too? That''s who the Archiboshop''s constant shadow was? I didn''t recognize him at all. Granted, he at least was a priest from the start, but really? I guess I can also confirm that the Holy Light works atemporally because Synchronicity is the only logical explanation for this. And now I had to wonder just what I''ll get up to in the future that would resonate backwards so blatantly.


    "Now, child," Alonsus Faol said as I took the seat across from him. "Since you put so much thought into your queries, it behoves me to equal the effort. I''ll need you to begin by explaining to me the terms you are using. I believe I can deduce most of it, but it serves to be sure. Before that, though, I do have a rather important thing to ask."


    "Okay?"


    "Are you aware that being able to wield the Light without undergoing our Rite of Investment is literally unheard of?"


    Oh dear, that was rather unheard of before the Second War, wasn''t it?


    Wait a second, am I a heretic?

 The Holy Light Nets a Reality Check (II)

    (II)?


    Fortunately, the Church turned out to not be in the habit of rounding up potential threats to its monopoly on Holy Power to burn us at the stake. Or maybe forcefully induct us into the cult. At least this Archbishop wasn''t. Possibly because there hadn''t been a precedent, though the notion seemed unlikely to me, how was there a first prophet or saint or whatever if you could only have Light powers given by someone else? Was it all just the Naaru from Mereldar''s dream micromanaging everything? Did the talent exist in humans only because Tyr gave it? Did it trace even further back through the vrykul to Odyn? All of the aforementioned?


    The Archbishop did have some very intense questions for me though. The talk stretched into late afternoon, then into the evening, then my father awkwardly extended an invitation to continue this at our home since the pews and stares of the loitering bystanders were getting mighty uncomfortable. The Archbishop instead invited the whole lot of us to join him in his lodgings at the local parish and had everyone wined and dined while our talk continued into the evening. Much befuddlement encroached on the local clergy, but the Archbishop handled that by turning my ''petition'' into an open debate that stretched deep into the night.


    The general consensus was that the Light was anything and everything, which was sort of right, but also not because then why did it need rituals and symbols to cast its spells? Technical answers were few and far between, which was not unexpected of a dogmatic organisation, but I still had enough to start experimenting on my own later. To my surprise, Alonsus Faol was actually quite interested in my perspective and seemed ready to stay up until morning, and to be honest so was I, the Light was helpful like that. That Alonsus Faol, of all people, found our talk so engaging that he didn''t care about the slanted looks I was getting from the other clerics for being a thirteen year-old maybe-heretic was honestly flattering.


    He did get around to asking me why I wanted to know all this though. "What do you seek by these questions?"


    "I don''t know yet," I said honestly. "But I''m getting closer with every answer."


    Alonsus Faol seemed accepting. "Well, far be it from me to impair dawning enlightenment. In the end, we are all inadequate vessels."


    Inadequate vessels. That¡­ felt important. And not just because I knew about the supposed curse of flesh.


    Alas, the talks got bogged down because nobody else understood what I was even saying half the time, so I had to keep explaining things. The Archbishop eventually decided on an indeterminate recess while everyone familiarised themselves with the copious notes that Turalyon, of all people, had spent the entire time jotting down.


    I myself had a few of papers, full of the practical details I was planning to follow up on later, but the deacon? The man had somehow filled a small book, his writing speed was phenomenal and his shorthand was shockingly legible too. I could see why the man would experience such a meteoric rise through the ranks in wartime, he''ll probably become a general by the simple expedient of doing all the war''s logistics in an afternoon.


    Then I found out just how the Archbishop intended to follow through on that follow-up, because it wasn''t empty words at all.


    "Child, how would you like to join the Church?"


    Please don''t say I was wrong about forceful induction.


    "Will you come with me and learn more of the Light? I''ve already got my eye on an apprentice, but as outgoing and virtuous as he is, he''s also terribly self-effacing. I''m worried he can''t properly appreciate the true value of the life he''s lived, the wisdom and experience he can himself impart. He could use an understudy to fret over, and he especially could use living proof that the Light will answer the right soul, regardless of accolades."


    Was Alonsus Faol seriously offering to make me apprentice to Uther? Him calling me the right soul left me honestly touched. I was actually reconsidering my life''s path now! Truly, authentic priests have the most incredible charisma. "I am seriously considering it." I said honestly, pretending not to notice my parents'' desperate miming for me to go ahead and accept right now. It was good I was so close to my fourteenth birthday because otherwise they might have made the decision for me. "Are you sure though? I already told you, I''ll never muster the faith you lot have."


    "Because the light is a provable, observably true reality, yes, but you do realise that puts you ahead of the majority?" I could already guess that from being able to wield the Light when some priests actually couldn''t despite whatever rite they used for empowerment, and I was sure some even lost their abilities later. But the ease with which this man could speak so honestly about his own organisation was amazing. "Besides, you might be surprised by what faith can achieve even then, or what can happen to make faith necessary to endure this life."


    Sally Whitemane and all the zealots she brought back from the dead would tend to agree. Faith was so flimsy, though, and so easily used to twist your purpose to that of someone else, and it didn''t even work to make the Light protect you consistently. The Light somehow didn''t stop even the most faithful bug, man, priest, saint, prophet, god, titan, even reality itself from being mindfucked by vague tentacles of effects and BDSM into becoming enemies of all creation. Even from lower-tier threats. Despite the Light''s main thing including breaking mind control.


    The Light within me weakened.


    Now why would it do that? These were facts, as far as I knew them. Even if I were to dismiss everything not directly written by the first lore writer as wild fancies of people who didn''t actually glimpse into this reality, that was still a lot of evidence. Even if I disregarded everything from the Third War onwards, the Lich King, the Nathrezim, the Old Ones and Frostmourne were already in there. Was I supposed to put all the onus on Arthas for his choices when the Light hadn''t left him? If no, then the Light didn''t protect him from brainwashing. If yes, the Light was not entitled to an opinion on what it was used for. Which was already debatable in itself, the investment of the Paladins of the Silver Hand involved a bunch of priests infusing the power of the Light into other people. Conversely, Uther could later strip the light from Tirion Fordring through excommunication. Tirion''s desperation eventually overrode it in a pivotal moment, but those were still contrary, entirely human choices. Like Whitemane''s resurrections, they were wholly mortal rulings the Light fully enforced.


    The Light within me stalled.


    And what about everything from as early as the First War, how many times was Garona bathed in the Light and still stayed under the Shadow Council''s mind control? What about Medivh? What about Deathwing, he masqueraded as a high noble for years, how many Church services did he attend, how many times did the Light enter him? How many times was he in the presence of Alonsus Faol and the Light didn''t bring back Neltharion? The Archbishop literally went around casting blessings of wisdom and clarity on people who came to see him walk the street, even an instant''s worth of clarity for the Aspect of Earth would have changed everything.


    The Light wavered again, but in a different cant.


    Screw vessels being unworthy, that''s just false modesty, I''m going to figure out how the universe works to make a future that actually makes sense and you''re going to help.


    The Light settled firmly within me, warm and here to stay.


    I relaxed. In the end, as good as faith and zealous conviction were at pulling the Light forth, factually justified certainty was just better. It was just common sense. "I''m afraid I must still refuse. I have some things to do here, I need to¡­" And yet my refusal still stalled in the face of that earnest, encouraging gaze. I would have suspected mental influence right now if it were anyone else. When I latched onto the Light to purge me of anything of the sort anyway, there was nothing. Not incontrovertible evidence, given the various aforementioned failures of the Light to deal with such things even in people so full of it that they glowed in the dark, but still. Then it struck me. "Does this offer have a deadline?"


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    Alonsus Faol actually looked disappointed, but understanding all the same. "I cannot speak for any limits the Light may or may not place on its grace periods, but there are no arbitrary limits on mine."


    "¡­ I have very important things to do as a layman." Here, as soon as possible, ideally without supervision, while my time is still my own. Well, relatively speaking. First I needed to bulk up, I was already taller than most people after my incredible growth spurt of early spring, the Archbishop himself had to look a bit up to meet my eyes, but a gangly teen does not a worthy man make. I needed some proper muscle if I was going to be building engines and generators. "But what if I go looking for you in Lordaeron in, like, a couple of years maybe?"


    "Then you will be welcomed."


    "It might not be to sign on even then, though. Or if it is, it may be, say, as a means to pursue a borderline mercenary approach to charity."


    "Perhaps you should leave it at that, child," Alonsus Faol said, amused. "Unless these mysterious plans of yours are something I should be aware of?"


    I opened my mouth, closed it and watched the man thoughtfully. "I might have a favour to ask. As a good parishioner, if not a particularly faithful one."


    "Not particularly faithful he says," the man muttered, then rubbed his beard and smiled ruefully. "Go ahead, child, lay it on me."


    "If you, entirely hypothetically, ever hear about, say, lightning being harnessed for various uses like creating light, making fire, turning wheels and forge hammers and what have you, maybe even relaying words from coast to coast in an instant with no magic whatsoever, could you have it checked to see that the Hywel family name is firmly attached to all of it? And maybe steam power too, those are the main ones off the top of my head. I''d hate for my parents and I to be dumped in a filthy ditch somewhere by some unscrupulous opportunist without any reprisal." I almost capped it off with ''and maybe harness the motive force of fiery explosions'' but I thankfully managed to stop myself before I inadvertently insinuated to potential time dragons that I was planning to introduce the internal combustion engine.


    Assuming the dwarves and gnomes didn''t already have it. They had oil platforms and tankers during the second war, even flying machines, but they looked made of wood, and the specifics of the technology were always nebulous despite oil platforms being among the objectives of the orc campaign. Gnomish mounts would all use clockwork and steam too, when they finally happened, despite Gnomeragan being chock full of (electric?) lighting and vents spewing nuclear fallout everywhere. Did this world skip past internal combustion straight to nuclear power? But then what was oil even used for that it was still treated like a strategic good?


    ¡­ Only during the second war. And briefly in alternate Draenor, if I recalled right.


    Hmm.


    Not that I''d ever find out if I ran afoul of the local underworld the moment I was out the door. If it was likely to happen anywhere, it was Alterac.


    There was no levity in the Archbishop''s face now. Only calm resolve. "I promise to do so personally." Wait, really? That was a lot more than- "In the meanwhile I will pray for your success, young man."


    Not ''child'' anymore? "Thank you, then. And I''m sorry to disappoint you."


    "My disappointment is and will remain just that, mine. The Light walks with you, Wayland Hywel. And you, sir, madam, go with pride in what you have achieved."


    "Goodbye then." "We will, Your Holiness, thank you."


    "Uther, it''s very late, please see them safely home."


    "Of course, Holiness."


    The night was dark and full my parent''s terror that we''d trip over a rock and fall in a pig sty. Of which there were many, most of them vacant because the pigs were allowed to roam all through the night in order to clean up the filth. Yes, that was something cities did before plumbing and plastics. And possibly muggers too, the Archbishop''s visit had pulled a lot more people and their coin purses out of their homes at once. I ended up leading the way because Uther was not a local and the Light improved my senses as if I''d gruellingly trained them since birth. Also, I had night vision now. Alas, though supremely useful, it did not prevent the other three from stumbling into mud and crap every fifth step, even with Uther''s lantern. It was a new moon night, unfortunately. Eventually I just gave up and told the Light I very strongly needed my eyes to glow like a pair of searchlights.


    "This has to be some kind of heresy," Uther grunted, then stepped on a piglet. It squealed. Loudly. "Then again, the Light knows its agents best."


    "I''m surprised you''re not doing this yourself."


    "The Light doesn''t answer just anyone, lad, never mind for something so trivial, and I''ve not been invested any more than you, I''m not a priest."


    "So you people keep telling me, but I thought ¨C aren''t you the Archbishop''s disciple?"


    Sir Uther cast a long gaze across town to where the church''s tower rose above the homes, barely visible in mere starlight. "His Holiness has made the offer." His gaze turned back to me, intense and meaningful. "After today, I think I will accept."


    This has gone way past the point of sharing old stories. But I didn''t insult the man by asking why. The Light was no trivial gimmick in reality, being able to channel it was seen as the literal blessing of divinity upon the world. I didn''t consider myself holy, but I didn''t consider myself not holy either. That it took some sort of ritual to allow new people to call the Light at all was something generally consistent across all races and cultures too. Still, wouldn''t Uther become a cleric at Faol''s invitation anyway? "Don''t misplace any credit, I''m sure you don''t let chance encounters rule your choices. If this is your right path, you would have chosen it regardless."


    "Perhaps, but not today."


    Well.


    Good to know my first world-shifting change was a positive one.


    Finally, we were home. "Thank you for coming all this way, Sir Knight," my father said, finally back on the familiar ground of playing the host. "Would you like to come in for a spot of rest and refreshment before you go back?"


    "My thanks, but no. Be well sir, madam. It was good talking to you, lad. Maybe we''ll meet again someday."


    "Goodbye, Sir Uther. Let the righteous know peace, and the unjust know the back of your hand."


    "Ha! I''m stealing that!"


    Go ahead, it was yours to begin with.


    Finally, I was alone with my parents. My mother, Agnes, who fell upon me with the blubbering wailing hug of stressed mothers everywhere. And my father, Domar, who shambled over to the pantry with all his beer gut and rheumatism and arthritis, drank a whole mug of beer in one go, poured himself a second and shambled back with it in hand to flatly tell me. "What the hell, boy."


    "Father." I cast Holy Light. Relations immediately improved. "How much does a cobbler''s son get as allowance?"


    It was the first of April in the Year 579 of the King''s Calendar, thirteen years since I was born, thirteen years before the Dark Portal''s opening. Not the most auspicious timeline, one might think, except that random Azerothian citizens had the leisure to walk entire continents, cull every last foodchain into submission, master their might, master their craft, get rich, uncover conspiracies, kill all the monsters, kill all the demons, space travel, dimension travel, even kill gods, all in the space of a year.


    Thirteen years ended, thirteen years started, the first of April here and now right in between, and my birthday was another twelve days from now on a Friday.


    I was going to be the biggest and best joke ever played on this world.

 The Steamy Truth (I)

    "-. April 13, Year 580 of the King''s Calendar .-"?


    I have figured out why the Light doesn''t automatically abandon fanatics ¨C it sustains commitment.


    Imagine you''re Sally Whitemane. At a young age you witness your family succumb to the horrific plague of undeath as you''re traveling through northern Lordaeron. You''re then forced to destroy both your parents and siblings when they rise as mindless Scourge minions, leaving you racked by guilt and rage. Ever since that day, you''ve found fulfilment and pleasure in only one thing: the cleansing and destruction of the undead. Fast forward a few years and you''ve gone from idealistic trauma victim to the proud bastion of Lordaeron''s priesthood, only for the undead to destroy Lordaeron wholesale because the Scourge somehow subverted the kingdom''s own prince into killing his father and destroying his own kingdom from within. You thus become the prime zealot in a cult that no longer trusts anyone not part of your Crusade, considering them plagued. Your leader is secretly replaced by a demon, but because your recruit pool is almost entirely made of traumatised young idealists like you started out as, you and he both keep having to pander to the most wide-spread beliefs among them no matter how much he hates it. You hold your former compatriots of the Argent Dawn in contempt for their toothless ways, but because the Brotherhood of Light is there as a buffer, you don''t cross the line into becoming a bigger evil than the one that created your extenuating circumstances. And because you bravely, self-sacrificingly and deliberately put yourself smack dab in the middle of the zombie lands where the Light is your most pressing need, there are very few living people actually around to question your actions and beliefs.


    So even as the odd innocent man and woman are tortured and eventually killed at the hands of Grand Inquisitor Isillien, the number of lives you save and raise in the Light ¨C which they don''t secretly hate like your demonic leader ¨C definitively offsets your damage to creation. This good, in turn, is vastly outdone by the harm you prevented through purging the throngs of undead that would otherwise have gone on to kill more of the living than you and your crusaders and all your victims combined, magnitudes over. And at the end of the day, you''ve successfully and honestly followed through on your commitment to the Light that you made at the very beginning. Your beliefs are the same, your morals are the same, your faith is stronger than ever, you''re smack dab in the middle of the zombie lands where the Light is your most pressing need, and you''re objectively contributing a net positive to the Light''s cause, even if just on the technicality that your fanaticism hasn''t actually been challenged yet. Sure, you''re flat wrong about how doomed the rest of the world is, but that doesn''t make you evil, just crazy.


    Long story short, the Light cares about feelings but has no concept of thoughtcrime and judges you only by actions on a scale of warm, fuzzy calculus. And honestly, I was fine with that. Sure, Whitemane wasn''t anyone''s first choice for the ability to bring people back from the dead, but the prior dozen choices were either dead or moping in a cottage at the edge of civilization. And the moment that changed, what happened? Sally and the rest of them were killed in their own fortress by a handful of mercenaries hired by the other guys backed by the Light, who managed to get more out of objectively lesser commitments by virtue of not being complete batshit crazy. At that point the only unresolved wrongs were individuals who deserved better, but literally all of them went in believing the Light will take care of that in the afterlife.


    Which might not even be wrong. I was reluctant to consider Shadowlands canon for a variety of reasons besides not passing through anything resembling the like on the way over ¨C they felt like a glimpse into a completely different setting, not to mention that older canon trumped newer canon in real life ¨C but shamanism included s¨¦ances and calling of ancestor spirits back from their resting places millennia later, and the Light could literally bring people back from the dead.


    It cast a lot of light on Arthas''s actions too, didn''t it? He only lost the Light at the end of that first story, not mid-way through. Arthas still believed he was doing the right thing ¨C he was still committed ¨C but though the Light stayed with him though Stratholme and after, it abandoned him when he picked up Frostmourne. Though Arthas refused to acknowledge it at that point, his commitment had changed. Which he could have realized with a moment''s introspection, honestly, the distinction between ''save the world from Mal''Ganis'' and ''Kill Mal''Ganis'' isn''t that subtle. It gets especially unsubtle when you''re suddenly indifferent to having just accidentally killed the person that mentored you for your entire childhood.


    And that was the crux of it ¨C the Light didn''t back just any commitment, it had to be a commitment to some manner of regenerative or creationist purpose, whether preserving existing creation or creating something new and sustainable by the current creation. Preferably better. What qualified as better by the Light''s standards was something I wasn''t going to try and experimentally narrow down, I''d be at it forever and never get close to finishing because of the sheer time involved in empirical research. But, see, the Light works intuitively, and everyone who ever got decent at using it did so through some manner of revelation, including myself. By that logic, meditation would be the ideal way to get better at it.


    So. Commitment.


    I wasn''t naturally given to meditation, I had too much going on in my head at any given time. I could do it, and I did every once in a blue moon after a long week''s work finally paid dividends. When I was high on life and finally content to lay down, I could look at the sky for hours and just drift.


    But I found I did better with the common sense approach to solving problems ¨C think about it really hard until your brain starts going in circles, then stop caring about it and be surprised a day or two later when the perfect brainwave drops on you out of nowhere, after you''ve long since moved on to something else.


    Now imagine you''re me, a materials engineer that reincarnated in a fantasy world where the tech level is not only pre-industrial, but also lacking all the anachronisms that would completely break common sense once humans, dwarves, gnomes, elves, draenei and demons are all forced to commingle within the span of a single generation. Naturally, my first instinct was to introduce the standard uplift package. I may not have any of the means to resume my vocation from one death and lifetime ago, but circumstances were such that I needed to prioritise the more practical tools to make better tools anyway.


    Now picture all that while hooked up to a perpetual motion engine that could keep you working at the top of your potential. When the priests said the Light bolstered your will, they seriously undersold it.


    Sleep exactly as much as you need to, eat exactly as much as you need to, achieve peak physical potential without dedicated exercise in one month, maximised cognitive function, optimal learning rate, unbreakable focus, unlimited attention span, unlimited mental endurance so that you could cope with any amount of pressure no matter how weary, sad, depressed or bored out of your mind. I had, quite literally, succeeded at everything I set out for and never failed to overcome any amount of stress.


    It was also the only reason I didn''t go postal after the very first gunpowder bag I put up for auction on my very first trip to Alterac City prompted certain nobles that shall not be mentioned to try and turn my story into that of the Wayland from back on Earth. Apparently, I was wrong to think the dwarves had already invented it. Or, if they did, they weren''t sharing. Good news, ''never anger the white mage'' came in full effect and ''mad skills'' did not measure up to literal divine power in the real world, so I got away without severed hamstrings. Better news, word quickly spread that malice aforethought against me and mine resulted in life-ruining curses and condemnations, some of which could last for months without signs of stopping because game balance is not a thing in real life. Bad news, my parents and I were ''secretly'' blacklisted from the Auction House on the sly, so that I could put up whatever I wanted but nobody saw it. Worse news, those we talked to directly got ''visitations'' at odd hours ¨C or their kids did ¨C and the tradesmen and caravans who dealt with us in spite of all that ¨C half of them from Stromgarde ¨C began suffering stalkers, grifts, intimidation, extortion, robberies, burglaries and bandit attacks. All for the high crime of my would-be kidnappers suffering a case of divine retribution that drove all hitmen thereafter to refuse hits on a child saint.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Then, just as we started burning through our savings and I was about ready to start my ''adventuring'' early, certain nobles that shall not be mentioned were condemned to death by hanging in the city square. All our problems ''mysteriously'' vanished within a tenday without me having to do anything.


    I naturally assumed Church involvement and gave my first ever religious tithe in both my lives. The clerics denied it, though, which rang alarm bells. More alarm bells followed when I couldn''t find out for sure if the nobles who hung were the ones hounding us, or if they were just the ones King Perenolde felt most secure getting rid of in order to put the rest back in line. Assuming he hadn''t been after me himself, which would be most in theme with the myth of Wayland the Smith.


    Even if not the king himself, it could easily be someone in his confidence considering how high up the culprits would need to have been. I had used a pseudonym for obvious reasons, and while that was never going to be full proof because the auction house staff themselves still had to know who ''Ferdie Gasi'' really was, that didn''t mean that tracking people through the auction house was easy. The security was actually very high and the nobility were invested in this continuing to be the case because they used the auction house too, some of the products were very valuable and high profile. Furthermore, the staff was actually really hard to bribe by simple virtue of having by far the biggest cut from all operations. Not a few auctioneers had gathered enough money to buy their own titles and land over the centuries since the Empire of Arathor first deployed the idea. Furthermore, the mages of Dalaran handled the magical side of security as they did in all other kingdoms, and they were a very powerful neutral factor.


    Now, enlightenment may preclude paranoia as easily as any other mental traps, but that didn''t mean that having my problems solved by a mysterious third party didn''t warrant a healthy amount of caution. Of course, since I had clearly been showing the wrong kind of caution before, I decided to remedy that situation before my mysterious allies and/or enemies got around to round two.


    And so it was that the Light got practice at sustaining a completely different sort of commitment. Which is to say, since quality over quantity had clearly backfired, I went with quantity over quality instead. Playing the auction house wasn''t nearly as complicated as playing stocks back on Earth, even if it was just as mind-numbingly dull after a while. But it was necessary in order to make the money needed to produce all the good stuff I then put up for auction myself. Better inks, better paints, stronger glues, new alloys, terran cements, roman concrete, strengthened glass that was also clearer than any other in the whole world, porcelains, ceramics, insulators, soaps, paints, alloys, everything else that could be made better by modern materials science on a cobblers dime, you name it. I created proofs of concept one after another over the course of five months, auctioning out promissory notes for the production process in exchange for business partnerships.


    They each paid little to begin with, new products and technologies were always risky investments and I was a mere cobbler''s son with no background or master''s backing.


    But there were a lot of them.


    And when all else failed, the Light was the best character witness for even the most crooked merchant, even without the blessings and healing I bestowed. It wasn''t ransom no matter what anyone said, I helped both the bad and rare good ones who turned me down, as I did the various random people whose plights crossed my path. The sticking point, though, was I only did it when there was a real enough need. The Light was really good at knowing these things. Ironically, though, my ''mercenary approach to miracle working'' appealed to the guilds and merchants more than the Church did. Must be all the preaching about charity and self-sacrifice. I groused about it to my local preacher when he made the yearly house blessing, whereupon I learned that the local Church had actually believed the worst of me too, these people, honestly.


    The end result was a cobbler''s family from the Strahnbrad slums now living the high life on a moderately large farm down on the Headland, on a property newly built from the ground up to my specifications, and with stable income high enough to afford four different fields, all our own livestock, three farmhands, sending village urchins to gather herbs twice a week for mother, and all the materials I could ever need for the things I came up with in my very own workshop.


    Not counting the coin we were setting aside for the next rainy day.


    This is my life now.


    "No no no, you get out of here right this instant, you''ve already commandeered my first steam engine you''re not getting my second ¨C wait, that''s not the steam engine, that''s the furnace ¨C get out of the fire right now you stupid puff of vapour!" Mind Control before it''s too late! "Are you trying to kill yourself ¨C what am I saying, of course you are, you''re a bloody know-nothing dumbass, I bet you''re not even sentient you little shit, shoo, shoo, go back to your siblings before I decide to stop feeding that fire too, firewood costs money ¨C and here''s morons two and three, Light, why do I even bother?" Mind Control ¨C nope, these were the dumb ones, okay, Blessing of Sagacity that somehow works on animate steam and gives enough of a mind to then use Mind Control, it was still hit and miss but ¨C no, no, it was definitely a miss this time because of course it was.


    I grabbed my very long-corded electric fan ¨C waterwheels, man ¨C and used it to blow the idiotic things back to the relative safety of the boiling cauldron outside. "That''s right, you better hover off you little monsters ¨C wait, one, two, five, eight, shit! Ma! One of them''s escaped again, check the kitchen quick, if it tips the pot over again I swear to hell I''ll ¨C say what? It''s lounging on the stew? Well¡­ I guess that''s fine? No I don''t know for sure, I''m not a bloody shaman!" Yet, because at this rate I''ll have to become one just to understand what the hell is going on, what even is my life? "What do you mean ''will it turn into a broth elemental''? Are you nuts, woman, don''t tempt fate like ¨C yes I know they''re mostly harmless, I literally made them!" These people, I swear. "The hell you mean ''why do I feel so strongly about this'', you''re the one who insisted I ''take responsibility for the poor dears''! Oh very funny, Ma, bloody comedian you are, why don''t you add it to Pa''s will while you''re at it, his jokes are almost as dead as yours."


    My father, of course, merely continued dying from laughter in his hammock at the other end of the orchard.


    With parents like these it''s no wonder people marry off the moment they turn sixteen.


    Standing in the door, I looked upon the fruits of my labours and pinched the bridge of my nose as my exasperation underwent that atavistic leap backwards that felt far too familiar these days. My once lively furnace barely smouldered, the coal inside and out was all drenched, my tools were scattered all over the place again, my homemade power cords were tangled into the strangest configuration ever. Worst of all, the steam engine parts I''d painstakingly oiled had been blasted clean by the sentient steam baths. Bad enough I''d somehow created steam elementals with the simplest and most un-mysterious contraption imaginable ¨C whose design I''d imported from Earth with not the slightest alteration specifically to be sure nothing weird would happen ¨C but I''d done one better and created a bunch of stupid ones. "What did I do to deserve this?"


    The Light, as usual, had nothing to say.


    Oh who am I kidding, I know precisely what I did. When my perfectly mundane steam engine decided it wanted a side job as broodmother of the Fire and Water mongrel variety, what did I do? Did I choose against going to the absurd lengths of keeping an ever boiling cauldron of water constantly fed? Just so the baby steam elementals didn''t go extinct on the same day they randomly spewed out of the blueprint-perfect steam engine that somehow became a magic item despite me still knowing jack and shit about the Arcane? Of course not! Being the bleeding heart that I am, I just couldn''t let them die ¨C which the first dozen did because I, being a sane scientist, immediately shut off my steam engine when it decided to be a life-giving magical artefact out of nowhere. Which is how I found out that the little fogies needed more steam like babies needed their mother''s milk. I wouldn''t have bothered but they were just so adorable, don''t you know. Like a fluffle of rabbits hopping and nibbling cutely around your feet just so you didn''t recognise them for brood of Caerbannog until it''s too late. I used to wonder why the elementals would succumb to the domination of the old molluscs of yore, but now I understood: they were already devils! From birth!


    "Fuck it, I''ll clean it up tomorrow." The rest of the afternoon was a wash anyway. "Right then," I sighed resignedly. "May as well log the day."

 The Steamy Truth (II)

    (II)?


    It took a while for me to reach my stationery and journals. That''s the price I have to pay for leaving all my notes strewn about the first time random steam puffs emerged ex nihilo to upend all my inkpots and soak every last paper that wasn''t buried deep at the bottom of a drawer. Preferably the bottom-most drawer of a very big desk. One ideally located in a different room. More than just a single wall away to be doubly sure.


    In practical terms, this meant that I had one very tightly-bound pocket book on me for taking notes during the day (with custom laminated covers because I''d also invented plastics, may the spirits forgive me for however long it takes this world to also turn it into a paradise for twenty-five billion crabs), but all my actual journals and documents were in my study over in the house proper. If not for the improved recall from the Light''s tune-up, I''d miss and forget at least half of all my ideas all the time.


    I stopped to check on Dad on the way in, as I did twice a week despite that I hadn''t needed to for almost two months. "Time for your tests, old man."


    Dad scowled. "Must we? We''ve not even had dinner yet!" But he let me help him out of the hammock and stomped over to the lounge chair on the porch, grousing the whole way. "To think I''d be poked and prodded like this, are you ever going to stop? I''m fine, for Tyr''s sake! Why can''t you just trust that the Light knows what it''s doing, like everyone else? Oh, to think you don''t even know how to be a saint properly, my own son!"


    "Yeah yeah, now hold out your arm."


    Dad held out his arm. "Not gonna make me strip for your pleasure today?"


    "I''m sure your form-fitting button-up will accommodate the stethoscope just fine," I said while putting on the arm cuff. "Don''t think I missed how all your shirts are one size smaller now, I know what you''ve been having Mom do, you were literally strutting through town the other day."


    Dad scowled. It utterly failed to distract from his reddening cheeks. "Just for that I''m cutting your allowance."


    "I''m sure the big fat zero will be glad to be as lean as you." My short-lived allowance had dried up well before I became the primary breadwinner.


    "Light, I''m cursed to suffer the only smart-mouthed saint in the history of the world, what did I do to deserve this?"


    "Sex with Mother."


    Dad''s spluttering was loud and outraged and completely ruined the reliability of his blood pressure test, but for the first time in a while I was willing to let it go. No small thing for me. Domar Hywel was the decidedly December half of my parents'' May-December arrangement, he''d been thirty-five when Mom had me at seventeen. The damage to mom''s womb from her repeated miscarriages after having me had been relatively easy to deal with, it basically boiled down to a weak cervix (the things you learn reading fan works, honestly). But Dad had been an absolute mess of prematurely aged medieval commoner from the seedier parts of large town Arathor. Arthritis, rheumatism, weakened bones, poor hearing, poor eyesight because of cataracts that were steadily ruining his ability to make an income, diabetes despite us barely affording sugar, back pain, neck pains, breathing problems, emerging heart problems, the only issue he didn''t have yet was dementia. Which meant he got to be fully aware of his body failing him and stewing in self-loathing over his encroaching failure to provide for Mother and I.


    I''d had to get very creative with when and how I drew on the Holy Light for him. No small task when even the blessings I did recall from my past life had to be created from first principles. And that''s without getting into the physical side of things. Human biological systems were no joke, neuroplasticity and telomere decay less so, especially when anatomy was not my specialty. Even then, it still felt like I was negotiating and even teaching the Light at times. Holistic treatments were all well and good for draining fifty years'' worth of gunk from every last one of Dad''s cells, but not exactly ideal for reconstructing half his pancreas and do cataract rehab surgery. Twice. Also, the Light responds to will intuitively, which means interference from the patient''s own will and self-concept, especially when his concept of ''health'' differs from the doctor''s.


    I had much cause to be grateful to the Archbishop for indulging all my questions back then. The whole seals, symbols, songs and recitations thing that priests had going on? Not pointless pageantry. You could learn to instantly silent-cast whatever you wanted on yourself, but to affect other people? Good luck with anything that isn''t ''throw glowy stuff at the problem and see what happens''. You needed some way to make sure the Light knew to do what you wanted done and keep doing it, instead of the recipient whose soul and will always had the closer, stronger claim and authority. It explained why random Light exposure could lead to spontaneous revelation in the predisposed, but wouldn''t do anything about Garona''s mind control or maladaptive core beliefs like Deathwing''s nihilistic lunacy, at least unless knowingly and specifically targeted. It was an unfortunate revelation, but at least now I knew what it would take to start doing something about all the tentacle brainwashing.


    As I unfastened the arm cuff and switched to the stethoscope, I wondered at my spasmodic fortune and whether the lack of conventional training in the Light had been a hindrance or a help. I certainly made more progress there than with what was supposed to be my most solid and reliable skill.


    "Okay Dad, lie down now."


    "You may as well have left me in the hammock." But Dad did as I asked and bore through my stethoscope and percussive examination with well-worn patience. "One of these days I''ll kick you in the face."


    "Entirely accidentally, I''m sure. ????¨²?? ¨®???????? ????? ??????? ?????."


    Father''s body shimmered alight, but what I experienced went well beyond the mere sight of gold. Of every application of the Light I''d come up with, the diagnosis spell may just be my best work. My attempts to create a tricorder spell had flopped. I assume that despite all the robots in Azeroth''s founding myth, the Light didn''t naturally operate on ultimately Arcane principles. That didn''t mean it couldn''t do what I needed, though. The incantation roughly translated to "reveal unwellness to my senses." Doctors diagnosed symptoms through sight, touch, hearing, even smell and taste given the right samples. Animals had a foundation in this for even longer, some knowing disease by smell and all of them subconsciously accounting for physical abnormalities when looking for a mate. My spell didn''t replicate that, anymore, after my first few attempts flooded all my senses at once with foreign impressions. It had been extremely nauseating, and not just because of the sensory overload, I felt and smelled and tasted everything. I quickly developed both feedback control and an iron stomach, but my ultimate goal had been psychometry. And, once I figured out how to use those natural reference points as mere guidelines for the Light''s natural propensity towards revelation, I got it.


    Needless to say, I was very glad I''d taken a gander at the Old Norse runes that one time, in my previous life. They were still just a writing system at the end of the day, but using the Light itself for ''ink'' made for some elaborate effects, I''d found. To a much greater extent than could be achieved with the grand total of three runes that survived here from the time of Tyr to the present. All of which were already in the Terran rune poems. Turns out there''s a reason why Earth''s myth and folklore said the runes were discovered and not made.


    It was a damned tragedy that almost nothing of the mystical scripts of ancient days had made it down to humanity. The Church didn''t really have any written history to explain why the people from Tyr''s time didn''t pass down any sort of written word, but the Archbishop assumed a lack of literacy, and I tended to agree. The vrykul that fled with their ''ugly, misshapen spawn'' probably didn''t know enough to pass down themselves. I don''t think theirs was exactly a universally literate society, and spellcasting scripts would have been hoarded in any case. Presumably this was why rune-based magic only came into play after the Wrathgate in the games ¨C the Northrend vrykul hadn''t woken up before then. Also explained why personal symbols like ''seal of Uther'' and ''rune of Tyr'' were such a big deal too ¨C when lacking the appropriate knowledge and tools, you did your best with whatever your predecessors left behind, in this case personal sigils that the Light will maybe, hopefully associate enough with its favoured agents to call up an echo of their feats. When your situation was similar enough. And your need was great enough.


    And then there were bindrunes, where you merged two or more runes to form a new symbol. Something not given to bizarre or catastrophic failure like I generally understood was the case with research done by arcanists. I had a lot of ideas for that.


    Just as soon as I figured out enchanting.


    Considering that all attempts to get a sitdown with a mage have amounted to a big fat ''zero progress'' despite me offering to pay the best rate for a consultation, I wasn''t very optimistic about that particular timeline.


    "Daydreaming again, son?"


    "Apparently." I shook my head to clear it of the afterimages of cellular molecules. As always, Dad wasn''t as enthused as I was about being my practice dummy while I lost track of time being my own electron microscope, but he reaped most of the benefits so I had no regrets. "Rejoice, Dad, I think we can stretch things out so you only need to be poked and prodded once a month from now on."


    "Damn, son, you''ve been a saint for nigh on two years and it''s only now you start working miracles, what took you so long?"


    Breadwinning in your stead, but a dutiful man''s pride wasn''t anyone else''s to trample, least of all his own child. "Just be glad you aren''t a walking sack of sickness anymore. Feel free to congratulate me on my good work."


    "Congratulations," Dad grunted as I helped him up. "I''ll make sure to mention it to Tyr himself when I see him in heaven."


    For a given meaning of heaven anyway. "He''s not there, I''m pretty sure. Yet, anyway."


    Dad gave me a funny look, but I got up and left before he could ask. While he might never get used to me spouting strange things at odd times, he was very well used to pretending it never happened. Later.


    Finally in my study ¨C the part of the basement not underneath any of the other construction, just in case ¨C I turned on the lights, basked in the feeling of triumph I still got every time I did that, and sat down at my desk to chronicle the day because the only difference between science and screwing around is writing it down.


    "April 13, Year 580 of the King''s Calendar," I said in English as I wrote, because I needed the practice. Also, rogues went around spying and stealing everything off people while invisible through totally-not-shadow-magic. It was probably still useless, I expect that divination magic made it much easier to translate things in this world, language barriers certainly didn''t seem to exist outside game chat for any practical purposes. Still, a completely foreign language should be a better obstacle than any mere cypher. Back on Earth I''d been following a story where some Irish overachiever had undergone something similar to me, but wound up in some Japanese manga about ninjas instead. Unfortunately, much as I''d like to do like him and write things in six different languages and two or three alphabets, I only knew English and German. The thought of combining those made me break out in hives. Also, I couldn''t see anyone entirely sane taking notes in triplicate, never mind enjoying it and translating into however many additional copies and mixed scripts that guy used just to fuck with people. It had to be some sort of autism.


    How he found the time was also a mystery to me. All my spare time these days was wasted on corralling freak accidents of nature instead of doing science or, oh, learning literally any other profession seeing as I was ahead of every smith and engineer in Alterac City already. Not that I''d get far very when I had to start those from first principles too.


    Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    Profession trainers ready to dispense their grandest secrets for a pittance weren''t a thing in this world, it turns out. Yet, anyway. The Church provided basic schooling on its own dime to everyone in the human kingdoms, but for anything beyond letters, arithmetic, and basic history, it was either the army, a full apprenticeship, or very big favours with the right people. The Church or a noble patron could pull strings, but eventually you still arrived at a guild that needed to be both able and willing to spare their specialist''s time to teach random nobodies. Unlike back on Earth, this wasn''t even the guilds'' fault and I was getting side-tracked again, as usual.


    Then again, this train of thought might deserve its own entry.


    I pulled over my other log book, the one where I collected my bursts of insight on the world I now lived in. "The economic system used by the Legacy Kingdoms was inherited wholesale from the Empire of Arathor. It imposes an upper limit on the number of members in a guild, variable based on multiple factors like population and number of tradesmen in the area during the latest census. It also encourages business models based around return on capital investment, but forbids usury on pain of severed limbs. This effectively makes sure that no monopolies can ever form and that the market always has a healthy level of competition with a minimum of malicious embargos or swindling, but otherwise allows people to act in their own best interest." That was just scratching the surface of how clever the Empire had been about literally everything. Too bad it didn''t incentivise the dissemination of marketable skills any more than usual. Right now, neither the demand nor the need for open professional trainers existed. Never mind class trainers, ask about that and people will look at you like you''re speaking fish. The world hadn''t lost a vast swath of its best hands and minds through three existential world wars, nor was there a perpetually looming apocalypse around to demand that knowledge and skill be disseminated as widely and quickly as possible lest civilization entirely collapse and regress to the stone age. It wasn''t even an exaggeration, that was literally what happened to the trolls.


    Oh well.


    I idly sent out a blast of searing Light. When no invisible interlopers cried out in shock, I returned to my first ledger.


    "Steam elementals continue to survive, with minimal changes in behavioural complexity despite wild fluctuations in their perceivable size, density and presumably mass. Unclear if this is because simple water steam is insufficient nourishment, for lack of a better term, or if this is just part of their lifecycle. Experiments with exposure to more complex steams such as tea, milk or broth remain inconclusive. They also merge and divide at seeming random. Plans to contact the Wildhammer Dwarves about shaman assistance are still on hold due to the rudimentary state of mail." The pan-spatial mail system portrayed in the game was either waiting for the Alliance and/or Horde to form first, or was a convenient game mechanic that never actually existed in real life. Right now, formal mail systems were internal to the big cities and some of the larger towns. For anything outside them, you needed to wait for a caravan or hire an expensive courier if they weren''t already on a job for some noble or the king''s taxman. You could get a hold of a freelance mercenary somewhat more easily, but then good luck trying to get anything past customs, never mind past all human territories into the lands of the dwarves with vague instructions to find a shaman willing to trek all the way back because some random human doesn''t know technology from mysticism. Never mind the odds of the package arriving at its destination intact to begin with, or at all. I still hadn''t heard back from the package I sent to the Archbishop with my rune primer, at the Cathedral of Light in Capital.


    Fun fact, ''Capital City'' came before the use of ''capital'' for primary municipalities in Common. Everyone wanted their own ''Crowning Jewel'' after Lordaeron proved that Dalaran wasn''t a fluke.


    I seriously need to crack arcane magic. I craved to be a wizard, I wanted portals even more, and I needed to figure out what the hell was causing my entirely mundane proto-industrial technology to create elemental spirits. Suspicion and speculation didn''t cut it.


    "Trial runs of the waterwheel-powered electrical generator remain comparatively innocuous. While measurement and control of voltage and amperage has proven more complicated than expected, the technology otherwise continues to exhibit no abnormalities." I speculated that it was the earth-based methods. Mystically speaking, lightning was the domain of air elementals, but what I was using was wholly of the earth ¨C metals, magnets, rubber, plastics, even the motive force came from a stream instead of the wind. "No freak accidents anticipated for any of the electricity-derived projects on the timetable." I was really just waiting for my orders of glass bulbs and filaments to be delivered. That said¡­ "Caution still advised for any eventual foray into tesla towers or radio-wave communications. However, for anything else I would tentatively rule the technology marketable."


    Azeroth was seriously overdue on electric lights and arc welding. Also, batteries. I had a vague recollection of one or three in-game items with ''weld'' in the name, but I think they only showed up in the fourth war and relied on blow torches. Of which I''d found no hints of anywhere either, so far. The gnomes probably had something if they could make robots, but not necessarily depending on the clockwork involved, and the in-game welding items I recalled were all from goblins. And mekagnomes, I suppose, but Ulduar was a bigger outside context problem than I was. Equally likely was that current technology relied on entirely mechanical nuts, bolts, hinges and fastenings for their machines. It was a shame that dwarves and gnomes didn''t much travel outside Khaz Modan, I''d love to discuss technology with some of them a while. There''s clearly some way to make steam technology work without huff and puff ex machinas out of nowhere. I don''t even want to think what might happen if I actually put together my internal combustion engine.


    "Requests to meet with the mages responsible for the magical aspects of auction security and banking conveyances continue to receive no reply." I was probably being stonewalled. Again. Because why wouldn''t problems come home to roost on the regular? "Absent of progress on this front, my attempts to dissect the Earthen blueprints for inadvertent arcane principles have stalled."


    I didn''t want much, just to be pointed in the right direction. Hell, just a primer for their most basic symbology would be enough to get me going, I didn''t want to make magic (yet), right now I just wanted to figure out how to stop it from happening where it shouldn''t. I was even willing to pay good money for a null magic zone and I was perfectly willing to spend another year figuring the rest out from first principles on my own. But I first needed to know those first principles, and my attempts to use the Light to ''see'' the Arcane have been inconclusive at best. Which is to say, sometimes I saw it (maybe), sometimes I didn''t (maybe), and at all times I couldn''t tell apart jack from shit. All the moping I''d done over this was the entire reason why Mom decided to dust off her old and very basic herbalism skills. I wasn''t desperate enough to try and figure out vision quests from first principles, but I was getting there almost as fast as Mother was mastering her rediscovered passion for mind-expanding draughts.


    Wait.


    My pen froze above the page.


    I turned to look up and to my right towards the kitchen where there were things unfolding that no amount of walls could hide from me.


    I dropped the pen, surged out of my study and all but flew up the stairs and down the hall, only stopping when I reached the kitchen. Then I stood there in the door, staring at my mother. Or, rather, a certain part of her where the most vivid lightshow was taking place, streaks of might and maybe whorling together like protoplanetary discs before they merged and erupted, twin stars shining faintly with all the colours of possibility woven together from the threads of the past and the future. They weren''t here yet, they wouldn''t be for weeks, and it would be months before the lights themselves became self-sustaining, but I could see their coming as clearly as I only ever saw the ripples of my future feats whenever I closed my eyes and looked inward.


    "Wayland?"


    My mother''s words snapped me back to awareness. Outside, the sun had almost disappeared behind the mountain face.


    "Of course he''d hear you," Dad groused from behind me. "Son, you really need-"


    "You''ve conceived."


    Mother''s ladle clattered to the floor.


    "Twins," I pronounced. "Fraternal." Two distinct faces flashed behind my eyes, then faded before the shadows of helms and potential. "Boys."


    Mother placed her hands on her belly, open-mouthed.


    Dad was more vocal. "What!? But she''s been taking tea!"


    I blinked and turned to look at him.


    He wasn''t looking at me though. "You''ve been taking tea, tell me you didn''t stop taking the tea!" Dad rushed past me to Mother, stopping next to her with face white and wringing hands. "Dammit, woman, if you can''t stomach the tea anymore, why didn''t you just say so!? I''d have done my part if it came down to it, the last one almost killed you!"


    Oh.


    I relaxed.


    "Don''t you dare look so happy, boy, this is all your fault!" Dad snarled at me, before turning back to fret over mother. "Agnes, how-why-?"


    "Unlike you, I do trust our son." The quiet reply carried clearly despite the sound of the bubbling pot. Mother crouched to pick up the ladle and set about washing it in the kitchen sink. "And if he says I''m fine now, I''m fine."


    "Agnes, that''s not-"


    "Oh stop it, Domar, this is exactly why I didn''t tell you." Mother huffed and stirred the soup one last time before pulling it off the stove burner. "I''m fine. I''d even be happy if you found it in yourself to be happy too. We''re going to have children again. Apparently."


    "Well don''t everyone cry out in joy at once," I huffed, ambling over to put a hand on Mother''s belly. "Don''t mind the old grump, kids, he just likes being dramatic."


    "DRAMATIC!?"


    "The help are watching," I sing-songed, acutely aware of the farmhands awkwardly hovering in the hallway.


    Dad reddened, though to his credit you couldn''t tell if I''d embarrassed him or if he was just that riled up. "You knew about this!"


    "Nope. Mom''s will is all her own, don''t you know."


    "Yes," Mom said dryly. "Don''t you know. Howard, please carry the pot to the dining room, my men are both indisposed."


    "I''ll show you indisposed," Dad grumbled as our farmhand rushed to comply as fast as he could extricate himself from the situation. But by the time it took him and the others to vacate the premises, Dad''s glare finally thawed into something less thorny. Hesitant, even. "You said twins?"


    "Unless one or both of them decide to duplicate in the next week or two, in which case it could be even more."


    "They can do that!?"


    Common knowledge varied rather widely on Azeroth.


    Because we''re such wonderful employers, Howard, Bart and Barney threw us a surprise baby shower just a week later. This, of course, meant my various business partners caught wind of it fast enough to join in because village urchins blab, especially when said business partners go out of their way to give them jobs on the days when Mother doesn''t need them. Corporate espionage may not be the same everywhere, but this was still Alterac at the end of the day.


    On the bright side, I got to meet a man called Narett. The Narett that may or may not end up in the Theramore city that didn''t exist yet. The Narett that looked almost exactly the same as he would look in a few decades. The alchemist.


    Sure, he thought Mother was the up-and-coming alchemist of the family, but blowing away his preconceptions was just good fun.


    Not so good fun was that our very engaging and horribly portentous private conversation completely distracted me while everyone else embroiled my parents into a vastly premature talk about baby names.


    They settled on Falric and Marwyn.


    Synchronicity is a most wily mistress.

 The Noble Art (I)

    "-. July 5, Year 580 of the King''s Calendar .-"


    ?


    "Now take all the rest of the Black Dragon and spread it somewhat thin upon that stone slab. The river stone plate you used before likely affected the process, but the marble plate I provided should be ideal. Now put into the one side thereof into your coal furnace. The Fire will glide through the Dragon within half an hour, and calcine it into a citrine colour, very glorious to behold."


    I spread the black substance on the stone plate and put it into the side of the coal furnace. Then we waited half an hour for the reactions to run their course. Previously I might have quizzed my long-suffering instructor on the varied symbolism that alchemists couch their research in. ''Citrine colour'' was more or less straightforward, but ''black dragon'' was most certainly not. And contrary to what you''d expect of the naming conventions on Azeroth, it wasn''t a flower. In fact, the other popular metaphor among alchemists was black feces. Basically, the substance was bone char ¨C bones that were burnt at low oxygen in a sealed vessel at a temperature of around 700 degrees Celsius. Except unlike regular bone char, the calcination process was alternatively interposed or combined with four complex chemical steps preceding this one.


    But I''d long since memorised all the terms all at this point, and we were both too tense to indulge in casual conversation.


    The half hour ended. The bone char did not turn a citrine colour. The black dragon was therefore not at all glorious to behold.


    "Unbelievable," Narett finally said, sounding exactly like he looked ¨C completely dumbfounded. "Another failure."


    "This makes no sense!" I all but exploded with all the frustration of continuously failing to reproduce every one of the basic alchemical procedures for five straight days. "You were there for every single step, I did them all perfectly this time, you said so yourself."


    "I did, and I''m not taking back my words. I literally cannot fathom why this is happening."


    "You mean not happening, what the hell? Am I cursed? It''d have to be a real mean one to get past the Light, never mind without me noticing if it''s there." Just in case, I checked myself again. The Light shimmered gold over my whole form. "Nope, still nothing."


    Narett, for the first time since we met, had nothing to say.


    I fell in my chair with a huff. "Teacher, be honest with me ¨C am I or am I not the worst student you''ve ever had?"


    "Well, let''s see. Do you know what dragons represent?"


    "The First Matter, their power lies in the primordial life force." Which was not necessarily alike the Light from what I observed, but I wasn''t going to bring it up. Heresy was a sensitive topic.


    "What is a Dragon in Flames?"


    "A dragon in flames is calcination, the first step in alchemical transformation, when a substance is reduced to bone by burning. This is the beginning of the Black Phase, which can be represented by the Black Dragon. During Calcination, the substance is reduced to ashes through applying its internal fires."


    "What occurs when several dragons are fighting?"


    "Several dragons fighting is putrefaction, the final cleansing of impurities." Putrefaction, ironically, was not looked upon with ill will by alchemy. If anything, it was the opposite, considered the ultimate form of purgation.


    "Even if your technique was still inadequate, your learning rate is enough that I would still rate you respectably middling, especially when factoring in your young age¡­ Though perhaps that''s the root of the problem here." Narett gave me a long, scrutinizing stare and what the heck did he mean middling? I didn''t need my ego popped, my head was already the right size, thank you very much. "Besides the significance for crude matter, dragons fighting can also symbolise the struggle over whether the ego continues to live or dies off. For one walking the Noble Path, the dragons are confronting the inner reality of the person''s shadow, the darkness within. The ultimate purpose lies in the reabsorption of the essences of the ego and the shadow into a single whole, unifying the parts of the person."


    Alchemists are literal geniuses. I carefully didn''t let it show how close the man was skirting sensitive topics that I''d never brought up with even my own family. Middling indeed. I''m jealous.


    "I''ve never seen it manifest quite so overtly, but perhaps youth is a rare trait among even the most talented aspirants for more than one reason. You are rather prone to daydreaming, or perhaps the Light is affecting results somehow?" And wasn''t that the question? "I will have to make some inquiries-" the man paused at the look on my face. "With your permission?"


    At least he was asking. "How much about me and mine will you need to share?"


    "Nothing at all, but those who know where I''ve been and who I''ve met will draw their own conclusions."


    "Great." I rose with a grunt and glared at the black char. Then I looked at the man. "As long as you''re discreet."


    "Believe me," the man said dryly. "Discretion is an intrinsic part of the Noble Path."


    I snapped my fingers. "So it is a secret society."


    Narett pinched his nosebridge. "We are not a secret society. There is neither a threat nor incentive for such an organisation. It is a perfectly respectable profession!"


    "Alright alright, go ahead and message your friends in this worldwide, definitely-not-secret, totally-not-a-society of alchemists." Which had somehow coasted under the radar to the point where even my past life knowledge didn''t know about it.


    "I shall." Narett didn''t take his leave yet though, watching me instead for a while. "How would you say your elementals are faring? I''ve made my own observations, but I want to know yours in your own words."


    Getting to the stage where the Light won''t help me control them anymore unless I start to physically yank them around. What was that ability called, Leap of Faith? ''Mind Control'' was perhaps not the best starting point for experimenting with the ''shadow'', but I technically never did that. The Light could do it too, if the mind was already under influence, or if there was some other kind of Void in there to fill, like a missing or damaged Soul. And if doing so contributed positively to the target''s ability to self-determinate. For baby elementals who were sentient but not sapient (at least at the start, before they merged into the final nine of now) and were spiritually scarred after experiencing a traumatic birth (or summoning from the overlapping fringes of the Abyssal Maw and Firelands?), it was basically child-rearing. Also, the spiritually-subverting taint left behind from when the Old Gods subjugated the elements way back was transmissible. The Light was all too willing to purge it in holy fire and take up its place. But for the same reasons, the efficacy drastically decreased to nothing the higher the level of self-awareness became. The Light worked intuitively, and so listened to the closest intuition and claim first. Not that I had any plans to mind control people. That way lay self-interest of the distinctly not enlightened kind. But Narett was still waiting for me to answer his question. "They''re like gluttonous puppies, except made of gas."


    "Hmm." The man seemed to think for a while, then moved to his satchel and began digging through it.


    I could probably use a modified process to command people to do things they might otherwise do if they were in their right mind. And if I had the time to talk them around to my way of thinking. A direct and instantaneous challenge to their driving beliefs in the form of my own understanding. But at that point I was basically just skipping the time it would take to get to know each other and discuss the matter. Actually, now that I thought about it, couldn''t that even cause me to come around to their way of thinking? Empathise with them, anyway, maybe even sympathise. Depending on which way the facts fell. The Light works intuitively, which would have much deeper and broader effects than anything else I''ve attempted, seeing as there would be two intuitions involved. Directly connected. Synchronized.


    ¡­ Harry Dresden, you don''t need the Outer Gates, you''re upending Outside worlds perfectly fine without them.


    I just reverse-engineered the Soulgaze.


    "Did you know that the higher levels of alchemy involve the invocation and intercession of various spirits?" Narett brought out a booklet. A single glimpse of its make and lack of wear told me it was new.


    I blinked. "It does?" Oh how I wished I''d looked into this stuff more in my past life.


    "Yes." He passed me the booklet. "Here. Steam elementals are the sort of thing even old alchemy tests speak of only in the theoretical, but perhaps you''ll be lucky with this. Your fortune certainly doesn''t lie in alchemy itself, so far."


    "Go ahead and don''t spare any of my feelings." I took the notebook and leafed through it, then paused. It was a primer on Ignan and Aquan. The languages of Fire and Water elementals, respectively. "Hey, isn''t this the notebook you''ve been scribbling in on and off every day?" Narett had basically lived under our roof since he first showed up back in April. "Did you write this just for me?"


    "Like any other spirit, elementals can speak directly to the mind, but new ones don''t have a frame of reference for it. Perhaps if you can comprehend some of theirs¡­"


    "Are you telling me I''ve been pining after shamans all this time for no reason?!"


    "Perhaps," Narett shrugged, not fazed by my outburst.


    "¡­ I don''t know how to repay you for this."


    "If it even helps, you mean. You can pay me back by documenting your findings."


    "Teacher, thank you." I set the book aside and then hugged the man. "I''m going to figure this out. Both of them."


    Narett awkwardly pat my back. "It will be quite the feat in both cases, but it stands to reason that even I would be surprised at some point."


    Not for the first time, I strongly considered letting the man in on some of my grander plans, the ones that were still theoretical. But his caginess about the Arcane and the consistency with which he changed the subject every time the topic skirted around mages and Dalaran made me hesitate. Instead, I dropped the Light on him ¨C still no effect, the man was, as always, in perfect health ¨C before pulling back. I then walked him to the door, wishing he''d at least explain why he seemed to have a chip on his shoulder about them. Assuming it wasn''t the opposite. The man didn''t control his expression or tone, exactly, it was more like he was beyond emotional lapses of any sort. Those externally prompted at least.


    I manfully resisted the urge to try Soulgaze on him. Even though I could tell it was one of those things that didn''t care about such pesky details as prior research and development.


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    The Light, as always, was a revelation.


    Informed consent was a thing to be accounted for too.


    Father should have made it back from Alterac City by now ¨C dad had been playing proxy more and more for my various business matters, he was a man with hair on his chest and a better haggler than me ¨C but I didn''t see him anywhere on the way to the gate. I did see the aftermath of the hired guards in the stables though. Asking mother revealed he''d gone right back out to the fields, which I probably should have expected. Dad was quite dedicated to learning how to be a proper farmer, our farmhands were as much hired help as they were teachers these days, despite having been the last among us to be introduced to the seed drill. Fortunately, mother made sure to see Narett off alongside me.


    "You have my gratitude for your hospitality, madam. Please thank your husband for me as well." Narett had wanted to pay for lodgings originally, but I prevailed on my parents to refuse. Maybe other people might look askance at hospitality and say it wasn''t an important virtue, but I wasn''t one of them. Of course, later I had to prevail upon them not to do the opposite and offer to pay Narett, when our guest began to put me through the incipient tests of apprenticeship. Even with all the money I made through my unconventional craftsmanship and business ventures, they still wished to see me have a ''real'' profession. Which was fair. Alchemy was about as elite as you could get without being scouted by Dalaran, and I was getting a strong inkling that it was a much bigger deal than certain games made it out to be. ''Big enough to be its own class'' kind of big.


    Narett turned to me. "I will make sure to convey the best impressions to our mutual associates." Unknown to me previously, Narett was the prime expert that people called on to judge whether the next big wonder substance was genuine or scam. That included nine tenths of everyone who ended up taking a chance on me. Alchemists were as rare as they were in high demand. They were always on the lookout for rare talents as a result, it was the whole reason why he''d scouted us to begin with, candidates with both enough intelligence and ''the right attitude'' were apparently very rare. Even when the former was only ''respectably middling.'' "Now that I am leaving, however, you should not let them wait overmuch."


    "I know. Let''s hope they don''t hold my age against me this time."


    "You might be surprised. I certainly was."


    "Point to them." Our ''mutual acquaintances'' had deliberately allowed Narett to persist in his assumption about mother being the real mind behind everything. Unfortunately, I couldn''t know for sure if that was a good or bad thing for me. I hoped it was good-natured ribbing, but it could just as easily be the latest step in a passive-aggressive competition of deliberate slights. I knew which it would be back on Earth, but my experience misjudging the Church made me hesitate in assuming the worst. For once. Hopefully I wouldn''t be disappointed. Surprised pessimism isn''t as pleasant as people think.


    Narett was, of course, completely oblivious to my inner ramblings. "I don''t suppose I need to say just how paradigm-shifting your electricity technology is all on its own."


    You have no idea. "Well, I wouldn''t want to assume."


    "You can assume that overt noble attention is inevitable." Narett wasn''t mincing words anymore. "The repercussions of your indiscretion with the blasting powder are still unfolding. I expect the whole world will start to see them soon."


    Whoa, now! That sounded seriously like something that shouldn''t be tossed out at the eleventh hour. Also, I''d never shared the recipe, so if anyone leaked the secrets to the wrong warmonger, it would have to be, oh, an alchemist. Given how thin on the ground they were, that alchemist would possibly become Narett himself. Not that I was happy I might have opened him to the risk of noble ''pressure'', but my original reasons didn''t lose validity either, even if I did know him personally now and was invested in his wellbeing. There was a lot I could say about the literal shadow war and possible arms race that I may or may not have ignited between the two most conflict-prone human countries, depending on whether anyone from Stromgarde made off with a sample. None of which I could confirm or deny because I honestly didn''t know. But the truth was ultimately simple. One, I was one hundred percent sure that any saber rattling by Alterac or Stromgarde would swiftly be followed by Narett''s not-a-society of friends leaking the secret of gunpowder to all the other countries. And two... "¡­ The world needs it."


    Narett, who''d been watching me carefully and had clearly waited to drop that bomb for when my guard was lowest, sighed and rubbed his forehead. "I had originally conceived a speech about wisdom and unintended consequences, and how one is not entitled to make such a decision for the whole of mankind just because they can. But coming from the only half of this conversation not bestowed with literal divine grace, I suppose it would sound rather trite."


    "I''ve wished many times that I''d been born in Lordaeron," I admitted. "Unfortunately, I was born here."


    "Well." Narett dropped his hand and beheld me seriously. "Not at all unfortunate for the rest of us."


    ¡­ Well shucks.


    "I''ll be in touch." The man hesitated in the door, though, uncharacteristically. Then he took a breath and- "I''ll see about some enchanting resources for next time we meet."


    I was so surprised that I didn''t act on my immediate instinct to drag him back inside to do that now. "That might be the most critical help you could give me."


    "Unfortunately," Narett muttered, such that I had serious difficulty containing my questions. Hospitality was the only thing that stopped me. "Be well, Wayland. It''s been a confounding experience, but not unpleasant."


    I watched the man leave, pondering magic, science, the difference between expertise and prowess, and the misleading nature of gameplay and story segregation when compared to real life. I also pondered Narett himself, the big man ¨C though not taller than me anymore ¨C for whom ''stirring'' was most certainly not enough to explain his muscles.


    Narett had not expected me to be a mere fifteen year-old. Which was good. I used a pseudonym for all my auction house operations ¨C they let you do that so long as they knew who you really were, alas for the resulting security hazards. Coupled with the ''gossip'' about what tasks mother gave to street urchins, Narett actually expected my mother to be the actual alchemist. Which was more than fair, her herbalism knowledge started out as comprehensive and became literally prodigious after all the books I bought. The things I knew about dandelions just from listening to her could fill a small book now, never mind serious business like kingsblood and liferoot. Thank heavens that the printing press was already a thing.


    But when Narett and I got to talking, I confirmed another possibility I''d dusted off since awakening in this world: the alchemy profession in the game? Everything that wasn''t some sort of transmutation? Complete dogshit.


    Most potions, elixirs and flasks only needed you to mix and match reagents in specific orders and quantities, which could be done by literally any herbalist or medicine man capable of following a recipe. I should know, my mom taught me how to make healing potions with a mortar and pestle. Even the complicated potions and elixirs I remembered from my previous life were just about following the recipe, including those that needed enchanted vials ¨C the enchantment was to make it store longer and survive falls and impacts, it had nothing to do with the contents themselves. The right herbs mixed together the right way turned into literal magic because of that little thing known as the Arcane, no additional ritual or spell required, certainly no transmutation of one matter into another. But at some point alchemists just gave up on arguing the point with laymen because, one ¨C ''people who thought they could lecture you on your life-long vocation were morons and thus not worth engaging with''; and two ¨C mixtures were what made alchemists all their money, which they then used to fund their study into real alchemy.


    So what was real alchemy? Not chemistry and physics. Or, at least, not just chemistry and physics. Unlike me, the alchemists actually had three thousand years'' worth of research into ''the nature, manifestation and manipulation of prime matter'' while also accounting for that little thing known as the Arcane.


    Long story short, the alchemists were the reason why gnomes finally figured out how to make steam engines that did not, in fact, spew elemental creatures everywhere. And they had already built on the gnomes'' engineering to invent the internal combustion engine.


    Over two hundred years ago.


    Yeah.


    I was humbled when I found out. Then I was aghast to learn it was promptly abandoned. Turns out it incubates fire elementals. The murderous kind. And sometimes, very rarely, it explodes into a portal to the Firelands.


    If the day ever comes that I find out this is how the Dark Iron dwarves pulled Ragnaros over here, there''s gonna be murder


    Thankfully, all known cases involved very small elementals, basically pixie-sized. Which was good. If every engineering misfire had consequences the size of hills, Azeroth would have been scoured clean by the Fermi paradox long ago without the Burning Legion needing to do anything.


    When I asked Narett why he couldn''t do whatever the gnomes did to make the steam engine work, his explanation basically boiled down to ''the gnomes made it work by making it as unlike a steam engine as possible, which sufficiently disrupts the Arcane''s love of turning everything into some manner of ritual.'' At least that''s how I interpreted his explanation. Unfortunately, the internal combustion engine was too complex and structured and deliberate to get away with such a ''shoddy'' workaround. Ridiculously, the closest comparison Narett could summon up were clothes ¨C it was not, apparently, just a game mechanic for clothing to become inherently and consistently magical if they were tailored expertly enough. You didn''t need to be a mage to make hammerspace either, apparently, just a tailor who knew the right materials and seams.


    As for the idea of making an internal combustion engine in a null magic area? Dalaran had already tried it, to identical if somewhat delayed results. Something Narett tried and failed to pretend didn''t offend him and his entire profession on a fundamental level even beyond the harm to human life. For some reason. There was some manner of tension between alchemists and mages that I didn''t understand. I was sure it wasn''t mere professional rivalry though. It was much deeper than that, this much I could tell despite his considerable skill in deflection.


    All of which left me with one big question.


    How the hell did gnomes harness nuclear energy?!


    Fucking ridiculous!

 The Noble Art (II)

    (II)?


    My foul mood kept a hold of me the entire rest of the day all the way through dinner. I didn''t let it colour my interactions with anyone, I could have mustered that much self-control even before the Light made it a trivial matter. But it always sucked suffering alone. The Handy Trio wasn''t there to lighten the mood either, we three always dined alone after Dad came back from his latest¡­ I guess delegation is as good a word as any for what he did. My business arrangements were the family business at the end of the day. Keeping the details in house was just common sense.


    "Nobody said anything straight up," Dad said between forkfuls of lamb. "But the painters wondered very loudly nearby when they''ll hear word back on that new glaze, the weavers asked me to convey their ''request'' not to forget about some dye, the bakers gave me an ounce of that baking soda for ''testing'', and that''s just the top of what I''ve got in my satchel. Most of them didn''t even know all that stuff came from us! No, everyone just wanted to get up my arse about ''sparing the Master Alchemist a trip, would you kindly'', as if I couldn''t tell they meant the exact opposite, bloody vultures."


    This was going well beyond comically missing the point. "How the hell can people still not know when it''s something of ours? I did meet everyone partnered with us in person. I get that they probably didn''t bring up my youth to preserve their own credibility, but I''d think my products have proven themselves enough by now. Is it just because we''re not nobility? Or in spite of it?" People would have a bug down their shirt if they had to pretend awe and praise at ''bright'' child nobles on the regular, but still. "Do people think I can''t do anything but glow in the dark or something?"


    "It''s a lot worse than that," Dad said, stirring his broth. "Everyone and their grandmother take me for the upstart messenger of his ''excellency'' Ferdie Gasi, the ''eccentric genius recluse''." Dad had taken to air quoting with a vengeance ever since I first did it. "Fucking ridiculous."


    As with all things, I come even by my swearing honestly. I looked at him sympathetically. "They still hate that they have to treat with their old shoemaker, don''t they?"


    Dad grinned wolfishly. "And I''ll never let them forget it."


    Good for him. Why there even was such prejudice I could barely understand, shoemaking wasn''t exactly a lowly profession. But I suppose people will always look down on the guy they remember going down on his knees at their feet, even if it was just for fitting and measurements. Still though¡­ "I still don''t get this whole confusion about me."


    "Why, son, you only needed to ask!"


    Apparently, despite the way I tossed the Light around to dissuade further reprisals from hired blades just last year, general opinion ranged from me being two or three different people with little to no connection to each other. Well. "I guess I can see businessmen encouraging that schadenfreude."


    "What the hell even is that word?"


    "Pleasure derived by someone from another person''s misfortune."


    "Oh. Yeah, I can definitely appreciate having a special word just for that."


    "Happy to help," I nodded. "Oh well, if this is all the ''ill'' we have to endure, so much the better."


    "Maybe not," Dad grumbled, drinking his glass of our very own apple wine. "Things around the market were tenser than usual, and this time it isn''t just the nobles up to their old feuds again." He gave me a serious look. "There hasn''t been a single Stromgarde trader passing through for nigh on two months."


    Crap. "¡­ I suppose it was na?ve to hope we would be the one lucky generation to get away without a border war in our lifetime."


    "General Hath is rumoured to be conducting new patrols," Dad said dryly. "Increased bandit activity and night-time sightings, apparently."


    "Bloody Alterac," I bit into my meat. "I bet this kind of nonsense doesn''t happen in Stormwind."


    "Speaking of nonsense, the hunter''s kid waylaid me two hours out of Alterac City, that boy''s gonna surpass his old man soon, mark my words." Jensen Farran. Another name I was beginning to recall from the other world. Wasn''t he also in Theramore? A fletcher and hunter, just like his father was now. "Your associates that are in the know hired him to send a message. They want a meeting. In person with you. Discreetly." Dad''s look was somewhere between irritated and worried. "As in ''don''t make the nobles suspicious'' discreetly."


    I blinked incredulously. "They do remember I''m a walking Light flare, right? And that I haven''t tried to claim responsibility for the gunpowder openly? There''s a reason I scour the property every night and morning." Technically I didn''t need more physical training, but jogging never hurt anyone except interlopers. Of which there had been some, in the early months. Whether bandits or ''bandits'' I wasn''t sure because even the couple I managed to hold back to ''chat'' didn''t agree on whether their boss was a ''bandit'' or bandit. I made certain to smite all of them extra hard regardless. Distance was just a suggestion when the Light was involved.


    "Well, they kindly but firmly ask you to make an effort this time." Dad handed me a missive. "That''s the details."


    I took and read it. Gratifyingly, it was to take place in the very first building made with my Roman concrete mix, hot-mixed quicklime and everything. Why they expected the location to qualify as ''discreet'' was beyond me, but I''ll freely admit I didn''t have a hand on the pulse of Alterac, unlike businessmen who literally needed to in order to last more than a year. More significantly, they left it up to me when to show up so long as it was within the next two weeks. They provided details for who and how to contact to have the meeting called. There was a special mention to come prepared to stay overnight, to give everyone time to be informed and come together the following morning. I was even directed to a particular tavern where my anticipated expenses were already covered.


    I pondered the words. Closed my eyes and looked to the Light. I envisioned myself complying with everything in the letter and felt no dire warning. At least, none that I would prefer over the alternative. Whatever it was. I did, however, sense the approaching likelihood of some manner of endangered opportunity. But it wasn''t centred on the missive or any events set to occur as a result of it. It felt more like something that was proceeding towards some sort of conclusion¡­ mid-way through. Whatever that meant. Whether in terms of time, distance or urgency, I couldn''t say. That was as specific as my foresight got without a nice sit down to contemplate some proper parameters. I opened my eyes. "Whatever this is, it''s serious. Even the city-dwelling freemen of Alterac don''t cavalierly try to skirt anything past the nobles, guild-connected or otherwise."


    "Well, it''ll still keep for a bit," Mother said with the first words I''d heard from since noon. "You give yourself some time to calm down. Sleep on it and decide tomorrow, or the day after."


    I smiled weakly at her. She was right that I wasn''t going to contemplate anything when I was like this. "I''m not that obvious, am I?" The Light would soothe me if I sunk into it, but I didn''t want nullity of mind right now, I wanted understanding.


    "Not at all, I''m just that perceptive, don''t you know." She absently rubbed her belly. Her pregnancy didn''t show yet, but the little ones were coming along nicely to my sight. "Pregnant woman''s intuition."


    I snorted. "You''d have been able to tell even without those two seeing things."


    "Yes, but do let me salve your pride, son, not every mother''s willing to do it."


    "Why thank you, kind woman."


    Mother nodded sagely, then got up from the table and disappeared into the kitchen to¡­ do something involving the oven. Seeing through walls is not an exact science, especially when you can only see life, and not all kinds if they''re close together enough. Certain lives were very bright compared to others. Like me. And Narett for that matter.


    I experienced the sudden brainwave of the common sense problem-solving approach. "Hey Dad, do you suppose that people think Narett is Ferdie Gasi? And this is just his latest scheme to take up a new identity to hide his increasingly obvious immortality?"


    "Say what now?"


    Huh. Apparently, alchemy being all about achieving immortality was not, in fact, an open secret here like it was back on Earth. Oops? Good thing it was just the two of us now.


    Dinner ended in something approaching mixed feelings, which was a long way from how pissed I was going in. Unfortunately, the moment I remembered that was when my foul mood returned.


    Rather than ruin anything in addition to just my mood, I made sure to waste all of said foul mood on doing precisely nothing but glare impotently at the ''black dragon.'' At least until the steam elementals snuck in to play with me. They sensed bad moods like dogs and cats, but instead of doing the self-preservation thing and making themselves scarce, they continued to do like dogs and cats and tried to make it better in their own way. For all that they drove me up the wall, they weren''t completely hopeless all the time.


    On a whim I retrieved Narett''s gift and decided to sound out a few phrases. Surprise surprise, they actually understood some things from both Ignan and Aquan. Did this mean I had only summoned them? Or did elemental spirits possess language ex nihilo? Considering what complex craziness some animals got up to without anyone teaching them, I wouldn''t be surprised if it was the latter. These were spirits in the end, they were definitely more in tune with that part of the self that provides living creatures with instinct and intuition. If a spider can build a web so complex and a queen bee can run a hive mind straight out of the pupa, then possession of language from conception was probably the least of what a spiritual entity could inherently accomplish.


    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    I remembered then that, contrary to what biologists would claim, there were more than five senses. The discernment of the mood of a room was not a matter of scent, sight, sound, taste, or touch. It was something you experienced on an instinctual level. The pall of dread and the warmth of acceptance were both easier to experience than to explain. The malice of barely-suppressed violence often prompted thinking with one''s feet.


    Case in point, my steam boys only needed me to stumble through three dozen phrases and sentences before they figured out how to communicate with me.


    ~Hunger. Response. Surprise.~


    It was half words, half projective intuition. But though I could only make up around 10% of the former, the latter made up for it enough to finally make progress. I didn''t even know projective intuition was a thing, though I probably should have, how else would telepathy work? Maybe it was all the patience from playing doctor for Dad, but eventually I managed to figure out how to ask them the fundamentals. Strangely, though, their ability (or willingness?) to reply intelligibly was somewhat arbitrarily disproportional to how simple I made my queries. Which is to say, simple straightforward stuff returned less of a meaningful response than groupings of prompts and intentions. In the end, as with most things, the best things came in threes.


    "How do you feel? What do you want? What can you do?"


    ~Hunger. Curiosity. Excitement.~


    Even they weren''t sure. They could ''recall'' a lot of the grander feats of the larger spirits, but could do little in their current state of starvation. I asked if I could do something about that and they informed me that no amount or quality of steam would work, the only option was eating other elementals. When I asked why, they could only convey it had always been that way. Feeling like I should have something to say but unable to figure out what, I changed the subject and asked if they had names. That''s when things spiralled into tragedy.


    "Name. Identity. What do I call you?"


    Apparently, they didn''t have any.


    "Explain, elaborate, clarify."


    ~Hunger. Resignation. Fatalism.~


    In the hierarchical structure of elementals, you only got a name when you distinguished yourself somehow. Usually by surviving where the rest of your peers didn''t, generally by eating other types of elementals or those aforementioned peers themselves before they did it to you. Even then, you weren''t allowed to name yourself because elementals had so little going for them that they took personal offense when even the paltry right to name their minions was denied them.


    "That''s terribly sad. I''m sorry. You deserve better."


    ~Hunger. Fatalism. Acceptance.~


    Just the first glimpse into the life cycle of elemental spirits and I was already contemplating cultural imperialism. The entire way of life was so self-defeating that the elementals of Azeroth were practically suicidal from birth. I was particularly distressed to learn that merging together was practically death to all but the one identity that predominated. Splitting apart again gave birth to new beings, it didn''t restore the old ones.


    The worst part was that the little critters were so matter of fact about it.


    I took some solace in knowing that the many little steam puffs that had come together to form my little group of nine cloudlings hadn''t been sapient starting out. Sentience was worth mourning all by itself, but at least they hadn''t been people. Not that eating your young made me feel any better, but it was a common enough thing in nature that I could get over it quicker than I might otherwise have.


    I called on the Light to soothe them in every way I could think of. Nothing worked. I did manage to bolster their will somewhat, so at least I improved their psychological ability to cope with their wretched condition. But the hunger remained, a gnawing pit of spirit-breaking misery that was always there. I needed a different approach, but what?


    It was to the scene of me trying and failing to persuade my nameless dependents that cannibalism did, in fact, have objectively negative consequences that Mother came into the room. Then she promptly dropped her second favorite stone slate right in front of me. There was a solid layer of black dragon spread over it, calcined into a citrine colour very glorious to behold.


    I gaped.


    Mother pulled a chair over and sat across from me.


    I stared.


    Mother primly placed her hands over each other in her lap and waited.


    I closed my mouth and swore. "Oh this is such bullshit."


    "Wayland! How can a saint ever spout such things?"


    She wasn''t even being sarcastic. "With abundant experience." And I wasn''t sarcastic either. "Is this why you were so absent during dinner?" I didn''t just mean that metaphorically, she was quiet and she also left the table and dining room repeatedly, not just the once at the end. "Alright, how did you manage this, because Mom? I am veritably seething in jealousy right now."


    "No you aren''t, you''re just exaggerating." Well, the second part was true- "My son does not get jealous. You get frustrated when you''re the only one who sees the best path forward."


    Well gosh. "How did you do this?"


    "By doing what the alchemist told you to do. Half of it I got from listening to your grousing though, so you can see that the result is not strictly perfect."


    "Go ahead and don''t hold anything back why don''t you." Now I sounded like Dad. "Maybe Narett had the right idea after all ¨C you should become his apprentice."


    "Maybe I will, after your brothers are grown."


    Well. I wasn''t about to argue with those priorities. "¡­ Can you do this again?"


    "If you like."


    "Show me."


    She showed me. Her execution was more or less as good as my own. The proof of her inevitable success sat next to us the whole time.


    The half hour ended. The black substance did not turn a citrine colour. The black dragon was therefore not at all glorious to behold. Again.


    I threw my hands and turned away in disgust.


    Mother, however, looked everything but surprised. "Son, if there''s anything I know about you, it''s that you have a very particular way to look at the world-"


    "The Observer Effect does not account for this!" Did she think I hadn''t considered it? It was the first thing I thought of! But this wasn''t like checking the pressure on a tire, the Observer Effect barely ever mattered unless you were trying to watch quantum phenomena! Even if I had been looking beyond the surface ¨C which I wasn''t ¨C I could barely see below the molecular level on my best day. I did have expectations about what should be happening down there, I was a materials scientist for crying out loud, I knew everything from new element creation in particle accelerators to what happens when photons pass through rhubidium gas. But that didn''t change the fact that the observer effect doesn''t work when you''re not observing-


    "I don''t know what that means," Mom said idly, cutting off my mental rant with the ease of long experience. "But I trust you, son. If you say that''s not it, it''s not it."


    I stopped. I looked at her, not strictly surprised by the sentiment as by the way she just threw it out there. "You expected this to happen. You already knew I''m altering the results somehow."


    "I didn''t know, but honestly, what else could be happening?


    I did not contemplate heresy in frustration. "I don''t know, you tell me."


    "As I said, you have a very particular way to look at the world." She repeated herself, which made me feel chagrined. Far too belatedly, I needed to be more mindful about that. "It''s not a bad way, mind, it earned us all of this." She gestured to our home and beyond. "But I don''t think you''re quite as willing to acknowledge how much the world turns around you in turn. I don''t know what this ''observer effect'' means to you, but what I''m sure of is that, even if it were, it wouldn''t be the only thing happening." Mother looked at me fondly then. "It''s never just one thing with you."


    "¡­ I don''t know if that''s praise or an insult."


    "Call it an observation. Now let me remind you that you always say not to think ourselves in circles. You''re not one to neglect taking your own advice, but this may just be the exception that proves that very good rule of yours. Something to think of, yes? I''m going to work on your father''s new shirt."


    And she walked off.


    I stood alone in my workshop, only the psychic hunger pangs of my steam elementals for company. I should really do something about that but I didn''t know what. Not yet. But maybe¡­


    I looked at the spirits. I felt something niggling at the back of my memory, past the eon of dreaming death to the trivia of a life long past.


    "Take my own advice, huh?"


    Easy enough to do.

 The Noble Art (III)

    (III)?


    I spent the rest of the evening thinking about everything really hard until my brain really did start going in circles. Then I completely washed my hands of the whole thing and went to my workshop to lie down.


    On the roof.


    Back on Earth, the number of stars visible with the naked eye was 9,110. I hadn''t made much of a dent in counting these ones, and I probably wouldn''t do an accurate count without a reflective pool, what with the way the sky kept changing and moving. But I could already tell there were quite a bit fewer visible lights on Azeroth. Visibility wasn''t the reason, the atmosphere was almost identical and light pollution wasn''t a thing where we lived. The reason was the complete lack of a Milky Way equivalent up there. There was also a nebula not unlike a blue-purplish oort cloud that travelled across the sky every night, but even that one was fairly diffuse and small by astronomical standards. Also, it was about as far removed from everything else in the sky as the star system was. At the very least, this meant Azeroth was not located in a spiral galaxy. It may, in fact, not be part of a proper galaxy at all. In which case those stars in the sky might not be stars at all, but themselves whole galaxies. Every single one.


    That sort of thing would mess with space navigational prospects something fierce, I thought silently. I always wondered why the Burning Legion didn''t just come over here on spaceships. Is this why? Distance was more of a suggestion when you could literally teleport through dimensional hopping, but if there wasn''t any sort of navigational reference¡­ Can they just not navigate here conventionally?


    It certainly made more sense than the idea that the Burning Legion had never encountered a spacefaring civilisation. They had colossal mechs for crying out loud.


    Slowly, I let sleep take me. I had long since stopped suffering discontinuity of consciousness when passing from awake to asleep and back. It was something I''d managed a few times even back in my previous life, including the last time I closed my eyes. This time, though, as I watched the golden glow of the Light emanate more and more from the stars downward, I let myself drift and willed nothing.


    I woke up at dawn with my mind clear of any worries that I still hadn''t even the foggiest of why I kept failing at alchemy. Instead, I jumped off the roof and went over to feed the fire. The elementals gave me all their attention but were reluctant to leave the warmth of the cauldron. After the fire had been stoked, I went and brought more water too. Then I stood watching them and pondered all of the prior day''s failures to soothe the spirits'' hunger with the Light.


    "I have an idea. It might take a while. Try not to swarm me?"


    ~Hunger. Certainty of failure. Curiosity.~


    Boosting their willpower made them cheeky, the little buggers.


    Closing my eyes, I called the Light to fill me, fill all the gaps between all parts of me, and followed it with my Mind past my Form through my Soul to my Spirit. Not something I''d deliberately messed with before, but this was a pressing enough need, wasn''t it? The Light chimed softly through me, which was confirmation enough. The need wasn''t big enough for outright sacrifice though, and I didn''t really need to, did I? After all, isn''t the Spirt something that can be grown and cultivated too?


    I called all my ideas and memory and comprehension. What the Spirit was. What it did. What it could do. Memories of a past life. Concepts I couldn''t put into words and those I could. Words I couldn''t give voice to and those I could. Even if I hadn''t had an eon''s worth of picking my way through my beliefs, concepts, opinions, wounds and fears, the Light didn''t need perfection to help you, did it? Also, how many chi-using pandas could really claim enlightenment? Maybe one or two, that''s how many. Of thousands that could still break rocks with their bare hands. All because they knew to shape and mould their Spirit.


    I followed the Light to the eighth part of myself that was the Inspiration. I gave my Inspiration all the memories and ideas and understanding of Spirit. What could be achieved by it, with it and along with it. And I waited. The best idea I could ever have bloomed in my mind with crystal clarity and I bid the Light DO.


    Deep within me, the Light ceased being a mere buttress for my will and began to truly nourish my Spirit.


    It was like the greatest injection of adrenaline, except for every part of me except the bone and flesh. My spirit, for the first time through something other than time and experience, began to grow. Faster than ever. Faster than I needed. Fast enough, maybe, to finally give some relief to my little bevy of little Spirits of Water and Flame.


    The elementals went into a frenzy. They spewed out of the cauldron and rushed at me, pressed against me, blurring my sight, stealing my breath, sucking at my warmth in ravenous desperation. The good night''s sleep had let me remember just why Azeroth''s elementals were so extremely violent and chaotic. It was the world soul. Azeroth''s world-soul was large and grew quickly, it was what drew both the Old Gods and the Titans to it. But because the planet''s world-soul developed so quickly, it consumed much of the Fifth Element at a rate faster than the planet generated it, the very Spirit energy of the planet, the one thing that the elements needed to live. And as Spirit became more and more scarce, the elemental spirits of Azeroth became more and more erratic until they became extremely violent, destructive and chaotic by nature.


    The Light sustained me where my body would have gone into shock without air. The heat was no problem, asserting control over my thermal conduction and convection was one of the first things I ever did. The little clouds were turning into a chaotic mist and dust devil with every passing moment, but I didn''t need to see. Not for this. The way that the Pandaren applied their Spirit came about as a reaction to the sha threat, and thus had the main purpose of inherently encouraging harmony within themselves and everyone else. They successfully quelled their own elementals as a side effect of their own necessary pursuit of peace. I couldn''t do that, the playful, peaceful, and at worst mischievous elementals of Pandaria were the result of thousands of Pandaren practicing of Spirit-emanating inner harmony over thousands of years. But consciously using the energy of the Spirit to encourage chaotic elementals to calm down and cooperate, well, shamans have been doing that since forever, haven''t they? More than long enough for reality to know how. For the Light to know how. For me to know how, now.


    I drew runes in the air around me. The Light patterned around my feet like a star unfolding across the entirety of the earth. My Spirit flowed outwards in a cascade of life-giving energy that blanketed the world.


    The spirits calmed and drifted outward, unspooling like mist, calm and sated for the first time in their whole existence.


    I stood and waited for them to drink their fill until they finally knew peace.


    ~¡­ Satiety¡­ Torpor¡­ Wonder¡­~


    "I love the smell of a new avenue of experimentation in the morning."


    ~¡­ Satiety¡­ Torpor¡­ Wonder¡­~


    "I think I''ll call it Aura of Vigor."


    ~¡­ Satiety¡­ Torpor¡­ Wonder¡­~


    Within me, my Spirit fed on the nurturing Light and grew ever quicker than it nourished in turn the world. "Reality-defying feats always make me talk like a two-bit bard even in my head. What do you think, little ones, should I start writing epics?"


    ~¡­ Satiety¡­ Torpor¡­ Wonder¡­~


    "That''s it! The dragons mean something noble in alchemy, but I actually know what most of them are doing to Azeroth, half of which is very much not noble!" And half of the remaining half was debatable at best. "I need to figure out new metaphors. Or how to do alchemy without symbolic metaphors." Could you even do that? The whole point of them was to synchronise your own development with the transmutations to achieve transmutation of the self. At least that''s what it was back on Earth, I was pretty sure. "Oh well, something to figure out later. You''ll help me, won''t you little ones?"


    ~Satiety. Wonder. Anything for you.~


    "You''re perfectly right, I haven''t really done enough to be worth an epic. Guess I''ll go remedy that right now."


    ~Satiety surprise nowaitdontgo!~


    I stopped in place, surprised too. "Come now, it''s not like I''m leaving right this instant-"


    ~ Satiety alarm dontgo ~


    I stared.


    ~ Satiety alarm dontgo ~


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    "Now you''re just being dramatic."


    ~ Dongo dontgo dontgo~


    "Or you''ll what?"


    ~¡­ ¡­ ¡­~


    I nodded. "Good. Admitting you don''t know something is the first step on the path of learning." It was also good that they hadn''t immediately become possessive maniacs. "I''ll be back in a few days. I''m pretty sure you can last that long, you don''t actually lose mass or energy unless you consciously expend it, right?"


    ~¡­ Satiety. Gratitude. Longing.~


    ¡­ I guess I didn''t need to go right this moment. "Alright... Let''s spend the day together."


    ~Satiety. Wonder. Joy.~


    We spent the day together. It was basically like a normal day, except everyone around me was more energetic and driven, enough that even the Handy Trio gave me meaningful looks even if they didn''t comment on it. Also, there was a constant trail of little clouds constantly fighting over who got to hug me next and otherwise competing for my attention. It was honestly kind of nice. They buoyed your mood like nothing else. It made me wish I had my own kids someday.


    Well. Thoughts for the future.


    Alas, the matters of the city beckoned, and so did the increasingly endangered opportunity I''d sensed previously. Which felt even more endangered after a good night''s meditation with proper mental parameters to guide the Light towards more comprehensive revelation. As in ''will be tragically and irrevocably lost by tomorrow at lunchtime'' endangered.


    I was ready to leave at the crack of dawn the next day. I''d already retrieved what ledgers I needed from my study and had just finished collecting the newest samples from my workshop. I was just finishing fastening them tight into the rear basket of my custom-designed mountain bike when the Misty Nine floated over.


    "Sorry, children, Dad really does have business today. And probably the rest of the week. You be good to Grandmother, alright?"


    ~Satiety. Hope. Wecanhelp!~


    I paused. That almost sounded like words even as the added meaning appeared in my head. They were really making an effort. Also, now that I think about it, was it really so good that something could put thoughts in my head so easily? Sure, I could instantly tell what was foreign and what was mine, and I could call the Light to scour me clean whenever I wanted. But who''s to say I''ll always know to do it? Who''s to say stuff like this can''t be louder? Who''s to say more mature elementals or whatever else couldn''t be quieter about it too, more subtle? That was literally how the Fel and Void worked.


    The Light backlit a spark of Inspiration deep behind my mind in the depths of my Memory. An image emerged through it until it could see it in my Mind''s eye. It was a symbol I knew I should recognize, it was my own memory after all ¨C oh! An Icelandic stave! I''d completely forgotten about them. This one was¡­ the Helm? Yes, that''s it. Aegishjalmur. The Helm of Awe. The stave that protects from all mind influences.


    Something shifted in the destiny of the world. I went still as stone, almost unbelieving of the implications. When I looked into the dark of the unknown future, the Light seemed to reach that slightly bit further.


    I had to put this to use immediately, but how? I don''t have a helmet and even if I did it could be removed ¨C oh. Never mind, I''ll just etch it into my skull.


    In case it wasn''t clear, I came even by my Inspiration honestly.


    I called on the Light. I''d have expected it to be at least somewhat contrary to what basically amounted to deliberately self-inflicted scars, but it didn''t even waver. Then I remembered that Lightforging is a thing. I guess a little bodily modification is nothing next to that.


    "We are all inadequate vessels," I murmured the words that Alonsus Faol told me, all those months ago.


    Golden light flickered over and out of me, I could see it shimmer upon the little clouds and on the grass. My skull itched. It felt like it was burning. But no matter how hot the burning became, pain never followed it. The Light, as always, made short work of such paltry discomforts.


    When it was over and done with, I smiled wryly. The Light and my own Inspiration were making common cause to deprive me of reasons not to give the little clouds a chance.


    I looked at them and deliberated on what to say. One the one hand, helpful spirits were rarer than an oasis in the middle of the desert on this planet. On the other hand, these nine were babies. Should I or should I not make a conscious choice to not project the limits of a human lifecycle on them? "Alright. You have one chance to persuade me. Make it good."


    ~Satiety. Gratitude. Excitement!~


    The spirits blended together, then unfolded wide, diffusing until I could barely see them, then further until I couldn''t tell them apart from the air at all. I might have feared for their continued survival, but I could still feel them there, and when I called the Light I could even see them again, a latticework of fluttering molecules interwoven with Light and Life stretching ever broader. Much broader. This is what healthy spirits should really be. Far-reaching, imperceptible but present. Greater and more expansive by the moment. Longer too. Longer and longer as their reach extended from me upwards upon the wind and suddenly I could see what they could see. Knew what they could hear. Knew what they could feel. Everything they perceived. The entirety of Alterac Valley from a bird''s eye view, high in the sky above.


    "Far Sight," I murmured. Joyful laughter bubbled out of me then, and I indulged it fully. "Oh, you''re just full of surprises, aren''t you? Well, you''ve convinced me and then some. Well done."


    ~Satiety. Smugness. Joy.~


    I brought my bike out from the shed, pumped the tires and then pondered my cowboy hat. But eventually I decided it just wouldn''t work without a proper horse so I left it on the hook.


    I shouldered my rifle, holstered my pistol at my right hip, strapped my shotgun to the down tube scabbard, finally mounted my contraption and made my goodbyes.


    Then I came back less than one hour later, ran to my study and quickly wrote down what just came to me before I forgot, I should really stop forgetting to double-check that I actually have my notebook and pencil on me before I go anywhere. "The gnomes didn''t harness nuclear power, it was the Titans! All those robots, there''s no way they run on anything less than a nuclear power reactor. I bet they did something to the Arcane so it didn''t interfere with it, bloody hackers!"


    Immediately I felt better. Not having a reason to develop an inferiority complex was a load off my mind. Sure, enlightenment precluded that as it did all other mental traps, but maintaining it still took some deliberate self-reflection.


    Now to get a move on before the endangered opportunity really is tragically and irrevocably lost by lunchtime.


    Normally I''d take the roundabout path going through the eastern pass. It was the region''s major trade route, and in fact Alterac City was built so high up in the mountains specifically so it would straddle it and derive all the prosperity thereof. It was the major root cause of its tension with Stromgarde, as the former capital of Arathor had previously enjoyed unburdened trade with both Dalaran and Lordearon.


    Alterac Valley was, on paper, Alterac''s highly developed back yard. In reality, though, it was the site of a myriad different competing interests, as there was no noble house in the country that didn''t own some share of land or business in the area, the mineral wealth was as abundant as the king''s court was decadent. This meant that, since Alterac nobility was the most cutthroat anywhere in human lands, the valley was actually an eternal hotbed of ''accidents'', strife, disputes and ''bandit'' activity. All that without counting the uncomfortable number of man-eating wolves and bears constantly attracted by the smell of blood from the various corpses regularly left behind after such ''banditry'' and ''accidents''.


    I live in the worst country.


    At least there wasn''t any slavery.


    My standards have gone to shit.


    Alas, the valley was where the Light insisted I would find the endangered opportunity of nebulous origin, so that''s the path I took.


    I found it just as the summer sun neared its zenith. Far Sight allowed me to see it around two different bends in the cliffside path and over a mile off. An ambush site. People set up to cause a rockslide. A noble and his retinue just five minutes off on the path below. And something stalking him from high above. Something I only saw because spirits could see the unseen.


    I almost drove my bike down the ravine.


    What the hell is a val''kyr doing here?

 The Travails of Endangered Nobility (I)

    "-. July 7, Year 580 of the King''s Calendar .-"


    ~ Richard Angevin, Duke of Hillsbrad ~?


    If he ever had to dress up and pussyfoot around his true feelings towards every last one of the attendees of King''s Perenolde''s summer ball, he might just pull his sword on someone. If he ever found which of them were in on the ''tragic'' downfall of his ''misguided'' family, there would be a reckoning. If he found out that all of them were involved or somehow partisan, there would be blood. And if he found out the King himself had confected it¡­


    "Brother, are all balls going to be like that?"


    Richard veered away from his treasonous thoughts and¡­ didn''t smile at his young sister who was looking at him from the carriage window. He wouldn''t dissemble here, not with the only family he had left. "You didn''t enjoy yourself either then?" Richard wasn''t surprised. She''d not said anything all morning, and barely anything during the entire previous day of travel. Even though she charmed a wild raven into being her playmate, the girl who''d talked his ear off and nagged ¨C entreated ¨C the druids back in Kul Tiras to ''teach her how to be a fairy tale princess'' was well and truly gone.


    Richard thanked the Light every day that their parents saw the writing on the wall and shipped her off to visit him when they did. Four siblings, both their parents, even their only surviving grandfather had been hung in the city square less than a month later. They''d been seized right as they came out of Silver Cathedral after Noblegarden day service. If Annari had been here for the king''s ''justice'', she''d be gone like the rest of them. Or worse, seeing as she was a comely maiden flowered for three years.


    "Becoming a jaded senile old man already, husband?"


    Richard glanced to where his newly-wed wife had opened the other window. "Don''t pretend you''re not vexed. This is the farthest thing from what you wanted your honeymoon to be."


    "True," Lady Valeria Angevin nee Stormsong admitted easily. "Doesn''t change the fact that you still haven''t answered your sister''s question though."


    "I could nag him into it," mused Annari aloud.


    "Would you?" Richard didn''t even have to put effort into sounding hopeful. "Go ahead then, give me your best."


    "Aw, but that''s no fun if you like it," Annari pouted.


    Their laughter was brief, but it was the most honest thing they''d indulged in all month.


    Richard soon sobered again though. "I''m afraid that Alterac social occasions are indeed all like that, sister. Don''t worry though, Kul Tiras won''t be nearly so bad."


    "I''ll say," huffed Valeria. "I thought the Waycrest court was bad, but this was a completely different level of oily."


    "¡­ What if I don''t want to go?"


    Richard closed his eyes briefly, then looked at Annari soberly. "You can''t tell me you enjoyed any of it."


    "I didn''t, but¡­ I don''t want to leave if you don''t come too. I-I want to stay with you."


    "Oh sister¡­" He wouldn''t pretend he didn''t see this coming, he was all she had left, but¡­ "You know it''s too dangerous to stay here."


    "And be honest," Valeria tucked a loose strand of Anna''s hair behind her ear. "Do you think you''ll have a better time next time your many suitors descend on you like vultures?"


    "Well no, but¡­"


    If Dolos Vardus tries to smarm his way into my family one more time, I might just reconsider Sir Orman''s suit. That would throw the court into a tizzy, seeing as the man was not just a mere knight but one from Stromgarde. But with how quickly things are breaking down, I don''t expect her plight to be much improved there, even if Sir Orman is good to her. With the ''banditry'' along the border, especially the mess in Durn, it would be a wonder if they saw winter without war breaking out. He''d not make his sister a hostage. No, the only option is to send her back to Kul Tiras. Lady Stormsong will find a good match, whatever happens.


    King Perenolde would no doubt suspect treason even without the warmongering poison wafting in all the air he breathed, but at this point the man suspected treason of everyone. Richard reluctantly admitted Aiden Perenolde''s paranoia wasn''t entirely groundless, the man was a king at twenty-five years of age only because his father died ''unexpectedly,'' an Alteraci euphemism for poison. But considering what the man did to him and his when Richard was barely eighteen himself, that was as far as his sympathy went. You don''t get to complain about the bed you make, especially when you go and slaughter the only high noble house in the nation that isn''t just paying lip service to virtue.


    All to appease the nobles he didn''t hang. To show them that he wasn''t pursuing a vendetta, you see, not all the ones who hung were their friends. He didn''t even have the courtesy of conducting a proper smear campaign, Richard thought contemptuously. Not only is he a weak and evil king, he''s also cheap.


    At least all the warmongering meant he could raise troops without drawing suspicion. Well, no more suspicion than everyone else.


    The guilds would need to be very careful about who they hired to play Greatfather Winter this year. If they landed another drunk and he said something the king took the wrong way, it might be an entirely different class of bodies lining up for a short drop and a sudden stop.


    Alterac was the worst.


    At least there isn''t any slavery.


    His standards had gone to hell.


    That was when lightning struck.


    Crack-CRACK-BOOM.


    "What the devil!?" Richard Angevin barely kept control of his spooked horse, watching open-mouthed as lightning came down from a clear sky and struck the clifftop high ahead with a thunderous roar. Dust and smoke billowed up in the air amidst a long, rumbling groan-


    "ROCKSLIDE!"


    The cry from ahead snapped Richard out of his shock. "AMBUSH!" He roared even louder, lightning on a clear day, it could only be magic! "Ware, magic is afoot!"


    "Halt!" The shouts of his Guard Captain erupted over the din as a wave of boulders began rolling down the side of the cliff up ahead. "Halt the convoy, halt, HALT, stop NOW or we''ll all be buried!"


    "No," Richard quietly said to himself as he watched the earthfall. "No, there''s too few rocks."


    "Brother, what''s happening?!"


    "We might be under attack." Despite his force of men-at-arms 200-strong. "Valeria, keep her inside, don''t come out until I say so."


    "Right!" His wife, Light bless her, immediately pulled his sister inside and closed the windows, locking them tight and pulling the curtains shut.


    A horse''s gallop heralded the sight of his Guard Captain skidding to a halt before him. "My Lord, did you see it? Lightning from the blue!"


    "Mercad." Richard wrestled with the impulse to relegate the giant Kul Tiran to be his wife and sister''s human shield. "Report!"


    "Our scouts are overdue, there isn''t another way down and the path is too narrow to turn the carriage train around, we''re sitting ducks. If we''d been five minutes quicker, we''d have been caught right under it."


    "You don''t say."


    Zap-Screech-BOOM.


    A second bolt of lightning came down, this time in the forest on the opposite side of their path. Cries of shock and pain came on the wind. They were faint, but they came from below and they were¡­ "More than two."


    "Not ours," Mercad realized the same moment. "More than one group?"


    "And each with different orders. Mercad, I have the defence, you take two men and check left of the path as well as you can both ahead and behind us, and not just the top. Look for hooks and ropes."


    If anything good came from living in Alterac, it was that guards knew how to turn carriages into roadblocks and improvise barricades very quickly. He''d barely finished assigning the men defensive positions when Mercad ran back to him. "It took some doing, but we found over a dozen thick ropes fastened with iron spikes in the side of the rock just under the path, the ends trail down into the underbrush. We cut the ropes, but the spikes are no simple grapple hooks, it took real sledgehammers to ram those things in, this could only have been prepared beforehand."


    "Rockslides take a while to set up as well," Richard said with a grim frown as the cries from around and above changed from panicked to angry. He dismounted. "Corral the horses, we really don''t want them lost or stolen." There goes their greatest advantage.


    "Yes, Lord."


    "See to the crossbowmen while you''re at it, reverse-w tactic two, be discreet about it."


    "But that''s for use against wildkin, not¡­" Mercad trailed off as the angry shouts of a less-than-controlled charge finally reached them both. There was just barely sufficient tree cover that they couldn''t see anything but brief blurs of motion. He could spot boiled leather and even mail, but those weren''t the sounds of an orderly attack.


    "Just a gut feeling." Richard and grabbed a halberd. "Get to it."


    "As you will." Mercad took the reins of his horse and went to do as ordered.


    Richard pulled down his helm. "SHIELD WALL!"


    He expected his large stature to make him the most attractive target, and he was right. He expected his full plate armor to protect him from the worst of it, and he was proven correct there as well. But he expected the charging mass to be as disorganized as the shouting suggested, and he was wrong. This was Alterac, where everyone from conscripts to mercenaries had elevated the ''pretend to be a bandit'' strategy to an art form.


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    The first charge stalled on their shields, but the ''bandits'' neither broke nor ran. The second push was weaker, but it made sure all their effort went into pushing back, which left them open to the arcane barrage,


    "They have mages!" cried footman Wilhelm before the arcane missiles blasted his face in. "Aaargh!"


    Three more fell in the same moment, and the second mage was charging an even bigger spell. Richard''s instinct screamed at him even before the cloaked figure tossed the glittering blue orb up instead of forward. "HEDGEHOG FORMATION!"


    Another man fell when he couldn''t disengage quickly enough, but Richard managed to lock his shield in a dome with those who remained, just in time for the massive blizzard spikes to come down once, twice, thrice, the halberds started snapping on the fourth wave, the frost bit his arm on the fifth, his shield cracked on the seventh, and the ninth and final onslaught passed with his pavise just barely holding together. The shield finally shattered when a mace smashed into it. Richard used the leftovers to bash his attacker in the face, dropped the snapped halberd pole, grabbed the second attacker and let himself fall down to the ground along with him. "CROSSBOWS!"


    His crossbowmen emerged from where they''d hunkered down behind cover and unleashed a full volley right over their crouched forms into the enemy scrum.


    The attackers fell in a drove, choking or yelling. Richard heard curses. He thought he heard the lightning a third time, but it seemed weak and far behind him. There was dust billowing in the air all around the battle as he drove his knife into the man''s eye and pushed back to stand. The enemies still came, but where was their counter-fire? "Reform the line!"


    "Egrediuntur tela arcanis!"


    Richard barely got the pavise of one of his fallen men up in time. It shattered a moment later, possibly along with his arm, the pain that erupted-agh-!


    "Procidens jubar sideru-"


    BANG


    Blood and brain burst from the mage''s head. The arcane missile storm misfired like a whirlwind in the midst of a typhoon. Assailants fell. More faltered. The assault stalled for a critical moment.


    Richard pulled his throwing knife and hurled it at the other mage''s face.


    "Fuck!" The woman cursed, an arcane shield springing up at the last second before she promptly teleported away.


    The line finally reformed over their fallen brethren. "Your ambush has failed!" Richard shouted, hoping to at least buy time for the crossbows to finish reloading. "We found your ropes, there will be no reinforcements, this distraction has no purpose! Stand down!"


    The attackers hesitated while Richard strained to survey what he could from the corner of his eye without giving himself away, where''s their counter-fire?!


    Mercad''s horn sounded near the rear, conveying Send Reinforcements, True Objective.


    Richard froze where he stood. Annari! Valeria!


    To his surprise, the enemies in front of him faltered and broke at the sound.


    Deciding not to question his good fortune, Richard passed leadership to the nearest lieutenant and ran to the rear with what reinforcements he could gather on the way. But why did they break? His mind whirled as he looked around. They were obviously no bandits, they were enlisted troops or mercenaries that clearly knew tactical signals, they should have- Richard''s mind skipped a thought when his eyes registered the unnatural amount of dust in the air, around and above them, atop the ridge! We use Kul Tiras signals, his thought resolved itself even as his focus shifted. They must have thought the horn call meant something else. Even more dust was ¨C there was wind blowing against the wind!


    When he could barely see ten feet in front of him, Richard stopped behind the next to last carriage and blew his own horn in Maurice pattern. Incoming Friendlies!


    After a tense few seconds, Mercad''s horn responded. Flank right.


    The scum must have him against the edge of the ravine. Richard thought as he quickly relayed orders, trying not to cough. They must have come from even farther back and attacked from the rear, and maybe above as well. The enemy was well prepared and not stupid, even had contingencies and these ones wore plate, not leather or mail like the others. But Richard was in position now. He signalled his men to change to warhammers. At the same time, the wind seemed to miraculously whirl around and in front of him, just enough to clear his line of sight up to where his foes waited for him. Without doing the same for them. "Whoever or whatever you are, thank you," Richard murmured under his breath, even if it probably wouldn''t-


    The wind brushed against his face, scalding hot in his eyes, but then it blew away and he blinked hard and wide, suddenly feeling alert and clean and no longer about to cough his lungs out. "¡­ Alright."


    With a hand signal, he launched his counter-ambush. "CHAAARGE!" He yelled just a moment too late for the scum to react properly.


    The rear-most attackers barely had time to turn, and so they were caught in the worst possible position.


    Flesh tore. Bones crunched. Men screamed. Richard gave no quarter nor mercy. The Battle of the High Pass was decided in a bloody skirmish around the ladies'' wheelhouse. Until, finally, Richard was standing amidst the silence of corpses broken only by the faint gasps of deep weariness and ¨C no. There was something else. A flash of light at the edge of vision made him turn to look up at the high rise where the dust cloud, now that he had time to notice, was the thickest.


    "Mercad!"


    "Here!" The large man had four crossbow bolts sticking out of his coat of armor, but he did not seem bothered. "Orders?"


    "Take what men you can and find a way up there." Lightning struck from nothing a third time, though it was followed by no thunder now. "Quickly! That must be their ranged support!"


    "You, you and you lot, go back and see if there''s a path up that way. You lot, with me! We''re going to find whatever trail the bastards used to climb up and take out whatever of them are left."


    Richard watched them leave and was going to set about tallying his losses when something tugged at his awareness. That same instinct that led his tactics and sword arm through thick and thin. Following it, he found his sight casting forth and above where the dust cloud still billowed. A shrouded a figure standing on the ledge. A man-shaped shadow staring straight at him from inside the dust devil. Richard opened his mouth to call the attention of his men, but the air seized in his throat, his face felt like it had just been scalded all over again, and suddenly it was as if he was face-to-face with whoever it was, two blue eyes flashing gold just as they met his.


    Richard saw the darkest swamp he''d ever seen surrounding a blasted land scorched red, a simple table in the middle with a jenga tower rising up into infinity. In front of it a knight was fighting some sort of green-skinned brute, skill and will matching slavering savagery as dwarves, gnomes, several kinds of elves, and even some manner of man-goat thing were trampled underfoot. Above them a being of crystals and light matched Light against the Fel darkness of two great, horned demons while fiends and walking dead covered the earth, and dragons swarmed the sky from horizon to horizon. The Black ate the Blue. The Bronze ate their own tail. The Red languished in misery. The Blue hated the rest. Fleshy tentacles and tendrils of blood seeped up from the bedrock. Two burning eyes glared down from amidst the corpses of gods littering the Great Dark. The Fire burned. The Air screamed. The Water stank. The Earth shook. Each and every time the chaos churned, block upon blocks of the trembling tower fell down from heaven.


    And right there in the middle, cross-legged on the table at the base of the jenga spire of time, sat a young man with blond hair and blue eyes who was taking blocks out of the tower''s base, coating them in glue, then putting them back in place, one by one by one until a wholly new, unyielding foundation grew taller than his hands could reach. So he used the falling blocks to make a club instead.


    Then he got up, bashed the greenskin over the head with all the force of wasted time, took the knight''s sword and swung it hard at the tower, smashing everything upwards from his hard work apart.


    The boy''s eyes met his own as the future fell to pieces around them. The eyes were gone. There was only Light shining forth. Then the axe came down and smashed to bits even the table.


    Richard Angevin reeled back from the vision with a gasp, one final image burned into his mind, of a new foundation planting itself deep into the fabric of the world, heedless of all the things fighting over it. His skin was clammy. His brain felt like it was alight. His mind drifted. His exhaustion caught up with him and muddled his blank thoughts. He cast about for the figure but he was gone, not even an afterimage in the fading dust cloud to mark his passing.


    Light, what was that?


    But Richard knew the answer even before the thought finished. The vision and all its bits and pieces were wrapped in knowledge and tenacity locked in a pledge. He knew what that felt like, once. It wasn''t even so long ago that he thought he measured up to that same devotion. When was the last time he knelt to pray?


    Light, how much greater than me and mine is the plight of the future?


    Surrounded by battle-worn rattle and footfalls, Richard Angevin stood alone.


    Then he went to his medic to have his broken arm bound, went to his dead, knelt at their side and prayed to the Light for their righteous reward in the afterlife.

 The Travails of Endangered Nobility (II)

    (II)?


    His new clarity of mind stayed with him well after he finished his prayer, but it did not eliminate the demands that the rest of the world had on his time. He had threads to pull on, and the first one beckoned from the direction where the one wizard had been so abruptly neutralized before.


    Looking around, Richard Angevin was glad to see most of the dead were enemies, his men around him going about securing the few survivors who hadn''t managed to flee. After checking on the ladies and reassuring them that the situation was under control ¨C though not necessarily safe, so no, Annari, you can''t come out to experience the trauma of the battlefield yet ¨C he set about reassessing the situation while tallying up casualties. Miraculously, only eight men had died, with about thirty more sustaining some manner of injury. Five of them would probably not see the next morning, so he memorised their names and listened to their last wishes. But of the remainder only eleven had a wound serious enough to put them out of action.


    If only I knew how my numbers compare to the ones that ran, Richard thought grimly.


    Before anything else, a stop by the bodies was in order. His men were well on the way to gathering up the attackers'' corpses for a pyre, but since he''d not given leave for looting in order to ensure no important evidence was lost, they were all still unspoiled and intact. Insofar as their manner of death allowed at least.


    When he found the mage and removed the man''s mask and hood, he could only stare, completely taken aback at the sheer audacity of what was in front of him. "Dolos Vardus." All his tiredness washed away in the face of fury. "May the Light spare no pity or grace for you in the afterlife, you wretched whoreson."


    How he wished he was back in Kul Tiras still. All his life, his entire purpose as the third son had been to leverage his family''s relatively neglected seamanship interests in preparation of settling back in his mother''s homeland. With all the male Ridgeley heirs lost at sea, he would take up her name so her House could continue. He''d been well on the way to doing just that too, despite minor frictions with the Tidesages over his Faith in the Light instead of the Tidemother. Then he suddenly found out he was now the only male heir of his father''s family. If not for King Aiden Perenolde''s polite ''invitation'' to him and his sister, he''d have left her in Kul Tiras and possibly not come himself ''to surely redeem the Angevin name in the eyes of the Realm.''


    But no, I wouldn''t have lived with myself if I let this injustice stand without the slightest investigation, Richard thought darkly. Never mind the dishonour of my family being not only wrongfully executed, but also dispossessed after such an ''admission of guilt.''


    But rage would just exhaust him further, so he forced himself not to throw Baron Vardus'' corpse down the ravine. He got up and went to the spot where he died instead.


    Once he was there, he began looking everywhere around the spot where the man and his perforated face had been felled. Here, at least, fate didn''t work against him. The path was dry and earthy, with barely a blade of grass anywhere. Feeling along the ground eventually let him find a small hole in the path. It could easily have been dismissed as a crack from the many footfalls of the skirmish, but it was clean and deep and straight through solid rock. So deep he had to use his mace to break the stone and then his knife to dig through it. Finally, the sunlight glinted off something smooth and clear.


    Richard picked it up and raised it to examine in the light. It was¡­ some manner of projectile. Thinner than an arrowhead, but heavier. Thick and sharp, though also blunt compared to a bolt or arrow. Made of steel. It came down with the sound of thunder. And he distinctly remembered the lack of accompanying lightning. Some manner of projectile shooting spell?


    Richard was still turning it between his fingertips when Mercad returned with their defeated foes in bonds and news of his scouts dead. A fair amount of their attackers had been struck down before Mercad and his men got to them, not by battle wounds but various incapacitating ailments. Like burst eardrums. And blindness. Uncontrollable jitters in most of them too. Richard thought back to the blast of steam he got to the face and made an effort not to grimace. Though when he went to see the prisoners, he found most of their eyes looking no worse for wear. Nothing that couldn''t have been caused by fighting in a thick cloud of dust and sand for half an hour at least.


    "I suppose they must have been too close to the thunder strike."


    Mercad disagreed. "Maybe you didn''t see it from where you were fighting, sir, but the lightning came down once or twice to help us too, and it didn''t boom or scorch the earth or anything. Mostly it seemed to stun the bastards, though the couple who got it head on did get done in. What we did find was alchemical explosives."


    "You''re saying the lightning only set off whatever they had set up to bury us. Prematurely at that."


    "Yes, sir."


    "Come with me." Richard led the way to where the rockslide was being slowly dug through by the men in an effort to clear the path. "Tell me, does this amount of rock seem sufficient to you if they really wanted to kill us all?"


    Mercad gave the rock pile a more thoughtful look than before. "You think they had a different objective?"


    "Even if it caught us full on, at most it would have split us. Their forces weren''t significantly more numerous than ours either, and this place is not ideal for that sort of objective in any case, the path is easily narrow enough that we were able to form a chokepoint. Numerical superiority would have been useless regardless. For a while at least."


    "¡­ But it could have sufficed as a decapitation strike."


    "It could have. Except the strongest forces concentrated on the rear."


    "Where we were," Mercad concluded. "You think they were after the Ladies'' wheelhouse."


    "I don''t doubt my head would have been a fine bonus, but no. I am certain this was about taking hostages." Baron Vardus might have joined in a misguided attempt to get Annari despite my rejection, but who was the real mastermind? Who was the sorceress? And I''m a Duke, there is none higher in status than me save the King himself. "I don''t much like what this is pointing to."


    A raven cawed nearby. Richard turned around and spotted it on the top of his own carriage that he only ever brought along as a decoy. It was hard to tell since ravens tended to look alike, but Richard rather thought it was the same one his sister had spent the prior day playing with. Maybe he should have taken it as an omen. "You won''t be feasting on our corpses today, damned bird." Though the ''bandits'' might be a different matter.


    The raven didn''t care. It groomed its wing, then croaked once more and looked straight ahead, past him to where his men had finally dug a path to the other side of the rockslide. It would take another couple of hours to clear the whole mess, but that was fine. Richard could use the excuse to rest. The time to plan what to do next. Move on. Stay here. Go back.


    Defeat in detail.


    Whatever served to fill the time most usefully while his Lieutenants tallied the dead''s belongings. He''d let Mercad do his interrogations later, possibly leave him behind a ways so Annari couldn''t ''happen'' upon the sight. Once they were sure the threat was truly past.


    Giving truth to his worries, his wife and sister couldn''t take being cooped up in their carriage anymore and came looking for him. Whatever questions they had were answered by their own eyes well before they found him though.


    "I-I''m sorry, Big Brother, if I hadn''t insisted on a last meet-up in the city, this wouldn''t have happened."


    Richard sighed. "Don''t be ridiculous, sister, not being allowed to say even goodbye to your only friends is no way to live."


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    Annari didn''t seem convinced. "Well¡­ they''re not all my friends."


    Richard didn''t have it in him to follow through on that conversation. Women may not be that hard to understand, but that didn''t necessarily mean that what you understood was always pleasant. The ladies of Alterac were every bit as venomous as the men. To Annari''s tragically belated horror, unfortunately.


    There was a creaking.


    Richard frowned and looked forward. What was that noise? It was the strangest sound he''d ever heard, like the bastard child of a drawing bowstring and a creaking floor board, except it never ended. He quickly had his wife and sister escorted back to their carriage at the rear of the convoy. Mercad drew his sword. His men formed around him, weapons drawn.


    It appeared from beyond the bend.


    ¡­ It was a single man.


    "What the hell?" Mercad forgot himself next to him.


    Richard could understand why, though. It was a man riding the most bizarre contraption he''d ever seen. Two wheels, impossibly thin and even thinner spokes, stuck to a frame one ahead of the other. The man was¡­ spinning them forth by a pair of pedals? It was so thin and fragile, the thing''s profile was not even half a palm''s width thick if you ignored the front handles, what kind of balance ¨C how did he not crash?


    "What the hell is that thing?" Someone muttered before falling silent under Mercad''s glare because pot, meet kettle.


    "Halt!" Mercad barked when the newcomer didn''t skip a single stroke on spotting the carnage. "Who goes there?"


    The man ¨C no¡­ That was no man, that was a boy, the boy¡­ the boy from his vision! The boy¡­ rode? Rode his contraption through the fresh split in the rockslide and turned to a stop just out of weapons reach. White shirt unbuttoned at the neck, dark leather jacket, masterwork boots made of the same, brown suede trousers, the fairest skin Richard had ever seen, blond hair that gleamed in the sun, blue eyes that scanned them and everything around with mildness seemingly born of impossible experience. More than anything, though, stood out his unnatural stature. At least by mainlander standards. This boy has Kul Tiran in him like me. It was the only explanation, he was almost as tall as Richard already but it was obvious he was still growing. With good food he might even grow to match Mercad, which was saying something, the man was well over two meters tall. And those weapons. It was something he''d only ever seen on a dwarf, and never up close. Boomsticks, three of them, a small one on his hip, a double-piped monstrosity sheathed on his¡­ contraption. But the thing on his back. Wood and steel polished to a sheen, long and deceptively unthreatening. Richard gripped tight on the projectile in his hand.


    "Who are you?" Mercad barked, his own hand tense around his weapon hilt. He was wise not to drop his guard just because of the boy''s age. "State your business."


    "My name is Ferdinand." Ferdinand. That was¡­ it was a name fit for a king. "I sensed a disturbance in the Light." A disturbance in the Light? What was he talking about? "You''re not anything I expected, but of course, I''m not going to ignore when such a plight crosses my path, mister¡­?"


    A name fit for a king or a saint, he certainly had the voice of one.


    But Mercad didn''t relax. "Mind yourself, boy. You are before his noble grace, Richard of House Angevin, Duke of Hillsbrad."


    "I know who he is, I was asking you. But it''s fine, I can wait a while for the power of friendship to yield its returns." The absolutely insolent young man gave them and their still grimy and bloody appearance a cursory examination. Then he looked at Richard. "Apologies for the substandard lightning." The air came together in nine spheres that revolved like a great wheel behind him, arcs of blue shooting from one to the next like a nimbus of lightning, before they faded as fast as they appeared. "The little ones learn fast, but there''s only so many ions they can handle at once even with the most exacting leverage of potential difference. They''re still babies, you see. They kick up a mean dust cloud though."


    Sword arms slackened. Mercad gaped. Richard stared. Some distant part of his mind wondered what the boy was even talking about because he didn''t understand anyth-


    The boy raised a hand glowing gold-


    "Hah!" Mercad lunged forward with a wordless shout, but it was too late, the sphere of light-


    The Light brushed Richard''s cheek on the way by like a soothing caress. A well of refulgent splendor erupted behind him, drawing startled shouts, cries of amazement, voices intermixed everywhere with sighs of relief. Wonder. One weak, single gasp of a man who thought he''d breathe his last only for fortune to decide otherwise at the last moment. In that one instant between a blink and the next when the Light coursed through him, Richard felt it all.


    In front of him, the boy reached up to push aside the blade pressing against his shield of golden radiance. The Light poured forth to envelop Mercad, the men, Richard himself, everyone around¡­. The cuts and developing bruises on his sentries disappeared. The bolts sticking out of Mercad''s armor fell out. The giant man staggered back, mortified. The agony in Richard''s arm vanished as the bone realigned and fused back into proper place. His aches disappeared. His weariness dispersed like it was never there.


    The Light¡­ has the Light not forsaken me after all?


    Richard looked at the impossibility facing him and asked himself if he should kneel. ".. So it was you."


    The boy dismounted his¡­ contraption but did not reply.


    "You were the one who ruined the ambush, if you hadn''t¡­ are you a priest?" Are you a holy man? Either that or some manner of nobility himself, influential one too. Not even the best connected guildmaster could obtain such exotic equipment, those boomsticks could only have come from the dwarves, and last Richard heard they still weren''t sharing. Kul Tiras had been badgering them to help make cannons a reality for decades to no luck, how did this boy come by them? Why did he need them? How was he here? Did¡­ Did the Light send you? But his words caught in his throat, he couldn''t-


    "Only coincidentally I''m afraid." The lad dismissed both his and their role in events with a bizarre mix of unrepentant chagrin and complete lack of humility. "I wouldn''t call what led me here a vision, exactly, and I''ll freely admit I initially assumed you were my goal, but apparently not. It''s that bird."


    What?


    Turning around, Richard only met the sight of the same raven as before. "The raven?" What?


    "Yes, it surprised me as well."


    The raven flew down from the carriage to land on the boulder nearest the lad, dark fathomless eyes peering at him. But somehow, impossibly, Richard knew with absolute certainty that the raven didn''t understand anything either.


    The lad gave it a sandwich.


    The raven greedily snatched it from his hand and proceeded to gobble it up.


    "That settles that then."


    That settled what? "I¡­ don''t understand."


    "The scrum was large, there''s even a couple of bodies your men missed, and a bunch that rolled down the slopes back into the forest. If this were a normal raven he''d already be down there somewhere, gobbling up eyeballs. But instead he''s here, eating my lunch. It''s clearly a familiar." The lad scratched the bird''s chin.


    The raven seemed to enjoy it. It even paused in its savage feasting to bask in the boy''s touch in full, what in tarnation?


    "So which are you, Huginn or Muninn?"


    The raven croaked.


    "Who?" Richard asked numbly.


    "Huginn and Muninn. You know, Odyn''s ravens that he uses to gather news from the rest of the world."


    Richard stared at the holy man who called on the Light as easily as he commanded the spirits of nature itself to do his bidding and had a single question making rounds in his head.


    Who the hell is Odyn?!

 The Angel of Death (I)

    "-. Mercad Occitanier, Captain of Richard Angevin''s Ducal Guard .-"?


    The average Kul Tiran was expected to do his time in the navy if he had any amount of self-respect, and Mercad had more than his fair share. Which was why it was so vexing that he got sea sick within five minutes of stepping on a ship deck. Every time. The only exception was when the ship listed and his stomach decided it couldn''t wait even that long to start making tumbles.


    This, unfortunately, meant that he had to settle for the army. The army which was a second-rate backup plan at best and everyone knew it. The commoners were dismissive. The nobility was patronising. The seamen he''d once dreamed of having as brothers were condescending pricks. The eternal navy-army rivalry was a joke that everyone pretended very badly not to know who was always on the wrong side of. And everyone in the army from the lowest grunt to the highest officer had a massive chip on their shoulder because of it.


    Mercad lost all hopes of a normal career before his first month of training was even over, when it got out that he only enlisted after the navy didn''t work out. That people actually thought hazing would work on him was baffling, people of his size may not be unheard of back home like on the mainland, but he was by no means common so he towered over everyone else in his entire platoon. It destroyed what was left of the respect he had for his fellow man. Which was just a put-upon pretense anyway, one he played by rote because his parents hadn''t managed to instil the real thing into him despite their best efforts. Which made it all the more infuriating that putting all his bunkmates in the infirmary was still their victory in the end, as it landed him with a reputation as a savage unreliable brute that he never managed to shed.


    He''d had to be very thorough in how he completed his duties in order to secure the barest scraps of advancement, and even then his career stalled well before his tour of duty finished. Part of it was his tendency towards ''insubordination'', which was a thinly veiled way to say his superiors were complete morons whose orders could never be fulfilled without very creative interpretation. Also, the Kul Tiran Land Forces had far fewer prospects for promotion than the navy due to the much lower rate of attrition. Worst of all, the sheer state of the corps was such that they would probably fold at the first invasion. For all that they disdained them, the army officers had no problem believing nothing would ever get past their navy rivals, and thus continued to happily grow lazy and fat at their expense.


    All of which prompted Mercad to not enlist for a second tour so he could found a mercenary company instead. Only then did his competence and initiative begin getting him actual recognition, until he finally found an employer who rewarded good service with the appropriate amount of confidence, authority and coin. Mercad wasn''t one to think loyal service could ever be more meaningful than that, nothing in life was really meaningful at the end of the day. But he could see how people like Duke Angevin might inspire the baseborn to believe there could be such a thing as meaningful death in his service. It helped that his principal didn''t mock Mercad for his motion sickness even once. The duke even went to significant personal expense to procure potions that let him finally enjoy being out at sea. For that alone he''d honour his retainer contract no matter how good the counter offers, even beyond the practical considerations of not gaining a career-ending reputation as buyable turncoat.


    Mercad would certainly much rather be out there with his principal right now, doing his part in the defeat in detail. He''d been a ranger, he knew woodland warfare better than anyone. Or if not that, then interrogating the prisoners while they were still shell-shocked and he could probably break one or three with just nail or tooth pulling. But the duke told him to stay behind and keep an eye on things because he wasn''t as ''emotionally compromised.'' Seeing as his principal had left his wife and sister both with unrestricted access to their guest, Mercad was forced to agree that he was the only one between the two of them with full command of his faculties. Especially since the duke was probably also right that their attackers had been after the ladies.


    Mercad would play bodyguard if that was his wish. Personal taste rarely determined how he went about his job anyway, regardless of how much it overlapped (or not). Well, beyond choosing who to permanently bind himself with to begin with.


    Still though, Mercad never imagined that the highest possible position for someone in his profession would circle all the way back to chaperoning love-struck teenagers. You''d think that just one of the pair being love-struck would soften the blow some, but the one making googly eyes was the duke''s sister, instead of the suspiciously providential interloper that was far too good to be true. Mercad was thus cursed to live through that rare occasion where he could only hope for the best from a guest. Hope that he knew better than to put a foot out of line with the little lady. At least.


    His principal would be upset if he returned from his mop-up action just to find his little sister tearfully woeful because Mercad was flaying their guest alive.


    Divinely blessed or whatever he was.


    Which Mercad had far less cause than usual to scoff at, unfortunately. The way this Ferdinand used the Light was enough to move even his black heart. And just standing in his vicinity made you feel more alive. Literally. There was something unnatural at work there, but it didn''t feel unnatural. Confound this boy.


    "I get the general idea already," Ferdinand told Lady Annari after she finally stopped espousing the grand benefits of being an irresistible magnet to every wild creature under the sun, as if Mercad didn''t already have enough trouble keeping her removed from his contempt for the general intelligence of humanity. "You''re talking about being in tune with nature. But how exactly do you get the animals to realize you''re in tune with nature? Or react positively? Nature is pretty bloody at the end of the day."


    The raven cawed in Lady Anna''s lap.


    "Oh, now you''re just being silly. It''s not the animals that''s important, or the plants even. You''re not supposed to care about them any more than you care about gold. They come and go just as fast." Spoken every bit like a girl who never had to worry about gold her whole life. "It''s like¡­ like night follows day and winter follows spring. Well, eventually. Everything you see is born, grows and eventually goes back to where it came from. Only the nature of things stays the same. It has endless branches, but you''re not supposed to see them any more you can see the thoughts in your mind. As long as it breathes and can grow from the warmth of sunlight or well, fire, you can be part of the growth of¡­ well, anything. Trees, animals, people-"


    "Weeds?"


    "Yes, weeds too, you jerk," the Lady slapped their guest''s arm, decorum was well and truly dead alongside her manners and proper vocabulary. "We all come out of nature and return to nature. But since we people can actually decide when and how to do some of these things, we can learn to extend this control to everything that doesn''t have the self-awareness to, well, want things. Especially if it''s helpful to them somehow. Want and instinct aren''t the same thing, you see."


    "Can you do it?"


    "¡­ No." Truly, Lady Anna had mastered the art of looking dignified even while pouting.


    Ferdinand waited for her to continue. When she didn''t, he resumed writing in that notebook of his. Or drawing, now. Something. The raven seemed inordinately interested. Definitely unnatural.


    Both of them.


    "But I don''t need to," Lady Annari declared, she never did have the best patience. "I''m a lady, not a druid. I''ll do my part so they can do theirs."


    "Your part being lording it over every critter and fowl through song and story?" Mercad carefully didn''t react to that, or the way Lady Valeria covered her mouth to keep from laughing where she was sat nearby on a lounge. That was almost word for word what she''d told her sister-in-law, back when the latter''s passion for ''becoming a fairy tale princess'' proved more than a fleeting whim. "How does it work for beasts that aren''t the familiar of a godlike being living in a fortress in the sky?"


    Mercad carefully didn''t let his mind jump back into that whole other kettle of worms either. Not the least because he couldn''t just dismiss it out of hand as tall tales. He''ll wait until his principal returned.


    "It works just fine!" Lady Annari said hotly, standing up determinedly. "Here, I''ll show you-"


    Mercad cleared his throat. "Best not to wander off when bandits might still be about, milady."


    "You don''t need to treat me like an idiot!" The young lady rounded on him next. "I know that. And I know they weren''t bandits either." ''So there!'' was not thrown in at the end there, thankfully.


    "I hope you don''t plan to shout it from the rooftops when we get home too, sister-in-law," Lady Valeria said idly. "Your brother has enough things to deal with as it is."


    Lady Anna blushed. It made for a striking contrast with her grey eyes, especially on such a pale skin, but she did not seem otherwise cowed.


    This time, it was Ferdinand who cleared his throat. "So, plants. Can you make them grow faster?"


    Blatantly knowing what the lad was doing, the lady nonetheless played along and sat back down on the hastily carved log bench with a huff. "No. My brother wouldn''t let me undergo those rites."


    "She means my husband wasn''t fool enough to let her drink unknown potions."


    Mercad had been there for when Lady Valeria still added ''for a childish fancy'' at the end of that.


    Lady Annari scowled. "He didn''t say anything about the other rites I took."


    "Because you made sure he wasn''t there when you went and inhaled magic fumes. Fool him once, shame on you. Don''t complain that you failed to fool him a second time, if he weren''t so observant we both might be dead or captive right now."


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    "That''s emotional blackmail!"


    "No, Anna. You''ll just have to wait until you''re of age and no longer subject to your brother''s authority. Then you can be entirely responsible for the consequences of your actions like the rest of us."


    "So it does involve expanded consciousness," Ferdinand cut in with that same perfect timing that reversed their ambush. "Well, I''ve already got that." Obviously. "So what are the actual mechanics?"


    Lady Anna tossed her hair in a huff, but nonetheless replied. "It''s all about likeness ¨C well, not just likeness. It''s like¡­ like every poison or venom usually has the cure somewhere within a stone''s throw. It''s like herbalism, ever notice how ribwort looks like a ribcage? It''s even in the name, and what does it do? It mends injuries even without making a potion out of it. It''s the same with a lot of things, beans look like kidneys, sunflowers look like the sun, walnuts basically improve thinking and I saw the druids use them as reagents to heal brainstorms, and guess what walnuts look like?"


    Something seemed to dawn in Ferdinand''s gaze. "Huh. You''re saying it''s a mindset, except you use magic to make your view of things override causation by leveraging stuff you have in common. Or you charm spirits to do that for you. It''s basically you actively overriding causality with synchronicity, and vice versa as needed. And you can do that because things made by nature look and work like the other things in nature they can best affect. Or be affected by. My herbalism teacher never put it to me like that."


    "Your teacher? Is he a druid too?" Lady Anna asked, and Mercad decided to pay very close attention now. "Or an alchemist? A spirit medium of some sort perhaps?"


    "She. And no, she''s not technically a herbalist herself. She just plays with herbs occasionally, when work on the farm is light."


    Wait what? A farm? He had to be joking-


    "That''s very surprising of you to say." Lady Anna said, looking and sounding exceedingly alarmed as if her hopes were about to be dashed on the rocks. "I thought you were an acolyte with the church at first, but then you wouldn''t be out adventuring and killing bandits. Especially not with your method for conveyance and interesting weaponry. I assumed¡­ But surely a powerful man such as yourself can find better prospects than being a farmhand."


    "My father''s a cobbler," the boy said dryly with not an ounce of shame. "Also, the farm is ours, so it''s not like I''m a guttersnipe or anything."


    "¡­ Oh." Lady Anna, if anything, seemed like she''d just been shot right in the heart.


    Mercad carefully hid his relief. It wouldn''t do to show openly how glad he was to find out that his charge''s romantic notions were doomed from the start.


    "Say, do you happen to have one?"


    Lady Anna made a valiant, if ultimately futile, attempt to hide the emotional blow from the sudden and tragic death of her romance. "One what? A spirit? Does Mister Huginn count?"


    "A walnut. There''s something I want to try all of a sudden."


    They did, in fact, have walnuts as part of their provisions. Mercad pre-empted Lady Anna''s request and made sure to pick one of the smart-mouthed slackers to get them. One or the other was perfectly fine, clever tongues made for good envoys and the lazy tended to come up with the most efficient ways to get the job done. But having both traits in the same person led all too easily to insubordination, so a good commander never wasted drudgework.


    When the boy (farmboy) was presented with his handful of walnuts, he picked one up, brought it close to his eye for inspection and hummed. He then rubbed the walnut between his palms. His eyes took on a golden tint. Then they began to glow outright. Mercad should have tensed, but the Light, frustratingly, only made men feel peace.


    Even killers.


    "Talk me through it."


    Lady Anna was too star-struck to hear him. Again.


    "Milady."


    Finally, the little lady snapped out of her daze. "I''m sorry, could you please repeat that, milord?"


    What did she mean ''milord'', he''s a-


    "Talk me through it. How do you synchronise with a plant? What''s the first principle of druidism? How did the folks in Drustvar put it to you?"


    The raven hopped out of her lap to watch from the closer vantage of the girl''s shoulder. Its dark plumage almost disappeared amidst her tresses.


    "¡­Is a flower more beautiful than the other? Is a spring clearer than the other? Is a blade of grass taller than the other? Everything has its strength, beauty and feat. It is in the nature of things that the forest should have different kinds of trees, grass, flowers and animals. There is no finger from the same hand like the other, but all of them are needed to strike the iron. Is the apple tree wiser than the plum tree or the pear tree? Is the left hand better than the right? Differently sees the left eye from the right?"


    "They do, actually." The boy interrupted her with all the rudeness of the common man, maybe his claims as to his origin weren''t so outlandish. "But I think I see what you mean. The ones from above have their purpose and the ones below have theirs. The great have theirs and the small have theirs. The quick have theirs and the slow have theirs. The ones that were had their purpose and the ones that come will have theirs."


    Anna nodded peaceably. "You can be like the earth and everything it offers you, the sky with its rain that feeds the earth, the sun and its heat that lights your home and your land, the moon that brings peace to your sleep, even the stars who watch over it will heed the call of the spirit."


    "Thank the mountain for its teachings and its iron you gather from it, thank the forest for everything you take from there, thank the spring for the water you drink, thank the tree for the works it shows you." Now it was the boy speaking as if repeating some long lost wisdom. "Thank the good man which brings you joy and a smile on your face." Now that might be going a bit far- "I''m starting to remember reading something very similar to this, a long time ago. It''s not quite what I was looking for, but I think I know where to start working in the mathematical ratios and sacred geometry now."


    Say what now?


    "Thank you, milady. I may be some time."


    "¡­ Alright?"


    But the boy no longer had eyes for anything but the walnut. The walnut which he held right in front of his eyes. Glowing eyes. Intent. Unblinking.


    After five minutes of that, Lady Anna huffed in annoyance. "Happy to help."


    The boy did not react.


    Lady Valeria was at least more pragmatic. "Well, he did say he''d be some time."


    ''Some time'' turned out to be exceedingly accurate. The boy didn''t move or say anything for hours, all the way to late evening when the duke finally returned with news of victory. He was accompanied by the bulk of their men, with just four of their force too injured to walk by themselves. There were twice as many prisoners for Mercad to squeeze answers out of as well, later.


    "Sir," Mercad greeted him. "Welcome back. I see things went well?"


    "Exceedingly."


    "And the¡­ far seeing provided by our guest?"


    "Not treachery, despite your earnest hopes." Richard Angevin glanced to where their guest was still¡­ doing whatever he was doing with that walnut. Alone, now, save for the raven grooming itself next to him. Lady Anna had joined Lady Valeria under the sunshade. "What have you learned?"


    "Our guest refuses to do us the courtesy of being from some lofty church or noble heroic bloodline. He''s a farmboy." For all that lady Anna was too easily given to friendship, she tended to entreat information with distressing ease. Easier than even Mercad could when his most effective tools were denied him. It was galling, but all a man could do was cope.


    "Ah, so he''s not any mere hero, he''s a fairy tale hero."


    Mercad grimaced. His principal took far too much joy in pretending to have more in common with his sister than he actually did. How would a farmboy even afford such exotic equipment? Those boomsticks could only have come from the dwarves, Kul Tiras had been badgering them to help make cannons a reality for decades to no luck, how did this boy come by them?


    "Cheer up, man, by the looks of him he''s completely out of it. His willingness to leave himself so vulnerable in your presence should tell you all you need to know."


    "¡­ I don''t trust it." He''d never forget the way that forcefield appeared between heartbeats and stopped him and all his men without even a blink from the boy. That had been galling as well, to be rendered impotent so completely. Mortifying too, when he realized what kind of ally his principal had gained. What ally he could have antagonised because he acted without orders. Could have deprived him of. Killed out of hand because he lost his discipline.


    Today had not been a good day.


    Duke Richard went to greet the ladies first, proving yet again worthy of Mercad''s service by masterfully persuading them to give them and their guest some privacy without needing to make it an order. When he came back, the two of them approached the young man.


    That was when the boy came out of his trance ¨C not as out of it as he seemed then? ¨C looked at them, glanced over the injured, seemingly decided that none of them needed his intervention, and then turned to the bird that had been grooming itself next to him the whole time. Held out the walnut, which he cracked open to reveal a small nut-sized brain. "It''s the opposite extreme of what I was going for, but it''s something right?"


    The raven stared at the child, then slowly began to nibble at the brain, the kid had turned the core of a walnut into a brain, what the fuck?


    "I never bought the official story about Odyn and Helya."


    The raven snapped its head up so fast Mercad didn''t even see it move, only the blur of brain bits scattering everywhere.


    Something changed in the world. The weight of some unseen regard descended upon them with the weight of ages. From one moment to the next Mercad felt coiled like a spring pressed under too much weight. Suddenly he couldn''t get his feet to move. Distantly, he realised his principal had also frozen stiff next to him.


    Somewhere above and ahead, shadows flickered in the air, forming vague shifting shapes despite being out in the sunlight.

 The Angel of Death (II)

    <h3 style="text-align: center">¡°-. Richard Angevin, Duke of Hillsbrad .-¡°


    When he was young, Richard Angevin wanted to be a priest.


    ¡°The story of Odyn and Helya contradicts prior histories and even current events. For another, it contradicts itself. The tale supposedly goes that Odyn needed Helya to do literally everything for him. She ripped the Halls of Valor from Ulduar, she lifted them into the sky, she moved them half-way across the ocean, she was apparently capable of doing the reverse or even crash them into a volcano whenever she wanted. Helya also created the ritual that empowered Odyn to see and act in the spirit world, meaning she was the ultimate authority on death and shadow magic between them. Later, after they became enemies because she became the willing minion of the literal devil, she was apparently capable of trapping Odyn and his entire army of ascended warriors in his Halls for eternity, without any object of power or even access to the place.¡±


    Richard had attended service, honoured all the holidays and read all the scriptures cover to cover.


    ¡°By any reading, she was always the one with the power advantage in that relationship. Yet we¡¯re supposed to believe she was still somehow completely helpless when Odyn supposedly killed her, shattered her spirit and twisted her into the first val¡¯kyr. Took away her free will too, apparently, like that wasn¡¯t her specialty as the great sorceress capable of binding even the Loa of Death. All for the high crime of opposing Odyn¡¯s supposed plan to turn some of his worshippers into ghostly guides of the dead against their will. Because none of them would volunteer, the chronicle goes, as if the valkyra don¡¯t exist. We¡¯re talking about the same people who are going to volunteer en masse to ¡®live as phantoms for all eternity¡¯ just because some up-jumped necromancer will tell them to. And worse.¡±


    Richard had then gone to whatever lengths a child could think of to entreat his parents to procure whatever apocryphal writings they could find as well.


    ¡°That the valkyra order exists is enough on its own to indicate that the writings were tampered with. That Helya has spent the past few thousand years doing everything her side of the story accuses Odyn of doing reads like projection. That only Odyn¡¯s side of the story is criticised in the chronicle reads like gaslighting. I¡¯d have had an easier time not assuming slander if they just made Odyn the villain outright. And to truly put the last nail in the coffin of this bizarre story, Helya was apparently able to escape her fate because Loken, of all people, supposedly restored her free will.¡±


    What Richard was hearing now wasn¡¯t in any of the texts.


    ¡°Loken. The minion of Yogg¡¯Saron, the grand brainwasher himself. The one who needed the Titans themselves to imprison him after corrupting and brainwashing the entire world at the beginning of history. The idea that those who brainwashed all the other keepers would turn around and restore the free will of anyone is absolutely laughable.¡±


    What he was hearing now made shivers go down his spine at the mountain of history that dwarfed ancient human history outright.


    ¡°Thorim only escaped that fate because he¡¯s been sitting in the Temple of Storms for ages, contemplating his navel over losing his wife and everything else that happened. I suppose being made of metal and stone could make you lot a tad slow at processing emotions. Or anything else. I admit that immortality is a good tradeoff, but it¡¯s sure inconvenient for us normal people when we¡¯re the ones who have to deal with all the cataclysms caused by your mistakes.¡±


    These names. Some of them made Richard dream of glory while others made his heart squeeze in his chest.


    ¡°Now, it¡¯s not impossible that Odyn was naive in the extreme ¨C in which case I seriously have to wonder what the Titans were thinking making him Prime Designate ¨C but I think it more likely that his relationship with Helya as surrogate father and daughter was no empty claim. In fact, I¡¯m inclined to believe it was fully reciprocated. I¡¯m not entirely sure that Odyn¡¯s version of events is a perfect mirror of reality either. But I¡¯m willing to exclude malice. I¡¯m even willing to exclude knowing lies. With all the aforementioned as the only alternative, I¡¯ll err on the side of an agent of the Light any day.¡±


    ¡­ Why was Ferdinand saying all this? With them there? Why had he deliberately waited until they were there ¨C until Richard himself was there to hear all of it?


    ¡°What I do question, however, is whether Odyn¡¯s memory can itself be trusted, and if he is otherwise of sound judgment.¡±


    The raven¡¯s gaze was far too intense to belong on an animal.


    ¡°The simple fact of the matter is that the barrier is still there. The chronicle I¡¯ve read says Helya used the same magic that was used to seal off the elemental planes, but that¡¯s just it ¨C you can¡¯t just cast those things. For one, she didn¡¯t separate any planes, it¡¯s all still here, on this one, so that¡¯s already a suspect claim. And secondly, even if she did, the Titans made wards, rites, entire facilities to anchor works like that, none of which she could have leveraged without being there. The only way her spell could work is if it draws power from the Halls of Valor themselves. Or, since this has no doubt been checked ad nauseam, from someone. I trust you see where I¡¯m going with this?¡±


    Richard suddenly wished he could dismiss everything as the ramblings of a boy given to fancies.


    ¡°Flaming beards aren¡¯t scars, and the taint that the molluscs of yore infested the elementals with is transmissible.¡± What did beards have to do with anything, and molluscs of what? What taint? ¡°More than that, history is rife with champions of the Light and Order being fooled and warped just through proximity to them or their agents until they become slavish minions. The Light works intuitively, so what happens when the intuition itself is impaired? If the Spirit is what nourishes all parts of the self not sustained by the physical form, what happens when it¡¯s bled? Poisoned, maybe? Strategically trimmed, perhaps? Could just parts of the mind or memory be deprived of sustenance until they just¡­. wither and fade so slowly that their passing goes unnoticed? The ritual that empowered you to see into the Otherworld by ripping out your eye was Helya¡¯s. Her power has been part of you all this time. What are the odds she even bound the same wraith to help her strike at you after her turn?¡±


    ¡­ Richard wished he knew why this had anything to do with them. Should he step in and ask him? Ask something? Stop him? Could he even move if he wanted. The raven¡­ Ferdinand was no longer talking to him like it was some intelligent beast, no, he wasn¡¯t talking to the raven at all.


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    ¡°It¡¯s admittedly just a theory, but either you¡¯ve already investigated it, or it never occurred to you and that says all there needs to be said.¡±


    The pressure in the air seemed to spike as if¡­ as if Richard was being stepped on by a giant that had only now put all his weight on the same foot.


    Ferdinand regarded the bird. ¡°I¡¯ve been initiated in Alchemy recently.¡± He did not seem to be tense at all, even as the air grew more and more severe with every word he spoke. ¡°I¡¯m not any good, but the Great Work apparently involves the essences of the ego and the shadow being reabsorbed, unifying the parts of the self. Sounds to me like you and Helya underwent the opposite. Maybe she¡¯s not the only one fallen. Or falling.¡±


    The sun seemed to dim. Richard¡¯s breath stalled. The air filled with wrath.


    Ferdinand began ripping pages out of his pocketbook. ¡°You probably know all these staves already but-¡°


    The bird swallowed the pages fast as lightning and then the notebook itself was disappearing down its gullet-


    SQUAWK


    Ferdinand suddenly had the bird by the throat. ¡°Your pardon but-¡°


    A sword of shadow struck the Light with a gong.


    The dimming world came alight. The mountain pass shook with the force of a death knell. The sound rattled Richard¡¯s bones. He fell to one knee with a gasp as the voices of his wife and sister and men rose in shock far behind him, the pressure in the air suddenly lifted ¨C no, diverted-


    The sword came down a second time. Light met shadow with the ringing of thunder.


    Shadow lost.


    The Light cascaded outwards across the earth, into the air, over him to soothe his aching lungs, calm his frantic mind, give strength back to his limbs and clarity to his sight and then he could see¡­


    ¡°- I simply had to know if you¡¯ve a teleportation device or a proper pocket dimension in that craw of yours.¡±


    Richard saw¡­


    The Light reveals.


    He saw an angel.


    ¡°Impudence, indiscretion, hubris, and now you dare even maltreat my Lord¡¯s own familiar, how much further will you overstep, boy?¡±


    The Light outlined the shimmering form of an angel glaring down the length of her sword at the back of Ferdinand¡¯s head while he was peering down the raven¡¯s beak he forcefully held open.


    Ferdinand let the raven go. His protective field caused the sword to scrape away from him as he rose. ¡°Indiscretion, bloodthirst, sentimentality, and now you infringe on the realm of the living despite the very strict precepts of your office, should I throw your words back in your face, val¡¯kyr?¡±


    Val¡¯kyr. Slain. To choose. Richard drew his sword before he could think better of it, but didn¡¯t know who to aim it between the angel and their guest ¨C he¡¯d given him guest right only for him to¡­ But did that count with angels? Should it? She was a giant, how would a mere man even fight something like that, could mortal weapons even touch her, she was see-through, a spectre of gold and deep sea hues. Choice of the slain? Or was she here to choose who would be slain, who to slay-?


    ¡°Stand back, brave men,¡± the woman commanded, though she didn¡¯t look away from the boy. ¡°This need not concern you.¡±


    ¡°Says the angel of death to the man she¡¯s been stalking.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Richard balked before he could think twice. ¡°She¡¯s-you¡¯re here for me?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s-¡°


    ¡°Still your tongue, insolent whelp-¡°


    Ferdinand turned and met her eyes.


    He flinched and fell to a knee, holding his head as his Shield of Light burst in a wave of sunspray.


    The angel reeled back and fell down from the sky with a crash.


    Richard stared at the rising dust cloud, blinking rapidly as the light motes cascaded over him, they felt like¡­ not enough to count next to the Light that was already in him from the wave before, blessing him with strength beyond strength and sight beyond the unseen. His sword moved from one figure to the other, not knowing what- who-


    ¡°Sir,¡± Mercad rasped at his side, his own sword pointing at the angel without hesitation. ¡°I know you like to extol the ineffable virtues of the Light and its all-pervasiveness, but this is a bit on the nose, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Nngh¡­¡± Ahead of them, Ferdinand grunted. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ quite a bit¡­¡± The boy climbed unsteadily to his feet with bleary eyes. ¡°Geirrvif. The Watcher. Judge of Valhalas.¡±


    ¡°I am not that creature.¡± Across from the boy, the angel woman rose to stand somewhat more gracefully, but her wings stayed lowered and there was no lustre on her spectral skin. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you saw or how, Prophet, but I would never be caught presiding over such a poor excuse of an imitation of my Lord¡¯s Trials, either alive or dead.¡±


    Prophet-Angel-Prophet-Angel-Prophet the world felt strangely thin around Richard Angevin as the only wrath in the air was suddenly his own. ¡°That¡¯s it! Enough! What is happening here?¡± His grip went so tight on his sword hilt that his whole arm shook as he finally found himself at the end of his patience. There was a heat in his breast, a beating in his temples, his lungs felt thick and thin at the same time, and the colours of the world ¨C they were changing, brighter, brilliant like the glory of divinity manifest, how could it be brought so low so easily? Why? ¡°I will no longer be treated as a bystander in my own encampment! Explain yourselves! Both of you!¡± The world grew gold and bright at the edges and then further inward as he-


    ¡°She¡¯s-¡°


    ¡°Do not speak of things you have no-¡°


    The raven flew up to caw in the angel¡¯s face and she stopped. ¡°Lord Odyn, why would-?¡° The world rippled around the bird like a veil and Richard couldn¡¯t understand her words anymore, he could still hear them but for some reason couldn¡¯t comprehend, yet it wasn¡¯t a different tongue and he felt instinctively like he should still ¨C the Light reveals ¨C as long as he believed that, he should be able to-


    ¡°She¡¯s a val¡¯kyr. A chooser of the slain. Her purpose is to reap the souls of those fallen in battle and ascend the worthiest to the Halls of Valor.¡± Finally getting an answer to one of his many questions was enough ¨C barely ¨C to derail Richard¡¯s train of thought. ¡°There they will become val¡¯kyr themselves or join Odyn¡¯s army of heroes in golden stormforged bodies.¡±


    The realisation came over Richard like a splash of ice water. ¡°I was supposed to die today.¡± The warm pulse within him scattered but did not dissipate, coursing instead through him, uneven and raw, unrealised.


    Ferdinand was watching him intently now, but did not deny it. ¡°The number of val¡¯kyr is limited, being there for the death of valorous souls would literally have to rely on some form of foresight. Light visions don¡¯t necessarily lend themselves to the most accurate coordinates of space and time, but they are very good at leading people to people, down the best path to their ultimate purpose by their own reckoning. If anyone in this benighted land is worthy of ascension to Valholl it could only be you, Duke Lionheart.¡±


    Richard Angevin stared at the child. He¡¯d never been called by that moniker in his life. He¡¯d never been called by any moniker. His grip on his sword had not slackened in the least but it was no longer painful, his arm didn¡¯t shake anymore as if he¡¯d been brought to the very edges of his strength, he felt brave and mighty but he wasn¡¯t ¨C he was barely eighteen, he hadn¡¯t been tested yet, in any capacity.


    ¡°¡­ My lord.¡±


    Richard turned his head to look at his captain. The man was looking down at him with a bizarre mix of consternation and what might have been wonder on literally anyone else.


    Away from him, the angel spoke. ¡°¡­ My lord vows He will repay this favour, Prophet, and I will pay mine.¡±


    Richard didn¡¯t turn. His gaze was stuck on his reflection in Mercad¡¯s cuirass.


    ¡°I¡¯ve more to convey to him. Another day. We shall see on which side the debt lies then.¡±


    It was cloudy and dull, barely more than a foggy image, but the enamel gleamed with all the fastidiousness of a man who never failed to maintain his equipment.


    ¡°Another day, then.¡±


    Out of his line of sight, the angel of death took to the sky and finally disappeared from his senses.


    On the gleaming face of castle-forged steel, Richard Angevin¡¯s own eyes looked back at him shining gold.

 The Cozened Chase (I)

    "-. July 11, Year 580 of the King''s Calendar .-"


    "-. Antonidas D''Ambrosio, Mage of the Advanced Research and Illumination Sect .-"?


    His findings were sinister.


    At first he''d been vexed at being assigned to base sleuthing. His calling lay with the higher mysteries, not the lower, and his specialty was the research of arcane patterns, not human ones. But the Council of Six selected him precisely because of that reputation. He was sufficiently discerning and diligent as to be competent even outside his specialty, the Council told him. More importantly, it would make it less likely that the true purpose of his consignment would be immediately discerned by his fellow mages. His peers that had been entrusted with magical security in Alterac City. The mages he was now investigating while pretending to learn from them for the purpose of taking over one of the Auction House oversight positions later.


    Not that they were Antonidas'' main concern, anymore.


    For all that magical security was a service Dalaran had been providing for centuries, the kingdoms did not much appreciate having to leave such things in the hands of a foreign power. Antonidas didn''t blame them, and he would speak in favour of Dalaran gracefully accepting the new status quo when the kingdoms finally gathered the courage to break away from Dalaran''s monopoly in favour of home-grown magic organisations. Now that Stormwind had proven the idea viable with its Order of Conjurers, it was only a matter of time. Already many noble scions here in Alterac had studied in Dalaran only to come back and displace the Kirin Tor''s own appointees as warders, enchanters, researchers and court mages. It had come to the point where the Auction House security was the only place where Dalaran still had majority.


    So it was most surprising that requests for investigation had come from the nobility of Alterac, rather than Dalaran''s agents here. What remained of the highest nobility, even. News of the young king''s purge had reached Dalaran faster than all other nations, and the Kirin Tor had understandably been keeping an eye on the situation. That no civil war broke out was close to a miracle, and even Strom''s reaction was strangely lukewarm. The latter, at least, seemed to be swiftly changing to the point where war might break out this very year, or next at the latest. But what did not change was that the remaining nobility had called on a foreign power to investigate their own affairs. ''Potentially subversive elements'' they called them, which had led to ''ruinous information leaks and security failings'' at ''all strata of interaction'' between Alterac and Dalaran, and even within Alterac itself.


    The requests came with so many different envoys, in so many different wordings, and from many enough different sources that even the Kirin Tor didn''t know if the nobles suspected incompetence or malice. Or if they suspected it of each other, Dalaran, or the Alterac Crown itself.


    Then, to truly throw the fox into the henhouse, a request to do everything requested by the nobles came from the Alterac Crown itself too.


    The Council of Six wasn''t even sure the nobles and king even knew about each other''s entreaties. Or, if they did, they didn''t admit it. The only thing they could be sure of was Alterac aimed to use Dalaran as a hammer to get rid of their problems, and by extension take all the blame for the resulting fallout from their rivals and the king, and vice versa.


    Asking the Kirin Tor to get rid of subversive mages when those saboteours were most likely blood scions of their peers (if not originating from their own courts or that of King himself) made this a very sensitive issue. Antonidas had explained all this to the King himself, in a secret meeting that the Kirin Tor had arranged for him. Aiden Perenolde was suspicious enough of yet another foreign mage in their midst, despite asking for the job to begin with, however belatedly. The king certainly didn''t admit to such, but he couldn''t entirely hide his feelings despite his mastery of dissimulation. It made Antonidas certain that the man had only sent the Crown''s request after finding out about his nobles'' entreaties, in a bid to undermine and supplant them. A bid that was ultimately as successful as it was unnecessary, the Kirin Tor hadn''t planned to go around him in any case.


    At least the king was mollified when Antonidas assured him his job was not to pull any seams but to find them. As discreetly as possible.


    "We will, of course, share all relevant findings with the Crown," Antonidas assured the man as the meeting was winding down.


    "Relevant by whose standards?" the king asked mildly. Too mildly. "Go, mage, and try to do a proper job of it, unlike your compatriots."


    Whatever could you mean?


    Credit to the Council''s wisdom, they were right that Antonidas'' unwitting peers were reassured by his academic leanings. The Council were also right that he would master this task as easily as all others before it. Once he figured out which principles of research and pattern recognition to conflate and not conflate relative to people''s actions ¨C and paperwork ¨C he discovered an area of research that was, at the very least, moderately captivating, if not strictly necessary for his self-attainment.


    Unfortunately, captivating became disconcerting and then disquieting within the space of a month. After weeks of shadowing his nominal seniors, circumventing them under illusory disguises to reach restricted areas (often as said seniors themselves), trawling through countless customer lists and transaction ledgers, questioning (or interviewing) various notables and non-notables all throughout the city (whose accounts were as consistent as they were mutually contradictory), and even magically disguising himself as the odd acquaintance or rival of the locals in question, Antonidas was reaching the disquieting conclusion that he was on the trail of himself.


    Not literally, rather it was looking as if whoever or whatever was (or had been) at work in Alterac City had used his exact same approach to achieve his nefarious aims. Whatever they were. Or, alternatively, it was an entire unknown group of subversive mages. A possibility that Antonidas had trouble seeing plausibility in, as such people didn''t come out of nowhere, especially multiple people with such specialised skillset.


    Archmage Krasus, his contact with the Council of Six back in Dalaran, was sceptical. "Be careful not to ascribe magical explanations to what could be achieved with mundane competence." He cautioned him via projection. "Or corruption. Skulduggery can account for much, especially there."


    Antonidas could see his point, the Alterac court was more decadent and deadly than anything he had imagined, even after thoroughly reading up on the Magocrats. Additionally, despite the best work and pay incentives, corruption was inevitable in any monopoly and the Auction House was no different. Antonidas, of course, passed on the relevant names for disciplinary action and prosecution to the Kirin Tor or the King''s representative as required.


    What did not make sense, however, was that too many of the more catastrophic failures of diplomacy had happened in public or semi-public venues. Or, rather, in private venues nonetheless attended by many of the others ultimately doomed to the gallows ¨C balls, hunts, feasts and soirees. Very uncharacteristic of Alterac if they truly were so competent at shadow games, something Krasus and the Council agreed with. For all their decadence, the notables here were usually much more discreet, and their hired help tended towards the proficient or recently deceased. It was why Antonidas had so much trouble with what should have been a simple fact-finding mission. Moreover, many of the stories were conflicting even from the people least likely to be lying.


    Not all of the nobles he''d managed to interview were as opaque as they thought. They were certainly skilled wordsmiths and hard to get a hold of, as he only got audiences by leaning hard on the pull of Dalaran (as the King refused to show his own hand), and often only because they were already in the city for other reasons. They were more than willing to gossip and demean their various rivals, but their stories didn''t match up more than half the time.


    "Even the ones least likely to be lying had differing accounts of the disagreements of the deceased," Antonidas explained to Krasus during their communication. "Disagreements that led to bad blood on top of the inherited one. Someone recalled the then-yet-unhanged outbidding them on the same item. Another would claim someone bribed the Auction House staff to keep quiet about certain items on offer, and they only found out because of convenient information leaks. Other times, it was conflicts of interest over individuals secretly blacklisted." Corruption and leaks which the Kirin Tor should have found out about well before this, even if it was beyond magical purview. "Even for the more personal feuds unrelated to us, some remember ridiculing each other, while the others recall threats. There is even a case where one remembers his compatriot being spat in the face while the other side remembers a brawl. And the times these events supposedly happened are inconsistent between their viewpoints as well."


    Looking through the conviction records of the nobles that saw their end at the gallows, the same pattern emerged. While defence testimonies were never going to match witness accounts or presented evidence ¨C otherwise they wouldn''t have been convicted in the first place ¨C the character witness accounts told a different story.


    "Even their direct enemies seemed disbelieving of their crimes in at least half the cases I could independently verify," Antonidas reported. "Or at least disbelieving that they would be caught, never mind so embarrassingly. The biggest anomaly is House Angevin, who everyone agrees wouldn''t be involved in any dark games, though the same number of people ¨C if not all the same people ¨C also agree that it could only have ended this way for the same reason."


    "Dissent is punished harshly in Alterac, it seems," Krasus noted philosophically, shaking his head. "Especially when that dissent is to the good. Almost as harshly as trying to finally conform after lifetimes of the opposite."


    "Which does not seem to truly have been the case here."


    "Quite."


    Eventually, Antonidas concluded that the Angevin testimony was the only one genuine, and they were the only ones who had been truly innocent in the whole affair. Unfortunately, this also meant they were the only lead he could definitively dismiss, meaning he had wasted all that time chasing geese.


    He found a new trail almost by accident, when he took a break from his prime investigation to look into the more recent developments that might be related to his cover. After all, that had to be maintained as well.


    "What''s this?"


    Very closely before the nobles of Alterac began suffering failures of discretion one after another, half the standing mercenary contracts on auction were taken down and replaced with almost identical versions, save the mention that they were ''no longer accepting hits on child saints or their dependents.''


    "I must be missing something important."


    Thankfully, this was material his cover was fully privy to, so he could just walk up to one of his local peers and ask.


    "Oh, that." The woman pursed her lips. "You missed quite the event last year."


    Learning that he had missed the emergence of the first non-ordained Light-using human in written history made Antonidas, for the first time, question whether he had perhaps buried himself in his tomes too deeply. His only consolation was that the news was still mostly rumors outside of Alterac, and the people who had since had dealings with this¡­


    "A fourteen year-old boy? Or would he be fifteen, now?"


    "Yes. We were all surprised, but the Archbishop himself spent hours of his visit over in Strahnbrad confirming it. He''s something of a local legend there now, and here too, though you''re not likely to run into him anymore. Last I heard he and his family had moved out to a farm somewhere."


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    "What is his name?"


    "Wayland Hywel. A cobbler''s son, if you can believe it."


    Quite the local legend indeed, if people knew his name off-hand.


    There might be something there.


    Antonidas considered the reports of other investigators he''d read in preparation for this assignment. According to normal procedure, now would be a good time to go to the market, perhaps under a nondescript illusion, and casually inquire about this local legend. But he''d already wasted days on a tangent, and there was no reason he would draw suspicion for doing what anyone could do on a whim. He decided to forgo any disguise and instead teleported to Strahnbrad to talk to the local priest.


    "The Council knew the full extent of my skills when they sent me here," Antonidas idly told his steed, Hengroen, as he led the gelding out of the stables. "Why didn''t they supply this information when they gave me this assignment? Perhaps they were worried it would bias my investigation? I cannot imagine they did not know."


    The clerist was surprised at his visit. Most mages did not attend church in his experience. Antonidas himself was not strictly pious, he certainly trusted his mastery of the Arcane over anything else, but he did believe. The priest was inordinately surprised by that.


    "Perhaps faith is not the right term," Antonidas mused. "It is merely that the Light is a visible, palpable, quantifiable phenomenon, so it''s not so much faith as acknowledging an objective fact."


    This, to his surprise, was the best thing he could have said, because it prompted the priest to compare him to his very person of interest. They shared the same viewpoint, it seemed, which the cleric found inordinately remarkable. Antonidas didn''t exactly understand why, his view was not exactly rare in Dalaran, but he did not say anything. The Priest turned out to be quite contrite as well, strangely enough.


    "I cannot shake the feeling I was in some ways responsible for him leaving the city," the man confessed, an odd turn of phrase for an equally odd reversal of the standard convention when visiting a priest. "I heard rumors of him holding the Light''s healing grace for ransom and assumed the worst. I was perhaps too adverse during the annual sanctification of home and hearth. But enough of my maudlin gossip, did you have other questions? Perhaps you require healing?"


    Antonidas politely said no and excused himself. There was no point in pushing now that the man had caught himself after his indiscretion. He paid his respects to Great Tyr and Saint Mereldar and left pondering the issue of average cobbler income. What it would take to overcome its limitations in order for a family of three to afford a journey away from Alterac City, never mind settling somewhere else. In the end, after teleporting back to Alterac he still went to the market to make casual inquiries, in disguise of course. He learned that no one had made a business of healing people with the Light, and later questions with his noble contacts confirmed the mysterious child saint hadn''t sought patronage among the high and rich either. He did hear enough to prompt a follow-up examination of Auction House ledgers, however, though it took an embarrassingly long time to cotton on to his use of a fake name. They revealed that the child was either a genius inventor or a very good deal-maker. Whatever the truth, the numbers added up to quite a bit of coin steadily accumulating over the course of roughly half a year. Revenue, not one-time payments, though the Auction House was not privy to how these arrangements might have evolved or changed after the auctions were completed.


    Most important of all, Antonidas slowly pieced together that all of the nobles that harassed the child had hung, and a fair few of them even had the King''s favour. Though this seemed lost on the people he talked to. All they knew was that the people executed had been convicted of alleged crimes related to national security, and few to none of them actually believed the official story (and, thus, the Crown).


    For the Crown to turn on them, their crimes had to have been particularly heinous, Antonidas thought. Or perhaps not, considering the dark things the Crown itself had ordered that weren''t as unknown as Perenolde wished. Alternatively, the ones killed knew things that might implicate the royal family in something they didn''t want found out.


    Following the record trail all the way finally revealed that the ''something'' in question passed through the Auction House as well. But the records of ''what'' had been expunged in accordance with the highest secrecy protocols. The ones reserved only for items that were later deemed of so high monetary or strategic value that they shouldn''t have been put up for auction in the first place. These were the auctions that weren''t privy to just anyone, things that dukes or kings might sometimes auction off to refill their coffers¡­ or as bait in some manner of scheme.


    For Antonidas, this meant he had neither the position nor the seniority to be privy to such information. And when he resorted to the means he''d been allowed outside his cover, he learned that everyone who had been around for the events had long since vanished or been found dead. And, in the case of the security mages, recalled to Dalaran.


    He finally brought it up with Krasus in their communications. That was when Antonidas received his confirmation that the Council of Six had, indeed, sent him into this blind.


    "We did not want you going into this assignment with preconceived notions," Archmage Krasus at least had the grace to look apologetic. "Now that we have your independent verification, the Council can deliberate on a proper course of action."


    Antonidas did his best to keep his feelings off his face. "Am I allowed to know about the inciting incident now?"


    "Very well. I suppose you''ve earned it."


    Finding out that humans had finally cracked the secret of dwarven gunpowder was one thing. Deducing that he could have found this out on his own by shifting some of his investigative efforts to the trade guilds, or even just the local Alchemist¡­


    He''d definitely buried himself too deep in his tomes.


    "You will be contacted in a week to discuss new directions."


    The end of the communication left Antonidas feeling adrift. It was polite of Krasus to warn him he would be reassigned now that the Council had gotten what they needed out of him. Antonidas tried not to begrudge the Six their manipulations, but¡­


    He felt like he''d been set up to fail.


    And¡­ Something in all this felt too neat and tidy.


    Someone tries to steal the golden goose, fails so many times ¨C and so ruinously, however it happened ¨C that the hired blades make common cause to unilaterally refuse additional hits on the fairy tale hero. Then, months later, some force takes it upon itself to confect the bloody downfall of all involved, thus avenging the saintly protagonist. It was a plot straight from a fairy tale transposed into real life. It was too neat, too fantastical, almost¡­ scripted.


    You could try to explain the conclusion as the king trying to secure an asset, failing, losing face, and then going to extreme lengths to eliminate the nobles who grew boldest in their defiance from thinking him weak. But investigations weren''t won through speculation. You could try to explain it as the Crown cleaning house somewhat more easily, except the same Crown was now facing war with its greatest rival while its grip on power was the weakest it had ever been.


    I need to re-assess.


    Antonidas spent a day and night reassessing all his findings. Unfortunately, his evidence only reinforced his initial conclusion of a different party. A malicious will. A will guiding events towards an even more sinister picture than a nefarious noble or king''s plot gone sideways.


    By why? For what reason? To what purpose? The highest nobles left were walking on eggshells, attempts to claim or take over the assets of the dead were mired in opposing claims (or never materialised), the bloodletting had all the people spooked, the guilds and freelancers were cutting out the middleman as much as possible instead of using the Auction House as freely as before, there was war on the horizon even as the Crown''s grip on power was the weakest since Alterac''s split from the Empire in the Fowl War. The last was in no small part because the only noble house of genuine virtue got caught up in the purge as well, somehow. Which, conspicuously, might leave the Crown without naval support or even control of much of its coast in the case of a domestic conflict. Never mind the military strength that a ducal family possessed. It was frankly astonishing that the nation had not devolved to civil war after such a purge. Or worse.


    For all that there had been (and still were) so many ambitions and designs at play, none of this had worked out in favour of any of these interests and egos.


    Antonidas'' thoughts finally made what felt like the right course correction.


    There was some sort of overarching agenda here, a single will, a will that could only have done what it did by taking the seeming of at least seven different people, in Antonidas'' most conservative estimate, more than half of them high nobility. In the process manipulating the Crown of Alterac into the biggest slaughter of its highest echelons of society in the country''s entire history. It was a frankly sinister display of¡­ Antonidas wasn''t even sure what to call it. Competence, influence, insidiousness? Individual power? Organisational numbers? Was this one individual or a group?


    The common people themselves no longer trusted the King''s word, when before the Perenolde family had been well regarded among the citizenry. And that was in great part because the remaining nobles, both from the culled families and not, were purposely allowing leaks and rumors to run unchecked, unlike before. Most of them didn''t even seem to be manufactured. In a kingdom like Alterac where everyone thought of themselves first, doubly so after such a bloodletting, this suggested either vengefulness or demoralization. Or both. So extreme that those involved no longer cared about the danger to themselves.


    No one had gained more than they lost here.


    But.


    If the aim was to weaken Alterac from within, it had certainly succeeded.


    "Audacious aims beget audacious methods," Antonidas murmured to himself as he thoughtfully skimmed the scattered papers summing up his findings one more time.


    Was it foreign meddling? Strom was the obvious culprit, but the kind of magical competence at work was uncharacteristic of the place, and King Trollbane had thus far failed to take advantage of the situation. Lordaeron? Same issues. Gilneas? King Greymane was in the process of negotiating a fosterage with King Perenolde, but nothing he''d heard or seen suggested that the Alterac side was doing this under duress. Stormwind? Too far removed and had practically no conflicts of interest with anyone for the same reason.


    Whatever the case, there wouldn''t be a need to antagonise Dalaran.


    "Who are you?" Antonidas murmured as he beheld his dark materials. "What are you aiming for here?"


    And how much of everything was this mysterious third, no, fourth party truly responsible for? Given the attestations of the people he talked to, the clergy and even the Archbishop himself, the notion that the child saint was some kind of ruse could likely be dismissed.


    But history was rife with evil actors taking advantage of the workings of the good for their own nefarious purposes. In that light, the delay between the gunpowder fiasco and the noble shadow war ¨C never mind its disastrous conclusion ¨C gained a whole new meaning. Especially since it overlapped with whatever troubles managed to drive the young saint to flee the capital permanently. Almost like they were waiting for it. For him to get out of their way.


    Or die.


    Antonidas'' task was only to find the strings and seams, not to pull them, but¡­ he was reluctant to hand over the investigation now that he had come so far. He wasn''t one to fall prey to the sunk cost fallacy, but his superiors wouldn''t have assigned him to this task if they didn''t trust his skills. They certainly seemed to trust his judgment, even after they themselves impaired it through their manipulations, however well-intentioned.


    If nothing else...


    He had always been rewarded for initiative.

 The Cozened Chase (II)

    <h3 style="text-align: center">(II)


    Antonidas retrieved a particular case from his safe and unlocked it with the key from his spatial pouch, revealing what looked like an amulet made of many faceted pieces of crystalline quartz glued together. The Council had supplied him with a memory stone cluster to record the mystical imprints of the individuals connected to his investigation. The purpose was to have a way to determine if they were under magical duress or otherwise unnatural subjection. Not a particularly easy task since that relied on direct comparison to the Racial Common Denominator of Metaphysical Order periodically updated back in Dalaran, and the method was unable to detect some of the more subtle, long-term influences. Antonidas wasn¡¯t high enough in the ranks to know all the specifics yet. What he did know was that the record stone had to be transported there by mundane means. Sufficiently strong arcane exposure, especially teleportation, disrupted the recording matrix. Spirit was finicky, especially the loose traces of it constantly shed by people during those moments when their attention was aimed outwards, which was most of the time. Where attention goes, energy flows.


    However, this would work to his advantage. Disruption to the recordings did not bring damage to the stones themselves, so he could always take new ones. He would need days to store new imprints if they were lost, but he had time. He hadn¡¯t turned in his findings, and so he probably didn¡¯t need to worry he¡¯d be recalled before the deadline Krasus set. And he should be able to make do with the imprints of the individuals least likely to have any control over whatever proceedings these were, who were also the most easily accessible.


    Such magic as the one he decided upon usually required reagents of particularly personal bent, such as skin, hair or blood, if possible. And its purpose was usually to exploit an existing a connection, rather than establish a new one based on vague, personal understanding of what they should have in common. Or, in this case, who. It certainly wasn¡¯t designed to filter out sympathetic connections in the hopes of finding the one thing (person) they unknowingly had in common in the caster¡¯s opinion, regardless of how fact-based. Especially when the ¡®reagents¡¯ were so fragile and the nature and criteria of those connections could be considered mental abstractions at best.


    ¡°I, who am avatar of the Order Immanent, am the one whose claim on What Is challenges the claim of the Rulers of Ages.¡±


    Antonidas D¡¯Ambrosio had earned the Kirin Tor Sash of Supreme Acumen. For his paper called ¡®The Ramifications of refined Reverse Time Travel Phenomena into Quantifiable Magical Practice.¡¯ When he was twelve.


    ¡°The Five Dragons, the Five Masters, the Five Aspects whose Right is the World, whose Might is the World, whose Instrument is the World and whose Charge is the World. I hereby declare: the Right and Might and Instrument and Charge were not Won but Invested by Decree of Order. Let Decree of Order be superseded by Decree of Order. Let my Domain be the Domain of the Ruler of Ages, whose Right is the Present, whose Might is the Past, whose Charge is Fate, whose Instrument is the Entirety of The Passage of Time!¡±


    The magical circle shone. Power flowed like the Sands of Time along lines of mana and chalk overlaid with the tiny spirit stones arranged along sacred geometry. Some dispersed along with the stored energy in a puff of mist, most absorbed them and changed course, overlapping, weaving together, converging on the pedestal upon which sat a crystal ball.


    ¡°Let the Truth be revealed to my eyes. Let they be seen, those turning against Mankind¡¯s Order, those by whose deceit and artifice did man turn against man, did man turn on himself, devouring the refuse of his lost Dreams, and not allowing Life its free and natural progression across Time, in order that they might supplant Order. Let they be known, that the souls they sought to claim may not fall victim to the Fel Outside.¡±


    The words commanded the space beyond space. The light shone dim. The crystal ball filled with mist.


    ¡°Let they be seen, that they may not persist in their doing for a cycle longer!¡±


    The mist cleared to reveal a middle aged couple and three men in the middle of breakfast.


    ¡°Howard, are you sure you won¡¯t wait for-¡°


    ¡°Begging your pardon, Missus, but the Young Master has much bigger things going on than me. ¡®Sides, it were your husband that hired me on, so it should be fine, right? I left a note with my thanks and best wishes too.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t like it,¡± the man grumbled. ¡°Have them worthies been making trouble for you? Because w-¡°


    ¡°Wish it were that simple myself,¡± Howard ¨C was that even his true name? ¨C interrupted his employer again, he was rather rude wasn¡¯t he? ¡°But with all due respect, which I assure you is greater than for literally any other man in the world, I¡¯ve set my mind. Time on your farm has been more than I hoped for, but there¡¯s other things in store for me than tending crops.¡±


    ¡°Shame,¡± one of the other men said. ¡°You learned the trade fast, even though you were terrible at the start.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± The man said dryly. ¡°Also, fuck you.¡±


    ¡°Fuck you too.¡±


    ¡°My word,¡± the third exclaimed. ¡°Such foul mouths in front of the missus!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll let it slide for now,¡± said the missus in question. ¡°But I¡¯ll not stand for it once the babies arrive.¡±


    ¡°Aye aye, ma¡¯am.¡±


    Antonidas had to be very careful connecting the spell matrix to his own mental image of the man rather than the man himself, now that his makeshift anchors were depleted. Given the overreliance on mental abstractions that he¡¯d needed to account for on the fly, he¡¯d had to dispense with most auxiliary scrying parameters. He could tell neither distance nor direction, never mind zoom out to get a bird¡¯s eye view of the place, and he wouldn¡¯t be able to tell if the man would notice the magic latch on to him unless he reacted visibly. Too high a risk just to get a reaction.


    But Antonidas was very good at his craft.


    The view in the crystal ball wavered but stayed on target even as the man rose from the table and made his way out of the house. It wavered more and more through the man¡¯s brief travel preparations, he¡¯d been ready since the prior day or longer. This was a problem, the spell had barely found its way, if his target changed locations Antonidas might not be able to find him again, not with his spell ingredients used up. He¡¯d seen his face and could scry for it again, but the odds that it wasn¡¯t the same one he¡¯d wear tomorrow couldn¡¯t be dismissed. He¡¯d caught the man just as he changed covers and he couldn¡¯t even decide if this was good luck or bad.


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Antonidas barely had time to put on his battle robes, woven by his own hand with the pinnacle of arcane protection exceeding the best full plate, before the man was leaving the property outright. The image in the crystal ball wavered and stuttered the more distance he put between himself and the original spot of the scrying spell. Antonidas reluctantly cut the visual feed in order to divert power to the anchor, but he could make even that work to his advantage. Forming the weave for the Teleportation spell, he used his freed up focus to cast the best spells of protection, finally priming a Paralysis spell before triggering the leap. Arcane symbols surrounded him and the tell-tale whirl of space-time magic moved him across time and space right behind- ¡°AGH!¡±


    The fir branch slapped him in the face so hard he slipped and fell on the ground ¨C ¡°Ooof!¡± ¨C or would have if not for the tree trunk right beneath his feet, as slippery as it was full of sharp vestigial branches, including a big one that didn¡¯t skewer him through the eye only because his armor spell lasted just long enough under the force of his fall, even on top of the subtle forcefield cast by the weave patterns of his robe. ¡°Ack ¡­¡± The paralysis spell misfired into a pine tree as he lurched aside. The tree glowed a bit greener than usual and then nothing as he swayed on all fours, cradling his cheek with one eye shut beneath his fingers from phantom pain. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°The ecological succession that creates a deciduous forest starts with the greed of pines.¡±


    ¡°Depelli!¡± His reflexive mana blast hurled the boughs away, but most of them just whipped back. He managed to shield his face with his sleeve this time, then Antonidas swung ¨C THUNK ¨C his staff caught in the trunks and his robes on sharp branches as he struggled out of¡­ a pine thicket even a toddler couldn¡¯t get through, how? He¡¯d targeted the spot right behind his quarry, what was the man doing in there, when, he was bigger than Antonidas, he couldn¡¯t have fit, how-? He did feel my spell!


    ¡°Fast-growing conifers colonize a suitable area and take it over, suppressing ground cover growth with their light-blocking needles.¡±


    The mage whipped his head around, trying to find the voice, both his eyes still worked even if one hurt, but telling direction of the voice was difficult, was this magic ¨C no, echoes just got strange in thick woods, but he could still tell the path, follow him!


    ¡°As the pine growth becomes denser, this advantage backfires. The lower branches of the old trees die and infant pines starve in the darkness beneath the crowded sky.¡±


    ¡°Vento, viam meam succide!¡± His staff caught on a trunk again, but the swipe was still big enough to cut a large swath of the forest ahead to ribbons. ¡°Depelli!¡± The trunks, lumps and branches were blown away in a cone ahead of him, and so Antonidas D¡¯Ambrosio finally managed to break out of the underbrush. ¡°Stop in the name of the Kirin Tor!¡±


    No answer save the wind, he was on a serpentine mountain path but there was no one else ¨C no, down there around the bend, a blur of tan and brown passed beyond the trees. ¡°Hengroen, to me!¡± A portal of light appeared at his shoulder, from which his steed charged through all the way from the Alterac City stables. With a brief levitation spell, Antonidas jumped in the saddle. ¡°Hya!¡±


    His horse quickly charged down the path and turned the bend to find ¨C there was no one, quick on his feet was he? ¡°Go go go!¡± Another bend in the path and finally Antonidas could ¨C still nothing!? ¡°Whoa, whoa, boy!¡± His steed dug furrows into the ground with its hooves as it skid to the halt. ¡°Where did he go?¡±


    Antonidas was half-way through another, short-range scrying spell when the man emerged from the trees on the right, crossed the thin trail and hopped down the slope on the other side to disappear into the brushwood.


    The mage stared in shock at the sheer gall of ¨C of ¨C ¡°HYA!¡± He charged down the path, around another bend just in time to see the man do the same thing just as he got there, he wasn¡¯t even running, didn¡¯t seem in a hurry at all, why that insolent ¨C Silence Shell, Illusion on his steed¡¯s eyesight, Invisibility, Ride the Wind. ¡°Aer semita mea!¡± With a lashing of his reins, Hengroen galloped on the air down the mountain right over where he¡¯d seen the man jump down. Antonidas couldn¡¯t see through the tree cover below, but he made it down to the other path with time to spare and waited unseen and unheard in the middle of the path where the main was sure to emerge. Force Armor, Shield, Paralysis primed ¨C again ¨C now all he needed do was wait. He waited.


    He waited.


    ¡­ Where was he? Because unless he was setting camp in not even one square foot of space or going back up -


    Antonidas¡¯ heart sank as he remembered a detail he¡¯d overlooked in his rush. The next bend in my path wasn¡¯t just a bend, it was a split in the road!


    Swiftly, he Rode the Wind back up the mountain, but the spell expired just as he reached the split and so he was forced to land his steed and gallop like any other horseman. He could cast it again, but this was too wily an opponent to waste mana, Invisibility and Silence Shell should still give him the element of surprise as long as the dust cloud behind him wasn¡¯t too large, why couldn¡¯t it have rained?


    He skidded around a final bend in the path, the sand got in his eyes ¨C why was it so hot? ¨C but there he was! Stopped right in the path of an Alterac Footman Patrol, what luck! Drop Invisibility, drop Silence Shell. ¡°Sto-¡°


    ¡°I SURRENDER!¡±


    Antonidas and his proud steed experienced what is known as false start.


    ¡°I surrender! I admit it, I did it! I don¡¯t know what you think I did but whatever it is, I¡¯ll confess! Just don¡¯t let the wizard get me! He¡¯s crazy! Crazy I tell you!¡±


    The false start ended in an open-mouthed, stumbling halt.


    The man ¨C Howard was not his true name, it couldn¡¯t be! ¨C held his hands out to be shackled. By normal shackles instead of the mana-dampening ones Antonidas had in his spatial bag. The shackles belonging to a group of bemused and distrustful members of the Alterac Road Patrol. Bemused and distrustful towards him.


    ¡°See, he¡¯s been staring at me like that since he turned the bend!¡±


    Antonidas D¡¯Ambrosio gaped at the sight, aghast.


    ¡­ He planned this! Somehow he planned this, all of it, he must have felt the spell watching him and then come up with¡­ but in less than five minutes?!


    The man¡¯s expression changed then, to something much more distant but somehow still present. Turned to look north. Glancing despite himself in the same direction, Antonidas saw only the mountains on the horizon, on the far side of Alterac Valley which lay far, far down below. That was where he¡¯d been led, he belatedly realized. Those mountains were the last great natural defense behind which Alterac City lay, but what was the man looking at? Did he have allies coming, was this just a ploy to buy time or-?


    Above the mountains and beyond, the last specks of morning mist were suddenly dyed in a flicker of gold. A flicker that became a shimmer that lasted for a long, strung-out minute that arrested everyone¡¯s attention. Bizarrely, though Antonidas didn¡¯t feel anything from so far away, he still had the strange instinct that the Order of Things had just shifted like a sleeping giant after something had tickled its cheek.


    He looked back to the man. The man wasn¡¯t looking back. He was sitting on a nearby stump, playing with his shackles. His now open shackles. The man promptly snapped them closed around his wrists again when he saw Antonidas looking and smirked at him.


    The wizard glared.


    The man went back to politely waiting for everyone else to remember they had a prisoner now.


    Antonidas sat back in his saddle. His mana coiled tightly with the tension of battle, aimless and unsatisfied. Finally, the patrol remembered themselves. Responsibilities began divvying up between continuing their job and escorting their new prisoner back to their outpost, and from there onwards to Alterac City proper. They were completely oblivious that said prisoner could have slipped away in their distraction. Could still slip away. Only from the patrol of course ¨C wait!


    Atonidas drove his steed to catch up and had to use far too much cajolery and even needed to pull out the king¡¯s sealed authorisation to get the footmen to swap the man¡¯s bonds for his arcane dampeners. He almost wished ¡®Howard¡¯ tried to get away to spare him the frustration. He didn¡¯t even try though. He allowed himself to be re-cuffed and led off. Under the Alterac Crown¡¯s jurisdiction instead of the Kirin Tor¡¯s.


    ¡­ He¡¯d obviously planned this in advance, but how? Had he known about his investigation beforehand, somehow? From three days¡¯ travel away? How? There were few possible answers, all of them sinister, unconscionable! He had to be a mage himself, a wizard, no, a foul warlock, an insidious rogue of some sort, a demon even! Certainly something, he had to be. He had to be!


    The alternative was that Antonidas had just been outmanoeuvered by a country hick. He would never be able to live down such shame.


    ¡­


    What the devil was he going to tell the Council?

 The Hereafter Does Wait for Some People (I)

    Where this is going:


    ¡°-. Orsur Kelsier</a>, Alterac Trade Magnate (Embattled), Merchant Adventurer (Former) .-¡°


    Light, let my spirit be keener and my heart be bolder as my strength grows less.


    The priests often chided people for only praying when they needed something, but Orsur Kelsier never understood that, even as a child. Most people hated being carped at, especially by people they never met before and much less for literally nothing. He couldn¡¯t imagine divinity appreciating having their time wasted any better. The virtues preached by the Church were all about solving your own problems, didn¡¯t that mean you were supposed to keep your praying to a minimum? The Light itself was supposedly impersonal too, by that logic it cared for useless begging even less, didn¡¯t it?


    Look at me having a crisis of faith.


    Orsur paid his respects to Great Tyr and Saint Mereldar, and left pondering how the Light seemed to lack the vicissitudes and vagaries of its agents. The Light¡¯s agents were kind, wrathful or what have you depending on the story, but the degree to which they supposedly intervened in the world was inversely proportional to the canonicity of whatever scripture you happened to be reading.


    The priests were at least real people, and their claims to power rooted in moral decency weren¡¯t empty boasts. At least for those that actually got the Light to respond. Unfortunately, none of that made it any easier to know what to expect of the Young Saint. A very unfortunate predicament when fate seemed determined to force him to throw himself at his mercy.


    The Fel Void curse all the ¡®bandits¡¯ and their ¡®noble¡¯ masters to the Twisting Hells.


    You¡¯d think that the purge would have them ¡®worthies¡¯ less prone to pillaging their own country, but apparently not. In fact, it was the opposite. Before the king¡¯s¡­ lapse, you could at least trust ¡®bandits¡¯ not to venture too far from their camps, never mind sack trade convoys above a certain size, especially those with commensurately armed protection. After all, their on-and-off patrons needed the country¡¯s trade to continue functioning in order to make all the gold they needed to waste on hidden blades and power plays.


    This went doubly as long as you had enough noble banners on your wagons. Or Dalaran¡¯s. Even the most infamous ¡®bandit¡¯ lords tended to leave you alone then, bribes and tolls notwithstanding. It was why even merchants of high means like himself still preferred to attach even their biggest and best defended wagon trains to high profile caravans where possible. Sure, it was expensive, but the extra coin was actually less than having to pay all those aforementioned ¡®tolls.¡¯


    Even the king¡¯s men had been especially invested in the safe delivery of his alchemical shipment, and not just because of the usual concerns about volatile substances. He got favourable rates not just because of how large it was, but also because it fell under Crown priorities, now. It was enough to confirm all those rumors about actual war preparations that the nobles had been so badly pretending to suppress.


    Orsur even managed to consult with his old acquaintance that he accidentally helped catapult to the high echelons of the assassin¡¯s guild, back during his adventuring days when he didn¡¯t know the Ravenholdt name from Thoradin, and even he said all the retinues and shipments in the caravan were legitimate.


    Imagine his shock when he learned that the highest-profile caravan of the year got sacked by ¡®bandits¡¯ despite having not only all the aforementioned identifiers, but also that of the king. Oh, how Orsur cursed his past self for not heeding his gut instinct not to toss in every last scrap of liquid funds and collateral. And to think all he¡¯d wanted was to pay it forward.


    Here I am talking smack about my past self. Well, joke¡¯s on me, he ruined my life!


    The safest bet of his merchant career had turned into a disaster, he didn¡¯t know who was responsible, he didn¡¯t know how many attacked, he didn¡¯t know who all survived, and he certainly didn¡¯t know any specifics. Like any lives or goods that were conspicuously prioritised or ignored compared to the other noble or guild cortege that had attached itself to the same expedition. Never mind the king¡¯s! How Master Narett didn¡¯t hold it against him for wasting his greatest sale since before Orsur even entered the trading business, Orsur had no idea.


    And all at such a terrible time! The trade expedition was supposed to finance our new enterprise, not bring me to the brink of bankruptcy!


    All his attempts to stave off bankruptcy ¨C or worse ¨C were failing one after another. The goods and properties he¡¯d put up for auction were seeing lacklustre response. The information bounty he posted on the notice boards attracted people that were either lying or complicit. All at a time when he didn¡¯t have the coin to keep bodyguards because he needed every scrap to pay his agents¡¯ legal fees instead.


    Half his agents outside of Alterac City didn¡¯t respond to their communication, despite the high expenses he¡¯d incurred over the years to buy Dalaran transmission stones. The other half had been arrested on suspicion of fraud and their possessions confiscated, it was absurd, corrupt magistrates everywhere, damn them and their buyers! None of his other sources could get him details on what happened either.


    And now the others in our little conspiracy are eyeing me like a rash to divest themselves of.


    He¡¯d expected it of those who thought he was trying to undermine them, to pay coin for a stronger control of their future enterprise. But even the ones he expected sense from were looking askance at him now. He could understand disdain at request for handouts, Orsur certainly disdained asking for them. But he did not expect the turnaround in attitude to be quite so farcical.


    They certainly appreciated me spreading false rumors and otherwise confusing the whole city about our little golden goose. On my own coin no less, toadies aren¡¯t cheap when all you can get is whatever dregs didn¡¯t pass muster with the highborn.


    Orsur tried to understand their suspicion, craftsmen and their guilds had a low opinion of merchants for not actually producing anything, while most merchants ¨C and especially merchant guilds ¨C tended to respond to that contempt with equal amounts condescension. But understanding and accepting were vastly different things.


    And it seems the Young Saint is suspicious of my best intentions as well.


    The lodgings he had rented for him had gone unused. The only reason the innkeep had anything useful to say was because of how tall the young man was now. The only person who knew the right things to say to claim the lodgings was a ¡®big lad¡¯ that only stopped by to inform the innkeep he wouldn¡¯t be using them, thank you kindly and please reimburse my benefactor, before wandering off. The ¡®big lad¡¯ had been joined by a shorter but heavily armed, cloaked companion as he turned the corner, but that was all the innkeep knew.


    The man had been thoroughly distracted afterwards by ¡®that little spot of bother a few days past.¡¯ A very quaint way to describe a certain duke and his ridiculously long procession of captured ¡®bandits¡¯ personally delivered to the gallows. Orsur appreciated the refund, but he would have appreciated a one-on-one with their saintly patron a lot more, even if that wasn¡¯t why he rented the quarters originally.


    At this point I might be better off not attending the meeting at all.


    But he would. He still had his pride.


    Finally, he arrived. The city¡¯s newest and rawest building. Gloomy too, by virtue of them deferring on whitewash and panelling ¨C and most walls ¨C until they could consult with the mastermind behind all the new features. The well-to-do from nearly every trade in Alterac wouldn¡¯t normally gather in a construction site, especially for the sort of discussion that could change the face of their country. It was why they decided to hold it there and now regardless.


    Orsur thought it was foolish, the others weren¡¯t half as discreet as he was, it was too much of a risk. But his latest woes meant the others made the final decision without his input. Because it wasn¡¯t their fault he was too busy elsewhere, they later said.


    That he was only ¡®busy¡¯ keeping his innocent people out of prison made no seeming difference. Orsur wondered if they even cared enough to find out. He hadn¡¯t asked, because if it turned out they knew, he might have switched out one of their coins with one of his. The resulting fall from on high would have been tragic and impossible to blame on him, but he was not that sort of man no matter how often he contemplated it. The merchant¡¯s trade was a cutthroat business, but he took pride in his self-control.


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    He never killed anyone except in fair turnabout when the law failed. That was what his years as a merchant adventurer taught him.


    He climbed the stairs up to the first floor where the only finished room was. Orsur greeted the others, who were all present already. They showed varying amounts of caution, suspicion, and very little sympathy. Orsur wore his face stony, but inside was absurdly relieved. Their attire was mostly what people would dismiss as them dressing down for inspection at a dusty worksite, especially with the uncreatively named foreman Mason Zidar there to ¡®show them around¡¯ in absence of the crew on their day off.


    More importantly, while the room looked recently swept and dusted, and the chairs and tablecloth were new, they were also foldable and lightweight. This was the room where the construction crew ate and rested, that it still looked the part meant there hadn¡¯t been a whole army of servants and delivery people coming in and out of the place for days.


    Since everyone looked terribly eager to get back to what they were doing before he arrived, even if that something was literally nothing, Orsur dragged a chair over to the wall and sat down to review the latest paperwork from the magistrate¡¯s office. The others were doing well in waiting for the golden goose to arrive before sitting down at the table, but tacit approval was all they seemed willing to accept from him. If that.


    How am I supposed to work with these people long-term? You¡¯re only supposed to compete with your competitors, not your business partners!


    Well, prospective ones in this case. They clearly didn¡¯t expect to work long-term with him, anymore. The hedging of bets was so painfully blatant, it made Orsur wonder how they got as high as they got in their guilds. This behaviour was what self-fulfilling prophecies were made of.


    Dare he hope they all belonged to that atrociously lucky sort that had only precipitated the good kind of self-fulfilling prophecy up to this point? If nothing else, that was definitely the sort of blind luck he would like to see rubbing off on him right now.


    ¡°He¡¯s coming,¡± said Gavin Slipknot. As a Master Fisherman, Orsur had no idea what the man thought he could contribute to their nascent enterprise. But as the first person to ever enter a business partnership with their young patron ¨C for a new fishing line spun form oil, somehow, that had catapulted him to the forefront of his trade ¨C he had arguably the greatest right to be there. ¡°Quick, everyone get ready.¡±


    To Orsur¡¯s astonishment, almost everyone stopped what they were doing and began straightening their clothes and hair. Oh, what a change this was from the suspicion and condescension that everyone once treated the Young Saint with! Had it only been a year? Not that he himself had been much better, despite being the only one of this lot who did have a background that should have made him more open-minded.


    But how could any of them have known that the Light had sent down a once-in-a-century genius, back then? Most people still didn¡¯t, even the whole ¡®make people think the Young Saint is three different people¡¯ ruse required very little effort on their part, at the end of the day.


    Madam Seamstress Tayer was still disbelieving of her assistant¡¯s reassurances that yes, your grey hairs really are all out of sight, madam, when the knock came.


    Master Builder Zidar adjusted his blue collar and tugged on his cuffs one last time ¨C you came just as dressed down as the rest of us, man, get a grip ¨C and opened the door. ¡°Master Hywel! Come¡­¡± The man gawked at their patron¡¯s height ¨C when did he get so big? ¨C before mastering himself. ¡°Come in, come in, we¡¯ve been expecting you!¡±


    Making him think he¡¯s running late is not the best start.


    ¡°Master Zidar, hello. I hope I¡¯m not running too late.¡±


    Case in point.


    Also, Wayland Hywel¡¯s voice had grown deeper too.


    ¡°Not at all, not at all, we just happened to arrive early.¡± Obvious lies are even worse. ¡°Had to make sure the place was tidy and all, you know how it all goes I¡¯m sure.¡±


    Wayland Hywel had to stoop to get through the door, they already had the first item on the ¡®things to fix as soon as possible¡¯ list. ¡°Well, this is quite the gathering. Greetings all.¡± Orsur stiffened when the young man¡¯s gaze passed over him, it felt¡­ extensive, somehow, had the Light been so self-evident in his eyes before? But they still looked the same, blue with not a hint of gold, although his hair- ¡°Hello to all the new faces, and to the old I¡¯m glad to see you¡¯re all doing¡­ actually only mostly well, Master Keyton, you¡¯ve been injured recently.¡±


    The Master Blacksmith went from gaping at the lad¡¯s size to gaping at his insight. ¡°Erm¡­ Aye, I suppose so, Young Master, but it¡¯s all handled, I¡¯ve always got me some potions nearby.¡±


    ¡°Well, whatever you took wasn¡¯t quite enough. Small cuts, big bruises, a recently broken femur that hasn¡¯t fused right, something heavy fell on you along with a bunch of smaller but sharper things, an accident unloading a crate of weapons or some such I assume?¡± Wayland Hywel waved down with a finger on the way to the table and the Light came down on Smid Keyton like a column of gold. ¡°There, it¡¯s fixed. Please stay behind after the meeting, though, so I can finally do something about that black lung you¡¯re developing from all the metal flakes and smoke you breathe every day. If anyone else has someone with degenerative diseases, please stay as well so we can discuss it. I¡¯ve developed my skills some.¡±


    Clearly, Orsur thought breathlessly as the overflow from the spell washed over the rest of them, making him feel like he¡¯d just gotten out of bed after the best night¡¯s rest of his life. Does that mean he can actually cure such things, instead of merely ease their burden like the priests?


    Visibly shaken now, Zidar showed the Young Master to one end of the table, lingered strangely in place for a moment and¡­ didn¡¯t take the other end as Orsur was sure had been the plan.


    Well I¡¯ll be. Orsur rapidly reassessed the situation as he waited with everyone else for the Young Master to sit, before following suit. Orsur knew they¡¯d taken pains to make sure they wouldn¡¯t be sitting higher than their holy patron, pointless though it now turned out to be. The lad was bigger than them by a head. At least.


    But this¡­


    Zidar was a master builder, foreman, technical owner of the building ¨C at least until the work was finished ¨C and ultimate instigator of their little scheme. He was also the only guild master among them, on top of being a master of his chosen craft. Orsur had been certain he would claim the head of the table. Either there was more than one decision made absent of my input, or he only changed his tune right now.


    ¡°Right then,¡± Zidar cleared his throat, and Orsur had to actively remind himself that this suddenly deferential man was the same one that could make army sergeants feel inadequate with how he ran his work sites. I¡¯m missing something. ¡°Introductions first. You know master Slipknot already of course, Young Master Hywel.¡±


    ¡°Glad to see you well, young sir.¡±


    ¡°Likewise.¡±


    ¡°Please be also known to Master Chef Ademar Burch, the one responsible for the food spread you see before you. On his left is, of course, Master Blacksmith Smid Keyton. Next to him is Madame Tayer, senior supervisor of the Fowl Feather tailor guild, next is-¡°


    ¡°-The young lady standing behind her?¡±


    ¡°Right, of course, my apologies, her assistant, the young miss¡­?¡±


    ¡°Ava, my darling keeper of all things stationery,¡± the matronly woman graciously filled in. ¡°I¡¯d be thoroughly lost without her.¡±


    The girl pretended indifference. Surprisingly well too. ¡°You exaggerate, missus.¡±


    ¡°Quite,¡± Zidar cleared his throat. ¡°On her left is Melissa Blackthorn, head of the Blackthorn merchant house. Her specialty is in trade abroad.¡±


    The long-haired woman, the only person besides himself who didn¡¯t fret over her pristine own appearance while preparing to welcome their guest of honor, inclined her head. ¡°A pleasure. Behind me is my nephew, Albert. He will be my contact at those times when I am not in the city.¡± Not ¡®when I am unavailable¡¯ but specifically ¡®when I¡¯m not in the city¡¯, a statement of commitment if ever there was one. ¡°Alas, I expect it to be the case quite often. I am considering a partial shift away from foreign trade to the more domestic arena.¡±


    Ah, the vulture is already pecking at my corpse, and I¡¯m not even dead yet!


    ¡°There on your right you have Mark Tarren, representative of the miller¡¯s guild over in Tarren Mill.¡±


    The young man nodded, face stony. ¡°My father wanted to come himself, but he bid me ask your forbearance while he finalizes his part of the legalities of your new partnership.¡± At just over twenty, Mark was the youngest person there, after the Young Master himself. ¡°He is happy to convey that the waterwheel-powered hammer has proven a monumental success with the local smithies. He has named you equal partner in the endeavour. He conveys he is most eager to explore any other ideas you might have, and has an additional proposition for you, one which he assures you will have no bearing on your existing arrangements whether you accept or refuse-¡°


    ¡°And which can, of course, wait until we see to today¡¯s agenda,¡± Madam Tayer interrupted, not entirely idly. ¡°At the very least it can wait until we¡¯ve finished introductions.¡±


    Getting ahead of yourself there, boy. Also, am I the only one who remembers Hywel is the only one who doesn¡¯t know what we¡¯re here for?


    ¡°Quite right,¡± Master Zidar hastened to move past the impropriety. ¡°Next is Jace Brakelond, a senior in the Horologe Clockmaker¡¯s guild.¡±


    ¡°An honor.¡± The man had several ¡®bandaids¡¯ on his face ¨C another of Hywel¡¯s creations, and currently the major source of Tayer¡¯s income, at that ¨C a testament to how thoroughly and often he shaved despite being one of those unfortunate men whose blood ran perilously close to the surface of his skin. ¡°I also count a fairly able jewelsmith among my friends. I am actually representing him today as well, as he is working on an unexpected high-profile commission.¡±


    Good thing he didn¡¯t drop it, or we really wouldn¡¯t be able to call what we¡¯re doing ¡®discretion¡¯ even in our dreams.


    ¡°You know Master Orsur of course, the owner of the Merchant Adventurer merchant house. He¡¯s our current authority on domestic trade.¡±


    I¡¯d thank you for not tossing my woe out or leaving me for last, if I didn¡¯t know the real reason. ¡°Embattled, currently, but I¡¯m willing to defer on my personal drama until it becomes relevant.¡±


    ¡°Something I¡¯m sure we all appreciate,¡± spoke Master Burch before Melissa could. The man¡¯s diplomacy skill left much to be desired compared to his cooking, but Orsur appreciated the thought all the same. Even if he would have preferred to find out now if he should expect more than passive aggressiveness from Blackthorn.


    ¡°And finally, next to me is my son, Beran. You¡¯ll be delighted to know that he¡¯s now the world¡¯s first creator of a working oil distillery!¡±


    ¡°Fractal distillery.¡± Seeing as Zidar himself was nearing his fifties, his son was actually thirty himself. The man stood and nodded at Master Wayland. ¡°Your design worked just as you described. Samples have already been delivered to our local alchemist of mutual acquaintance for testing. I foresee much business in the future, regardless of how today goes.¡±


    Finally, everyone was seated. Quiet. Watching. Waiting. The empty seat at the head of the table loomed strangely in the lull.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad to meet everyone,¡± Wayland Hywel finally said when the bizarreness of the situation had been sufficiently indulged. ¡°Now could someone please tell me why we¡¯re all here?¡±


    Yes, could someone please do that?


    ¡°Quite.¡± Mason Zidar finally did what a host should have done via their original invitation. ¡°Master Wayland. As the ultimate source of all our best and newest breakthroughs, we would like to hear your thoughts on establishing a new guild.¡±

 The Hereafter Does Wait for Some People (II)

    <h3 style="text-align: center">(II)


    "Master Hywel ¨C or Wayland, may we call you Wayland?¡±


    The Young Master blinked. ¡°I¡¯m willing to reciprocate whatever compromise between formality and familiarity best fits our degree of acquaintance.¡±


    Surprisingly vague for an otherwise earnest person, but not unreasonable when you weren¡¯t sure what approach to take yourself.


    ¡°Master Wayland then.¡± Mason nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll be blunt ¨C those few among us cursed with the wisdom of experience have discerned some of your vision. With respect to its likely impact on our world as we know it, we have gathered here to give it all due mind. However, that¡¯s where the problem lies ¨C we¡¯ve little besides due mind to give. The knowledge, the expertise, the manpower, tools, facilities, infrastructure, what you call ¡®industry,¡¯ all the things you¡¯d need to make your vision reality simply don¡¯t exist.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Mason¡¯s son hedged with a glance to his father. ¡°¡¯All¡¯ might be a bit of a strong word.¡±


    ¡°Oh, you don¡¯t have the means to make good on your breakthrough,¡± Madam Tayer said with a scoff. ¡°Your father, at least, clearly knows it.¡±


    ¡°Which is why,¡± Master Mason grunted. ¡°We believe the only option is to do it all ourselves, even if we need to set the foundation stone by stone. We know you¡¯ve enriched yourself fine, Young Master, from our various individual arrangements, Light knows we certainly have as well. But we¡¯ve reached the limit of what can be done this way, we feel. So we called you here to ask if you can see yourself working as part of a proper guild.¡±


    Madam Tayer refused to leave her point unfinished though. ¡°What he means is that demand already far outpaces the supply of your mortar, for one, seeing as it¡¯s exclusive. That¡¯s just one of many problems.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re each our own snag as things currently stand, essentially,¡± said Master Blacksmith Keyton. ¡°In every area that matters.¡±


    ¡°Also, even if alchemists start growing on trees and come up with ubiquitous uses for your new oil off-shoots, all the oil goes to the soap and lamp makers anyway,¡± Tayer added, which Beran scowled at but did not refute.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure the Young Master already had ideas for that though,¡± Zidar said, turning to look at him expectantly. ¡°Am I right?¡±


    ¡°¡­ Sadly no,¡± Wayland Hywel admitted with casual humility.


    The looks around the table made it plain that Orsur was not the only one who¡¯d gone, at some point, from extreme underestimation to extreme overestimation when it came to their golden goose.


    ¡°I¡¯ve explored both steam and internal combustion,¡± Wayland elaborated. ¡°The former spawns ravenous elemental spirits, and our alchemist of mutual acquaintance has informed me that Dalaran has long since confirmed much more trouble about internal combustion ¨C oil-based engines, I mean. As in, it can break permanent tears into the Firelands.¡±


    Everyone sat back at that.


    ¡°At this point I¡¯m just running face-first into the Arcane, and all my attempts to get a consultation with a mage have been stonewalled.¡± That added a pall of scowling resentment on top of the uncertainty. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose we have an enchanter here? I¡¯d planned to try looking one up again the past few days, but I was otherwise diverted by other developments.¡±


    Just two weeks ago I would have been able to get both.


    "I might know someone,¡± said cook Burch, surprisingly. ¡°Well, leastwise I might know someone who knows someone. My supplier from the Sparkling Pestle should definitely have someone she gets her enchanted vials from. Can¡¯t speak to how many middlemen might be involved though. Them mages are picky.¡±


    ¡°I can attempt to collect some tomes on the topic,¡± said Melissa Blackthorn. ¡°It might be harder than usual, however, with that Dalaran toady kissing up to the nobility lately. You can feel the smell of approaching overenthusiastic magic policing a mile away.¡±


    Everyone expects the Dalaran Inquisition.


    An awkward silence descended on the room. Orsur couldn¡¯t blame the others, he didn¡¯t expect their dream of being the first ever engineers¡¯ guild in the history of humanity to be kneecapped either, starting out. It¡¯s really our own fault though. We should have had someone put the idea forward first, getting ahead of meddling nobles be damned.


    Hywel, though, didn¡¯t seem at all undone. ¡°Mister Tarren. What was it you wanted to bring up?¡±


    With clear reluctance on his face, Mark Tarren stood and leaned forward to hand Wayland a scroll. ¡°My father offers his firstborn son as an apprentice if you are at all willing to pass on your knowledge of ¡®engineering,¡¯ if indeed it lives up to the name.¡±


    This is news to me, Orsur thought in carefully hidden astonishment. The firstborn son in question was Mark himself, right there.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡± Keyton broke in with clear affront. ¡°We¡¯re here to see about creating the world¡¯s first ever engineering guild but your father¡¯s already trying to poach?¡±


    Oh, someone actually deigned to say it? Also, it¡¯s just mankind¡¯s first guild, the gnomes are a whole nation of them.


    ¡°Certainly not, and I¡¯ll be thankful not to hear any more slander aimed at my father, sir. I¡¯ll remind you this here enterprise is his brainchild every bit as much as yours.¡±


    Par for the course for the folk outside the city, to cheerfully barge through everyone else¡¯s business. Points for pretending erudition so well, though.


    Wayland Hywel gave a small, exasperated sigh.


    The ratcheting tension immediately stalled in the face of shared chagrin.


    Not bad.


    The lad not even of majority age beheld the full grown man offering, not at all wholeheartedly, to become his apprentice. ¡°I assume you¡¯ve been learning under your father up to this point.¡±


    ¡°Naturally.¡±


    ¡°By your speech, I might hope you know your numbers and letters as well?¡±


    Young Mark looked affronted. ¡°Of course!¡±


    ¡°What about builder tools? Pencils, paper, rulers, compasses, triangles, water level?¡±


    Tarren lost some of his hostility. ¡°I¡¯ve passing or better familiarity with them, yes.¡±


    ¡°Hammer, screw, screwdriver, spanners, sandpaper, how many kinds of wrenches can you name? Also, have you ever used an anvil?¡±


    Tarren suddenly didn¡¯t look sure of himself anymore and slowly sat back down. ¡°I¡¯m familiar with the first few, but do you mean different size wrenches? I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ve not had cause to use an anvil, no.¡±


    ¡°Alright. What do you know about lightning?¡±


    What?


    ¡°¡­ Just about what everyone else does, I imagine.¡±


    Somehow, Orsur doubted that ¡®it¡¯s the anger of the spirits of the air made manifest¡¯ was the answer Hywel was looking for.


    ¡°That¡¯s pretty much what I expected. If you think you can stomach eventually studying under someone years your junior, it¡¯s not impossible.¡± The Young Saint was uniquely expressive. ¡°That said, while you might have the intellect, only deeds can speak to your creativity and, more importantly, I¡¯m afraid you don¡¯t have the foundation.¡±


    Wayland Hywel managed to be both kind and free of condescension even when telling someone how inferior they were. To their face. Somehow.


    ¡°Engineering is the creative application of science, mathematics and verifiable evidence for the purpose of making, building or innovating¡­ well, practically anything. Devices, machines, buildings, methods of doing all the aforementioned, creating entirely new materials, even reforming entire organisations if you can think abstractly enough. I don¡¯t claim to be a master of everything, but I do have enough going on that I can¡¯t spare time teaching the basics. At least for another few years.¡±


    Orsur carefully memorised the very thoughtful looks everyone else exchanged while that display unfolded. Nobody seemed indulgent or mistrustful, despite their fresh disappointment of learning their divinely blessed benefactor still had some limits. Certainly no one looked amused. At least not at Hywel.


    ¡°You¡¯d be better off doing a¡­ actually, do you even do those here? Apprenticeship tours, let¡¯s call them. When someone goes around learning the fundamentals of several different trades without actually becoming bound to any? Or anyone, for that matter?¡±


    Here? As opposed to where?


    Mason Zidar looked thoughtfully at Mark. ¡°How many trades would that be, exactly?¡±


    ¡°Construction, blacksmithing and natural philosophy are all a must, but I¡¯d strongly appreciate something highly reliant on manual dexterity as well. I suppose I could ask my father to teach him a bit, cobbling demands enough from the hands, but I¡¯m loath to burden him right now. Jewelcrafting especially comes to mind. And definitely clockwork. The skills needed there would be extremely useful, I don¡¯t suppose I can prevail upon anyone already here for this?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t see why we shouldn¡¯t,¡± Zidar said, at once giving his endorsement and looking meaningfully at Jace Brakelond. ¡°Our own clockwork expert should be able to think of someone, I¡¯m sure.¡±


    ¡°As readily as I¡¯m sure Master Zidar is eager to take the lad on himself.¡± The other man replied with a pointed look back at their host. His reply to Hywel was considering though. ¡°I am tentatively open to the notion. I¡¯ll bring it up with my friend as well, when I next meet him. That said, we¡¯d still need something discernible in terms of future business to make such a personal and time investment, even if we find ourselves lacking the palpable projects we hoped to see today.¡±


    Orsur was seriously beginning to wonder what they all had even been hoping for here. They hadn¡¯t even told the boy or his father what the agenda was, how was Hywel supposed to prepare¡­ Actually, what was he even supposed to prepare for? A job interview? New business deals? A pitch to make him guild leader, maybe, three years short of majority age? Orsur supposed them treating their golden goose with deference and respect now was laudable, but they still seemed to fall short of treating him like an actual person.


    Wayland brought up his bag from beside his seat and rifled through it briefly, before pulling out a¡­ folder? It looked like a very large envelope or book cover, only black as coal but flexible as paper. Opening it, Wayland looked through several papers before handing one to the clockmaker. ¡°Do you think making that is within your friend¡¯s capabilities?¡±


    Ah. The Golden Saint to the rescue once again. What a shame that this will only enable more of this foolishness in the future.


    Brakelond skimmed the paper, then looked taken aback and read through them more carefully. ¡°Silver wire?¡±


    ¡°The physical specifications must be very exact. I¡¯m particularly invested in the thickness and purity.¡±


    ¡°¡­ This is extremely long wire, what you¡¯re describing here. I¡¯m assuming you¡¯ve not gone completely mad and want to make silver fishing line, no offense master Slipknot but I doubt you consider silver sturdy enough for the job.¡±


    ¡°Maybe in a lure,¡± Gavin replied, not entirely unserious. ¡°But somehow I don¡¯t think that¡¯s what you¡¯re talking about.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve not concocted a means to rapidly duplicate documents.¡± By which did Hywel mean he knew of such a way? Other than copying by hand? Or magic? ¡°So I¡¯m afraid you¡¯ll have to share this one. Though, while Master Brakelond goes over that, perhaps the rest of you can give your thoughts on what I mean to use it for.¡± Thus saying, Wayland produced a second, thicker folder which he passed on to the other side of the table.


    Orsur tried not to look too disappointed, but it became harder and harder as time went on. Those looks on their faces were not the sort one easily suffered watching in silence. Becoming mankind¡¯s first engineering guild was already a tall order, never mind the dangers of malicious rivals and even nobles likely wanting to take them over in the future for their own ends. But what he was seeing now made it look as if these people were seeing something even bigger looming over their future.


    ¡°I believe this to be in my friend¡¯s capabilities,¡± Brakelond said. ¡°May I keep this to show him?¡±


    Wayland looked apologetic but firm all the same. ¡°I¡¯d rather err on the side of discretion for this. You can verbally convey whatever you can memorise, but I want no writing of this circulating, for now. I¡¯m not just saying that because it¡¯s not written in code. You¡¯ll understand once you¡¯ve read the rest, I hope.¡±


    He certainly could stoke curiosity.


    And isn¡¯t it interesting how the young lad has thoroughly taken over the meeting? Orsur glanced at Zidar. Not that our host seemed to go out of his way to stop him.


    Finally, the pressure of the stares on their side of the table saw the document given over into their hands. Orsur reluctantly passed on eavesdropping on the ensuing whisper storm in favour of leaning over to read along with the others. By the time Zidar decided to rise from his chair and stand over them to do the same, he was thoroughly engrossed.


    No, that term was not strong enough. He knew no term strong enough to describe what he was experiencing right now. He had been closer to his mind breaking, back in his youth when he still had to use his coin as much as his knives to get from one market to the next. But he¡¯d never been rattled so much by a document, never mind one outside his specialty. That he more or less understood what was written was as amazing as the contents were unbelievable.


    Flow equations, motive forces, lodestones, magnetism, the interactions that could be had without them even touching, the most surreal of mathematics...


    Water plus copper equals¡­ lightning?


    No, it was even deeper and simpler, somehow, water was just the most immediately available source of motive force. What really happened was that Wayland Hywel had figured out how to pull lightning out of rocks.


    Wayland Hywel had figured out how to make lightning without magic.


    But why? For what purpose? Orsur thought dumbly. And even the Church agrees with the mages of Dalaran that lightning is under the ultimate claim of the spirits of air, am¡­ Am I looking at sacrilege?


    But that was just page one. The rest was entirely given to practical applications.


    They were¡­


    Magelights without the mage, heating, cooling, refrigeration ¨C he¡¯d never heard of that word before ¨C self-driving machinery, mechanical forces beyond anything anyone could dream of, plumbing without having to demolish a chunk of the neighbourhood to build a water tower, never mind build piping over half the capital, with this you could actually harness the springs further down the mountain, all of that on demand, in the home even.


    Material purification. Mass production. Automation.


    The telegraph.


    Bloody hell, the world will be unrecognizable in less than fifty years!


    ¡°I¡¯m keeping the wireless applications back for now, until I¡¯ve managed to properly assess their impact on the mystical elements that have so inconveniently impaired my other projects. We wouldn¡¯t want the air spirits to decide to kill us all for being too noisy, for example.¡±


    Zidar leaned heavily against Orsur¡¯s chair. ¡°Young Master. Please. Don¡¯t joke about such things. Not all of us have hearts as steady as yours.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve seen it happen.¡±


    WHAT?!


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Asked Melissa Blackthorn, her composure finally cracked. ¡°What did you see? A vision of the future?¡±


    ¡°Are we ushering in the world¡¯s destruction?¡± Keyton joked. Badly.


    Wayland shook his head ruefully. ¡°No. It was something in the far, far past, the world was far different, before the here and now, you¡¯d never have heard about it. And it had nothing to do with electricity or air elementals, it was¡­ well, he fancied himself a god and he thought humanity was too loud. Didn¡¯t turn out the way he¡¯d hoped, but mankind had a hard time for a few centuries.¡±


    What are you talking about? How can you talk about it so blithely? Orsur looked at the others. Is seriously no one going to follow up on that?


    Apparently not.


    Finally, Smid Keyton sighed and scratched his shaggy hair. ¡°Fuck me. Alright, fine. Let¡¯s turn the whole bloody world upside down, why not?


    ¡°Don¡¯t complain about getting exactly what you wanted.¡± Melissa Blackthron sighed and cradled her perfectly powdered forehead. ¡°Alright. Alright, clearly we underestimated the investment we would need, and which we would be thoroughly willing to put into this.¡±


    ¡°Clearly,¡± Keyton grunted. ¡°My forge is looking a mite inadequate right now.¡±


    ¡°The guilds will riot,¡± Slipknot said, and why the hell was he being so gleeful all of a sudden?


    ¡°I can try to shoulder the financial burden for this, to start with,¡± Melissa went on as if she hadn¡¯t been interrupted. ¡°But I¡¯m no longer under the illusion that my coin will be enough. Even if I try and fill in the void that Master Kelsier so inconveniently dumped in our lap, that will still take considerable time. I¡¯d much rather not have the distraction.¡±


    Well damn, that¡¯s a lot less backhanded than I expected, but... ¡°So glad to know I only rate as a distraction,¡± Orsur couldn¡¯t help but snipe back. That woman¡¯s oh so dignified grousing always made her so unattractive, it was a real shame. ¡°You really shouldn¡¯t do that, I¡¯m not out of business yet.¡±


    Blackthorn favored him with a gimlet eye. ¡°That¡¯s a different tune than the one you sang before, or so I¡¯m told. Have you come into a sudden windfall in the past few days?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s all down to how this meeting goes, now isn¡¯t it?¡± Orsur admitted, feeling remarkably unashamed as he finally got to unload some of his frustration. ¡°I know well the sorts of games of passive-aggressive one-upmanship you play, woman. But I¡¯m telling you now, for the first and last time, I don¡¯t play games. Not when lives are on the line, I¡¯ll remind you.¡±


    Blackthorn stared at him for a long time. He stared right back.


    Finally, she broke eye contact and daintily rubbed her nose. ¡°Fine. You¡¯ve made your point. Much as I enjoy competition, if we¡¯re to seriously enter this enterprise I¡¯d at least it be of a healthier sort than this.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d rather not have competition at all,¡± Orsur groused, finally giving voice to the one, major misgiving he had with these people he¡¯d expected so much better of. ¡°Competition is for competitors, not business partners and certainly not guild mates. You don¡¯t see me trying to poach anything, do you?¡±


    Mark Tarren glared at him.


    Madam Tayer scoffed at the sight. ¡°Don¡¯t you glare at him, boy. Your father was far out of line, and you just as much for not making a proper judgment call, you¡¯re bloody well an adult, you should know better.¡±


    Tarren turned stony once again. ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to let him know you said that.¡±


    ¡°Please do.¡±


    ¡°After you leave, which I hope will be after we¡¯ve thoroughly dined and wined,¡± the poor cook still sued for peace, poor man.


    ¡°Forget the food, we really do need to think of the other guilds!¡± Keyton bemoaned loudly. ¡°The other builders will love us, but I¡¯m a blacksmith and I can already see the disaster coming. All the other blacksmiths will hate us! They¡¯ll think we want to drive them out of business, and we will, the ones that don¡¯t change fast enough! And¡­ and the weavers! The thread spinners, the seamsters, Madam you know what I¡¯m talking about, you must.¡±


    Madam Tayer did, indeed, know. ¡°And what do you want me to do about it? I¡¯m just one woman with a few friends and understudies. And if I¡¯m reading things right, I won¡¯t even need more than that. Why should we even care, exactly? They can bloody well suffer the consequences of our actions like every other person.¡±


    Harsh, but true. If life was fair we¡¯d all be dead. ¡°Competition is the lifeblood of commerce. Sometimes, you even win.¡±


    ¡°Forget the guilds, what about the highborn? I don¡¯t want to think what the nobility will have to say about this, or¡­ the king!¡± Tarren snapped, even as he said what they were really dreading the most. ¡°They¡¯ll eat us alive. We¡¯ll have to set up elsewhere, we can¡¯t do this in the capital without something going wrong, surely?¡±


    ¡°It has to be here,¡± Zidar groaned as he collapsed back in his chair. ¡°This is where all the business is going to be, everyone with a title will want their homes renovated with¡­ wiring and... and new plumbing! We¡¯ll need to bring everyone we know into this, how will we ever vet so many people?!¡±


    The Light passed over them like a wave of youthful inspiration.


    Their tirades cut off. Their hearts calmed. Their minds cleared. Their all too justified nerves settled at the back of their minds, present but distant enough that they could no longer interfere with reason.


    When Orsur managed to look at their saintly benefactor, Wayland had his chin his hand and was watching them with undisguised fascination. Then the lad looked right at him. ¡°Master Kelsier. You said you were having trouble. Please tell me about it so I don¡¯t need to do any more guessing, hmm?¡±


    Woodenly, Orsur complied. He laid it all out, evenly and concisely. The Light¡­ didn¡¯t make his troubles seem any less monumental, but he no longer felt like they were insurmountable. He felt¡­ brave.


    No one interrupted him. No one looked at him with disdain or suspicion either, for a wonder. Some were even looking at him with sympathy again. He hated to see it, but was also grateful even if he didn¡¯t show it. While it lasted.


    ¡°And so I¡¯m practically bankrupt,¡± Orsur finished. ¡°The increased tariffs and contract poaching by the court was already straining my operations, all my other business peers can attest to it. But now, not only have I incurred a historical loss, but half my agents all over Alterac have suddenly been arrested. I haven¡¯t engaged in any of the things they¡¯re accusing them and me of, but with communications cut off I can¡¯t categorically confirm that my agents are as clean. I¡¯m expecting the magistrate¡¯s next summons any day now, to talk about all the new ¡®irregularities¡¯ again. I know the people to solve this, but I can¡¯t bring them on my payroll if I don¡¯t have one.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Zidar said awkwardly. ¡°Well, I sympathize, surely, but this isn¡¯t exactly what I usually mean when I say that everyone has problems.¡±


    ¡°Of course not,¡± Orsur said darkly. ¡°Friendship should never mix with money, I know that well enough.¡±


    ¡°Still,¡± Slipknot ventured. ¡°You can hardly fault others for doing the same as you.¡±


    Why the hell are even the fishermen this jaded?


    ¡°I don¡¯t really get it, though,¡± Tarren said, his confusion so blatantly fake it was painful. ¡°You seem to have enough for bribes.¡± Of course, why wouldn¡¯t a bloody milkdrinker from the arse end of the hinterlands think he knows everything? ¡°Or will you claim you¡¯ve not been greasing palms with all this in and out of the magistrates office while-?¡±


    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°Do you want an honor duel to the death?¡±


    Tarren shut his fool mouth.


    Orsur glared him down with a look. ¡°You have a lot of experience with bribes, is that it?¡±


    Tarren had the audacity to glare. ¡°I¡¯ll thank you not to insinuate-¡°


    ¡°Insinuating is a damn sight better than what you just displayed, boy.¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you pay yourself a thousand gold while leaving everyone off with a pittance,¡± Madam Tayer suddenly threw in.


    What is she -? ¡°That¡¯s not¡­¡±


    ¡°You even let go of your bodyguards.¡±


    This is why none of you managed to climb any higher in your guilds, your management skills are only less shit than your judgment! ¡°My people are unjustly courting the gallows, woman, what do you expect me to do!?¡± Orsur was glad for the Light¡¯s blessing their benefactor had cast, because he was sure he would otherwise have wanted to throttle that hag. ¡°Oh blast it, forget it, if you won¡¯t even let me finish answering your own questions, there¡¯s no point in me saying anything else.¡±


    ¡°Actually, maybe you should,¡± Blackthorn finally lived up to her name, though Orsur, bizarrely, still wasn¡¯t sure who she was stabbing. ¡°There seem to be a lot of unresolved feelings. I, for one, am dying to know everything you kept back. Your reputation is not of such an untalkative man, especially during such an event. What has been on your mind, really?¡±


    If your brain suddenly exploded, would it even mess up your hair?


    Across the table, Wayland Hywel caught Orsur¡¯s gaze. The man felt like the sun came down from the sky to sear his mind clear while he listened to the Young Saint talk about demons and dragons over butter cake. He blinked heavily several times, feeling dazed.


    His eyes¡­ were they golden just now?


    ¡°We should do it.¡±


    Eh?


    Everyone looked at Wayland Hywel in absolute surprise.


    All the pleasantness was gone from the young man¡¯s face. All that was left was total, calm, unvarnished judgment. ¡°I feel the need to explain something, because clearly no one here understands. When someone in a leadership position gets paid a ¡®fortune¡¯ right after a disaster that leaves the entire enterprise in shambles, odds are good he won¡¯t see any of the gold. That coin is, at most, a ¡®retention boon¡¯. It¡¯s how you incentivize the one in charge to stay on and see the fallout all the way through. Because otherwise there¡¯s nobody left with access to or understanding of the records, the contracts, the accounting, nothing. All of that needs to be managed, leveraged, and in this case, presented to the court and arranged to be unwound in an orderly manner.¡±


    Orsur clenched his fists and pointedly didn¡¯t look at any of the others. How was it that the only one who actually understood anything was a child?


    ¡°Now, the security always should be the last to go, in my opinion. But in this case, they apparently were the last to go. Clearly, Master Kelsier stopped paying them because at this moment they are more a burden than help to his priority of saving the people actually essential to his business. None of this is invalidated by the fact that he paid money to do all this work to himself. That money is a financial and legal necessity to wind it all down, and even the most honest magistrate will recognize and encourage this. Now, perhaps he did have to pay bribes, but honestly, are we going to pretend Alterac isn¡¯t overburdened with obstructionist third son bureaucrats?¡±


    No one said anything.


    ¡°As galling as it is, paying to grease palms is a necessity in this city. Overall, it seems to me like Master Kelsier is only looking to afford those people of actually relevant skills he needs to help him avoid messy court complications that could land him and all his innocent people in the dungeons, or worse. Somebody needs to swear to the court that all his accounting is honest and true. That he¡¯s doing this himself instead of paying someone else is, honestly, more nobility than I¡¯ve seen from all the king¡¯s court.¡±


    That¡­ well¡­ curses, now he was getting all misty-eyed.


    ¡°Master Orsur. You¡¯re asking for a loan, if I¡¯m understanding right.¡±


    Orsur nodded stiffly. ¡°That¡¯s right. I¡¯m willing to put up my share of the guild ownership as collateral.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, we won¡¯t be doing that.¡± Wayland Hywel decided, putting a sudden and final end to the absolutely farcical pretense that anyone was in charge there but him. ¡°If we¡¯re seriously going to form a guild together, there won¡¯t be hanging threats. We won¡¯t be doing handouts either. We can just offer a contract of remuneration to be doled out in portions over the next year. I expect that¡¯s what you¡¯re doing yourself with your essential employees, while this mess is dealt with?¡±


    ¡°They-¡° he cleared his throat, felt a bit cloggy there for a moment. ¡°My people are more interested in stable employment than to cut and run with a quick and dirty paycheck.¡±


    Wayland nodded, then gravely stared down everyone else. ¡°Taking responsibility for a collapsing business is no small matter when the courts could have you de-handed or hanged. We¡¯ll need to see if we can pay for the legal defense of the agents as well. Call it an investment, this won¡¯t be any different than co-opting any other business fallen on hard times, which I assure you we¡¯ll be doing a lot of in the future. To be honest, I expect this to be the first of many challenges coming our way if you¡¯re serious about this enterprise. Call it our trial by fire if you wish. I¡¯m now putting this matter to a vote.¡±


    There was a long silence.


    Then Melisa Blackthorn, of all the devils, leaned back in her chair and said. ¡°I second the motion.¡±


    That¡­ that¡¯s it?


    ¡°Thank you, milady.¡± Wayland nodded. ¡°Everyone, please be ready to vote by the time we disperse. In the meantime, now that we¡¯re done with the histrionics, let¡¯s see what we can do so everyone comes out of this ahead. I have a few ideas that should turn out lucrative for each of you individually while our main enterprise gets off the ground.¡±


    That¡¯s it?


    They talked forth. They talked back. They ate food. They drank wine. They talked back and forth some more. Their saintly patron spoke of miraculous medicines, spinning wheels, canning, punch cards, ways to make cotton almost as fine as silk, wool almost as soft as cotton but still wick sweat and heat, brocades, soda, baking soda that had the master cook salivating, blow torches, spot welding, steel forging methods never before seen, uses for copper that could make it more valuable than silver, a miracle metal you could only smelt by mixing it with an invisible underwater rock ¨C what in Heaven? - he didn¡¯t stop until he had something that could make each and every one them rich even if they grand plan never found its wheels.


    By the end of the day, the prospect of future profit had well and truly soothed whatever wounds anyone and everyone had suffered at the cruel hands of facts and common sense.


    They voted aye to take on all of Orsur¡¯s legal expenses for the next year, with just one absentee and Tarren abstaining on account of lacking his father¡¯s authority.


    That¡¯s it?


    That¡¯s all it took? The greatest trial of his entire life¡­ His problems were all solved, just like that?


    I-


    He¡­


    I need to-


    He needed¡­


    ¡­ I need to know what you call prayers when you¡¯re just giving thanks.


    <h3 style="text-align: center">"-.  .-"


    ¡°-so I suppose this is the best framework we can devise, for now,¡± said Zidar when they at last finalized their preliminary guild charter. ¡°This should give us the sort of formalized, professional arrangement that prospective clients will take seriously, while still letting us procure all the materials, products and services unimpeded. Well, relatively speaking. We¡¯ll need all of that for the sort of multi-layered and complex projects and renovations we¡¯re expecting now. Especially if we¡¯re going to pool enough funds to finance assembly lines ¨C while we can expect them to pay for themselves within months, initial investment should still be considerable.¡±


    ¡°Not to mention this will spare us having to seek noble patronage,¡± Orsur said idly. ¡°Having one holding our leash would rather put us at risk of losing other nobles as clients.¡±


    ¡°All of whom will want everything,¡± Zidar grunted.


    ¡°¡®Specially with how tense things are right now,¡± Keyton scowled. ¡°Feels like all the orders I¡¯ve been getting have been for swords, knives and more knives! What are they even preparing for? Those aren¡¯t proper war arms.¡±


    It was a rhetorical question. Everyone knew what was going on that the king¡¯s purge had only made worse instead of better.


    ¡°And they so love their vanity,¡± sniffed Madam Tayer. ¡°But we need to use it fully if we¡¯re to hope they don¡¯t impound us and pass a law to forbid anyone but the nobility from owning such scalable means of production. It won¡¯t be easy on the nerves though. What do you want to bet they¡¯ll want everything to look the same even after the work?¡±


    ¡°Lightning lines may be possible to install unobtrusively,¡± Mason tried to be optimistic. ¡°But plumbing can¡¯t, especially if they want hot water, we¡¯ll need to do a lot for that, it will probably take fake walls and higher flooring to conceal things. We¡¯ll need mass production running as fast as possible, at least for the woodwork, they¡¯ll want fine, identical flooring, wainscotting, panelling¡­ practically every known trade expertise will need to be involved.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll need a foundry before I can commission the proper gear work,¡± Brakelond noted, crossing his arms. ¡°I hope your peers will pull through, Keyton. One blast furnace probably won¡¯t be enough.¡±


    Keyton gave Brakelond a deadpan look. ¡°You don¡¯t say.¡±


    ¡°We may need to look outside the country as well,¡± Blackthorn mused, swirling her wine glass. ¡°And that might be our biggest hurdle, especially for clients who want certain magical effects or enchantments integrated. I¡¯ve been hearing stirrings about Dalaran imposing tariffs on their side. There¡¯s already been a wave of renegotiated contracts with harsher terms.¡±


    ¡°Truly?¡± Brakelond frowned. ¡°Why would there be tensions with Dalaran? Do we need to see about divesting ourselves of the Auction House as well?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure,¡± Melissa admitted. ¡°If we did, though, we¡¯d hardly draw too many eyes after how many others have already done the same. It all depends on how quickly we can grow our guild auxiliaries.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m certainly relieved that so many high-placed experts didn¡¯t gather just to tell me my inventions are too troublesome,¡± Wayland Hywel jested before he left the others to grumblingly draft copies to all the paperwork required. The tall young man came over to Orsur then instead. ¡°Master Kelsier. A private word, please.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    As soon as they were nearer a corner, Orsus felt the air¡­ do something and suddenly he couldn¡¯t hear anything from the others, and even looking at them was hazy like... like looking through steam? Or hot air from a fire?


    This was not the Light¡¯s work. He¡¯d seen enough to know that much.


    ¡°I need to know what all was in that shipment you lost. Please be thorough.¡±


    Oh no¡­ Orsur complied. Wayland Hywel just looked down at him until he got to the alchemical shipments. Then he began asking very specific questions.


    When he was done, Wayland rubbed a hand over his face. ¡°I¡¯m hiring myself out to help with your ledgers.¡±


    What? ¡°I¡¯m¡­ not sure I understand.¡±


    ¡°There was an ambush on Duke Angevin¡¯s retinue just two days out via the Valley pass, you heard about it yes? They set up a rockslide which they would have set off using an alchemical mixture which, in my admittedly fudged estimates, would amount to just about the same ingredients as your shipment.¡±


    Orsur¡¯s heart sunk to the bottom of his stomach. ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll have to confirm it with Narett, but I¡¯m quite strongly inclined to that conclusion. I can¡¯t begin today, there¡¯s another obligation I have to discharge first. But from tomorrow or at least the day after, I¡¯ll be able to stick with you at least for the next month or two. Officially I¡¯ll cross your T¡¯s and dot the I¡¯s, I can do that much. Unofficially, I¡¯ll try not to do too terrible a job as a bodyguard. I hope you¡¯ll let me vet the people you mean to hire on as well, I¡¯ve developed my skills there some too.¡±


    ¡°Yes! Yes, of course.¡± What was happening right now? Was Orsur such a loose end that a literal Saint thought-


    ¡°Do you already use double entry bookkeeping?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯ll make things easier. Now if you¡¯ll excuse me, I need to finish my business, and hire a carrier to let my family know, I also need to have the things I got on my errands delivered¡­¡±


    What did I do? What did he do, who had he offended?


    ¡°Anyway, let¡¯s draw up a contract for that too.¡± The air wall dispersed. ¡°Master Keyton! And Master Slipknot as well since you¡¯re here anyway, if you could please witness this here little thing.¡±


    Little thing, this is my life! A literal saint divine couldn¡¯t see a way forward for him except being escorted everywhere by a walking divine intervention. Wayland Hywel had just offered to drop everything just to prevent him from getting his fool self killed, why was this happening? The king¡¯s own men had ¨C Jorach had said ¨C no, Jorach wouldn¡¯t set him up, surely? They had history ¨C and there was no point ¨C blast it all, since when was he an easy target?! It was ridiculous!


    Keyton and Slipknot both gave them odd, searching looks when they saw what document they¡¯d drafted, but they exchanged a look and didn¡¯t ask questions before adding their signatures without comment.


    Orsur parted with the others feeling at once elated and alarmed.


    Half-way home, a man at the corner of Well and Fowler revealed himself as a moneylender. Orsur actually considered the shady offer until the interest rate was implied. Instead, he detoured and mentioned the man off-hand while dropping some wine with the ¡®brave crownsmen¡¯ of the guardhouse a neighbourhood over. The Gilnean Sweet was wasted on such thugs, but sometimes your only option was to lean on the resentment of the rival officer for not getting as much bribe money. It was probably too much to hope that the usurer would have his hands cut off, but at least this way it wouldn¡¯t be just the honest merchants having a hard time.


    He reached his neighbourhood uninterrupted after that, finally. Dare he hope for an uninterrupted sleep?


    ¡°Caw.¡±


    Orsur almost stumbled and gaped at the bird. It was a raven. A raven had just cawed. Not like a real caw, it said ¡®caw¡¯ as if it was a human saying it.


    ¡°It¡¯s making fun of us,¡± said the wife of the most distant neighbour he still bothered to stay familiar with, where she was putting clothes up to dry across the fence. ¡°It spent the past few days waging a one-fowl war on the entire flight of pigeons loitering around the market. We, of course, all yelled encouragement, and then tried to make it feel welcome after it actually won, if you can believe it. Now it likes to haunt people and say ¡®caw¡¯ at us.¡±


    ¡°Caw,¡± the raven said, fluffing its feathers and then flying off to say ¡®Caw¡¯ at¡­ a raggedly cloaked thug. One who looked up to glare and shoo the bird away, thus revealing his face. The face of the guard sergeant from the neighbourhood where the moneylender had been.


    What the devil? Orsur thought, pretending nothing was wrong as he nodded in goodbye to the woman but took a detour through the next side alley. What is he doing here? Was he in on the swindler¡¯s doings? Is he angry I tattled on him? But he can¡¯t have already found out, and to do this in broad daylight¡­ Orsur took off his cloak, turned it inside out and put it back on with its hood up before peered around the next corner. Thuggish disguise, but you can¡¯t completely hide that posture and the armour beneath the cloaks. There¡¯s a whole squad here, doing¡­ not the worst job of staking out a place I¡¯ve ever seen, damn. He withdrew to the shadows. My home is being watched. Do they mean to arrest me? But then they wouldn¡¯t need to dress up like ruffians.


    Withdrawing further, he retraced his steps and left a different way than he came, hoping nobody would think to ask the woman about him. He¡­ wasn¡¯t guilty of anything so he didn¡¯t need to resist arrest, but after what Master Wayland told him, his gut instinct was yelling loudly to go quietly anywhere but their direction.


    He wandered the streets on a circuitous path as he tried to reassess his situation. When he was one street away from his favorite inn, he detoured right through the place. Casually informing the innkeep that his erstwhile guest might come over in the following days after all ¨C good thing we settled on this as the meeting spot for the morrow ¨C he then borrowed one of the rooms.


    Once there, he turned all his other clothes inside out as well, turning from red and blue to the grey and black of chimney sweeps. He also attached a fake beard and moustache he always carried just in case, and put on a pair of very thick spectacles. One should always maintain good habits, and two-faced clothing remains one of the best.


    Orsur went down to the den and sauntered as if he belonged there, just as two of the same guards came in, their hair more tussled than windswept, they must have had more than a cloak to take off to look presentable again. Whatever they want me for, it¡¯s not legal, especially if the sergeant won¡¯t risk showing his own face.


    Orsur looked at the door and weighed the risk of exposure from making a run for it, against the likelihood that the guards would want to cause a scene. His disguise felt more and more thin the more he waited. The Survivor¡¯s Bag of Coins hung heavy on his belt. The day had given him little hope that he could trust sense and reason to prevail anymore. If either man had any brain in their head they might still see through-


    ¡°Whoa, now!¡± came the bombastic voice right as the guard Sergeant¡¯s roving eyes turned to him. ¡°Good man, what¡¯s with that face? You look like you¡¯re contemplating murder!¡±


    Who-? Oh confound it, of all the people he could possibly have run into, it had to be him. ¡°Blindi.¡± It wasn¡¯t even his real name, nobody knew what it was, the same way nobody knew where he lived, if he had family, what he did for a living, nothing. Oh, Orsur did not have time for this! ¡°Still not sober?¡±


    ¡°Sobriety is for hops guzzlers!¡± The man got in his face and looked right at him as if his eyes weren¡¯t both cataract-white. ¡°What¡¯s with the raincloud?¡± The booze breath almost knocked Orsur off his feet. ¡°Want to talk about it? Shared woe is lessened you know! Come on, come on and let this old man buy you a drink!¡±


    The old fogy talked as if he wasn¡¯t the terror of drinking establishments everywhere. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ll have to pass.¡± He was already in trouble for crimes he didn¡¯t commit, no way would he also be caught consorting with the man that had driven half of the purveryors of spirits in Alterac city out of business over the past fifteen-some years. ¡°I just came out of an important meeting and-¡±


    ¡°Pssh, and that¡¯s more important than spilling your woes over a pint?!¡± The man stomped all over his refusal, hooking an arm around his neck and all but dragging him through the throng of patrons, to which the guards rolled their eyes and looked away in disgust, well now!


    ¡°You know, on second thought why not?¡± Orsur changed tune, feeling only slightly guilty at taking advantage of the old timer. The ruinous scale of the man¡¯s bar brawls was exceeded only by his bizarre ability to evade reprisal. The few places that didn¡¯t immediately throw him out these days only refrained because they feared noble retaliation. They thought he was some sort of spy. ¡°My day¡¯s been a real killer, I need to unwind ¨C but it¡¯s too stuffy to stay inside. I¡¯ll take your offer outside, and only a sip!¡±


    ¡°Only a sip he says, kids these days, lily-livered and stomach made of wafer!¡±


    Whatever you say old timer.


    The next five-some minutes were spent indulging Blindi¡¯s bombastic grousing and pretending to drink beer while subtly maneuvering them farther and farther from the door every time the drunkard stumbled into him. Not for the first time, Orsur wondered why those hapless nobles kept hiring this tippler to play Greatfather Winter every Winterveil. Unless they were looking for a reason to execute him? But surely it couldn¡¯t be that hard to confect something, they did it for everyone else just fine. Half of the highest nobility were killed that way just last year, and now look! It was the ultimate source of the mess he was in right now.


    ¡°Thanks for the drink, Blindi, but I really have to go now, have a good day!¡±


    ¡°Definitely better than yours, boy!¡± I¡¯m forty. ¡°Ridiculous lad, can¡¯t stomach an honest mug¡¯s mirth, what¡¯s the world coming to?¡±


    Orsur almost let loose his barbed tongue that he was so careful not to unleash except on the truly deserving, but even disregarding that he was on the run, one thing stopped him ¨C the old drunk somehow seemed to know everyone. If he wasn¡¯t some sort of spy for the nobles, he must have dirt on those nobles and the ability to survive whatever they¡¯ve thrown at him in response. Also, as insufferable as he was, he had just helped him dodge¡­ potentially mortal danger.


    He wandered the city until he was sure no one was following him anymore, then checked into a room at the grungiest inn he could find that still offered individual rooms. He wasn¡¯t low enough to lead trouble to anyone¡¯s door, nor was he desperate enough to resort to a flophouse where he would have a dozen innocents and no walls between him and knives.


    He trapped his door and spent a tense, sleepless night listening to every voice and creak, intersped with peering through the cracks in the dirty curtains. He was almost ready to breathe a sigh of relief when dawn broke, only to spot cloaked figures stepping up to cut off both ends of the alley below.


    I definitely lost all my trackers before, Orsur thought grimly. That they still found me means expertise they never showed before, or magical aid.


    Pondering his options, Orsur changed back to his better clothes. The din from below became suddenly unnaturally muted, footsteps were heard coming up the stairs, all attempts to move silently up to his door failed badly.


    Orsur grabbed his night bucket and threw it at the door just as the thug smashed through it. The man went down in a shower of piss and shit, cursing just as the trap triggered, giving the next two a full dose of powdered mustard as well, right in the eyes.


    More curses, screams-


    CRASH


    Splinters and shards flew around him as Orsur jumped out through the window.


    The drop was long. The ground came at him fast. He palmed a coin from his Survivor¡¯s Bag of Coins and tossed it down.


    A pillow of wooly counterforce broke his fall just enough that his ankles didn¡¯t outright sprain.


    He snatched the bouncing coin out of the air, then he was running ¨C flick, toss ¨C the thugs ahead were blown away one after another, the ones at the next bend got the same, beyond those were four ¨C so many, just for me? ¨C so he skid to a halt, turned the way he came and almost managed to make it out the opposite way before he was herded to a dead end ¨C flick coin at the ground.


    The counterpush threw him up just enough that he was able to grab onto the ledge and pull himself onto the roof. Barely.


    ¡°Hnngh!¡± Sharp pain made Orsur clutch at the side of his neck. Agh, please, Tyr, let it just be a torn muscle, don¡¯t let it be the veins!


    ¡°The fuck?¡± ¡°Where is he?!¡± ¡°He¡¯s on the roof!¡±


    Move, move!


    Orsur scrambled to his feet and stumbled the next half a dozen steps, seeing grey from the pain in his neck every time he tried to turn his head. Fuck, I¡¯ll never live down scaling Ravenholdt Manor, will I? His legs still worked enough to let him cross the next three roofs, then it was one more coin flick and he landed on the main street. None of his pursuers were in sight, but¡­


    Can¡¯t stay here.


    He managed to sprint, duck and power-walk all the way to the main city district, reaching the next to last street before the market square when the crossbow bolt smashed into his back.


    ¡°ACK!¡± He only didn¡¯t fall because a wall was in the way. This is because I wouldn¡¯t let you throw my agents under the bridge, isn¡¯t it? Orsur thought dazedly at¡­ he didn¡¯t even know. He dug blindly through the Survivor¡¯s Bag of Coins as he half-ran, half-stumbled out of the last street straight into a knife through the gut.


    ¡°Hurkh.¡±


    The steel was cold, but it burned.


    ¡°Finally out of tricks, you bastard?¡± The killer thug hissed as he pushed him back into the alley and out of sight.


    Orsur felt the cut. He tasted blood. It wasn¡¯t the sergeant. He spat in the man¡¯s face anyway.


    ¡°Ugh!¡± The smug ¡®thug¡¯ shut his eyes in disgust.


    Flick.


    The coin shot up the same moment Orsur¡¯s other hand pulled out his hidden knife and stabbed the man down through the neck.


    The guard¡¯s face slackened in shock. He clung to his knife like a lifeline as he fell. The steel burned even colder on the way out. Somehow, Orsur still grabbed the man¡¯s crossbow. It was loaded.


    He unloaded it in the face of the next thug who caught up from around the last corner.


    His legs failed him just as the sergeant himself caught up with him.


    ¡°Finally out of tricks you b-¡°


    The coin fell just behind him.


    The force blast hurled both of them through the air, out of the alley and into the open where the morning crowd was just thin enough that people managed to get out of the way. Orsur skid to a halt in the middle of the road, rolling to his back in full view of every stall and their throngs of customers. He felt when the bolt drove deeper in him, could feel his life leaving him even without actually feeling the blood gushing out. He looked at the nearest person and desperately gurgled out a- ¡°H-help¡­ Murderers!¡±


    Finally, the screams came. Shrieks of shock, mothers covering their children¡¯s eyes and ears, the nearest men jumped onto the ¡®thug¡¯ to hold him down, loud and louder calls came for ¡°Guards, Guards!¡±


    Got you, you bastard!


    It was a shit last thought, but it was his.


    Death was a distended view of screams, confusion and more confusion, darkness oozing from the ravenous maws of some strange devil beast one fourth the size of the world, a tunnel of many colors ripping through it, wings flapping, a large, dainty hand reaching out to pull his soul away from the ravenous eldritch darkness trying to suck him in¡­ Then his next great adventure in the arms of a beautiful shining angel was jarringly thwarted by the raven from the day before.


    The black bird landed on the angel¡¯s shoulder in a flutter of wings and annoyance thick enough to blot out the great swirling vortex of heaven. ¡°This is why I don¡¯t bother with anything less than proven mettle.¡±


    Below, someone in the squirming and yelling man pile finally uncloaked the thug and discovered the sergeant getup beneath.


    How could I be killed by someone so sloppy? Orsur wondered in dismay. Don¡¯t I even merit a proper assassin? Perhaps Jorach really had done all he could for him if this was the best that could be rustled up. But still, they were so incompetent! I¡¯ve had to walk around the city over very long hours in order to stay atop the mess I¡¯m in, why didn¡¯t they come for me before? Why didn¡¯t they wait to corner him the next night, even, why do this in broad daylight? If it was a cover-up, it was the sloppiest he¡¯d seen. Even the proper ones didn¡¯t often work. Even if everyone heard the official story, the truth always showed up soon after from a dozen different sources. Even if his last gambit failed, everyone will know the truth within days regardless, no matter what the kingsmen say about Orsur from here out.


    ¡°It¡¯s never about fooling the people,¡± the raven said in disdain. ¡°People are too smart for that. The point is always to warn them ¡®this is what I say is truth and right, and you had better not say otherwise or step a toe out of line like this fool or else¡¯. Your king¡¯s heralds and town criers aren¡¯t there to inform or persuade, they¡¯re there to humiliate. To make everyone party to the lies, the same evil.¡±


    ¡°And so valor is almost impossible to find in Cities such as this,¡± the Angel spoke, what a beautiful voice!


    ¡°Not much good sense either,¡± the raven sniffed, glaring at him. ¡°When the gods send you portents, you¡¯re supposed to heed all of them!¡±


    But what did I do?


    Suddenly, Light erupted from the ground in a great wall around the scene of the crime¡­ just in time to stop the crowd from dispersing like the corrupt guard sergeant¡¯s newly summoned compatriots had nearly succeeded in doing. Cries of surprise turned to awe and hushed amazement. Orsur¡¯s murderer was struck silent just before he might have completely talked his way out of the situation. When had it all happened?


    How much time did I just miss?


    ¡°Is it the priest?¡± people wondered.


    They didn¡¯t wonder for long.


    ¡°The Young Saint,¡± came the murmurs and pointed fingers as the tall young man in question became visible over the gathered throng. ¡°It¡¯s him!¡± ¡°Surely not¡­¡± ¡°He¡¯s real?¡± ¡°I thought he was made up by them nobles to keep us quiet!¡±


    The murmurs continued on and on as Wayland Hywel walked up to stand next to Orsur¡¯s dead body. The Light was bright upon his face, shining from a mighty symbol centred on his brow, bright but not at all blinding. He looked over the gathered people. Looked at the guards. Looked very closely and long at the foul murderer. Then he looked down at Orsur again and went to one knee to lay a hand on the gaping wound in his stomach.


    ¡°Your-you-citizen!¡± the murderer was visibly shaken and afraid, but still had the gall to speak up, here, now, how dare he? ¡°You are interfering in an official Crown investigation. This man has¡­ been convicted of fraud, larceny, and was suspected of several counts of murder, most recently that of a bailiff. He was not content with resisting arrest, but instead brought great harm to the officer and his protective detail, even killing two before finally being brought down for the safety of all. This was the last straw in a long life of disregarding all honourable duties. His idea of profit was to ruin the poor. He made his business out of jeering language, swindling, and extortion, tarnishing the whole course of his life with an evil reputation. He was prepared to allow no one''s innocence among his competitors, but launched wrongful charges against all, and was at the height of happiness when something lamentable occurred in another''s fortunes. He toiled most of all to undermine any other honest business by clever, underhand investigations, and even lashed out at harmless characters whenever he could find some treacherous opportunity to-¡°


    ¡°Have you no shame?¡±


    The Light came down with the force of all Heaven¡¯s judgment on them both, bright and terrible.


    Wayland Hywel didn¡¯t look up from the wound.


    Haedobard Menag fell over dead, his mind seared blank, his spirit burned to cinders, his soul sent screaming into the ether to be pulled down into the ravening maws of-


    ¡°No.¡±


    The angel¡¯s sword came down. The soul was cut loose of the seeking tendrils, free instead to be sucked up through the vortex in the sky to whatever came after.


    ¡°Not even for scum such as that.¡±


    The maws screeched in outrage and unquenchable thirst but went wholly ignored.


    The Light began to glow from within Orsur¡¯s injury, then a column of golden brilliance erupted through and around it, enveloping it, enveloping the Young Saint, enveloping them where they hovered on angel wings, latching on them, infusing them, rising further and further up like a great spire to pierce the swirling clouds, demanding.


    What is happening?


    ¡°There are debts owed to me, val¡¯kyr. By you and your high god.¡±


    The raven squawked.


    In delight.


    ¡°I¡¯m not that easy!¡±


    That doesn¡¯t add up¡­


    The angel descended from the sky. From where his soul was held like a babe in her arms, Orsur saw the precise moment when her form became visible to all. The people looked upon at them and felt awe. Many fell to their knees. More were brought to tears. Prayers rose from all in sight, hushed and reverent.


    ¡°You would spend it on this one?¡± Her voice resonated loud and clear as a bell. ¡°He is nothing, no one, barely a wisp on the winds of fate.¡±


    Am I truly so worthless? But then why-?


    ¡°Yet you would still ascend him.¡±


    ¡°Even so he is barely worth my debt, never mind my lord¡¯s.¡±


    ¡°Then I''ll just have to call that debt in bits and pieces as we go along.¡±


    ¡°You are bold, Prophet. But how clearly do you see the consequences that will result from this?¡±


    ¡°Clearly enough.¡± Wayland met the angel¡¯s eyes, unafraid. ¡°Valor is but one part of worth.¡±


    The angel gazed at the man. The man gazed back. The multitudes knelt all around them with baited breath.


    The raven pecked the angel¡¯s ear.


    ¡°¡­ As you wish.¡±


    The angel held Orsur out. Knelt next to his body, her wings unfurled above him like a baptism shroud. Lowered him over it, into it, taking all the Light the Young Master gave to weave together the loose threads of spirit, body and mind back through his soul.


    Orsur Kelsier came back to life with the sweetest gasp of breath he¡¯d ever experienced in his entire existence. The next one was even sweeter, and the next. And the next after that and the next after that and-


    ¡°Come on, Master Kelsier, up you go.¡±


    He obeyed, rising to his feet when tugged, putting one step after the other when directed, once again he realizing the truth a little too late. ¡°We¡¯re going the wrong way,¡± he rasped, pointing to the proper street. ¡°It¡¯s that way.¡±


    ¡°Then that¡¯s where we¡¯ll go, good man.¡±


    The crowd parted before them, knees bent and heads bowed.


    ¡°The guild,¡± Orsur stumbled through his words, but where his body was still so sluggish that Wayland literally had to hold him upright, his mind was clear. ¡°The others, are they ¨C was anyone else-?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re fine, as life goes. You were the only one aggrieved. They did choose your name for the guild, in the end.¡±


    The Wheel Everturning.


    The words had much more meaning now than a day ago.


    The guard at the far end of the market square stared at them, frozen in fear at their approach. ¡°¡­ Y-your¡­ Worship? We-I-I must request that you-¡°


    ¡°Next person who gets in my way I¡¯ll call the Light to judge like the dirty sergeant over there.¡±


    The guard swallowed dryly, eyes glistening while his breath rattled in his chest, then bowed his head humbly and stepped aside, falling to his knees in prayer like all the rest to let them pass.


    ¡°Come on, Master Kelsier. Let¡¯s get you home.¡±

 The Dark Triad

    ¡°-. July 12, Year 580 of the King¡¯s Calendar .-¡°


    ¡°His Royal Majesty, Aiden Perenolde, by the Light¡¯s Mandate King of Alterac, Master of Alterac Keep, Ruler of the Valley, and Defender of the People True, formally invites Wayland Hywel to Court, on this day of July 12, Year 580 of the King¡¯s Calendar, there to finally determine his character, his role in recent events that have so affected the peace of the City, and, by grace of the Light and the Good, what place might be found for him in the Realm.¡±


    What a nice invitation, except I got afforded no title, no accompaniment, no period of preparation, and my ¡®place¡¯ was yet to be determined so this wasn¡¯t even the king commanding the plebe to come over or else.


    I was being addressed as a foreign interloper.


    I need to get my family out of the country.


    ¡°Very well. I will be ready momentarily.¡±


    The sergeant rolled up his scroll ¡°We are to escort you.¡±


    ¡°And I will be ready momentarily.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid we were ordered to escort you there without delay.¡±


    There were six crownsmen. The sergeant was one, three were holding back the crowd filling every inch of street and window I could see, and the last two walked purposely forward in an obvious plan to flank or surround me up until they bumped into an invisible wall.


    The Shield of Light shimmered into view to bar the street from one edge to the other just long enough for them understand what knocked them on their ass.


    Unfamiliar, bold and arrogant, these men could only have been purposely selected from those who¡¯d been nowhere near today¡¯s happenings.


    Still, the leader only gawped briefly. He looked between me and his guards. Surprisingly pointedly for someone who¡¯d just seen me create an impenetrable forcefield on a whim. ¡°Why you¡­Young Sir, I must insist-¡±


    ¡°Your fellow sergeant murdered my business associate in the middle of the public square.¡± I said flatly. ¡°I will have none of you at my back. You can decide alternative arrangements while I see about my arrangements.¡±


    The sergeant turned visibly indignant ¨C falsely ¨C and opened his mouth-


    I flexed my hands and a shimmer of gold passed over me as Aegishjalmur activated for but a moment.


    The sergeant¡¯s words caught in his throat. The offending guards drew back. Around us, the people looked upon the sight we made and muttered angrily on my behalf with all the religious outrage of an angry mob.


    The Helm of Awe was otherwise known as the Helm of Terror. The mind protection was just a side effect.


    The sergeant turned pale and closed his mouth. ¡°¡­ Very well. We will wait here.¡±


    I turned around without another glance and passed through the gate and out of sight, thankful that it was as tall, solid and gapless as the fence wall circumventing the whole property. Orsur Kelsier had a healthy love of privacy which I could appreciate.


    Duke Lionheart was waiting for me just inside, still in his surprisingly effective sellsword disguise. Having sent his captain ahead ¨C under very vociferous protest ¨C with his wife and sister, the duke had escorted me back to the city with part of his detachment, arguing that he needed to drop off the prisoners personally to make a point. I didn¡¯t mind the time it gave me to teach him the basics of Light magic, at the time, but now¡­


    I conveyed to the spirits to form a sound muffling screen around us and finally nodded at the man.


    He looked at me grimly. ¡°I heard.¡±


    I set about collecting precisely nothing because no way was I going to bring anything important along. Instead I sat down on the bench and looked at the flowers. Master Orsur¡¯s gardener still kept tending them despite being let go, so the marigolds were quite vibrant.


    Truly, Alterac City was infuriating.


    One moment you¡¯re pleasantly blindsided by a business proposal guaranteed to solve all of your problems. Next moment you¡¯re spending your literal favour with Heaven to resurrect people in the middle of the public square. Based entirely on a shot in the dark that bringing people back to life should be possible somehow for that conveniently hovering angel over there.


    I¡¯d watched the process very closely. If I got to witness it another dozen more times, I might even be able to replicate it. Just as soon as I figured out a way to keep souls from moving on in the first place. Say about a decade or five.


    Give or take depending on what would result from the doom waiting for me in the direction of the vulture¡¯s nest known as Alterac Keep.


    Richard sidled up to me. ¡°It was you up on the mountain, yes? That made me see those things.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what others see in a Soulgaze.¡± That, at least, was consistent with the fictional ability I named it for. But I was finding my version to vary quite significantly in utility, never mind depth of insight. ¡°I just know what I see, and what I saw was enough to make me come down to meet you instead of skirting past.¡±


    Richard was silent.


    Then he stepped in front of me and went down to one knee. ¡°Holy One. Please teach me your ways.¡±


    I blinked, startled. Richard just watched me, humble, dignified and completely serious.


    ¡°My ways.¡± Not my skills, not my abilities that he¡¯d already made a good head start on during our two days of travel, not my knowledge or anything else specific. ¡°Are you¡­ asking to become my disciple?¡±


    ¡°Is that not the way of prophets?¡±


    Incredulity, thy name is Wayland.


    ¡°Is it truly so unbelievable? Now?¡±


    Incredulity, thy name is also I didn¡¯t reincarnate into this world to become a cult leader! ¡°¡­ How does the Light feel about this?¡±


    ¡°Like what I saw in that vision is the highest cause there can ever be.¡±


    ¡°¡­ Alright, I can¡¯t do this blind anymore.¡± I conveyed to the spirits to make the sound muffling screen around us extra muffling. ¡°What did you see?¡±


    Richard described what he saw in my soul in excruciating, sharp detail. He was a very enthralling speaker.


    A way with words isn¡¯t all he¡¯s got, I thought dumbly. ¡°I¡­ am forced to concede that your assessment is correct.¡± I had my work cut out for me, didn¡¯t I? I mean¡­ the scope of your commitment is what determined how strongly the Light responded to you, but getting independent verification of how much I had stacked against me was¡­


    Holy hell.


    Later. I¡¯ll deal with that later. ¡°Are you sure you can handle it though?¡±


    ¡°I believe you can teach me how.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t answer so unthinkingly. And don¡¯t put all the onus on me either. My enemy is a nigh-infinite army of demons from beyond the stars.¡±


    Richard¡¯s face slackened. ¡°¡­ What?¡±


    I paused. That word had barely come out, weak and breathless.


    Now why would he react like that? He himself just finished describing the burning legion and orcs and Sargeras glaring down from space while every dragon ¨C oh. ¡°I¡¯m afraid that the components of that allegory you so vividly described aren¡¯t allegories themselves.¡±


    ¡°¡­ Oh,¡± Richard said numbly, looking at me with¡­ I didn¡¯t even know. ¡°Fuck.¡±


    I drove Richard Lionheart to profanity.


    Curse the devil, this was all Sargeras¡¯s fault.


    And curse the universe too, for not giving me the time I need to see this poor man or my poor self through this revelation. ¡°Some trials defy teachings,¡± I grunted, acutely aware of the doom gaining on me like a pack of hyenas. ¡°I''m about to undergo one myself. Before that though¡­¡± I put my hand on Richard¡¯s head and called the Light to carve.


    My hand flashed gold for a moment, and when I withdrew it the Aegishjalmur glimmered clearly on Richard skull, before fading out of sight beneath his hair and skin.


    Richard looked shaken, but tried to hide it even as he put a hand over his brow. ¡°I¡­ have never felt a blessing like this.¡±


    My ¡®blessing¡¯ is my way of keeping your head from being messed with. ¡°It¡¯s only a blessing in a manner of speaking. One I¡¯ll have to do to your captain too, at some point.¡± And however many other people Richard could keep topped up.


    ¡°¡­ That¡¯ll be a task, convincing him.¡±


    No it wouldn¡¯t be, that man was exceptionally loyal and biddable for someone so lacking in morals of his own.


    I stood up and considered the home. The front yard. The flower patches. The home said much about the owner. It would be a shame if anyone got any bright ideas.


    I set about circumnavigating the property, channelling the Light down and around me, grounding it, infusing it as firmly as I could with every footstep. With my awareness steadily growing along with my Spirit, I had a new sense of my surroundings now. One that reached deep enough into the house to find the man who¡¯d crashed to sleep the moment he sat down. I¡¯d had to carry him to bed.


    I overlaid my spirit over his and called the Light to Judge. Both of us. It was the same thing I¡¯d done that killed the murderous guardsman, equal opportunity smiting made blasts of Light very potent. But since Orsur Kelsier had actual ethics and I invoked Protection instead of Retribution this time, it only gave me a sense of his character. Nothing as thorough as our Soulgaze from the meeting, but enough.


    ¡°Boldness is impatient. Courage is long-suffering.¡± Orsur Kelsier was no Spartan, but it wasn¡¯t like those ancient people from Earth had a monopoly on wisdom, especially when they were nowhere as memetic in real life. Besides, when it came to the Light, an incantation worked best when it fit you too. ¡°Boldness cannot endure hardship or delay, it is ravenous, it must feed on victory or it dies. Boldness makes its seat upon the air, it is gossamer and phantom. Courage plants its feet upon the earth and draws its strength from the Light¡¯s holy fundament.¡±


    The Light expanded in front and behind me, into the earth, above me and higher to enclose the entire property in a golden dome. It faded quickly, but its presence did not diminish. It was still there, ready to repel anyone that did not fit the anchor¡¯s notion of Worthy Guest. It wouldn¡¯t last more than a month or two without me, probably not even if I managed to convince a priest to come and pray for it every week, but short-term solutions were still solutions.


    It was the same way I¡¯d designed defences back home, though I was beginning to think that might not be secure enough, the longer I went without having Soulgazed our farmhands. For one, their names were a bit on the nose, especially the last two. For another, Howard, Bart and Barney were paid employees, so not technically guests. The Light didn¡¯t care about technicalities like that, but I still wanted to be sure.


    My powers are making me paranoid.


    Of course, since the king¡¯s thugs had eschewed the principle of distinction to murder my new associate for the high crime of having too much of a conscience for the crown¡¯s cover-up, I was feeling quite entitled to my paranoia.


    I made sure to explain to Richard everything I was doing, if only so he could explain it to the owner when he woke up.


    There came loud and angry pounding on the gate, because of course they¡¯d assume I meant to turtle in.


    ¡°Richard.¡± I double checked that the sound muffling barriers was still there. ¡°I¡¯m being called before the king, and the summons is none too friendly. What would you, as my hypothetical disciple, do in this situation?¡±


    ¡°¡­ Declare myself and publically pledge my protection, my loyalty and my faith.¡±


    ¡­I have never felt more moved in either life. ¡°Then it¡¯s a good thing I¡¯m not saying yes.¡± I could feel the Light in him waver, his self-doubt surging at my apparent rejection. ¡°I refuse to make this decision under duress. And I refuse to accept any decision you make under duress about this. Commitment built on impulse is doomed from the start. If you¡¯re serious, though, we can discuss it properly later.¡± I turned and lowered my face so that I wasn¡¯t too easy pickings for any possible lip readers or scryers from on high. ¡°In the meanwhile, as a favour to me, I¡¯d ask that you go to my home and lend my family your protection instead. We can discuss this further when I return.¡±


    Officially, Richard had already left the city again, so his presence at court wouldn¡¯t be expected.


    ¡°That comes without saying, I was going to offer regardless, but¡­Surely you will need protection as well?¡±


    ¡°I literally don¡¯t have the words to convey how touched I am right now, but no, this is my decision.¡± Soulgaze would convey my feelings and then some, but it but it was unnecessary, and also rather distracting. It took a toll on the Spirit as well. I had plenty to spare now that I was constantly growing it, but the cost was about as much as I sacrificed to sustain my spirit minions for a day, so I should at least try to use restraint. Never mind that I¡¯d already compromised on informed consent twice. Both times I had no other actionable way to ensure the right judgment call in the time available, but having to make excuses means you¡¯ve already failed.


    Truly a sad beginning to my all-new career as despicable cult leader.


    The pounding on the gate stopped.


    ¡°If you could, please leave a message to Master Orsur that I probably won¡¯t be able to follow through on my employment contract.¡±


    ¡°I will leave word with my men, if you think he will accept guards?¡±


    ¡°I meant a note, but I won¡¯t refuse your generosity. Here, I¡¯ll write a note that I vouch for you, so he doesn¡¯t freak out when he finds them on his property.¡±


    The sudden flare of the Ward that followed told me the guard had meant to smash it open. I ignored it and finished writing what I needed.


    ¡°Here. Be well, Richard. I¡¯m leaving my guns here as well, just in case.¡± Except the pistol, my tunic was good enough for concealed carry. ¡°If disaster strikes somehow between now and whatever little time it takes you to leave the city, feel free to use them.¡± I¡¯d taught him ¨C after Occitanier took the ¡®risk¡¯ first ¨C the basics of shooting and trigger discipline on the way to the city, so it should be fine. ¡°If things go sour¡­ get my family out of the country?¡±


    Richard clenched his fists. ¡°¡­ As you wish.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    The banging on the gate resumed.


    ¡°I¡¯m coming, I¡¯m coming! Light save me from unthinking brutes with less patience than a shrieking toddler!¡±


    The guards were visibly surprised to see me come out, or maybe they were put off by my act of a sour old fogy? The sergeant, at least, composed himself quicker this time.


    ¡°Right. If you¡¯ll follow us then?¡±


    ¡°After you.¡±


    This time they didn¡¯t push the issue and resigned themselves to just leading the way.


    Whatever happened, at least it wouldn¡¯t be covered up. The crowd was never not ahead of us, people left behind rushed through every other street to get in front for another look. There weren¡¯t any crying mothers offering their children and begging for grace and blessings, but I could see the shape of them forming out of the future¡¯s shadow with every step I took.


    I had my spirit minions spread even further ahead than that, watching, listening, giving me far hearing and sight of everything happening, everything being done, everything being said all the way to the castle. The closer we got, the tighter the crowd drew until people were near enough to reach out and touch me, despite the pushback from my ¡®escort.¡¯ The closer we got, the more I could see into the Keep interior until my spirits reached the doors and ran wisp-first into a magic ward.


    ~Satiety, surprise, indignation.~


    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    I was only surprised it didn¡¯t encompass the courtyard as well. Come back, little ones, and take shelter in my spirit for a change.


    ~Satiety, shame, joy.~


    For beings that could diffuse until they could see across mountains, they could also make themselves very small. Small enough to hide in my aura so that the wards didn¡¯t even flicker when I passed through.


    Sloppy design or intrinsic limitation? Come to think of it, I¡¯d never heard of shamans or druids being rendered completely impotent on warded or otherwise inimical enemy ground, whether Dalaran or Icecrown Citadel. Probably a hard limitation.


    ~Satiety, smugness, let-me-at-em!~


    Calm down, kids.


    ~Satiety, begrudging ¨C HATE!~


    I feel it too. It was foreign, sudden, unnatural, and aimed at me from above. I didn¡¯t give myself away by looking, but used the sight of the spirits instead. There was a catwalk so high up that it was completely hidden in the darkness above the chandeliers, but spirit sight saw through such things as easily as the Light did through my own. A man, as muscular as one could be without losing nimbleness, dark leathers, dark hood obscuring most of his face, a thick horseshoe moustache and small soul patch on the chin, coloured¡­ I couldn¡¯t decide if it was blond or red.


    As if feeling our notice anyway, the man withdrew into the dark and down through a small hatch.


    The assassins have already been called.


    I hadn¡¯t even met the king and he was already showing his machiavellianism.


    That¡¯s one.


    The guards broke away, leaving me standing in the middle of court. Which was in full attendance but not yet in session. Which meant I got to be gawked at by every worthy and unworthy that managed to shove their way into the hall, not counting the nobility already present. They were murmuring, chatting, whispering, gossiping about me.


    And not just about me, really, even if they were clearly pretending aloofness, the court had suddenly changed its agenda and that was so inconvenient, that one wasn¡¯t planning to attend today, that one hadn¡¯t prepared her case yet, he couldn¡¯t find out what the fuss was about, but she did so what was his excuse, the unwashed masses had made travel difficult for everyone but you didn¡¯t see him complaining, and now look! Even that poor excuse of a drunkard had managed to stumble his way in, at least this time he managed without rolling through every pig sty on the way over but I never, just look at him hollering, what an unsightly display, why the guilds still hired him to play Greatfather Winter every damnable year they just couldn¡¯t understand, were they trying to give the king a reason to execute him, where are the guards when you need them, I do so declare!


    ¡°Oh, pox on your blustering you wet fish!¡± The blind man hollered at the noblewoman talking smack about him from the upper gallery, angrily waving his hip flask as he bumped into five different people. ¡°You¡¯ve not near enough butter on them cheeks to act like this so early in the day! Or do you? What would Falconcrest say?!¡±


    ¡°Wh-what are you ¨C how dare you insinuate, you lowly ¨C I am a married woman!¡±


    ¡°Not happily, way I hear!¡±


    The man¡¯s scandalous histrionics allowed a young barefoot girl the chance to escape the crowd and come over to me like the tritest publicity stunt, holding out ¨C up, children were so small to me these days ¨C a flower. It was a ridiculous, weed-looking thing, ruffled, clearly picked up in a hurry between sprints, possibly through the fence of a stranger. Eight tiny flowerets making up the ugliest posy I¡¯d seen all week. Bupleurum, I recalled from the times I did my accounting near mother in the garden. Coloured acid green.


    I crouched down to take it. Looked ¨C still down ¨C at the common girl. Looked at the flower. On a whim, I poked it with my spirit. It was a new, clumsy skill I needed to ask my little elemental minions to demonstrate once or twice every attempt, but they were more than willing to bear through it since they got to munch on the waste energy every time.


    Lady Anna¡¯s explanations hadn¡¯t really given me much to go on in terms of druidism, back in the valley, but it did finally help me figure out how to match Arcane patterns to verifiable phenomena. When I spent those few hours trying sync a walnut¡¯s patterns to those of the human mind, I¡¯d expected it to become slightly better at what it already did, maybe become a consumable capable of boosting cognitive function. Eating one or two walnuts a day did that naturally, and also reduced the risk of cardiovascular disease, diabetes, depression, lots of good stuff. I certainly hadn¡¯t expected to turn it into a miniature brain. That Odyn would actually make good on my terrible joke of a food offering I hadn¡¯t expected at all.


    Good way to assess his character, though, when deprived of my all new, easy option that I was probably going to fail miserably in not using it as a crutch for the rest of time. Soulgaze didn¡¯t work through familiars. Well, it had worked through my spirits, but only because they just gave Richard farsight to bridge the distance. Not the same thing as the soul being completely removed from the mind by several thousand kilometres in a flying fortress in the sky.


    I watched the flower¡¯s patterns. Resisted the urge to tug and twist them lest I make the poor thing crumble or wither in my grasp, what an omen that would be! But still¡­ Even if Arcane magic was still miles away from not blowing smoke in my face, it wasn¡¯t like natural order was inimical to improvement. And I had been wondering for a while¡­


    Can you lightforge a plant?


    Light¡­ How could this flower best help our commitment?


    The Light flowed through me, out through my fingers into the flower stem, then further, upwards like sieve coursing through the plasmodesmata, up through the sepals, petals, through the pistil and stamen until they glowed, knitting with the Arcane patterns I saw through the plant¡¯s fibres, weaving around and through cells, sewing, livening, enhancing everything in accordance with my expansive notion of wholesome good, then reaching into the ether towards¡­ something when that wasn¡¯t specific enough.


    I could almost glimpse it at the edge of my mind, entangled, encompassing, kaleidoscopic, hazy as if through a green dream. The plant¡¯s very nature as understood by Nature and all the spare potential still unused.


    The flower perked up. The blossoms gained their own glimmering light. The stem straightened. Then it grew downwards until it had regrown its missing parts with all their leaves, then further to regrow all the way to the roots. All it was missing was a bed. Soil. And that pattern was scattered all around me, as ubiquitous as it was clear.


    The Light spread out through it like a lattice and I tugged just so.


    The mud and dirt from a thousand boots flew together in my hand to form an all-new flowerbed.


    Yes, I concluded. You can, in fact, lightforge a plant.


    How much earth could I move at once with this trick?


    I dropped the golden glowing flower back in the girl¡¯s hands, dirt and all.


    She gaped at it in wonder. At me too.


    Nobody was talking anymore.


    I rose and motioned with my head in her mother¡¯s direction, and that, finally, broke her out of her spell and sent her running back.


    The silence continued. It was honestly strange, by druidic standards what I¡¯d just done was barely a cantrip. I doubted mages would find it particularly remarkable either.


    Suddenly, the side door opened and the king¡¯s majordomo stepped forth to speak.


    ¡°All kneel!¡±


    The moment I laid eyes on the King, I understood why I¡¯d felt doomed all day.


    ¡°Presenting His Royal majesty, Aiden Perenolde, Fourth of His Name.¡±


    I understood why I was now beset by such absolute certainty that my chosen way of life was suddenly doomed to end.


    ¡°By the Light¡¯s mandate, of the nation of Alterac and all its outposts and territories King.¡±


    The Light cared about feelings but had no concept of thoughtcrime and judged you only by actions on a scale of warm, fuzzy calculus.


    ¡°Master of Alterac Keep."


    The Light was atemporal, which meant it occasionally earned you a very forward-looking understanding of your commitment and relative choices.


    ¡°Lord of the Valley and Defender of the People True.¡±


    And, as I was now learning, it could synergize with sufficiently exceptional self-awareness of what it truly meant that your commitment was mutual, resulting in the starkest, most unambiguous, most unmerciful premonition.


    ¡°Sovereign of the Most Glorious Order of the White Vulture.¡±


    Like when you were about to do something so cataclysmically ruinous to your Sacred Covenant that nothing you did could ever make up for it, nothing before, nothing after, neither alone, neither combined, nothing at all.


    ¡°Long May He Reign.¡±


    The majordomo finished his spiel just as I came to terms with the grisly reminder of what having options actually meant when the excuse of ignorance did not exist.


    King Aiden Perenolde took his throne and sat down. His gaze did a perfunctory roam over the hall before settling on me. For the first time, I launched the Soulgaze without even a scrap of hesitation. It didn¡¯t activate. There was no reaction. I got nothing. There was nothing earnest, not towards me, not towards others, not even towards himself. Just a false man who¡¯d already made up his mind, looking sternly back to me, proud, regal, and bereft of any scrap of will that could be considered sufficiently authentic common ground for a Soulgaze to connect us by.


    Psychopathy makes two.


    The Great Hall descended into silence. The silence deepened and stretched on and on. Then further and further as everyone waited in awkward, tense, steadily more and more aghast silence as they knelt. Everyone was on their knees.


    Except me.


    The majordomo looked unsurely between me and the king and cleared his throat. ¡°Behold your sovereign,¡± he said, looking at me and then the ground. Pointedly.


    I didn¡¯t move.


    The excuse of ignorance did not exist for me. The excuses of modesty and incompetence did not exist for the king. Somehow, I didn¡¯t know how, if I bent here even the slightest ¨C If I even pretended to bend here with all of these people watching ¨C it would precipitate consequences so catastrophic that all my attempts to make a better future would fall dead.


    ¡°In the Alterac King¡¯s court, it is customary for petitioners to kneel.¡±


    But I¡¯m not a petitioner, now am I?


    I didn¡¯t move.


    The future would be lost. My commitment to the Light would be undone. My commitment to the Light would be knowingly undone.


    The herald scowled and looked at the castle guards. The same people who escorted me here converged on me, grabbed me by the arms, by the shoulders and pulled down, first one, then two, then the sergeant joined in, all three pulling at me with all their weight. Their efforts were vindictive, unrestrained and completely useless. I didn¡¯t move an inch. I stood there and stared in the king¡¯s eyes.


    The Light will leave me if I kneel to this man.


    Losing the last of his patience, the sergeant swung the butt of his spear at the back of my knees.


    ¡°Hold!¡± the king ever so deniably barked just a moment too late.


    The Light flared with bright and cold Retribution.


    ¡°AAAGH!¡±


    The spear shattered in the man¡¯s hands. The Light smote down. The man was thrown to the ground, hands bloodied and eyes blind.


    ¡°Agh ¨C y-you bast-what ¨C wait, what did you do to me ¨C you bastard, I can¡¯t ¨C I can¡¯t see! I can¡¯t see!¡±


    The Light only resulted in ¡®curses¡¯ when there was enough rot in the Spirit that too little was left of it to run everything, after it was burned out. This man must have had much rot in him indeed.


    But the encroaching doom¡­ it wasn¡¯t centred on Perenolde? It overlapped him but revolved around something else ¨C someone else¡­? All the possibilities that came to mind were as alarming as they were quickly discarded when they didn¡¯t make the premonition resonate at all, so who then? Or what? Were they here right now? Weren¡¯t they? Why couldn¡¯t the light tell?


    Leaning back on his throne, Aiden Perenolde gestured for the distraught man to be collected and carried out of the hall. After the rest of my ¡¯escort¡¯ did that, looking back at me angrily and fearfully all the way out the door, the king sent a glance to his majordomo.


    ¡°All rise!¡±


    The people finally climbed off the ground and began reclaiming their seats and spots, the awkward mood at odds with their thirst for the next exciting development they were now sure to get.


    And so, finally, the king addressed me.


    ¡°There is a particular word for people who take justice into their own hands in defiance of king and country.¡±


    ¡­ You know what?


    No.


    ¡°His Royal Majesty, Aiden Perenolde, by the Light¡¯s Mandate King of Alterac, Master of Alterac Keep, Ruler of the Valley, and Defender of the People True, formally invites Wayland Hywel to Court, on this day of July 12, Year 580 of the King¡¯s Calendar, there to finally determine his character, his role in recent events that have so affected the peace of the City, and, by grace of the Light and the Good, what place might be found for him in the Realm.¡±


    The Great Hall of Alterac Keep could only ponder my recital of the summons I¡¯d received, word for word.


    ¡°Such were the words of your summons exactly. No title, not the basest polite appellation, no advocate afforded, no grace period of preparation, no guest right offered to me or charge brought against me, yet still my ¡®place¡¯ is ¡®yet to be determined¡¯ despite me being Alterac born and begotten. Why should I kneel if I¡¯ve already been made an outlaw?¡±


    The crowd did not react well.


    ¡°Silence in the Hall! Order! Order!¡±


    An ¡®invitation¡¯ worded explicitly to disown me of my birth country, ¡®escorts¡¯ chosen from among the dirtiest crownsguard, the most open attempt at public humiliation, assassins already in the rafters, everything wrapped up in a public performance whose only purpose was to give Perenolde the barest scrap of deniability when I mysteriously disappeared, there was not the slightest point in going along with this farce.


    ¡°ORDER! ORDER IN THE HALL!¡±


    The Captain of the Royal Guard struck the ground with his spear five different times before the people¡¯s outrage finally settled into a simmer.


    ¡°Well now,¡± Perenolde said finally, slouching in his seat. ¡°Dare I ask how much of everything else leading up to this was precipitated by this¡­ propensity for misinterpretation and hyperbole?¡±


    I won¡¯t play this game either. ¡°Get the Archbishop here to perform the rite of Judgment Unmerciful and I¡¯ll readily submit alongside all of my accusers.¡±


    So fast that you could be excused for missing it, Perenolde¡¯s mask cracked. ¡°A tendency to jump straight to extremes as well, it seems.¡±


    I didn¡¯t reply. There was no point. Of course he¡¯d refuse, the Judgment would get him too.


    ¡°Many people are dead in your wake,¡± Perenolde said. ¡°Of those who aren¡¯t, some are still blind and deaf.¡±


    ¡°Some actually recovered then?¡± I asked idly, meeting the eyes of the more sour-faced sycophants in the hall one after another. All of them averted their gaze. ¡°That¡¯s good, it means they aren¡¯t completely hopeless monsters. Anymore.¡±


    ¡°¡­ You admit to attacking them.¡±


    ¡°I admit to self-defense and defense of home and hearth against people with no qualms against murdering a fourteen-year-old.¡±


    Perenolde scoffed. ¡°You¡¯re hardly a normal man, by any standards.¡±


    ¡°That I¡¯m exceptional is no excuse for attempted murder against my person, or anything else.¡± He said man, not child. He was trying to avoid looking like he was bullying children.


    Fair enough, there wasn¡¯t a grown man in sight as tall as me.


    ¡°They call you a Saint,¡± the king changed tracks. ¡°What say you to that?¡±


    ¡°The Light¡¯s most beloved virtues are compassion, tenacity and respect.¡±


    A non-answer for a non-question.


    ¡°Some even call you a Prophet. What say you to that?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m surprised it caught on, I was only ever called that twice.¡± By an angel, but I wasn¡¯t about to add fuel to whatever pyre he wanted to burn me on. The crowd was muttering about that already. Loudly.


    What was even the point of this charade? How Perenolde looked to the commoners might not matter to him, but what did he expect this to look like to the nobles? The few he hadn¡¯t mortally aggrieved to point of blood feud? The many he had mortally aggrieved to point of blood feud? It would have made more sense to just order me quietly eliminated so that I mysteriously vanished like a fairy tale sage into the mists of time and imagination. Why put me on the spot like this? Why put himself on the spot like this, when the ship had already left port?


    The only explanation I could think of was that he couldn¡¯t afford to waste even this little chance to gain face.


    How precarious is your rule, really?


    ¡°There is just one thing that I don¡¯t understand. Or I suppose two things,¡± Perenolde said. ¡°What were all those people after you for? What did you do that made them raise their knives? And why didn¡¯t the matter reach my eyes, if it was so important? If it was so innocent, as you claim?¡±


    And with that, it was clear now. Why he would approach this so inimically. Why he procrastinated on summoning me until now. Why he won¡¯t even bother trying to establish a proper rapport. It wouldn¡¯t even be that hard, I wanted to get my designs out there, yet here we were.


    It was you who tried to kidnap me in the beginning, after all.


    The Light eased all my burdens every moment of every breath, but suddenly I couldn¡¯t help but feel tired. I was so tired of this. Tired of guarding a secret that was never supposed to be a secret, tired of fearing for my mother and father every time they crossed the fence, tired of worrying that Narett would be picked up from his house one night and disappeared, tired that anyone else I associated with would be shanked by ¡®thugs¡¯ and ¡®bandits¡¯ in the market square, tired of the futility and the villainy and the unearned grudges everywhere I looked and stupidity.


    All because one man was so full of himself that he projected his mores and his sores and his weakness on everyone.


    Narcissism makes three.


    You know what?


    ¡°Charcoal, sulfur and saltpetre.¡±


    Aiden Perenolde blinked in incomprehension.


    You know what the Light hasn¡¯t disagreed with me on for the whole year and change since I first recalled my past life?


    ¡°The recipe for dwarven gunpowder. That was the great prize I was to be disappeared for, apparently.¡± I shrugged as if unaware that the hall undoubtedly contained at least one ambassadors or spy from literally everywhere. Well, everywhere human at least. ¡°It really was quite strange, it¡¯s not like I was hoarding it or anything. I put it up for auction, I was literally looking for a business partner to market it as far and wide as possible. But after the seventh kidnapping attempt I decided not to bother trying anymore.¡±


    Aiden Perenolde stared at me in astonishment. Incomprehension. Incredulity. I could practically see as his oh so perfect mask shattered the moment the penny dropped.


    ¡°A shame really, there would be tons of it for sale everywhere by now, I imagine.¡±


    The penny dropped for everyone else.


    Then the blind drunkard slurred ¡°But he can¡¯t mean it was all on the crown¡¯s orders, surely?¡± and the Great Hall of Aterac Keep descended into utter chaos.


    Aiden Perenolde glared at me, mouth open and eyes wide.


    I returned it flatly. Shamelessly. Scornfully.


    ¡°Order! ORDER, ORDER!¡±


    There was no order. There was no order so much and for so long that the king adjourned court early and sent me away just so the crowd would follow me out of his sight.


    I complied. I was more than ready to get out of there. But I stopped at the nearest crossroad to brood in full sight of everyone because I was just as ready for my spirit friends to eavesdrop on every conversation they could, unseen to normal eyes and unnoticed to the few magical ones amidst the smoke of candles and tea steam.


    I¡¯d not been idle during that travesty. Once told to avoid the notice of any strange veils and shimmers and patterns that felt off to the natural order of the world, my spirits learned very quickly how to not interact with wards and mages. And while the entrances to the keep were warded thoroughly, the higher floors¡¯ windows and balconies had many gaps, at least three of which I was sure were intentional. Not to mention the wear and tear in old forgotten walls, the secret passages that nobody knew to maintain, and those chimneys...


    Most of what I got was gossip. Some things were missed because the spirits were few and young and they couldn¡¯t look everywhere. Aiden Perenolde couldn¡¯t be spied on when he met with the same sorceress whose protection spells felt like the same from the ambush on Richard. They shut themselves in a locked room with no windows. There was no gap, no keyhole, the place was even airtight and spelled against incoming light and magical interference.


    But the wards did start to stutter for some reason after the king and woman were joined by two men. One was¡­ Jorach Ravenholdt. He looked almost identical to his older self I remembered, except there was still brown in his hair.


    The best assassins have already been called.


    The other was the hooded assassin from the rafters, who idly aimed a smirk right at the keyhole of the next room over where my little spirit was hiding¡­ and did nothing else.


    ~Aberrancy, malaise, fear~


    Yes, I¡­ felt it too, who is that man? Why does he feel that way?


    ¡°Duty compels me to advise against this one last time,¡± Ravenholdt said as soon as the door closed.


    What a world this is, when the master of assassins is the lone voice of sanity.


    ¡°You have advised and I have heard it.¡±


    ¡°¡­ The Church will not forgive this. Not after he literally demonstrated the power to bring back the dead.¡±


    ¡°Just before which he had to murder another man. I don¡¯t know what arts those are, but they¡¯re not holy ones.¡±


    ¡­


    The king scoffed in disdain. ¡°As usual, I am the only one who sees clearly.¡±


    Machiavellianism, psychopathy and narcissism all in the same man.


    ¡°As always, the loyalty of Ravenholdt Manor must be with the Crown, but-¡±


    ¡°So it must.¡±


    ¡°-but what if we fail? This is no normal quarry. He may yet prove mighty.¡±


    ¡°Then I suppose you will live long enough to say I told you so.¡±


    ¡°¡­ You think he would let us live?¡±


    ¡°Hah!¡± The king laughed scornfully. ¡°The day a saint misses a chance to be sanctimonious is the day this castle goes up in smoke. That is the one way in which saints are all reliable.¡±


    Aiden Perenolde¡­ he believed.


    I could see it now. The Light confirmed it with all the strength of universal hindsight. Aiden Perenolde believed everything about me. And because he believed, he also believed I would never be anything but his mortal enemy.


    What other fantasies do I star in?


    ¡°¡­ As Your Majesty commands.¡±


    ¡°Quite. Now go and do your job.¡±


    ¡°I suppose this is why all those wise men and sages always mysteriously vanish in fables.¡± The voice that could only belong to the mysterious hooded man was gruff and plain, but somehow still made me feel as if something oily was crawling up my back. ¡°There¡¯s no room for them in the world of man anymore.¡±


    ¡°If I want wit, assassin, I¡¯ll ask my jester. Or do you want his job?¡±


    Tense silence.


    ¡°I thought not. Montrose, you stay behind.¡±


    The door began to open, so I withdrew my spirits from that dark place. Insistent as the little ones were that there was no risk to them since they¡¯ll just reincarnate in the Elemental Plane, that didn¡¯t reassure me when I had no way to get them back. Not them specifically at least.


    You really need names.


    ~Satiety, reluctance, undecisiveness~


    I couldn¡¯t find it in me to begrudge them their procrastination, I wasn¡¯t sure how it would change them either.


    I returned to the Kelsier home, slow as the trip was with all of Alterac¡¯s citizens constantly crowding my path. Richard had long since left, but four of his men were there, all of whom I was at least familiar with and submitted to my Soulgaze without protest, so I was successful in reassuring Master Kelsier that they were safe to trust. Not that it was hard, there was no man alive that trusted and believed in me as much as he did, now.


    Then I retrieved my guns and went on my way to choose the battlefield, considering and then resignedly discarding any ideas to run away.


    Because you know what the Light hasn¡¯t disagreed with me on for the whole year and change since I first recalled my past life in this place?


    Azeroth needs an arms race more than it needs peace.

 The Forbearing Despoiler

    ¡°-.July 12, Year 580 of the King¡¯s Calendar .-¡°


    I sense a disturbance in the Light.


    Or, at least, I sensed through the Light an approaching disturbance in my near future prospects.


    A threat to my commitment to the future.


    I spent the whole trip from the city to the bottom of Alterac Valley debating with myself if I should speed on ahead as fast as I can, or do the opposite thing of letting my pursuers choose the battlefield.


    In the end, there was one thing that made up my mind.


    I¡¯ve gone and made someone very riled, and it¡¯s not just the king.


    There was something happening, a development with a significant chance of undermining my commitment to the course I¡¯ve set for my life. Something was setting up to stress-test my resolve, a danger not¡­ necessarily among those that had been following me since before I¡¯d even left the city. Precognition was distinctly unclear on the matter, as it only was when the future hadn¡¯t yet been decided. When things were too chaotic for the near future to be clearly seen, especially as a mere shadow. Still, logical deduction indicated one thing.


    My parents are in danger.


    Not a very wise course of action, a third of the Light¡¯s applications were in Retribution and I¡¯d made it clear that I had no qualms about exerting it. But I wasn¡¯t surprised Aiden Perenolde thought himself beyond the reach of such things. What did worry me was that the danger was already there before Richard even had time to get there.


    Dark had come hours ago. I¡¯d made no stops. I¡¯d gone as fast as I could and my bike was feeling the bumps badly, this was no paved road, never mind asphalt that didn¡¯t yet exist. Despite this, my pursuers kept catching up to me in bursts. Since I wasn¡¯t going to deliberately add to the danger to my family, I couldn¡¯t afford to drag this out.


    Little ones, go on ahead and check on the house.


    ~ Satiety, reluctance, we-can-help! ~


    No, their lightning bolts were nice but weak without a ready-made alchemical bomb set up, the spirits were still babies, they wouldn¡¯t even get through enchanted jars, and for everything else I had better options. Most importantly, it had taken most of my attention to direct them during the ambush on Lionheart. In a life or death fight against elite combatants they¡¯d just be a distraction. Their value was in scouting above everything else.


    ~ Satiety, shame, compliance ~


    You¡¯ll grow into it, I consoled as they hastened ahead as fast as they could. And this way I don¡¯t have to worry what else that masked man might be able to do besides seeing you.


    I stopped in the middle of the biggest, most open space I found after the cloud cover moved out of the way of the half moon. I leaned my bicycle against a nearby rock, pulled my shotgun from the down tube scabbard and flipped the safety. I could feel Geirrvif¡¯s gaze on me as the Light came to my call, but it wasn¡¯t the Valkyrie I addressed, or the raven perched aside her neck. Seal of Justice, Inner Fire, Retribution Aura. ¡°Please reconsider this course. Leave me and mine in peace and nothing more need happen. I am willing to let bygones be. Once.¡±


    My stalkers paused, then began fanning out to surround me. One skulked around behind mounds and fern, a second vanished and reappeared around the largest tree still visible in the night, and the third dashed very fast around me in a zig-zag pattern to stop just behind the rock next to me. My second sight didn¡¯t care about obstacles, life was life to me, so I saw their auras even though I couldn¡¯t see them that far during the night, even with the moonlight. But¡­


    I didn¡¯t hear them move at all.


    ¡°Time is not a weakness to me, just so we¡¯re clear.¡± A crossbow glanced off my invisible shield with a flicker of gold just in front of my eye. I didn¡¯t see or hear even a whistle through the air either, gotta stay focused. ¡°Message received.¡± I gestured down.


    The Reckoning blasted the person behind the rock like a lightning strike.


    ¡°Hn!¡±


    He barely grunted, I thought over the whisper of spellcraft as I strafed away from a smoke bomb and around the boulder.


    BOOM


    Grapeshot met gambeson with a thundering blast.


    The hooded man flew three feet through the air, crashed on his shoulder but rolled back to a crouch with barely a hitch, armor and undershirt shredded but his skin barely scratched.


    What the hell?


    The man leapt back into the night just as it began to rain ice.


    That toughness was unnatural, where did he ¨C my second sight, he¡¯s gone from that too!


    My shield held fine, but the air cooled to the point of frostbite so I turned it completely impermeable while I reassessed my-


    The earth shifted beneath me and I stumbled to a knee ¨C I guess mages aren¡¯t locked out of geomancy in real life? ¨C and an arcane missile barrage began to pelt me just as the Blizzard spell lapsed ¨C wait, Blizzard has to be maintained, the earthquake couldn¡¯t be her!


    Cold steel skewered me through the back.


    The night lit up like day as the Light exploded out of me in a shockwave.


    The assassin grunted again, but he still managed to recover and melt back into the night before I could smite him properly. I blasted the spot he¡¯d been in just on principle. The wound, I can feel it rotting ¨C my shield, the knife passed through it, no, the Light vanished from its path as if sucked away by some- ¡°Void,¡± I growled, gritting my teeth as the Light filled my heart and knit it whole.


    Crack ¨C crack ¨C POP.


    My sight was obscured by fresh smoke ¨C no, not just any smoke, I could feel it the moment I breathed in, felt the strain they put on my healing, three different compounds, some manner of tear spray, poison and sleeping gas of some sort that made it through the momentary breach caused by the stab. I considered but decided flashlight eyes would just mess with nightvision, while the Light purged the toxins from my body. ¡°Has the Ravenholdt Manor stooped so low as to employ Void cultists now?!¡±


    The aura of Lord Jorach Ravenholdt hesitated to my far right, but the mage ¨C the woman from the ambush on Richard ¨C blasted me with a frost bolt and began casting blizzard again, which meant she was exposed.


    Rebuke.


    ¡°Ah!¡±


    Hammer of Justice. I pulled my rifle from my back and aimed while she was stunned. Imbue Spell ¨C Exorcism, Crusader Strike, Bullet of Wrath ¨C SHINK came the knife for my back.


    BANG


    The thrice-blessed round went through her heart and ripped her spirit out when it blew through the other side.


    One down.


    I dropped the rifle and aimed my shotgun over my shoulder where mister Hood had gotten his knife stuck.


    ¡°Fuck!¡±


    BOOM


    The dagger somehow didn¡¯t shatter, but Hood had to leave it behind in his haste to not have his whole face blown off. I caught it and overlaid my spirit over it, it was another clumsy skill but enough when the Light was already doing something else.


    Exceptional but conventional enchantments and poison, forcefield failed to stop knife but not the hand holding it, Void magic applied to item but not channelled through limb, restraint or inability, some other reason?


    I set part of my mind on making my dome of Light spin round and round, it would hamper my multitasking but this way any further attacks would deflect off. You¡¯d think it would be overkill for something that could theoretically tank nukes, but apparently not. Looks like I hadn¡¯t, in fact, reverse-engineered the Divine Shield proper.


    I think I know who this is.


    But how? I¡¯ve had to be careful not to make assumptions since I awoke. More importantly, the person I was thinking of would only be in his prime during the Third War. Even a false identity would only be born around the Dark Portal at the earliest, probably years later.


    A new barrage of bombs obscured my sight, sleep and noxious fumes and poison one after another, then another just as that one began to disperse, then another. I reshaped my forcefield into an impermeable narrow cylinder sticking up and up into the clean air, then I widened it into a dome and closed it up, securing a fresh reserve. They were trying to outlast my air supply, or maybe herd me somewhere if I ran, Ravenholdt hadn¡¯t attacked me since the first shot so he¡¯d probably been preparing a trap. But since I could still see where one of them was thanks to my second sight, it only served to conceal my movements.


    I reloaded my rifle ¨C Infuse Spell ¨C Levitate, No Safeties ¨C took aim at the Master of Assassins and fired.


    To his credit, the man had used a smoke bomb on himself and broken into a zig-zagging dash the moment he heard the clink of my gun, but he lacked whatever stealth magic Hood had, so at this range it was like shooting fish in a barrel.


    BANG


    The bullet barely grazed him in the side, there wasn¡¯t even a grunt of pain, but the man ended up floating three meters in the air anyway.


    ¡°Say goodnight!¡± I said as brazenly as I could-


    -and a hiss of pain came from my left because Consecrated Ground doesn¡¯t have visual effects in real life.


    Holy Wrath!


    Mighty bolts of holy power shot in all direction including his face, just as the man smashed through my shield like a ram of oily shadow, only to go wide because spherical Light constructs don¡¯t look any different when they spin.


    ¡°You clever little-!¡±


    Judgement, Holy Fire, Penance!


    ¡°Arrrgh!¡± Screamed my would-be killer as his spirt burned.


    Three crossbow bolts exploded in my face ¨C attached flasks, Ravenholdt¡¯s still floating, what kind of aim does he have? ¨C but I jumped through and grabbed Hood by the face because if my guess was right I might not get another chance. ¡°Abolish Disease!¡±


    ¡°NnnghaaaAAAA?????????????????A???????????a???????????????????????A???????????????????????A??????????????A???????????????A?????????????????????A????????????R??????????????G?????????H???????????????-!¡±


    The scream of pain was long, loud, howling, turned inhuman as I poured the Light into him, matching my healing against old god corruption, burning, cleansing, searing everything that didn¡¯t belong with all the skill and resolve and determination I¡¯d amassed, over months of treating every chronic illness under the sun and even turning back the ravages of age.


    The shadow, the Void, it¡¯s so ¨C how can anything exist with so much ¨C what is this?


    The scream became a roar that shook the earth, the trees, the rocks, even the cliffs all the way to the edge of the canyon seemed to groan, then the ground erupted like a literal volcano under our feet, hurling us violently from each other.


    I landed badly, but the pain was nothing with the Light pouring through me in such volumes. I rolled to my front and pushed up, strafed away as fast as I could from the lava pooling, burning, smoking up to my knees around my forcefield. I dropped my shotgun, shit! I breathed harshly as I reloaded my rifle. I felt my confidence take the first blow it had ever suffered in this life.


    Across the new pool of fire and molten stone, the assassin lurched back to stand too, his movements spasmodic, fitful, each jerk and stagger looking as if his bones didn¡¯t quite fit in his skin anymore. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have done that.¡±


    Exorcise the Unclean, Crusader Shot, Bullet of Holy Wrath, Envoy of Judgment, Spark of Holy Flame, Seal of the Penitent, I infused my weapon to the limit and past it, more and more and more until I shone so brightly I couldn¡¯t see my own outline and more still-


    ¡°Fahrad!¡± Lord Jorach Ravenhold shouted as he did something to get free from my spell and lined a shot with his repeater crossbow. ¡°Get clear!¡±


    Twang ¨C BANG ¨C CRACK


    BOOM


    Three trick bolts engulfed us both in a fiery blast just as the most holy round I¡®d ever shot shattered a wall of stone that suddenly burst from the ground to block its path, stopping it just short of the man¡¯s head.


    I finally knew who this was.


    ¡°You really shouldn¡¯t have done that.¡±


    The master killer, master of disguises, master pretender, the one who matched the Lord of the Ravenholdt Assassin''s League in everything even while sandbagging, the one who would go on to train, test and unwillingly oppose every guile hero worth a damn in the future, without anyone getting even a hint of what he really was. The only one of his kind who put up meaningful resistance against old god corruption all this time, I thought his hidden nature was just a convenient late-stage retcon, but if it¡¯s true-to-life¡­


    ¡°Fahrad,¡± my voice said while my mind chanted Fire Resistance Aura, Divine Protection, Fortitude. ¡°The Trainer of Heroes.¡±


    A ticking time bomb that could have destroyed the entire Alliance at any time, someone who didn¡¯t assassinate all the faction leaders purely because he was possessed of restraint to rival the hunger of ravenous gods, someone who did assassinate all his corrupted kin until he was the last one left, who was only removed from the story because of a newborn whelp¡¯s most ridiculously implausible plot armor.


    ¡°You definitely shouldn¡¯t hav?????????e????????? ??????????????s????????a??????????????i???????d???????? ???????????t?????????h??????????a????????????t????????????.¡±


    The earth yanked itself from under my feet and tossed me away like a sea breaker, my bike broke in half as I smashed through it, my forcefield bounced me off the rock like a ping-pong ball so hard my brain rattled inside my skull. I need-


    Fahrad rode the fiery wave of rock, deflected off my spinning shield- ¡°Persistent bastard!¡± ¨Cthen magma and earth flowed upwards while I was dazed, turning his arm into a smouldering, smoking, gigantic rocky version of itself. ¡°Terribly sorry about this.¡± Then he picked me up and smashed me into the ground.


    SMASH


    SMASH


    SMASH


    SMASH


    Alter shield anchor point!


    CRASH ¨C CRACK


    The arm of fiery stone broke apart under its own strength as my forcefield suddenly became quantum locked to the planet¡¯s core.


    Holy Shock!


    Fahrad jerked in place, stunned and blinded by the burst of Light.


    BANG


    My holy bullet blasted through his lung and out the back.


    Shit, I was aiming for his head, just one more-


    Fahrad roared so loudly it felt like the earth fell away from under me just from that ¨C BANG ¨C my next shot went wide as I lost balance again, the lava flames erupted all around to obscure my sight, somewhere behind me the Lord of Ravenholdt Manor cried out in pain and fell to his knees clutching at his ears, what felt like the whole valley quaked-


    ¡°F-Fahrad?!¡± Ravenholdt gasped, bewildered. ¡°What-¡°


    ¡°¨y¨y¨z¨z¨|¨|¨|¨|¨|¨|¨|¨|©`©`©`£¡£¡¡±


    With a thundering, rumbling roar, the moon was blocked out by the colossal form of an ancient black dragon.


    I stared at the dark shape, aghast.


    Fuck me, he¡¯s as long as Alterac Castle¡¯s belfry!


    The ground shook again as he landed, the air rung sibilantly as he breathed in and out, magma splashed around his claws as he shook his body, his scales clattering rhythmically.


    I am getting seriously fed up with today.


    He¡¯s the reason, it suddenly dawned on me. He¡¯s the reason why kneeling to Perenolde would have been catastrophic! But if this is this supposed to be the least of bad options, how does that make any sense? If this isn¡¯t absolute catastrophe, what the hell would he have done if I¡¯d knelt, woken Deathwing up early?


    The Light sounded in my mind like a knell.


    Shit.


    I looked from my rifle to the dragon. I¡¯m gonna get a hammerspce bag just so I can carry a cannon with me from now on.


    That was when the dragon spat lava at me.


    And it wasn¡¯t just a spray this time.


    It was a river.


    A whole lake¡¯s worth of liquid rock blasted me, pooled around me, engulfed me, swallowed me all the way to my chest, my neck and higher, higher until I was a golden little ball of human and air, completely submerged beneath a rapidly rising, deepening lake of bubbling slag.


    He¡¯s trying to bury me alive.


    No, he¡¯d already buried me alive.


    I widened my bubble to the limits of my range, the limits of my ability to visualise, I had to-


    The dragon stomped through the lava into the ground, his magic splitting the earth beneath me into a wide crack. When my new forcefield didn¡¯t let me fall, he just controlled the lava itself to envelop me and raised the earth high up instead, spewing more and more until there was nothing but magma around me in every direction for ten meters and counting. I contracted my forcefield and drilled upwards through the flaming dross, striking air again with far too much effort ¨C oh shit, close, close, CLOSE!


    I plugged the hole just before the dragon¡¯s breath reached me, he¡¯d been waiting for me to try just that, the bastard!


    More magma came pouring down, blistering hot, shaking as the dragon began stomping on it, on me, he¡¯d gone and buried me alive and wasn¡¯t leaving until he saw the body, fuck my life, who the hell released the evil overlord list on this world?!


    How do I get out of this?


    There was no answer. Nothing save the glow of red behind the gold, the shrieking of shifting molten stone, and a brainwashed dragon¡¯s promise of foul murder.


    I ¨C I need¡­ What do I need? What do I have?


    ¡­ Twenty minutes.


    Twenty minutes on top of however long the air lasted. I could hold my breath for at least that long on my worst day, passive Light-aided conditioning made you Olympic in everything and that was on the low end of records. Add active channelling and I could go even longer.


    I took a deep breath, then slowly let it out and sunk to my knees, clasped my hands in front of my face to meditate and think.


    Light constructs were a balancing act of power output and spatial parameters, I¡¯d tried to invent mobile ones but it went terribly, forcefields only worked because they had a fixed spatial reference, myself or something really easy to define, like the centre of the world. As bizarre as it sounded for the stuff from which everything was ostensibly created, constructs were its least intuitive application. Adding to existing constructs let me cheat, but the dragon was clearly on the lookout for this, and the scope of his breath weapon easily matched me. I was sure that cracking the Arcane would finally let me overcome all these limitations, but I hadn¡¯t.


    Dammit, it doesn¡¯t help to know that hardlight is theoretically possible if the proper photonic manipulation hasn¡¯t been invented yet! Stuff like this is why I¡¯ve been looking for someone to teach me arcane magic all this time!


    I could make handholds, footholds to walk on air, or close enough¡­ But my multitasking had limits, if there was any way to have more than one thought in your head I hadn¡¯t attained it yet, if I tried that I¡¯d still need to prioritize my defense field, I¡¯d move at the speed of molasses¡­ And he¡¯s already proven he can control his magma to follow me faster than that. What did that leave?


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    I pressed my knuckles against my forehead and reconceptualised the shield protecting me. Before this I¡¯d assumed that training it to become an unconscious reflex was the apex of what a divine shield could be, nothing had ever even strained it. But Fahrad had managed to bypass it, something that shouldn¡¯t have been possible¡­ unless it wasn¡¯t the ultimate defense I assumed it was. Adding rotation compensated for some of that vulnerability, but¡­


    The original Divine Shield¡­ wasn¡¯t it practically made of floating symbols?


    ¡­ The runes came to the forefront of my mind, the language, symbols, I just needed to create an intuitive formula.


    ?? ???????, ?? ?????, ?? ????, ?? ????, ?? ??????, ?? ??????, ?? ?????, ???? ??? ??? ????, ???? ?? ???????? ???? ???????


    ¡°No Thought, No Words, No Need, No Will, No Matter, No Energy, No Force, None All May Bend, Move or Aggrieve This Bulwark.¡±


    The runes came into being around me, shaped by imagination and fuelled by eternal power and will. I felt the difference immediately, and it was radical.


    But still, somehow, the spell felt incomplete...


    The Icelandic staves came to me then, strings of concepts and meanings that only needed a guiding mind. H¨®lastafur to displace all obstacles, Gegn Galdri to block out all spells, Lukkustafir to ward off all evil action and will, Angurgapi to prevent leaks and breaches, all tied together by¡­


    Rosahringur.


    The circle of protection all-encompassing.


    All sense of outside weight faded, discomfort faded, the pressure on my defense disappeared, the glare of the molten rock stopped weighing on my eyes, the permeability of my shield reappeared but I knew no strike or foulness would seep through anymore, nor would my life-giving air drain. From one moment to the next it felt like my burdens had all gone away. For the first time ever, though I never knew the difference before, I didn¡¯t merely feel invincible.


    I knew I was.


    I slumped where I sat, all the weight gone from my shoulders, from my mind, my full ability to think and focus unburdened for the first time since the fight began. I could already tell this wouldn¡¯t last forever, why the Divine Shield was only a temporary measure. The spell was my first ever that actually burned power at a greater rate than I replenished, at least without actively meditating on it. But for as long as it lasted, I was free to do anything I wanted, untouchable to any obstacle or strike.


    I looked up and considered the hardening dark. Despite my breakthrough I couldn¡¯t see through it, not even Ravenholdt¡¯s aura like I could before. Whatever Void magic the dragon used to escape even my second sight, it was steeped into everything around me.


    Should I just jump free?


    The rock, soft or hard, it didn¡¯t matter, it would crumble in my path like wet paper. I wondered if this would work against walls, or if it was too much of a conceptual divergence from ¡®obstacle¡¯ when I was the one causing the grief. I wondered if the spell worked conceptually at all, or if it was just a dead end in translation.


    I still had almost ten minutes of air left.


    The muffled echo of a roar barely reached me, but I felt the shaking and perceived the renewed rise in temperature all around much more clearly.


    I pulled on the Light hard, infusing my new forcefield with as much strength as it could take. If I stood still and didn¡¯t overdo it on anything else, it should last me as long as the air with energy to spare.


    Then I thought back to the Great Hall. Recalled how mud and dirt from a thousand boots flew into my hand to form a flowerbed. When the girl offered me the flower and I cast an arcane spell for the first time. Discerned an arcane pattern fully apart from the rest and managed to manipulate it for my own ends. I opened my eyes and looked around with sight beyond sight. This magma wasn¡¯t dirt, but¡­


    But its Arcane lattice was new, different, completely inconsistent with those of the surrounding nature, its pattern completely at odds with the earth and the air, not unnatural but still wholly, fundamentally, utterly out of place.


    I set my entire mind on it, my will, my determination, the Light spread out into the molten rock, up all the way to the surface, down through ores and minerals, everything that didn¡¯t belong and past that to everything that did belong, the soil, the stones, the earth below and further still. The magma had seeped down, deep into the valley through the massive crack the dragon had tried to bury me in, scorching, seeping, hardening where it had no place.


    I recollected my attention and followed down after it, sharpening my awareness, my focus. It was a searing, darkening, cloying mass of arcane patterns and infinitesimal oily shadows disguised as arcane patterns that looked no different from everything they infested, right up until the Light fell upon them with all its holy wrath and they burned.


    Correction, not unnatural only at first glance.


    ~ ¡­ - ! - !? ~


    What was that?


    The Light burned downwards through all of the dragon¡¯s Shadow only to find more and more, burn more and more, further and further down until the painful sublimation of the Shadow to Light woke something up.


    ~ Torpor¡­ Ache¡­ Surprise¡­ ~


    A sleepy soul. A welcome pain inside a foreign mind. A spirit spanning the horizon.


    ~ Surprise. Joy. Fascination ~


    A Spirit of the Earth that didn¡¯t expect to wake up. An earnest welcome to the searing needle I¡¯d driven in his mind. Because he¡¯d only gone to sleep against his will.


    ~ Who are you, little light? What fortune answers my need unknown? What is happening in the world above ¨C the Corrupter! ~


    Alterac Valley¡­ it had its own spirit! An Elemental Spirit of the Earth was sleeping under our feet all this time, colossal, massive, was it really limited to just this valley? It seemed so much larger than that, but its sleep¡­ it was unwilling, forced upon it, no, inculcated over time, by the dragon trying to kill me right now! I suppose Black Dragons wouldn¡¯t appreciate competition, or wouldn¡¯t it be more contested ownership? But land isn¡¯t the demesne of a spirit, it¡¯s their body.


    Titans, what exactly was the plan here? What even is the black dragons¡¯ job when every rock and hill has a spirit, doesn¡¯t that put them in direct competition? Even before the mollusc ooze started dripping out their ears?


    ~ Dismay, Fear, Outrage ~


    The Spirit was afraid, the dragon had already overcome it once, it didn¡¯t want to be forced back asleep. The taint still ran through it, it would be so much easier and quicker than before for the dragon to incapacitate it again, the land was turbulent, haunted by a million ghosts, weighed down by the suffering of ages and sick with the mass graves of unnumbered dead. The Spirit was slow and languorous, sickly, but refused to fall back, not without doing something, anything, it didn¡¯t know what, it didn¡¯t care what.


    ~ Self-denial, Sickness, Help me Little Light Inexhaustible ~


    The dragon Fahrad was at odds with himself. The Spirit didn¡¯t care about him but it did care about the oily shadows infesting his self. And he believed I could do something about it.


    I blinked in stupefaction over my clasped hands. How the hell am I supposed to do that?


    ~ Corrupted Earthwarder fights his own self, insidious taint gives way to Holy Flame, The Holy Flame Obeys the Exalted Prophet of Heaven ~


    The earnest plea overlapped the full breadth of my reason and the Light¡¯s revelation to confirm what I already knew. I couldn¡¯t do what it asked.


    ~ Shock, Dismay, Plea ~


    No, I was too small. I couldn¡¯t heal an entire country¡¯s landmass of taint built up over hundreds of years, I had no limit to how much power I could pull but I did in output, if everywhere else was like it was here¡­ it would take over a hundred years of nothing but that just to make a dent.


    ~ Bitterness, Weariness, Despair ~


    ¡­ But that didn¡¯t mean the Spirit couldn¡¯t learn how to do it himself.


    ~ Despair, Desperation, Hope ~


    If the Spirit could call on the Light he¡¯d already be doing it, so that couldn¡¯t be-


    ~~~ Bitterness, Bitterness, Bitterness Unrelenting ~~~


    The intensity of the emotion was almost suffocating. The Light had ever been coveted by the Elements even as it burned them from the inside, ever just beyond their reach since the First Ones succumbed to the Cloying Emptiness. Alright, okay, that ¨C that was a lot all at once.


    ~ Remorse, Shame, Apology ~


    It¡¯s¡­ alright. That wasn¡¯t my idea anyway. I¡­ might have something but¡­


    But if it worked and it wasn¡¯t something the Spirit already knew how to do, then I would be giving it the ability to cause mass extinction to anyone, anything, at any time on a whim.


    ~ Surprise, Indignation, Reassurance ~


    No. Not good enough from beings provably prone to subversion by the worst forces. I want a Vow.


    ~ ¡­Acceptance, By My Name of Granodior, Let Us Affirm. ~


    Well. I thought he¡¯d be angrier at the perceived blackmail, but he didn¡¯t hesitate at all. That was something?


    I withdrew my attention from the deep and set it upon my surroundings again. The mind of the Spirt followed and overlapped mine, unsurely, cautious of me, cautious of my wellbeing as I looked for the patterns, the order of things until I ¨C we ¨C could both see the Arcane. The Spirit was intrigued. Then I called the Light and added it to our sight, to our minds, sealing the Spirit of our Pact and the Elemental Lord turned heartrendingly covetous even as the Light burned him from within. He almost lost track of everything else before I aimed our combined awareness at the Arcane, through it, along it into the magma and earth once more.


    The Light spread out through the Arcane like a lattice, illuminating patterns within patterns within patterns until I found the ones that I knew from a past life, substances, molecules, atomic bonds.


    One by one and then all at once, I beheld the contrast between the dragon¡¯s magma breath and the true earth, the rocks, the dirt, the ores, the minerals, all the way down to the noble metals and all the other building blocks of matter and I pushed.


    And pulled.


    I pushed and pulled on the foreign patterns, pushed and pulled and pushed and pulled, repeated a dozen times every instant and faster and faster to my limit, then faster still all the way to the Spirit¡¯s limit once he understood what I wanted, until everything vibrated on the cusp of disintegration and fragile, malleable change. And then¡­


    One final effort.


    Once upon a time, I was a materials scientist. I knew all the elements and a thousand and one molecular formulas by heart. And I understood exactly what could happen during accelerated particle bombardment depending on what and where you aimed.


    The Arcane, conveniently, could make the end result happen without the middleman.


    All the magma beneath me turned into powdered quartz.


    ~ Covetousness ¨C Surprise, Amazement ~


    It was the amazement of an adult praising a child¡¯s first hand-drawn circle, right up until the Spirit realized that all the taint pretending to be proper matter and Arcane patterns was now loose, unprotected and completely visible.


    ~ ¡­Understanding, Enlightenment, Determination ~


    The Spirit¡¯s will crashed upon everything in a hundred yards except the space I occupied, the earth shifted, soil and sand turned into each other repeatedly, then each into more of themselves but just different enough to lose cohesion or colour, on and on repeated. Then the changes grew finer, slighter and more numerous until everything around me was vibrating, dislodging and tossing patterns, particles, invisible oily shadows, each of which became steadily less invisible as they were clumped together. Until, finally, the taint was all collected into a writhing, off-colour lump that was swiftly enclosed in transmuted amber wrapped in a shell of silver ore ¨C no, silver metal.


    ~ Quality Assured, 100% purity guaranteed, Accept no substitutes ~


    I couldn¡¯t help but laugh. I¡¯ve gone and inflicted a completely different kind of corruption upon a genius loci. What have I done?


    ~ Stalwart Conviction, Gratitude Devout, Our Pact Shall Endure Everlasting ~


    The Spirit of the Valley withdrew from me, pulling the lump of taint down and down into the depths, a mental flash of a volcanic caldera passed behind my eyes before I could even ask where. But a part of him stayed behind, stayed with me, a fragment of Self freely given for me to accept or discard as I wished.


    I accepted it. It settled in my aura like a new appendage, sprouting roots and sieves that ingrained themselves in my Spirit so that it never withered away. The moment it did, I knew what it could do. What I could do now. Talk through. Listen through. Call through. Summon through, even beyond the boundaries of his territory when my Spirit grew plentiful enough. Such a thing¡­


    Is this how supernatural abilities are gained? Could I design and grow immaterial organs of my own? What would they even be? Tendrils? Ears? A thousand and one eyes?


    ~ Anxiousness, Solicitude, I Am With You Still ~


    Granodior could do a number of things now too, like snap me out of unnecessary distractions. He was impatient to get to work on purifying the land, purifying himself, but was willing to defer on that until my fight with the dragon was over.


    I¡¯m almost out of air.


    I opened everything I had to the Light and pulled, replenishing my strength, my protections, my Divine Shield, my mental fortitude and everything else. Then, for a third time, I reached with the Light along the Arcane. The Light blazed. The taint was burned away.


    My second sight lit up with the auras of a familiar man, an unfamiliar second man, and an all-new wholly visible dragon aura fighting the one unseen in the air.


    Oh give me a break, what now?


    As if waiting for me, the new dragon broke from the sky grapple, shot down and banked just above me and breathed.


    All the magma around and above me cooled, cracked and crumbled into dust within seconds.


    Wat the ¨C disintegration? What dragon could-?


    ~ No ~


    Not disintegration, acceleration of entropy ¨C acceleration of time.


    The creature suddenly dodged right and turned his ongoing breath on the enemy.


    The combined weight of two massive dragons rolled over my immovable shield, blasted away all dust, dug a deep groove through it and away, sparing me the added trouble of breaking free myself, how considerate of this disaster of a night.


    The Bronze Dragonflight ¨C they¡¯re protecting me?


    A horse dug furrows in the dusty earth as the mage astride it skid to halt in a flutter of robes right next to me. ¡°Saint! I am Antonidas D¡¯Ambrosio, envoy of the Kirin Tor!¡± Who and what now?! ¡°I¡¯ve no idea what is happening, but the black dragons are enemies of all, I will defer to you!¡±


    Where the hell did he come from, what the fuck is the future leader of Dalaran doing here ¨C what did he mean, defer to me?! Defer on what?! ¡°I¡­ Can you-¡° Plans were useless when you didn¡¯t know what everyone could even do, what were they even doing here, why? Where was Ravenholdt? I couldn¡¯t see in this dark through so much dust and smoke, even the dragons looked like wraiths, but he¡¯d been still ¨C his aura was still aware but tense, crouched behind a flash-frozen magma bank. He was bandaging his arm, his light wavering dangerously so at least I could stop worrying about him, but ¨C maybe just the objective? What even was my objective? ¡°The black one, can you ground him?¡±


    ¡°Very well.¡±


    Just like that?


    Fahrad threw the bronze to the ground, but he didn¡¯t go down easily, biting on the offending limb, pulling the black after him and down, rolling through the magma, through the earth as they dragged along the ground, spitting glittering dust against molten rock, shaking the earth, snarling, roaring until the black finally threw the bronze off and leapt back into the air.


    A neigh rang in the night.


    And the white horse galloped up upon the air, its hooves sparking like flint as the man on its back swung his staff in a wide sweep, sending an atom-severing arc of red light straight at the black one¡¯s neck.


    Fahrad swerved sideways. The spell got him across the shoulder instead, slicing scales and sinews and more, blood bursting, ripping from him a shriek of pain, a snarl, a spewing torrent of lava that deflected off an Arcane forcefield with no strain-


    The bronze barrelled into his side the same moment and then the two were clinching, flailing, spinning dangerously as they flapped their wings in a vain attempt to keep flight, barely keeping from losing total grasp of the currents-


    The mage rode earthward behind the black dragon and brought his bladed staff down like a scythe.


    The red arc severed his entire wing at the joint.


    The black dragon screamed, fell, crashed hard, shaking the earth, a haze of dust billowed up, more of it as the wing also fell, then further as the bronze one slammed down on top of the black, claws grabbing at each other¡¯s limbs, at the earth, throats, horns, crests, scales ripping away as I watched and wondered if the idea I just got meant I was going crazy.


    The bronze finally managed to get the upper hand and bit down on the black¡¯s face, locking his nozzle and jaw shut tight between its teeth.


    ¡°Now, Prophet!¡± It yelled through its clenched jaws. ¡°Claim your glory!¡±


    Is there anyone who doesn¡¯t expect something from me?


    But I didn¡¯t hesitate.


    I charged in, dropped my shield, jumped on the dragon¡¯s snout and Soulgazed a monster.


    Calm, kindness, kinship, love, the four pillars of peace rose tall before me in the Earthwarder¡¯s inner world, holding up the pitch-black sky with what I mistook for the inexhaustible strength of ages until I breathed the lice. Then the illusion crumbled, spilled apart into a swarm of chittering worms, crashing on me, burying me, crawling into my mouth, my ears, down my throat, up my nose and everything else, vermin feeding vermin and on vermin and on me and in me Light Help me!


    W?h?a?t?''?s? ?t?h?i?s??


    Gold erupted from me like the Sun itself, blasted the lice, the maggots, destroyed the spawn of flies scurrying down my throat and windpipe to my lungs, scouring me clean until all that was left was the sunless aftertaste of dreams haunted by ghosts. I looked down and saw no ground beneath my feet. I looked up and saw that the towers were utterly corroded, made of anger and ego and unwillingness to yield, almost completely eaten through by maggots and termites spawned from willing murder. I looked at the pillars and saw the swarms gnawing through them and masquerading as them, piling atop each other in an endless thirst to eat away what was left. The slightest hit and they would crumble, and with it the world, all sanity, every scrap of will to endure.


    A? ?v?i?s?i?t?o?r?!?


    Fahrad. Verration. The Black Dragon. He yearned to be free, but when that proved impossible he condemned to use the means of the cloying and empty to stave off their hunger, killing by choice so he wouldn¡¯t be reduced to a devouring butcher deprived of it. Burned his decency for the sake of lesser evils to appease the greatest, wasted his life in the hopes the world would grind him under it before the maws crushed him between their teeth. And the ego that fought that inner war never had a judge nor a witness, let alone the Light of Promised Salvation. What was even left to sacrifice?


    E?v?e?r?y?t?h?i?n?g?


    I called on the Light to descend upon me, pour into me, fill me all the way to my greatest limit, then beyond even that to the limits of what I could imagine my limit becoming, gathered and gathered more and more until I couldn¡¯t fathom the scope of what I held inside, then unleashed it upon this wicked world all at once.


    Y?o?u? ?d?o?n?''?t? ?w?a?n?t? ?t?o? ?d?o? ?t?h?a?t?


    Everything burned away all at once, everything, leaving not even ash behind. Just the four pillars of self, still standing and scoured clean, but thin, weak, on the verge of crumbling under their own weight.


    Y?o?u? ?s?h?o?u?l?d?n?''?t? ?h?a?v?e? ?d?o?n?e? ?t?h?a?t?


    The world shook. A new tide of maggots and vermin and bugs spilled forth from the Void, writhing, chittering, uncountable, sweeping forth, crashing into the pillars so hard they creaked, they groaned, a million million teeth bit and ripped at them, at the dark, at each other, at themselves, at me for all that the Light burned them the moment they came close, more still until I was completely buried. But still the Light burned all away, vanquished, sublimated the evil, sending the rest cowering to gain ground and strength at my willing expense until the mind was fully illuminated once more. I¡¯d reached its very limit.


    But not my limit.


    For one, looming moment, I considered burning the Light and whatever else it took, my spirit, my will, my life if necessary, burn it as hot as I could. It would cost me, but not as much as the dragon whose mind would be completely scoured away. Already it was crumbling, the infestation that was eating and replacing it had also been the only thing keeping it upright, buttresses built out of vermin corpses atop other corpses. The biggest danger of my life up to this point would end, the dragon would die but his soul would be finally free, he¡¯d even be spared some four decades of added sin. A life ended so many others would go on, that was more than fair trade, wasn¡¯t it?


    But¡­ that¡¯s how they get you, isn¡¯t it? That¡¯s how it always goes on this world. Demons and eldritch abominations corrupt the good, the corrupted subvert many others around them, people die, many more suffer, and when eventually a hero or pure luck allows for the corrupted to be exposed and vanquished, evil laughs at out triumphant speeches because, at the end of the day, we¡¯re the only ones who actually lost anything.


    Compromise with objective evil is objective defeat.


    Instead of hot, I burned bright. Bright and brighter, as bright as I could and then I threw the Light out wide, as wide and as far as it could spread.


    The Light lit up the mind and past it until it was swallowed up. But in that moment when it fully illuminated the dark, in that moment when the vermin swarms pounced on me and in me as I was defenceless, I saw the fullness of the Old Gods¡¯ insidious design and was stunned.


    Y?o?u? ?r?e?a?l?l?y? ?s?h?o?u?l?d?n?''?t? ?h?a?v?e? ?d?o?n?e? ?t?h?a?t?


    I crashed out of the vision with a choking gurgle, the foul taste of maggots and louse heavy on my tongue, clogging my nose, my lungs, dripping like tears from my eyes and nose as I slipped and fell off the dragon to nearly break my neck against the ground, if not for the arcane spell that found me just in time to break my fall instead.


    ~ Shock, Alarm, Wrath ~


    The barest scrap of Light descended on me and burned, burned like I¡¯d only felt Granodior burn except a hundred times worse¡­ But the pain was welcome because the alternative was corruption eternal.


    ¡°You ¨C you failed!¡± The bronze dragon breathed in shock, his bite going weak. ¡°How did you fail, you weren¡¯t supposed to fail!¡±


    ¡°Yogg-Sarron,¡± I coughed with the vomit. The corruption¡­ its effects were mental but the vector wasn¡¯t, not all of it. The Aegishjalmur held strong around my mind but that wasn¡¯t enough, not when your brain couldn¡¯t properly produce neurotransmitters. ¡°N¡¯Zoth, flesh, blood, the flesh, it¡¯s all meat!¡± The thought occurred to me to summon the Light for aid, but it came so slowly, so late ¨C the faintest shine was already scouring me by that point, Geirrvif ¨C she was the Light¡¯s vessel this time, but barely a glow made it through from the spirit realm to try and stave off the darkness filling me. The brackish blood of squirming evils, it had seeped out of their prisons over thousands of years to infest the dragon of earth, and through him now me.


    ¡°You mortals and your self-sacrifice, even when it avails you nothing!¡± Odyn¡¯s voice boomed in my ear like the light at the other end of the tunnel in the howling dark. But his rebuke rang false, Manu, Yemo, Trito, Prometheus, Vainamoinen, Tyr, Kvasir, Odin himself, they all sacrificed first, so much. ¡°¡­Yet still brave and true to all your boasts to the end of oblivion where even my mind cannot follow alone. The chance will come for you to convince me that my respect is not wasted, you hear me? Get up and be the Light upon the World!¡±


    I latched onto the Light like the salvation it was, bathing in it, relishing the pain, the healing, turning it inward through my flesh, my bone, my spirit, along my Arcane patterns all the way to my unconquered soul and bid it Exorcise the Unclean.


    ¡°What is happening to him?¡± Antonidas demanded as he went to one knee and fed me a potion. ¡°What gibberish is he spouting, will someone bloody well explain something!?¡±


    ¡°I barely know more than you, help me move him, we have to get him away from here, quickly!¡±


    Jorach Ravenholdt hauled me up by one arm while Antonidas took the other and they began dragging me away. I pried my eyes open and saw where all my Light had gone. There were golden filaments running through the black dragon now, but they were fading back to devouring darkness even as I watched.


    ¡°How did you fail, you weren¡¯t supposed to fail!¡± The bronze rattled through clenched teeth, eyes wild. ¡°You weren¡¯t supposed to fail, you should have vanquished him, you utterly vanquished him, I saw it!¡±


    Black blood spilled out of the black dragon¡¯s mouth, sizzling like acid, climbing up and into the Bronze¡¯s clenched mouth to make him let go with a pained hiss.


    ¡°No,¡± Fahrad ¨C Verration moaned as his mouth was released, black veins pulsing through the white around his coal-red eyes. ¡°No, you won¡¯t, I won¡¯t!¡± He thrashed, lurched savagely, black pus gushing out of his wounds, his pores, eyes, nostrils, from his slacking mouth to singe and overwhelm the bronze one with their acrid smoke. ¡°I won¡¯t be taken in!¡± The black pus gushed out of him, writhed, wriggled, twisted, ate through the bronze dragon¡¯s scales like a curse of decay. ¡°I won¡¯t believe in lies! I don¡¯t believe your lies! I won¡¯t fall for the lies! C¡¯thun--Sarron--N¡¯Zoth ¨C the Light, you just want to steal my Light, you would snatch the last grace from my grasp, KAIROZD??????O????????R?????????????M???U??????????U??????????U?????????????!!!" The black blood began slicing, pushing, rotting everything to the point of paralyzing pain that finally allowed the black dragon to shove the bronze away, the sludge gushed out of the missing wing joint like a geyser of tar. ¡°I won¡¯t fall! I won¡¯t fall!¡± The dragon screamed at the top of his lungs. ¡°I WON¡¯T LET YOU!¡±


    The black taint coagulated into a churning, glistening, rancid replacement for his missing wing that bashed the bronze away, sent him rolling in pain from the smear eating at his eyes, then the black dragon jumped into the air and flew away southward as fast as he could.


    I saw all of it happen. Even with my head lolling and my blistering eyes more closed than open from pain and exhaustion, I saw it all happen despite that I¡¯d not been able to perceive the black dragon before. I¡¯d seen into the Void and been the Shadow it leaves behind when it swallows the Light out of the world. Maybe there were other tricks still hidden from me now, but not this one.


    The Light rang in my mind. I forced aside the pain, turned away from the abyss to focus on the sign. The two disparate threats that I¡¯d been feeling the whole day merged into one.


    My eyes snapped open, my head shot up and I lurched out of the two men¡¯s hold, stumbling after the echoing wingbeats of the fleeing dragon. ¡°What ¨C that ¨C what way is that? Where is he going? I know the way he¡¯s going, that¡¯s where my home is! Why is he going there, we can¡¯t let him go there??????!¡±


    ¡°Careful there, I know not what black arts he-¡°


    ¡°D????????oes no one have any shame in this country?!¡±


    The Light of Judgment Unmerciful came down on me and the Master of Assassins both, bright and terrible.


    Lord Jorach Ravenholdt fell to his knees with a hoarse scream, holding his head and heart.


    I staggered under the momentary pain ¨C so that was a tad thoughtless despite everything, good to know ¨C but I managed to keep more or less a straight line all the way to where the bronze dragon ¨C Kairozodormu? ¨C was curling into a ball, ranting and cursing in draconic as his eyes and dozens of other wounds smoked and sizzled.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you want from me and I don¡¯t have time to ask right now, but you came to help me.¡± With some difficulty that was thankfully quickly giving way to my usual ease, I conjured half a dozen lightwells all over the great beast. ¡°If this isn¡¯t enough, find me later.¡±


    The dragon glared at me painfully as I walked away, desolate accusation in his eyes for some reason, he looked lost, what grand design did I fail, who else has plans for me they didn¡¯t share?


    ¡°Everyone who ever heard about you, no doubt,¡± Odyn landed on my shoulder in the spirit plane. ¡°Except me of course, though when that changes I will be sure to let you know immediately. Then you can astound me again with how much more creative you are about creating drama in your life.¡±


    I ignored the blustering. Did he see what I saw? In there? Did Geirrvif?


    ¡°No. We do not possess, nor do we mind-meld without consent, and whatever spell you¡¯ve made goes well beyond mere mental abstractions.¡±


    There¡¯s nothing ¡®mere¡¯ about mental abstractions.


    ¡°I used to think so as well, until you.¡±


    Ravenholdt was gasping and trembling on all fours when I returned, looking up at me with pained eyes. But he was neither incapacitated nor deaf or blind despite what he¡¯d just done, never mind whatever else he¡¯d been before this¡­ Which either meant his present intentions and conviction were just barely enough that the Light didn¡¯t judge him beyond redemption...


    Or he¡¯d not had particularly foul convictions to begin with.


    I tried to justify his poor showing of the night. Told myself I was the worst possible matchup for someone of his skills. His horseshoe moustache dripped with his sweat and there was already grey in his brown hair, his prime was already passing him¡­ But that was wishful thinking. The man¡¯s lacklustre showing was at odds with the ability and emotion he displayed in that single moment when he thought I was about to kill his friend. ¡°Next time you want to kill yourself, don¡¯t put the responsibility for it on someone else like a coward!¡±


    ¡°I¨Cdidn¡¯t-¡°


    ¡°You have one minute to make your case, any case, I don¡¯t care.¡±


    ¡°I ¨C I¡¯m-¡° The man pushed up but failed to stand, swaying hard, looking up at me with tight eyes. His case, any case, he didn¡¯t have one, he hadn¡¯t prepared to need one, didn¡¯t expect to see the next dawn, one way or another. His mouth opened and closed, his eyes tightened. I could see several thoughts passing through his mind, but there was a grim dignity in his manner that didn¡¯t waver even down on his knees at my feet. ¡°I have these.¡±


    Some spell surged in Antonidas¡¯ hand from where he stood aside.


    Ravenholdt didn¡¯t heed the threat, he dug through his pockets and pouches on his legs as well as he could with just one hand. His grey leathers were missing the right sleeve all the way to the shoulder, the edges were scorched, his skin was severely burnt beneath the bandages.


    I cast Holy Light just to speed things up.


    The man was shocked, then moved, then ashamed. He averted his eyes and finished spreading half a dozen pressure pellets on the ground. ¡°Soporific grenades. Enough to fell even a dragon.¡± The man¡¯s expression faltered as he looked towards where the dragon had fled and back. ¡°But Fahrad is the one who made them, a new invention just for this mission, at the time I didn¡¯t suspect ¨C I suppose that claim was as much of a lie as everything else.¡±


    ¡°¡­ No.¡± I decided, reluctantly impressed that he made no bargain or plea. ¡°No, if he explicitly invented it for this and used those exact words, it was probably true.¡± Even when attempting suicide the dragon was self-righteous, what lunacy.


    ¡°You-think he-?¡±


    But now we were just wasting time, so I branded the Aegishjalmur onto his head just in case, turned to the mage, grabbed the lapels of his cape and pulled him up to my face. ¡°Tell me you can teleport!¡±

 The Light of the Soul

    ¡°-.July 13, Year 580 of the King¡¯s Calendar .-¡°


    When Antonidas teleported the three of us half-way up the last trail to my home, it was to the sight of massive smoke funnels visible even in the night, the smell of scorched earth, and the not so distant glow of a brushfire where one should never be.


    My heart sank. ¡°Shit!¡± He couldn¡¯t already be here, even dragons don¡¯t fly that quickly! ¡°I need to get up there, now!¡±


    ¡°Curses!¡± Antonidas swore, holding out a hand. ¡°Climb up!¡±


    I took it and hoisted myself behind the saddle. ¡°Ravenholdt, catch up or don¡¯t!¡±


    ¡°Wait!¡± He grabbed on the horse reins. ¡°Beware, that was Darbel Montrose you killed back there. She has been in bed with the king in more ways than one. I know not what plans of his she saw to, but she only joined on our chase near dusk. The rest of the day she appeared only so long as it took her to teleport us ahead and regain the ground we kept losing to your contraption. Whatever this is may well be her doing!¡±


    ¡°Damn!¡± She had a whole day to herself, what did she do? ¡°Understood, Antonidas, go, go!¡±


    ¡°Hya!¡±


    The steed reared and sprung into a gallop up upon the air.


    When we soared past the last thicket, I looked down to see all our fields on fire, the ward around the main house gone, the foundation itself cracked down the middle, and the glow of the Light only around my workshop, from which just two of our farmhands were returning fire to the platoon of ¡®bandits¡¯ laying siege.


    ¡­


    It¡¯s regicide, then.


    My little Spirits of Water and Flame barrelled into me then, latched on me, clung to me, scrambled at my spirit in a deluge of panic and guilt. It was good I¡¯d already deduced everything that had happened, because their attempt to update me via mind meld was chaotic, turbulent and completely useless.


    Except for one thing.


    I surrounded us with a forcefield just in time for the bullets to glance off.


    Antonidas pulled the horse to the right hard. ¡°They have dwarven weapons as well?!¡±


    ¡°Not them.¡± I pointed down. ¡°Land us there. The ward will let us in.¡±


    ¡°Your whole country is mad.¡±


    ¡°Not the country, our leadership is evil.¡±


    Antonidas scoffed but steered the horse down until we passed through the wall of Light and touched down.


    ¡°Master Wayland!¡± My men cried in relief from the makeshift cover of our cart and a barrel, the guns in their hands drooping along with the rest of them. ¡°It¡¯s you, oh thank Tyr!¡±


    I jumped off the horse, opened my mouth to reply, then closed it and stood in place, frozen. Bart was one life light, Barney a second, my father was inside, kneeling next to my fold-out bed where mother was lying, her light a sickly shade but still all there. Why was she just one? Where were the other two? Where were the little stars?!


    I threw the Holy Light at my poor men but that was all I could spare on my rush to get inside, maybe I just wasn¡¯t seeing clearly, the Void had been clouding my senses on and off all night, it might still-


    I slammed the door open. My father jumped with a shout, knocked my last spare gun down in his rush to grab it and brandished a chair at me instead, before he recognized me and went slack, with relief so thick I could feel it¡­ But that curdled back into grief, the chair clattered to the floor, the man fell back down to his knees, looking away from me and back to my mother with complete devastation.


    My mother didn¡¯t move. Just laid there, one arm over her eyes and on her side with her face at the wall, weeping quietly.


    I stared at him. I stared at her. At the light that she was. The lights that now weren¡¯t. The drying smears of blood on her legs. The towel thick with the rest of it, and traces of the afterbirth that came too soon.


    ¡°They got smart,¡± Dad said hollowly. ¡°When they couldn¡¯t get to us in the wards, they tried to smoke us out. And when that wasn¡¯t going fast enough, their mage bitch did something to the ground. We thought the house would collapse, so we ran here, but... She-she stumbled-I didn¡¯t-I could¡¯ve caught her and I didn¡¯t.¡±


    I looked at him. I cast Holy Light and he only looked at me lost. I cast it on my mother too, but she just curled up tighter. I cast my eyes over the room. Walked to the bucket. Moved the sheet aside. Falric. Marwyn. I burned the sight of my two murdered brothers deep into my mind.


    This entire nation must be purged.


    I carefully replaced the sheet and walked back outside. Past the others to look through the golden dome at the wicked shadows of fear and doomed men. ¡°Where¡¯s Howard? Did they get him?¡±


    Barney and Bart looked at each other. ¡°He quit this morning.¡±


    ¡°Right before this fine mess, mighty convenient isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Treacherous bastard.¡±


    He what? But¡­


    No, it didn¡¯t fit, the fallout with the king only happened today near noon. ¡°How early? When did he quit exactly?¡±


    ¡°Right after breakfast. I suppose he musta told the Master and Missus yesterday though, cuz¡¯ they already knew.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m telling you, he had something to do with this, why else would he leave now?¡±


    Somehow, I didn¡¯t know how, those words were enough to finish tipping my increasingly distressed steam elementals from grief and guilt all the way into self-loathing. The change in mood was so sharp and sudden that I felt lightheaded. I tried to find what scraps of reassurance I could for them, but I barely had any for myself.


    The little ones broke free of my spirit with the shame of the ones who realized for the first time in their life that they were a burden. They looked at the house, looked at Antonidas with the jealousy of the not good enough, looked at the evil people with hate I didn¡¯t know they could even feel, looked at me with dreadful determination.


    And then merged into a single spirit before I even knew what was happening.


    Wait, what-No! No, no, no, not them too!


    ¡°You morons!¡± I barked, catching them in a forcefield, I had to ¨C what could I even ¨C what are they thinking?! ¡°What is wrong with you, suicide is never the answer, why would you-?¡° No, no bluster, no recriminations, that¡¯s just wasting time that¡¯s quickly running out, I could see it, the elemental cores hadn¡¯t been fully consumed yet, the process wasn¡¯t complete, or if it was it could still be reversed, their selves ¨C there was a Shadow of them still left in their place, I could see it, I could-


    ¡°DO NOT!¡± The Raven turned full manifest just so it could bite and shout inside my ear. ¡°Reject the slightest fragment of reality and you will no more have a concept of reality, only the self-deceptive illusion that eternally feeds itself. Even if you do not indulge again, the self-deception will gnaw at your good sense. You will never feel fully at ease, nevermore certain of the world because you yourself will have permanently undermined your willingness to acknowledge all parts of it! The Void does not cast Shadows, it leaves them by sucking the Light out, the life it makes is itself just as hollow, fake, decrepit, accursed and undead, why do you think this will be any different?¡±


    I paused. I acknowledged the Shadow. I acknowledged its nature. Odyn was right, it wasn¡¯t the same as the shadows of the future I could the Light casting before, why did I ever think so? Is this how they fool you?


    But¡­ even so.


    I took a deep breath. ¡°The qualities most essential to self-determination are courage to endure and contempt for death.¡±


    My mind course-corrected. I moved past the Void to the Light beyond and travelled backwards on the wings of revelation to the reflection of the past upon the present, where this utter foolishness was eternally recorded in the annals of history. I saw them, the complete imbeciles that were too young to die to their own stupidity, latched with the Light on everything they were and pulled them forward, back into their proper place in the world.


    The elemental spirit split back into nine minds, shocked, confused, but each and every one the same selves.


    ¡°¡­ Clumsy,¡± Odyn said with all the air of someone pretending as badly as he could that he hadn¡¯t been trying to teach something completely different. ¡°Very traumatic as well, but they¡¯re clearly too stupid not to forgive you.¡±


    The little ones whirled in affront, then shrunk in shame at my glare. The fires kept burning. The night shuddered with the oncoming roar of a frenzied beast.


    Antonidas stepped around the little spirits to stand next to me, glancing guardedly at the raven before speaking. ¡°Do you want me to neutralize the attackers?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± The beating of great wings was almost on top of us. ¡°No, I think that problem is about to solve itself.¡±


    Verration the Black descended from the night sky and flew a complete circle around the dome of Light, bathing everything below in burning pitch. The flames grew taller. The smoke became too thick to see. The dying screams of Alterac¡¯s soldiers were only slightly less frenzied than the roaring.


    I looked with sight beyond sight to the emptiness flying through the night¡¯s darkness. Fahrad¡­ He shouldn¡¯t exist. Not yet. Deathwing made a play on Alterac after the Second War, after Perenolde¡¯s betrayal, but no other dragons not named Prestor figured into his plans. Fahrad wasn¡¯t loyal to him, I knew that, but even if he was already playing the long game, his human identity would have been in his teens at most at that point. By the third war his persona was in his prime, probably his thirties, meaning the birth date of his human disguise would have been around the Dark Portal at the earliest, probably a few years later even. This identity shouldn¡¯t exist now, or at the very least the dragon should be disguised as someone else. It was why it took me so long to figure out it was him, I¡¯ve had to be careful not to make assumptions since I awoke.


    This dragon¡­


    He became an assassin because it was murky enough to appease the whispers. It let him distract himself from the failing charge of his flight, and the madness of Deathwing whom he did his best to betray and sabotage indirectly. So far I had explicit evidence that at least some of the Legion expansion was accurate. By the time ¡®adventurers¡¯ killed Nefarian and Onyxia and the handful of other wyrms that crossed their path, by the time Wrathion began to steal the spotlight, there were no more adult black dragons left because this one had killed them all. How many had he already assassinated?


    Even now in his blind madness he helped me, because me kneeling to Aiden Perenolde would have blackpilled him and he was so glad, so, so vindicated I hadn¡¯t.


    Whatever I do, I¡¯ll need all the help I can get.


    ¡°There is one debt still owed to me, val¡¯kyr.¡±


    I sensed Geirrvif swiftly descend to hover behind me in the spirit world.


    ¡°I¡¯m calling it all at once after all.¡±


    The raven on my right shoulder finally snapped out of whatever it was. ¡°You dare insinuate I¡¯d only pay my dues under duress, such insolence! This is bigger than you, I¡¯ve already dispatched help!¡±


    That¡¯s a lot better than I ¨C wait, what help?


    ¡°The kind that is needed! Though if you mean to make another claim to wisdom worthy of me, then go ahead and teach!¡±


    Are you always so rude when putting your faith in someone?! And wasn¡¯t that supposed to work the other way around?


    Stolen novel; please report.


    But his words found something in me, a memory rising from the depths of my first life when I was taking a break from my main passion to expand my horizons. When I was reading about the Pelasgians. Their way of life, their creed, their laws... Odyn was exactly like what I¡¯d imagined them to be like.


    The Belagines. The Laws of Beginnings, the guiding principles of mankind-that-was, the Ancient Guiding Laws of the Dacians that long before them set the foundation of human civilization.


    At least if you believed such claims-


    The Light shifted and glimmered in my mind. Each sentence and word of those forty-five passages became a single fractal within its many-faceted shape. For the first time since I first touched it, it felt like I wasn¡¯t seeing a mere reflection anymore.


    I know what I¡¯m going to do.


    ¡°You know what, Odyn, I think I¡¯ll take your offer.¡±


    Antonidas watched us quietly. Behind me, Geirrvif levelled the entirety of her attention as well.


    I motioned to my two men to stay and stepped through the ward right into hell.


    ¡°There exists in the sea a certain parasite called the tongue-eating louse. This creature eats the tongue of fish and takes its place. The parasite then feeds on the fish mucus, and if it is to die or otherwise be removed, the fish will starve to death.¡±


    Antonidas followed at my side, an arcane shield protecting him from the smoke and the fire. Above us, the dragon continued to fly and spew flames and damnation.


    ¡°The astral body, the physical body, the mind, the blood, the sap of life that flows through your spiritual roots if you¡¯re really unlucky, that¡¯s just the endgame.¡± I turned my forcefield into a wedge and split the fire, smoke and molten stone in my way like a snow plow. ¡°There¡¯s the five senses, touch, taste, smell, sight and hearing. But then there¡¯s proprioreception, kinaesthesia, our sense of time, sense of weight, of pressure, sense of magic, and all the other senses we don¡¯t think about until they fail or throb in pain. The Old Gods don¡¯t impair those, their corruption grows in their place. ¡±


    The raven watched me. ¡°The whispers.¡±


    ¡°No, that just means they¡¯re sloppy. The corruption conflates with the senses, the subconscious processes that are so easily mistaken for true intuition, the many humours making up the body, the chemicals which allow the lightning signals to fire through your brain properly, and many other things. The oozing taint steadily replaces them until your senses, your organs, your body can¡¯t endure without them there. It''s basically like becoming addicted to your own perception of reality, even your own sense of self, except now someone else is controlling them. From there they can hold you hostage and make you do whatever they want, whether overtly or through pavlovian conditioning. That¡¯s what happened to Fahrad. I saw it, in him, that¡¯s what he¡¯s become. That¡¯s what Verration is.¡±


    Odyn was quiet. For so long that the dragon had time to fly over and around us twice more. In the spirit world, four golden stars blinked into being in the sky, then shot down straight for us at the speed of imagination.


    They were spectral, golden and blue, born forth on feathery wings and led by one that was grander and brighter than all others. ¡°Odyn. Is that your help?¡±


    The raven shook its wings. ¡°Ah, the lovely Eyir, here at last. Took them long enough!¡±


    A god¡¯s favor. Four angels of the Light. Their shining goddess. And me.


    Against a dragon come to finish what an evil king and his foul henchmen started. Because I tore the veil off his madness and forced the mollusks of yore to take an active hand.


    ¡°I will make no promises of salvation,¡± Odyn murmured, misunderstanding my silence. ¡°My val¡¯kyr exist to shepherd and safeguard souls that have already left their bodies, they can do very little in the living world by themselves, little but dreams and inspiration.¡± When Geirrvif attacked me in front of Lionheart without even a shred of restraint, she hadn¡¯t expected her attack to hit anything besides my spirit, the only reason she manifested into the physical world was because I bid the Light to Reveal. ¡°The parts of the self are not easily severed by shadows, for all that the Void likes to lie otherwise. It was your Light that restored life to that hapless coin counter. As ever, all strength must spring from man. Could I send my warriors¡­¡±


    But he couldn¡¯t, because everyone else kept living down to his worst expectations, and Helya was a petty witch. ¡°It¡¯s alright.¡± I opened my spirit to him, to Geirrvif, to the others as they finally landed around me, their forms see-though and insubstantial but present. ¡°I don¡¯t need them to do anything more than that.¡±


    The raven gave me one last glance and returned to the spirit world. Geirrvif joined her mind to mine. The other val¡¯kyr joined their minds to hers. Eyir gave me a hard stare from behind her winged helm, then overlapped her val¡¯kyr with her spirit, and through them me. I conveyed my plan at the speed of thought, and they were aghast, incredulous, disbelieving. Up until the raven landed on Eyir¡¯s helm and tapped its claw.


    Granodior.


    ~ Alertness, Expectancy, I Am Here ~


    The Spirit of the Valley¡­ Fahrad hadn¡¯t put him to sleep out of malice, though he¡¯d certainly sold it that way. It was to protect it from the fatal conflict that would have resulted if it was around to challenge him and trigger the Old Ones¡¯s override. I¡¯m going to do something¡­ emphatic. Don¡¯t let sign or sight escape your bounds, can you do that? If Deathwing gets any glimpse of this, he¡¯ll kill us all.


    ~ Confusion, Fatalism, Agreement. ~


    ¡°Antonidas.¡± I held up the bag of dragon knockout bombs. ¡°These pellets¡­ can you make him breathe them somehow?¡±


    ¡°I can make it so he has no choice.¡±


    Good enough for me. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you when.¡±


    Then I walked out to the middle of the scorched earth, took a deep breath and roared to the sky.


    ¡°VERRATION!¡± My voice rang through the air, through the Light, even through the Arcane as far as I could reach, so loud that the dragon staggered in the air. ¡°I¡¯ve not some grand arena to stage our final confrontation in, so I hope you¡¯ll accept this cornfield!¡±


    The dragon roared, swooped down and landed ahead of me with such force that my home groaned behind me, his eyes wild and angry and aimed straight at me as if daring me to Soulgaze a second time.


    This time I was harsh. My Soulgaze was bright, unmerciful, instantaneous, it bridged the gap with more ease and swiftness than ever before because I was the only one between us two who¡¯d grown. I purged the swarm the moment it touched me, banished the dark to the edges of the mind, displaced and seared away the vermin and corpses of vermin that had replaced the substance of his awareness. When they were gone, I buttressed the crumbling pillars of his will with my will, the threads of his spirit with mine all the way to the soul. Instead of Shadow and Void, what grew to patch and rebuild everything left of his consciousness of Self was the Light.


    And when our minds were so entwined that the dragon couldn¡¯t not see everything I could see and was doing, I cast through the Soulgaze a second spell, the psychometry that had become instinct after using it on my father so many times. I saw everything of Verration and everything that wasn¡¯t, and because I did, so did he.


    Then I set myself against the dark and pulled hard on him as I withdrew back to the living world.


    Verration screamed, in rage, then pain, then shock as I pulled on his mind, as his mind pulled on his spirit as I wrenched it out, the Light a lattice around it and through both of us as I returned to the waking world without letting the Soulgaze lapse. His body stumbled back but the rest of him didn¡¯t, a second, hazy outline ripping out of the flesh like a double vision of blood, fire and ear-splitting desperation.


    ¡°Antonidas, now!¡±


    The tranquilizing bombs shot from somewhere up in the air ¨C invisibility? ¨C and exploded right in the dragon¡¯s face, but didn¡¯t disperse more than a foot away from the nose due to a force bubble that warped in place right after.


    ¡°Now, val¡¯kyr, contain him!¡± I thundered even as I strained to gather all the power I could call. ¡°I don¡¯t need you to rip his soul out, just loosen it from the rest! I don¡¯t want him dead, I need to see.¡±


    The angels swooped down to surround the monster, one at each cardinal point, Eyir above the dragon to set their combined will upon his. They called the Light in the spirit world. At the very same moment, I gave them the Light in the world of the Living. Their wings unfurled, their swords raised high, the Light shone tall, and their combined will pinned the dragon¡¯s soul where I¡¯d dragged it in the wake of his mind and his spirit, on the very threshold of life and death.


    ¡°Light,¡± I called, stretched to the very ends of my effort. First the guard, then the assassin, and now, for the third time in the same day, the Rite of Judgment Unmerciful descended upon me and a dragon. ¡°I need you!¡±


    The golden pillars erupted from us violently, powerfully, from me, from the angels where they stood, from the dragon at the very center of their formation. The towering golden brilliance blew away the smoke, the dust, the night¡¯s darkness. Gold enveloped the dragon, enveloped the valkyries where they hovered on feather wings, enveloped me, latched on us all, infused us, rose further and further up like great spires surrounding a colossal tower to pierce the swirling clouds, determined, demanding, burning everything that did not belong and kept burning.


    ¡°???????G????????????U??????????O????????O??????O??????????A???????A??????????AAAA???????A????????????A???????A????????G??????H?????????!????????¡±???????


    With a howling scream, the dragon died. There was no question as to the outcome, there was too little of him left.


    But that didn¡¯t mean there wasn¡¯t enough to heal.


    ¡°Beyond the flow of time and thought of the gods, there lies the Living Eternal Fire, out of which all come and through which everything takes shape. Everything and nothing are its breath, emptiness and fullness are its hands, motion and stillness are its feet, everywhere and nowhere are its center and its face is the Light. Nothing is made without the Light and everything that comes out of the Light is the Life which that takes form.¡±


    With a rattling gasp, Verration came back to life, his breath shaking, still corrupt and broken, but alive enough to tremble in renewed agony because the Judgment of the abominations infesting him for thousands of years had only just started.


    ¡°Like the thunder brings the light and out of the light, the grumble and the fire which overflows, so is thought. Thought becomes our word and then our doing. The light of Self is our thought and also our most prized possession. The light gains strength through the word and the will of Self lights the fire, through which all that is around us becomes.¡±


    The corruption¡­ purging the mind would never have been enough, its vector was physical, like a brain parasite it can just hook itself in again, infest again at a moment¡¯s notice. But since it was not just conditioning, that meant the alternative to death needn¡¯t be equally long-term reconditioning. The corruption was foreign and unclean and unwanted and it would all burn.


    ¡°A????????A????????????A??????AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!¡±


    The dragon¡¯s body screamed and screamed and screamed until he lost all breath, all life, only to wake again, gasp for air and scream again, and again, thrashing weakly, helplessly as the corruption was exposed, displaced, loosened and scoured out of him bit by bit.


    ¡°Don¡¯t tie your soul to anything worldly, to things, to animals, to silver and gold, for as they come, so they leave. All that is seen, is birthed, grown and then it goes back to where it came from. Only the nature of things stays eternal and has innumerable and endless branches, and so like the springs of your mind and your soul, they do not show themselves. For a breath and a fire make everything that grows to grow, weeds, trees, animals and ourselves. And out of the same hearth they arrive and return, and this hearth is eternal!¡±


    The dragon¡¯s soul screamed too, but its eyes sought mine, shocked, confused, disbelieving, resentful, and suddenly drowning in want when he finally realized what I was doing.


    ¡°Acknowledge the bad thought, shield yourself as you shield from the thunder, let it go the same way it came, for it urges you towards unnatural things. Shield from bare words and from falsehood. They are like the powder of the field which covers your eyes, like a spider¡¯s web for your mind and your soul. They urge you towards pride, deceit, theft and bloodshed and their fruit is shame, helplessness, poverty, illness, bitterness and death!¡±


    The lies, the fear, the delusion, the corruption was exposed, displaced, loosened and scoured out of him with each death, leaving the Light to restore, heal and become what was lost with every new life. Remade everything wrong in the flesh and past it, refit it to what was still right and healthy in the Soul, even if that meant replacing everything that was no longer there!


    ¡°Remember that the heartbeat¡­ the flowing of blood through the veins, the healing of wounds, the beauty of the eyes and the wonder of the formation of the body, they¡­ They are made through the power and breath of the lively and eternal fire. You have forgotten that the body is just a grain from the small that is seen. Remember!¡±


    ¡°G?????R???R????R????A???A????????A????????????A??????AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!¡±


    Life fled and returned through dozen deaths. A hundred deaths. A hundred hundred deaths until I had almost nothing of myself left to strain.


    A hundred hundred deaths followed by new life each and every time all the way unto dawn.


    Until¡­ Until finally¡­


    ¡°S-stop, please!¡± Verration begged brokenly. ¡°The fire ¨C the Light ¨C so beautiful ¨C Rapture! You¡¯d dangle it in front of me ¨C nothing awaits me save the maws!¡±


    ¡°Be¡­ like the towering mountain and raise your light above everything that surrounds you. Be sober like the earth¡­ and you will not lack anything. Helplessness¡­ comes for evil and falsehood, for what you give is what you receive, what you sow is what you reap. The light of your soul and the light of the one next to you, they have the same hearth and remain without shadow!¡±


    ¡°Y?o?u?'' ?p?r?e?a?c?h? ???me hope,¡± the words of sanity finally ripped their way out of a hoarse dual voice. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ no different from cruelty, your Light ¨C it reaches me ¨C through a thousand deaths you still hold out your hand ¨C don¡¯t dangle salvation before me now, please! The want ¨C it devours all sense, you can¡¯t ¨C I can¡¯t¡­¡±


    ¡°You ¨C damned ¨C lizard!¡± That want was the first want that was his in¡­ I didn¡¯t know how long. ¡°Have you no shame? Does a man see into a dragon¡¯s heart better than he does? Where is your pride?!¡±


    ¡°Plaudits ¨C clemency,¡± Verrartion groaned in the throes of renewal. ¡°At the end ¨C all you will receive ¨C disappointment!¡±


    ¡°Onyxia, Nefarian, Deathwing the Damned, no! You are nothing like them!¡± He premeditated nothing but the death of his flight¡¯s worst monsters, otherwise did only what men hired him to inflict on other men. He never warped minds, never harassed, he didn¡¯t indulge the sadism imposed on him, he never projected his degeneracy on his victims, he never even confected mental justifications. The only disappointment here was that Aiden Perenolde came by all his evil completely honestly!


    ¡°Your mind,¡± the dragon rasped. ¡°I see it ¨C no mercy ¨C no rancor ¨C no disdain, I ¨C I can¡¯t-¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to. That¡¯s why I¡¯m here. You are Fahrad, the Trainer of Heroes! You are Verration, the Black Dragon who inherits the charge of the Ruler of the Earth!¡±


    ¡°I ¨C I am-¡°


    ¡°I AM.¡± That ¨C that was a good chant. ¡°I AM. I AM. I AM I AM I AM I-¡°


    ¡°-A?M?, I A?M?, I AM, I AM, I AM!¡±


    The Light Judged one last time.


    ¡°The unwise ¨C is urged ¨C by craving ¨C but the wise contains it! The unwise suffers when ¨C when the craving brings him to failure and fall, but the wise always¡­ always finds the winning in losing and ¨C¡°


    ¡°-and the Ascension in Descent!¡±


    The Light Judged one last time and the dragon lived. Its mind and spirit and body all felt no pain.


    Because¡­


    Because¡­


    ¡°The End¡­¡± we both spoke at once. ¡°Is the Beginning!¡±


    I collapsed. The Light winked out, but the darkness didn¡¯t return because the Sun was finally above the mountains. The angels fell to their knees, their lights dim, their spirits worn and sheer but their faces reverent. There were people around me. And farther away. Family. Strangers. I could barely see them. I could barely see anything. I could barely see. I could barely hear. Calls. Words. Warmth upon my face. Feathery wings on the unfelt currents of the world unseen, brushing my face.


    Words were said. Tears were shed. Acknowledgment came in the same breath as someone offered a drink from a flagon.


    Great burnished wings flapped from the ridge where we grazed our cattle, only to turn away and disappear over the canyon.


    And in front of me, pained and exhausted from the ritual of a thousand deaths, rose the first, resounding, rapturous cry of a Lightforged Dragon.

 The Council of Incidentals

    ¡°-. July 20, Year 580 of the King¡¯s Calendar .-¡°


    On the first day, I lay blind, deaf and witless as I suffered the incorporeal equivalent of complete muscle failure.


    On the second day, my spirit began moving again just enough for my mental burnout to catch up with me too, so I could barely process short-term memory, never mind anything long-term.


    On the third day, the first pilgrims showed up.


    It only went sideways from there.


    I didn¡¯t find out about any of it until I was finally able to get out of bed on day seven. My father adamantly refused to let anyone put any sort of pressure on me, which was sweet. Bittersweet. It took me days for my senses to return, and more still for my mind to properly reassert itself. Seven days of my father bravely forcing himself not to cry at seeing my mind still broken every time he came in with food. All of which escaped me the entire time, like everything else.


    Because it wasn¡¯t actually being blind and deaf. Apparently, when you don¡¯t have willpower for even the measliest short-term cognitive processes, it¡¯s as good as being blind and deaf because you don¡¯t process any sensory input, never mind store anything. It was like dissociation, but worse. I gave the term ¡®witless¡¯ an entirely new meaning and then some.


    Dad did cry when I finally persuaded him I wasn¡¯t going demented before him, hugging me for a good while as he wept with relief next to me in bed. Relief mixed with shame at his own weakness, and resentment over how nobody I went literally out of my mind to save even deserved it.


    Which was fair, but that¡¯s why mercy and justice aren¡¯t the same thing.


    ¡°None of¡¯em know how to find their own asses, why fucking bother?¡± Dad sniffled as he blew his nose.


    I pretended not to see that the handkerchief was hard as crust, was he crying so often when no one could see him, or was he sick? My spirit slumped uselessly when I tried to tug on the Light, a pain without pain, a weariness like when you try to clench a fist but your hand muscles are completely dead. Right maybe wait a bit before I try psychometry. Or anything else.


    ¡°The wizard needed you to spell out how to do his job, the Duke came when everything was all over ¨C fat load of good he was ¨C the assassin acts like he¡¯s not worried about anything despite everything he¡¯s done, and when it¡¯s not trying to murder the wrong people again, that fucking damn new pet dragon of yours is useless.¡±


    I had talks with people? ¡°I¡¯m going to need you to lay out everything in detail, because I don¡¯t remember a thing.¡± I might not want to entirely trust what I remembered from before all this either. Not when I¡¯d already been so out of it that I couldn¡¯t even do basic multiplication. A hundred hundred deaths means ten thousand deaths, not just one.


    Dad cursed everyone involved to high hells ¨C repeatedly ¨C but otherwise summed up things as well as he could.


    On the first day, Antonidas had played warden for both the assassin and the dragon while helping to put out the fires with unrestrained applications of elementalism. On the second day, Richard finally got here, and after a tense standoff with the dragon ¨C who¡¯d swept down thinking to protect me from his party until Richard brought out the Light ¨C took over security of the farm and the prisoners. This freed Antonidas to take his leave to retrieve his prisoner that he¡¯d been escorting to Alterac City. He¡¯d had to leave him behind with a couple of soldiers while he flew ahead to investigate the terrible ruckus we were making.


    That prisoner was Howard, our farmhand. Who had been the bronze dragon Kairozdormu in disguise all this time. Something which Antonidas hadn¡¯t realized until his talk with me, which raised the question of what else had called for his arrest.


    ¡°Bloody wizard damn right should feel like an imbecile,¡± Dad groused as he told me what Antonidas had muttered about himself after he only made that connection during his talk with me. Apparently. ¡°How does he think I feel about it? A bloody time dragon older than this country and I had him shovelling dung.¡±


    ¡°That must¡¯ve been some talk.¡± Especially since I¡¯d only just made that connection myself. ¡°Did I just imagine it, or was the bronze dragon really watching from the ridge while I was Lightforging the black one?¡±


    ¡°Is that the word?¡± Dad muttered. ¡°No, he was definitely there. Watched the whole thing and didn¡¯t do shit to help while you were taking the tarnish off the other lizard. Sat on the ridge the whole time and then just flew off, the cunt, good fucking riddance.¡±


    Maybe not so good. ¡°Do we know what happened with Howard since? Why was he even arrested? Do we know why he let himself be arrested, how did Antonidas even find him? Twice, apparently?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure the wizard must know, but I didn¡¯t ask, m¡¯sorry, son, I got ¨C I didn¡¯t have it in me to care, I guess it¡¯s another thing I¡¯ve bolloxed up.¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s alright.¡± I wrestled with the complete lack of will to get out of bed. I lost. ¡°How¡¯s mother?¡±


    Dad put his handkerchief away and his hands on his knees where he sat next to me. ¡°The Duke healed her best he could, but I¡¯m starting to think he shouldn¡¯t have. She only used her quick recovery to start working herself to distraction.¡± He gripped his pant legs. ¡°I buried your ¨C the ¨C I buried them. The wizard offered to put them in stasis, some sort of crystal spell while we waited for ¨C I didn¡¯t ¨C I said no.¡± He didn¡¯t meet my eyes. ¡°You were dealing with enough as is.¡±


    I sighed and rubbed his back.


    Dad sagged, then flinched away from me in self-disgust. He got up and made for the door. ¡°I¡¯ll collect the who¡¯s who. Take your time.¡±


    I didn¡¯t get a chance to reply before the door closed after him.


    Reality intrudes when it wants.


    ~ Forbearance, Confidence, Concern ~


    Granodior had been waiting for me to regain myself as well, confident I would but concerned all the same. How are you? Is the cleansing going well? Do you need me to do anything?


    ~ Determination, Confidence, Fortitude ~


    It was going well, but there was a lot to be done still, and it would take some time in human terms so I¡¯d better not worry about it and focus on myself for a change. Mostly what I expected really, except for one thing. You prioritised the surface soil. Just for us. Thank you.


    ~ You Prioritised Me, Commitment Trumps Want, Largesse is only Natural ~


    I didn¡¯t go into that fight planning to do him any favors, but he didn¡¯t care because I committed to it anyway, and immediately did my part and then some. Quite appropriately, spirits followed the spirit of pacts, not the letter. Speaking of spirits though. Where are the little steam heads, do you know?


    ~ Pique, Understanding, Sympathy ~


    I saw a brief vision of the nine little ones sulking in the ever-steaming cauldron. Granodior was annoyed with them, but understanding of¡­ whatever it was they were upset over that didn¡¯t immediately go away when they felt me recover. I¡¯d have expected them to swarm me by now, but they were staying put. Then again, I could barely get myself going, never mind the Aura of Vigor.


    The ever-burning cauldron had a mageflame now, instead of coal and firewood.


    Also, Granodior had been bizarrely dissembling just now, while conveying the vision. The feelings he added to it weren¡¯t his strongest feelings. He was hiding something from me. Deliberately.


    Do you want me to ask?


    ~ No ~


    Well.


    That was blunt.


    Finally, I managed to rise from my bed. When no dizzy spell came over me, I walked out of the room to find Bart wringing his hands. ¡°Your Worship ¨C I mean Young Master! (The Master warned me not to slip too, shit) I¡¯m to escort you downstairs at your leisure.¡±


    ¡°¡­ Good recovery.¡± I said flatly. ¡°For my father¡¯s sake, I¡¯ll allow you to treat me like the lackwit I¡¯ve been these past few days. You can walk next to me while I prop myself on your shoulder. This once. Now let¡¯s get this over with.¡±


    ¡°Right you are, milord!¡±


    Was I ennobled when I wasn¡¯t looking?


    The ¡®who¡¯s who¡¯ were waiting in the living room. Other than my father, there was Richard there, Antonidas, Jorach Ravenholdt ¨C in manacles and glowing arcane force bindings on his ankles and wrists ¨C as well as Narett for some reason, my incidental business adjacent and teacher in Alchemy. He and the wizard were glaring at each other. I¡¯d interrupted some manner of standoff. No dragon though.


    ¡°My Lord.¡± ¡°Young Sir.¡± ¡°Your Worship.¡± Young One.¡±


    I didn¡¯t reply. I was looking through the window. At some point, our front lawn had been completely overtaken by a massive pavilion, and there was a literal war tent beyond that.


    My father dismissed Bart and led me to the chair at the head of the table, where there was a late breakfast and steaming cup of tea waiting for me. I looked around for mother, but she didn¡¯t materialize. A meaningful glance to father got me a sad shake of his head. None of this was fine.


    I ignored the food and the proffered seat. ¡°Duke Angevin, could you come over here please?¡±


    The Duke quietly did so.


    I grabbed the back of his head and pulled him until our foreheads touched. ¡°Richard. Hire a teleport wizard.¡±


    The man slumped in relief, what did he think I was going to say? Do? ¡°Yes. Yes of course, I¡¯ve already talked about it with the Dalaran representative. Magus Antonidas has been helping me and my men go to and back from my keep in the meanwhile.¡±


    I have a Dalaran ¡®representative,¡¯ what even is my status right now?


    I let him go and leaned with my hands on the table while he withdrew. If I sat down, I might not muster the willpower to get back up for another day. ¡°I¡¯ll go over the precise damages later, but do we still have our map at least?¡±


    Antonidas cleared his throat. ¡°If I may?¡±


    ¡°Go ahead.¡±


    With a short spell, there was suddenly a perfect bird¡¯s eye view of our property and the surrounding lands, moving in real time.


    Opportunity had come belatedly, but I wasn¡¯t going to let it slip. ¡°I¡¯m going to talk to you about arcane instruction after this, just so you know. Please don¡¯t go anywhere.¡±


    ¡°Very well.¡±


    Just like that? Again? ¡°Alright, people, catch me up on what I missed.¡±


    The answer was ¡®not much besides what I¡¯d deduced,¡¯ but only because no one involved could escalate beyond a murder dragon, the Master of Assassins had proven more cooperative than a beehive, and Duke Richard Angevin had managed ¨C with wizard help ¨C to bring just enough soldiers to stay barely ahead of the complications created by the over a hundred pilgrims currently camped at the foot of the valley. With at least half a dozen more arriving each day. A number that was steadily rising and had only been prevented from camping at our literal doorstep thanks to the soldiers aforementioned.


    Our fences and gate were all gone because of the flames and the lava. So was the waterwheel we used to get electricity from.


    ¡°You¡¯d think the roars and smoke would have warned them away, but many have come regardless, curious of the bright spectacle in the sky.¡± I had a duke reporting to me like I was his liege lord, Richard had completely meant it about becoming my disciple, hadn¡¯t he? ¡°Some had real need for healing. I¡¯ve done all I could for them in your absence, but I¡¯ve had no more success at curing true sickness than the clergy. As for the remaining few... They think you can bring their loved ones back from the grave.¡±


    The silence that followed was only less breathless than the additional silence upon me not immediately dismissing the notion.


    ¡°Can you?¡± Antonidas dared when no one else would.


    ¡°If the future had a big enough need for it, I could probably figure out something.¡± The Light could power and restore anything, the Arcane could conjure and move anything, Uther haunted his grave for years, and managing the souls of the departed was half the point of shamanism. Even if I ¨C or someone else ¨C didn¡¯t figure out how to combine all that, there was a Titan whose entire life revolved around making spare bodies for people.


    None of his ravens were in sight at the moment, but there was one simple fact bolstering my confidence ¨C Geirrvif the Valkyrie was standing sentry on the roof right now. ¡°There is no such need, though, so for the foreseeable future we¡¯ll remain limited to the very recently fallen, and even then only if an angel also happens to be hovering nearby.¡± No reaction from the valkyrie, I suppose I should appreciate that she respected privacy. Even if it was probably out of courtesy to me, instead of the norm. ¡°Richard.¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°Is there danger of rioting if I don¡¯t give the answer they want?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so. They¡¯ve not behaved like a mob. Even if they did, my soldiers can contain them, at least in their current numbers.¡±


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll be going over there to disappoint everyone personally. Later.¡± I ignored Father¡¯s worry and looked to Antonidas next. ¡°Magus d¡¯Ambrosio. Please believe me that I mean absolutely no disrespect by asking: why are you still here?¡±


    Antonidas grimaced. ¡°I requested my stay in Alterac be extended while I seek amends for my part in the attack on your home.¡±


    What did he just say?


    ¡°Your part in what?¡± Richard exploded.


    ¡°Had I not come after your¡­ farmhand when I did, he might have lingered and been here to repel the attack.¡±


    Richard subsided, though he still glared at the mage suspiciously, their collaboration must have been fraught with more tension than previously implied, so far. I scratched my cheek, reminding myself not to jump to conclusions. ¡°Yes, alright. Dare I ask why you were after him in the first place?¡±


    Antonidas hesitated. ¡°There is no easy way to say this ¨C all signs point to him being the mastermind behind the purge of the nobility.¡±


    For a moment, I seriously wondered if this was all a dream. ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    Antonidas repeating it didn¡¯t make it sound any less insane.


    ¡°Explain. Please. At length.¡±


    Antonidas did more than explain. He detailed his entire investigation item by item with no embellishment or artifice.


    By the end, Richard looked fit to march into the royal palace and strangle the dragon-man on the torture table. ¡°That cur! I¡¯ll kill him, I¡¯ll wring his scaly neck I will, you¡¯re saying he caused it all?! All those people ¨C my whole family, they ¨C because ¨C because what? Why? What the hell was he after? Bloody dragons, how many of them have their nose in our business?¡±


    At least one more than you know about. ¡°Somehow, I doubt that getting everyone off my case was the only goal.¡± I¡¯d never imagined this as the answer to why all my problems went away with the hangings. I¡¯d sooner have expected the Archbishop to have done something. Also¡­ the Kairozdormu I knew of had an issue with overestimating the reliability of other people in his plans ¨C it was what killed him. But the plans themselves and, most importantly, his own part in them were very carefully arranged and seen through. Successfully. ¡°Richard, I¡¯m sorry your family got caught up in it.¡±


    Richard slammed his fist into the table. ¡°You will not take blame for the actions of that thing!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not. I can be sorry just fine without it.¡±


    The man faltered, but his glare returned and pinned Antonidas again. ¡°Fine then. Wizard, what do you think of this madness?¡±


    ¡°Sabotaging Alterac from within in preparation for the approaching war was my best guess, but then I found out he was a bronze dragon with a lateral view of time,¡± Antonidas shrugged helplessly. ¡°I could not even begin to speculate now. We mages are taught early on never to try and guess what goes on in the heads of wyrms, especially bronze ones.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m surprised you could even catch him the second time,¡± Narett said. ¡°Or did he wait around until you caught up?¡±


    ¡°As a matter of fact, he did.¡± That shouldn¡¯t have been as surprising as it was. ¡°Per the guards, he gave them the slip immediately after I left ¨C I surmise this was when he took his true form for the battle ¨C only for them to stumble upon him the next day, huddled under old deadwood near the battle site and ¡®shivering¡¯ in ¡®fear¡¯ of what he¡¯d just ¡®witnessed.¡¯ I might have been fooled into thinking he was nothing but a human fool after all, if not for¡­ everything else I¡¯ve learned and experienced since.¡±


    I wanted to say something, but I couldn¡¯t find the words because holy shit, my farmhand engineered the nobility purge. Before he¡¯d gotten Dad to hire him, at which point he lived the farmhand¡¯s life like he was born to it. The man who¡¯d plowed our fields, shovelled shit, fed the pigs and collected eggs every morning was the same person who¡¯d manipulated warriors, nobles, mages, and the king himself into the bloodiest political bloodbath in human history.


    He used us for plausible deniability? As an alibi? Sanctuary?


    No, it couldn¡¯t have been just that, could it? He could have masqueraded as literally anything and anyone else. He could only have been here for me, why? Just to watch? Kairozdormu was the last bronze dragon I could imagine doing anything resembling non-interference, and his involvement in the fight proved it. Proved it every bit as much as him bailing after I failed to live up to whatever visions he¡¯d seen of me.


    What was he thinking? Was he acting alone? Or was the whole bronze dragonflight in on this? Most importantly, why? I though back, but no matter how I tried, I couldn¡¯t think of him ever going anywhere or doing anything odd at any hours, even with my second sight.


    ¡°Alright,¡± I finally said for lack of something better, pinching my nose. ¡°I won¡¯t even try to figure out the thought process behind any of that. I¡¯ll wait until I can get an explanation straight from the source.¡±


    ¡°You might have a lot of waiting ahead of you then,¡± Antonidas said grimly. ¡°He has surrendered himself to the King, openly confessed to everything, and explicitly told me the last time I was allowed in his presence that he will refuse to talk to you if you try to get in to see him.¡±


    Now why ever would he do that?


    ¡°I never should¡¯ve hired him,¡± Dad said from a chair near the wall, head in his hands and sounding sick. ¡°I never should¡¯ve hired him.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be silly, Father, I didn¡¯t suspect a thing either.¡± Though it was telling that Howard made himself scarce just after I developed the Soulgaze.


    Antonidas pretended not to see my father¡¯s moment of weakness. ¡°The King has since barred all from the dungeon, save himself and his handpicked torturer. Even Dalaran has been denied. The issue of jurisdiction was already split before, but with regards to dragons there are standing treaties between the Kirin Tor and all human nations. Alas, the King no longer cares who he offends.¡±


    That was another thing, why the hell would the dragon submit to imprisonment, never mind torture? Especially now, when the whole ruse was exposed? The mortal disguise wasn¡¯t merely skin-deep in dragons, when they turned into elves and humans they were elves and humans, however immortal and tough (if at all). Torture would be as painful and real as for any other woman or man. Maybe even the maiming would be permanent, depending on how the shapeshifting worked. Dragons could and often preferred to make love and procreate as bipedal humanoids, that¡¯s how real it got.


    ¡°Let me guess,¡± Narett spoke up in the quiet, his words were shockingly snide from what I knew as a calm and self-contained sage and teacher. ¡°The Kirin Tor have since decided to wait and see ¨C as usual ¨C until the dragon acts out again and they can swoop in from a stronger bargaining position. In the meantime, they will argue it¡¯s precisely so it doesn¡¯t act out in offense at perceived interference with his grand schemes again.¡±


    ¡°The Council¡¯s reasoning has not been conveyed to me.¡± I got the feeling the wizard only responded at all because he didn¡¯t want to offend me by proxy. Antonidas was certainly only looking in my direction. ¡°My mentor, Krasus of the Council of Six, has extended an invitation to discuss it with him directly.¡±


    ¡°You have a transmission stone already primed, I assume?¡±


    ¡°He meant in person.¡± Did he now? ¡°At a time and place of your choosing, though he urges haste for obvious reasons.¡±


    I sensed a fulcrum in the Light. It was like a laser pointed at my eyes, for lack of a better word, but I¡¯d suffered much worse. ¡°¡­ Was that before or after you asked for an extension on your stay?¡±


    The mage¡¯s eyes sharpened but he replied regardless. ¡°Before.¡±


    ¡°If you hadn¡¯t made the request to make amends, do you believe the assignment would have been given you regardless?¡±


    ¡°If not me then to another.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not sure you¡¯d have been their first choice?¡±


    ¡°Not entirely, no.¡± He hesitated, but only briefly. ¡°My investigation into the purge was done with their full knowledge and approval, but not the one into your employee.¡±


    That was a surprise, but it didn¡¯t not fit with the rest. ¡°So, I almost had literally anyone but you in my home right now?¡± No by your leave, no nothing.


    The man grimaced, hiding the humiliation he felt just a little too late. ¡°I suppose I deserved that.¡±


    He¡¯d taken it wrong but that was fine, I could work with that too. ¡°You misunderstand, I don¡¯t mind that it¡¯s you at all. I¡¯ve been trying to get one of you mages to come down for a talk for months, but I never presumed to aim as high as the future head of the Council of Six.¡±


    Antonidas blinked at me with that same incomprehension I¡¯d only ever seen on Richard when I first called him by his future epithet.


    Also like Richard, the future leader of the Kirin Tor was only lacking in context. Fortunately, I¡¯d soon give it to him and then some. ¡°Tell Archmage Krasus I only agree to a talk if the entire Council of Six is there for it.¡± Antonidas was visibly surprised, but not visibly offended. ¡°With respect to them, it can be over transmission stone instead ¨C in fact, I¡¯d much prefer it ¨C but anything I¡¯m willing to talk about without all of them present can go through you just fine.¡±


    Antonidas didn¡¯t seem to know if that was more alarming or flattering. Still no sign that he took what I said as an insult though. ¡°I will relay your conditions.¡±


    It made me wonder about whatever impression I made on him. I suppose smiting an irredeemable enemy of all existence into holy enlightenment goes a long way with some people. And resurrection too, I suppose.


    And on that note¡­ ¡°What of Verration?¡±


    The glances that were exchanged were as complicated as they were varied. Eventually, Richard answered. ¡°I got the impression he could have unleashed considerable¡­ viciousness in your defence during our brief standoff. He has secluded himself ever since, however.¡±


    Dad hauled himself from his chair with a grunt. ¡°What he means is the wyrm¡¯s dug a hole under the ridge where we used to graze our cows and our sheep ¨C they all died to the smoke, did I mention that? He hasn¡¯t come out. Even when your mother completely lost her mind the other day and went poking him ¨C literally ¨C asking if he was going to join us for dinner. He didn¡¯t react at all.¡±


    Suicidal behaviour, shit. Maybe it wasn¡¯t though? Maybe she just trusted my results as always? The Light had nothing to say either way, which helped precisely not at all.


    I turned to the bound man who¡¯d been calmly standing and waiting inside a sight and sound-blurring bubble all that time. At my glance, Antonidas dropped both spells.


    ¡°Jorach Ravenholdt.¡±


    The Lord of Ravenholdt Manor shook himself out of whatever trance he¡¯d put himself in, gave the gathering a brief intent gaze, then looked at me with that same dignity from seven nights ago. ¡°Most High Holiness.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the Archbishop¡¯s style of address.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve never used it for him and I never will.¡±


    ¡°I will play no word games with you. Talk plainly or not at all.¡±


    ¡°The Old Fowl of the Mountain affords no one styles or titles, save one.¡±


    Fowl was a much more charged term here than on Earth. ¡®Domesticated¡¯ bird was certainly not its meaning. ¡°You just afforded one to me.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°What about the king?¡±


    The man looked at me squarely. ¡°He has broken his vow as a ruler.¡±


    No shit. ¡°Which part?¡±


    ¡°¡¯I pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you into dishonor.¡¯¡±


    If more people held their masters accountable to their own oaths, it would be a much different world. So would Earth. On the other hand, that pledge was subject to very wide interpretation, which was why few ever took it seriously as a cause for revolt. ¡°You know, the man who originally invented your approach to things used it to subvert, displace, control and intimidate an empire. Eventually, even kings and the Emperor himself didn¡¯t dare try to root him out, for fear that their own groom of the stool would stab them in their bed.¡± That was the history back on Earth, at least. How he reacted would tell me how Azeroth compares. ¡°Am I truly supposed to believe you assassins answer to any master but yourselves?¡±


    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    ¡°It is as you say, we served no master but the Master of Assassins, once.¡± That being him. ¡°Then the Fowl War happened, and we suffered first-hand the consequences of depriving humanity of all those with will and aspirations beyond our own.¡±


    On Earth, the religious sect created by Hassan I Sabbah murdered, displaced or intimidated practically everyone of import in the Muslim lands until even Saladin backed down before them. Then the Mongols invaded and there were conspicuously no great generals or statesmen around to organize a proper defense. No historians ever seemed inclined to comment on how that might be connected to the systematic murder of every last brave and competent man not part of the hive mind.


    On Azeroth, the Fowl War was the founding epic of Alterac, after a fashion. It was the conflict that occurred between Strom and Alterac after the last emperor¡¯s reign ended, named after the bird heraldries of the two belligerents. But everything I¡¯d read or heard about it only convinced me nobody actually understood what happened there.


    For one, the actual Alteraci in that mess were the Trollbane family, who now ruled Strom, not their homeland here. For another, with the Lord of Ravenholdt Hall calling himself by that term just now, I had to wonder if there might have been three sides to that war, instead of two.


    The clincher, though, was that everyone ¡®agreed¡¯ that the war broke out when the Arathi bloodline decided to literally abandon their empire to found a new realm ¨C Stormwind ¨C prompting the ones left behind to make their best impression of the War of the Roses. It was absurd ¨C the ruling dynasty of an empire doesn¡¯t just pack up and leave. At most I could believe the heir went off on a colonization mission and then the father died back home-


    My thoughts course corrected. Facts and pattern recognition came together in a different form inside my mind. The Light chimed like a bell at the edge of my perception.


    I looked at Lord Jorach Ravenholdt. ¡°The last Emperor,¡± I said lowly as the realization set it. ¡°You killed him.¡±


    There were sharp breaths around me.


    ¡°The first incarnation of Ravenholdt Hall did, yes.¡± The man¡¯s expression didn¡¯t even flicker. ¡°They grew bloated and proud during times of peace, and so fared very poorly during war. A war they themselves started by culling all voices of sense and reason for generations, not even caring to pretend secrecy by the end, never mind temperance or discretion. Their hubris destroyed them. It could have been the end of all mankind if not for the elves constantly culling the trolls since the War of Founding.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t decide if the silence that descended upon the room was more shocked or horrified.


    ¡°The Prince denounced them, and the weakness and cowardice their reign had made of the land, boldly and bravely. The Emperor sent him away along with the multitudes drawn in by his charm. It was a bid to preserve his life, to fling a light into the future while he saw about a more measured approach. The first gambit succeeded, the rest did not, and so here we are.¡±


    Unfuckingbelievable.


    The silence now was definitely horrified.


    ¡°When the hidden knives are bloodiest,¡± Narett said eventually. Slowly. ¡°The veil concealing them is also thinnest, tattered, flapping loosely and failing to conceal the crime. Sending the revealing flame away is always a mistake.¡± The alchemist sighed then and glanced between my father and me. ¡°But I can understand a parent not wanting his child¡¯s life snuffed out before his.¡±


    At least there was still unsettled land to run to, unlike on Earth in my time.


    The others were far less sanguine, now that the pall was broken.


    ¡°My Lord,¡± Richard said. ¡°Give me the word and I will slay him where he stands.¡±


    ¡°Not in the house,¡± Dad said weakly. ¡°Outside.¡±


    ¡°It needn¡¯t be a mess, I can strangle a man just fine.¡±


    ¡°And you can do it not here. Not where Agnes can see or hear.¡±


    ¡°My spells give me a great degree of control over his movements, I can-¡°


    ¡°Everyone quiet.¡±


    Everyone shut up.


    I looked at the man, trying to figure out what it was that kept him so level-headed. It didn¡¯t look like pride, save maybe in not being party to the same mistakes as the founders of his organisation, not anymore a least. It couldn¡¯t be self-delusion either, after the Judgment I called on him just a week ago. All I could see was a man sure of his place in the world, lacking any delusion about how dark and ugly that place was, and nonetheless at peace with whatever came next.


    It, quite frankly, pissed me off like no tomorrow. ¡°You know, my best judgment tells me I can make use of you. It tells me I might be able to spare you with minor consequences. I actually think you sound reasonable and believe you¡¯re completely genuine. But I really just want to kill you and spare the world the burden of your evil.¡±


    That, finally, seemed to bring the man¡¯s unflappability to an end. It also seemed to surprise everyone else, but I¡¯d leave figuring that one out for later.


    ¡°Tell me why I shouldn¡¯t strike you down right now. Tell me why I shouldn¡¯t declare total war of annihilation on your entire organisation. Believe me when I say, it doesn¡¯t matter how good and patient you and yours are about insinuating yourselves in everyone¡¯s business. I have all the means I need to tell your kind apart from everyone else.¡± I barely refrained from summoning the Soulgaze and burning his mind from within like I could have done the dragon. If I tried that in my current state, I might not be able to get back up for another week. ¡°You have five minutes.¡±


    Jorach nodded. ¡°I¡¯ve been gone and undoubtedly presumed dead for seven days. Darbel Montrose, whom you killed, was the other major contender to leadership of our order, if only through her outside importance as the King¡¯s mistress. With both of us gone, there will be a full blown shadow war over control of Ravenholdt Hall by now. Those who chafed under my strict standards will doubtless attempt to find new patrons, if not strike out on their own when their coups run into each other. Meanwhile, I expect at least a handful of my loyalists will have insinuated themselves among your pilgrims by now, as they won¡¯t give me up for dead without seeing the body.¡±


    I stared at the man.


    So did everyone else.


    ¡°Loyalists.¡± I palmed my face. ¡°You have factions. The Order of Assassins has factions. Of course you do.¡±


    ¡°You needn¡¯t show my face to the masses if you¡¯d rather not taunt the King into another fit of madness. That said, I do have a distinctive token that will suffice for my people and only them, if I wore it over, say, a face-concealing scarf or hooded cloak. If you do decide the world has suffered me and mine enough, I would nonetheless recommend that you first parade me around like a trophy so you make the most of your captured asset.¡±


    ¡°¡­ The sheer balls on this man,¡± Richard muttered in disbelief.


    Somehow, I didn¡¯t gape. But it was a close thing. ¡°Are you being serious right now?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    I¡¯d never run into a situation when someone¡¯s calm could piss me off so much. ¡°You know, I actually do want to parade you around now, but just so I can get those minions of yours to also come forward so I can rid the world of them as well, and however many others I can round up through them. Does that change your answer at all?¡±


    ¡°¡­ If you decide we are beyond saving, then so be it, and may whoever takes my place be wiser than to swear to such service as that which sullied us so utterly.¡±


    I really wanted to be angry at him, but he wasn¡¯t making it easy at all. I wanted to believe him too, but knowing the Soulgaze had precisely the consequence I¡¯d foreseen ¨C it made me mistrust my judgment when I couldn¡¯t use it.


    Then again¡­


    ¡°Richard, come over here.¡± I waited until he was next to me. ¡°Look into this man¡¯s eyes.¡±


    To his credit, Ravenholdt didn¡¯t hesitate to obey the implied command to meet the gaze of my paladin.


    ¡°The common man needs to put much time and mind into trying to understand people, often failing even after hours, days, years of talking and trying to get each other to come around to their way of thinking. We don¡¯t need any of that. The Light Reveals. It needs only a driving force, a will to enact a direct and instantaneous challenge. Your beliefs against his, no lies, no pretense, no ambiguous words. All you need to do is face your own potential false beliefs. Be brave enough to acknowledge the possibility that the Light will reveal more of you than him. Accept the risk that you might come around to his way of thinking. Empathise with him. Sympathise, even. The Light cares about feelings but has no concept of thought crime and judges only by actions based on which way all the facts fall.¡±


    Richard¡¯s eyes were ablaze. ¡°I can see it.¡±


    ¡°The Light works intuitively. There¡¯s only you and him, directly connected, synchronized. Two judgments. Two spirits. One single Truth regardless of either of your beliefs on anything. Shine the Light on it, Richard. The Light Reveals. Commit.¡±


    There was no visible sign that the Souglaze was invoked for the first time by someone other than me, but the results were immediate.


    I barely kept Richard on his feet.


    In front of us, the Master of Assassins dropped to his knees with a cry of¡­


    Wonderment?


    The chains rattled in tandem with arcane flares as the manacles kept the assassin¡¯s hands from cradling his head. ¡°Even ¨C your servants ¨C such calibre ¨C out of this world.¡± Ravenhold gasped, his breath rattling heavy with vindication as he looked up at me with the zeal of the converted. ¡°Truly, I am fortunate beyond all of my forebears. None that came before me were blessed with such rapturous certainty as this.¡±


    ¡­ How much of me came through Richard¡¯s soulgaze? If my paladin¡¯s Covenant was to my Covenant, and my Covenant was the future itself, one he¡¯d directly experienced in our Soulgaze, then here, now, Ravenholdt would have-


    ¡°He¡¯s genuine,¡± Richard rasped as he swayed on his feet in my grip. ¡°He¡¯s ¨C he¡¯s not crazy, he¡¯s not even deluded he ¨C he¡¯s committed. Just ¨C not to what we¡¯re committed.¡±


    ¡°Are our agendas in conflict?¡± Antonidas asked with his fingers formed into a seal that rendered Ravenhold¡¯s bonds still, and on that note what did these people think my agenda was? What did he mean ¡®our¡¯ agendas? ¡°Is he a threat?¡±


    ¡°No ¨C not to us, not here, he¡­ He¡¯s just completely unapologetic about finding his highest purpose in keeping the realm¡¯s lowlifes from running rampant. Not just in killing the vile, but in keeping a monopoly on¡­ murder aforethought.¡±


    Say what? Seriously? ¡°And what did the Light have to say about that?¡±


    ¡°It¡­ didn¡¯t highlight any particular facts to the contrary.¡±


    ¡­ A monopoly on premeditated murder would have the same deleterious effects on the supply and quality of its object as any other monopoly. But did that actually mean Ravenholdt was aware of that? Was always aware of that? Was he keeping effective assassination and subterfuge limited to a chosen few deliberately? Or was he just faking it till he made it? On the matter of people in need of killing, I was never going to deny that the world is always better off with people-shaped monsters dead, but we already saw Ravenholdt didn¡¯t always get to choose his marks.


    But then you start to wonder where the line is for treason instead.


    I closed my eyes and tried to assess things as objectively as I could without leaning on the Light for input. I¡¯d have to wait until I could Soulgaze people again myself to make sure, but in the meantime¡­


    Jorach Ravenholdt not being in charge of the assassins led to my home burned down and my brothers murdered in the womb.


    There was only one logical conclusion.


    I am emotionally compromised.


    ¡°Richard.¡±


    My paladin shook his head and regained his feet. ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡±


    ¡°What do you want to do?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°What do you want to do with him?¡±


    The man was so honestly surprised I valued his input that it almost sent me on a rant about self-determination and yes-men. Fortunately for him, I had no more willpower for that than anything else right now.


    Almost. ¡°You¡¯re the one with the first-hand insight, and the Light is only stronger in you for it.¡± That much I could still sense at least, even in my state. ¡°I trust your judgment.¡±


    The man was visibly touched, the regard he must hold for me must be high indeed.


    He didn¡¯t look entirely confident when he looked at the other man though. ¡°¡­ I really just want to kill him and his. Scorch the earth.¡± He sighed gustily then. ¡°But I wouldn¡¯t know where to begin rooting them out, even if we find and take their headquarters. Especially if they¡¯re half as frustrating to deal with as him.¡±


    As glad as I was to have my own feelings vindicated, that admission still felt unsatisfying.


    Soon, though, Richard seemed to get an idea. Or half an idea, half realization from whatever it was he¡¯d just seen in his soul. ¡°You know what, let¡¯s do that ¨C let¡¯s bet it all on skill, assassin. I don¡¯t care how much use you can be, it¡¯s not worth it, the world would be better off without you and your wretched legacy. That you rightly acknowledge Lord Ferdinand as the best master for you is hardly proof of character, when it can be said just as easily of anyone else.¡±


    Alright, let¡¯s maybe not go quite that far-


    ¡°If killing you will propagate such evil as you claim you and yours to be capable of unleashing, I might at least be persuaded to stay your execution until I¡¯ve used you to root out the rest of the rats. Prove to me your men are as much of a nuisance as you believe. Give me proof of skill.¡±


    Jorach Ravenholdt climbed to his feet, frowned thoughtfully at his assigned judge, then looked to me for approval.


    Approval for what? ¡°Make it good.¡±


    The Master of Assassins flexed his wrists twice. ¡°Very well.¡± The empty manacles hadn¡¯t even reached the ground when the shadow of his existence skid to a wide halt right behind where Antonidas had been standing.


    The wizard teleported behind me and enveloped Richard and I in his forcefield a full second after Jorach Ravenholdt had slipped back into reality out of the shadows cast on him by his own clothes.


    I was wondering how he¡¯d slipped out of my spell, back then.


    ¡°Holy fuck!¡± Dad screamed, clutching his heart as he jumped back. The chair tipped over as he stumbled into it, clattering loudly. ¡°Bloody ¨C fuckmothering ¨C don¡¯t do that!¡±


    ¡°My apologies,¡± the Master of Assassins said earnestly, holding his hands above his head. And mom¡¯s kitchen knife. ¡°I will make whatever amends My Lord dictates.¡±


    I¡¯d read many scenes like this in my previous life. You never really appreciate them, though, until your father is the one trapped alone with a master murderer on the other side of the forcefield.


    ¡°If it helps,¡± the murderer in question said deferentially. ¡°That maneuver does require a certain preparation and state of mind.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll work with Antonidas here until he has a way to hold you that you can¡¯t escape.¡±


    All ease wiped from his face, but the man nodded anyway.


    ¡°You¡¯ll also work with the rest of us until we have some way to do that too, I¡¯m sure you can come up with something.¡±


    The man¡¯s shoulders slumped ever so little, but he obeyed even through his grimace. ¡°As you say.¡±


    ¡°I have a potion that will make it impossible to exert any mystical capabilities,¡± Narrett said as he came out of invisibility. ¡°For a limited time at least. You know, if that is at all relevant to the situation.¡±


    Wait, when had he vanished? I¡¯d completely forgotten about him, and even in this state I wasn¡¯t that oblivious, what magic was this? Or alchemy? ¡°I¡¯ll be picking your brain a lot, later. Jorach?¡±


    The man sighed, waited for Richard to hold him at sword point, waited some more until Narett approached, accepted the potion and drank it all in one swoop. ¡°Is that satisfactory?¡±


    ¡°Barely.¡± It was something at least. ¡°Magus Antonidas.¡±


    ¡°Using my name is fine, Young Sir.¡±


    ¡°Antonidas, then. Next time, protect my family first. I can probably come back from the dead, they can¡¯t.¡±


    The silence of the grave felt sinisterly familiar in the wake of my declaration.


    So much so that, once again, only my father found the nerve to break it.


    ¡°¡­ You can what?!¡±


    ¡°An on that note, please give me and my father some privacy. If the wizard agrees, Richard, you can bring Mercad here for what we talked about before.¡±


    <h3 style="text-align: center">¡°-. .-¡°


    Fortunately, Dad managed to collect himself fine once there were no outsider eyes adding to his stress. He dealt with my latest leap in ability somewhat more calmly than usual ¨C especially since it was still theoretical, thankfully ¨C but that only spoke to the sheer number and intensity of the shocks he had received in such a short time.


    Mother was unnaturally put together when I went looking for her, asking me how I felt and if there was something I needed and not to worry about the food, lunch will be my favorite, would we be entertaining guests? It was all said by rote after giving me a short hug, and then ¡®accidentally¡¯ avoiding all my attempts to move in for a real long one for ten whole minutes.


    I briefly considered humoring her bubble of decorum and damn the consequences, but you didn¡¯t enable self-destructive behaviour. Maybe on the first day or two, but not after a whole week of compounding unhealthy coping mechanisms. There was emotional deflection and then there was this nonsense.


    ¡°Mother-¡°


    ¡°I¡¯m not getting into this with you, Wayland,¡± My mother calmly interrupted me. ¡°I can deal with my own demons. I¡¯m the lady of this house and I¡¯ll do my part, so you should go and do yours. Your purpose is not in here, it¡¯s out there.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t presume to tell me what my purpose is.¡±


    The plate somehow didn¡¯t shatter as mother dropped it in the sink, shocked at my tone. But she didn¡¯t turn to face me.


    I walked over to stand behind her. ¡°Because I respect you as my mother, I¡¯m going to respect your wish to deal with this in the unhealthiest manner possible. This once. But let¡¯s be clear.¡± I leaned forward. ¡°When you break ¨C and you will ¨C father and I are the ones who¡¯ll have to pick up the pieces.¡± I stepped back. ¡°We¡¯ll do it, because we love you. But we¡¯ll hate every moment of it, and you¡¯ll hate yourself every moment of it, much more than you hate yourself right now.¡±


    I waited to see if she was going to say anything else. When she didn¡¯t, I left the house and went down to heal the people who didn¡¯t deny they needed help.


    Give it time, I told myself. It¡¯s enough that I didn¡¯t enable her repression. For now, it¡¯s all I can do.


    Narett caught me just outside, though. Without even a bit of pretense, he offered to ¡®help mother with cooking and the like¡¯ for the day. I was glad he did, the thought that mother might need to be put on suicide watch was only less horrifying than the terrible notion that she might go through with it when I wasn¡¯t there. Soul-weariness aside, I had too many fires to put out right now to watch over her by myself.


    I didn¡¯t ask my father why he wasn¡¯t sticking to mother. Not when he still failed in his attempts to not look like he was terrified I¡¯d drop dead or lose my mind at any moment.


    For better or worse, Richard came back with his long-suffering Captain soon enough that the awkwardness between my parents and I didn¡¯t have time to sour into something worse.


    Mercad Occitanier was sceptical about my claims of mind protection, and doubly sceptical about his highborn employer playing sycophant to anyone, ¡®regardless if they¡¯re a divine avatar or last week¡¯s guttersnipe or whatever croc he¡¯s peddling this time.¡¯ But since he did it from a place of loyalty, I ignored his griping and talked Richard through the process of searing the Aegishjalmur into his skull. We needed Antonidas to conjure a mould of the stave for Richard to use as visual reference, but he ultimately succeeded because he¡¯s a quick learner, and Mercad sat through quietly because he¡¯s a good and loyal soldier.


    The captain was a bit less sceptical when it was over, but nonetheless made sure to convey to his lord how much he disapproved of being sent away ¨C again ¨C where he couldn¡¯t handle his safety personally. Alas, the reward for a good job is the next job, and there was no one else Richard trusted to be regent of his lands in his absence. Not while his wife and sister were in another country for their own safety.


    The man nodded stiffly and proceeded to send me the most judgmental and threatening silence I¡¯d ever been on the receiving end of, all the way to the end of the teleport spell.


    Antonidas inquired after the staves and runes I¡¯d used in the procedure, so I briefly lent him my latest draft of the primer to conjure a copy of for himself and Dalaran. There was no reason I could think of for why the staves couldn¡¯t be powered by the Arcane, with the proper twist in the pattern. I couldn¡¯t speak for any variance in effect from different mystical paradigms, but it should still manifest some effect.


    Sometime later, I finally walked down into the lair that a certain dragon had dug into what had once been our pasture. Antonidas had retired to his tent ¨C Richard had thoughtfully had tents put up for all the ¡®notables imposing on my hospitality¡¯ ¨C to contact the Council of Six with my reply.


    He¡¯d not asked whether or not there was anything I wanted put in or kept out of his update, which told me all I needed to know about what role he was really playing here. It certainly removed any lingering misgivings I had about what I planned to do, if the whole council actually agreed to speak with me.


    Richard was sticking by me, though, and Dad also insisted on coming along despite the prospect quite blatantly terrifying him. I didn¡¯t blame him. Especially once we finally reached the curled up mass of flesh and scales doing their best impression of an inanimate wall one second away from going up like a bright explosion.


    ¡°If you¡¯re just going to sulk, then your existence will never be anything else than worthless.¡±


    The black and gold body moved like the wind and suddenly I was staring at an immense, serpentine eye.


    He looks different. I studied the outlines as well as I could in the darkness. Fortunately, the Light still coursed through him enough that it seemed to shine from underneath his scales, more so every time he inhaled. No more pot belly, more catlike general shape than lizard. Wings were different too, bigger, much wider span, three clawed fingers instead of one at the crux of where the wings folded, he could probably use them as a third pair of limbs, and his forelimbs were longer too, with almost humanoid mobility in the shoulders. The bone structure was different as well, more¡­ symmetrical, length-wise. He could probably walk on two legs comfortably now, maybe even fly standing upright.


    I couldn¡¯t help myself. ¡°What a magnificent sight I¡¯ve bestowed on this world.¡±


    The gargantuan creature suddenly vanished in a whirl of folding flesh and golden light to leave just a man kneeling with his head bowed low at my feet.


    ¡°There are no words for how wretched I am.¡±


    ¡°There aren¡¯t, no.¡± A merchant, a guard, the lord of all assassins, and now even a dragon, everyone was throwing themselves at my mercy these days. ¡°You¡¯ll just have to stop being a wretch and then you¡¯ll have all the words you need.¡±


    ¡°I am yours to command. Yours and your heirs¡¯. Use me as you see fit.¡±


    Me and my heirs, he was explicitly locking himself out of the differing lifespan loophole. I mean sure, I¡¯d solved the telomerase bottleneck ages ago, but I could still be killed. ¡°Are you saying that because you mean it, or because you know I won¡¯t ill use you like the lowliest scum you¡¯ve been living as?¡±


    ¡°Both.¡±


    A safe answer, but I couldn¡¯t really complain if it was also the true one. ¡°The going rate is food, board, and five coppers a day.¡±


    A pause, then the dragon-turned-man raised his head to look at me in confusion. ¡°I beg your pardon?¡± The close cropped coppery hair and neat horseshoe beard made an odd contrast with his miserable demeanor.


    I wouldn¡¯t have been able to pretend glibness in the face of the sight even if I wanted. Standing over him in the dark, I felt like I was looking at the most ill-starred man going senile from unwarranted pain and suffering before he even lived out his middle years. I had to help him somehow. If he remained like this and wasted away after everything, it would be a tragedy.


    I was all out of patience for tragedy. ¡°Should I call you by the names I know, or do you have another you prefer?¡±


    ¡°¡­ I haven¡¯t given it any thought.¡±


    ¡°So you do want to sunder yourself from the past, but don¡¯t have good ideas for how yet. That¡¯s alright. While you figure that out, I¡¯ll be calling you Emerentius. In the language of the greatest empire you¡¯ve never heard of, it means ¡®to fully deserve.¡¯¡±


    The dragon¡­ The man¡­


    He looked like he might cry.


    I seriously considered hugging him, but on reflection I realized it wasn¡¯t what he needed right now. Right now, for the sake of his mental health, what he most needed was dignity. Anything else could wait. ¡°My dad¡¯s great-granddad used to say there¡¯s no dignity as great as becoming an honest farmer.¡± Of course, the man also said that one shouldn¡¯t let pride affect your ability to be an effective asshole, but I¡¯d already proven the two were not mutually exclusive. ¡°The going rate is food, board and five coppers a day.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ afraid I still don¡¯t understand.¡±


    ¡°The other dragon I had as a farmhand ran off. Your whole thing is being good at working the earth, right? Congratulations, you¡¯re hired.¡± I reached down and hoisted him to his feet. His human form was strong and every bit as heavyset as a man could be without making acrobatics impossible, but still shorter than me. ¡°For anything beyond the remit of your job, we¡¯ll be settling separately as it comes up. My current offer on that front is sanctuary, training in the Light, and my life-long friendship in exchange for you no longer moping like some flush mushroom.¡±


    I waited for him to say something. Do anything.


    He didn¡¯t though.


    I let him go and stepped back. ¡°That¡¯s all I had to say. Whatever you decide, I hope you find a way to be well again.¡±


    ¡°¡­ I don¡¯t know how.¡± The man-dragon said hesitantly. ¡°I would swear myself as your thrall if I did not know you would spurn such debasement, however well earned.¡±


    I didn¡¯t show how much that conflicted me. ¡°At least you¡¯re self-aware enough to know it¡¯s debasement.¡±


    I turned around and set off without waiting for him. Richard and Dad looked between the two of us as I rejoined them, but they fell into step without a word. Finally, just when I was wondering if I¡¯d handled that wrong, I heard my dragon disciple fall into step behind us, albeit at some distance so the others wouldn¡¯t feel threatened.


    We emerged to the sight of the noonday sun shining brightly down on the world. Antonidas was waiting for me some ways to the right. Jorach Ravenholdt was sitting on a boulder precisely where I¡¯d ordered him to wait for our return.


    When he and Fahrad ¨C Emerent now ¨C saw each other, there was a long moment where they both sized each other up.


    To my surprise, Emerent spoke first. ¡°For the sake of our past comradery, I will give this one warning ¨C If you seek conflict with this place and its denizens again, I will not hold back.¡±


    Jorach groaned and rubbed his forehead. Groaned. In exasperation, the nerve of him. ¡°You don¡¯t need ultimatums and threats, I know where the wind is blowing just fine without them. The only reason I¡¯ve not sworn myself to our new master properly is because he still won¡¯t let me. So long as the winds are favourable to the nation and mankind as a whole, I need nothing further.¡±


    I had to take a moment to process the sad reality that the only person in my entourage who I could currently trust not to blindly follow me off the edge of Outland was the contract killer.


    Give it time.


    I hoped.


    ¡°Young Sir.¡±


    ¡°Magus d¡¯Ambrosio.¡±


    I saw him notice me use the formal address again, but he didn¡¯t comment on it. ¡°It happens that the Council of Six is in session and can accept your communication right now, if it pleases you.¡±


    Well now, don¡¯t I rate just the highest on the foreign relations priority list? ¡°Convenient.¡± Though not in any way any of them expects. And they were clearly expecting plenty, including that I¡¯d finally be active again today, if they were ready to drop everything else on such short notice. ¡°If you stay on after my talk with your leaders, you can call me by name as well. Now show me how to operate this thing.¡±


    Antonidas clearly wanted to ask, but instead did as I bid and showed me what to turn and fit together so that the hologram of the Council of Six sprung to life in front of me.


    ¡°Greetings,¡± said one of them, a middle-aged woman by the looks of it, but who knew depending on how well they¡¯d harnessed the Arcane to extend their lives?


    ¡°Lord Wayland, Duke Angevin, and dependents,¡± Antonidas intoned. ¡°Be known to the Leaders of the Kirin Tor. The one who just greeted you is Archmage Modera. From her right, in order, you have Archmages Vargoth, Kel¡¯Thusad, Drenden, Prince Kael¡¯Thas Sunstrider of Quel¡¯Thalas, and finally-¡°


    ¡°Korialstrasz.¡± I said. ¡°Prime consort of the Aspect of Life Alexstrasza, leader of the Red Dragonflight, Queen of Dragons.¡±


    You couldn¡¯t quite cut the silence that followed with a knife, but only because the ridge was quite windy at this time of day.


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± Vargoth spoke first, even though I¡¯d seen Kel¡¯Thusad recover first only to wait.


    ¡°I beg pardon for my abruptness, but we all have more urgent things to do than play pretend.¡± I looked at Krasus with the most non-judgmental look I could muster for someone who¡¯d made it his life to deceive and mislead. He had no ill intent, I had to remember that. It may not be the same thing, but I still hadn¡¯t told anyone about being reincarnated either. ¡°With all respect due to the guardians of life, mankind can handle its own affairs. In the interest of not interfering with the affairs of dragons, however, I¡¯m willing to consider allowing supervised access to my newest disciple to one of you. Specifically, Lady Rheastrasza. Please let her know not to come as a goblin.¡±


    I waited for a reply. No one said anything, on either side. There were many appalled looks though. And some not so appalled ones, especially from Kel¡¯Thusad and Kael¡¯Thas.


    That was fine by me. ¡°A Kirin Tor envoy under no false pretenses will, however, be entirely welcome for the meanwhile. I value authenticity very highly, you see. In that same spirit, I am hereby informing you that I¡¯ll try my very best to poach Antonidas from you. I¡¯m sure he can go back to lead you all like he¡¯s supposed to, if destiny really must have him at the head of your council in ten or fifteen years. I really am a man, not a dragon like some people, so I can¡¯t see all that accurately so far ahead.¡±


    It was hard to tell if I was the subject of most of the judgmental looks, or Krasus.


    ¡°I wish you a better week than mine.¡± I moved to disconnect the device, but paused and did give a flat stare this time, to all six of them. ¡°Just so we¡¯re clear, if you try to put a leash on me again we¡¯re going to have problems.¡±


    I disjoined the transmitter, causing the arcane hologram to disappear.


    ¡°What the hell, boy?!¡±


    Oh dear. Dad was not coping well at all. ¡°I can let you talk to them next time?¡±


    ¡°What-NO! No, that¡¯s not what I meant! Oh Tyr, bandits, soldiers, dragons, and now this! Tyr save me, what did I do to deserve this?!¡± My poor father, having finally reached the end of his rope, threw his arms in disgust, turned around and stomped off as viciously as his legs could take him.


    I waved in parting. He gave me the finger. Good man.


    Antonidas was staring at me, aghast.


    I dropped the transmission device into his hands. ¡°Krasus is a good and noble person, but with three for three on the number of dragons who¡¯ve stuck their nose in my business within the span of a single week, I¡¯m going to err on the side of transparency for the foreseeable future.¡± I put my hands on his shoulders. ¡°I¡¯m glad it¡¯s you here, though. Literally the best possible option. Now.¡± I let him go. ¡°Do you want to be alone for a while, or do you want to come down to the pilgrims with us?¡±


    Antonidas looked between the transmitter and me, his appalled face loosening into something that looked almost lost. ¡°I¡­ think I will keep to myself for a spell. By your leave?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry for my part in things, if it makes any difference.¡±


    ¡°¡­ It does, actually.¡± The mage gripped the transmission stone tightly and turned to leave. ¡°I can at least trust that to be genuine.¡±


    I watched him leave. I pondered the immense power of credibility. I¡¯d seen not even a moment when Antonidas even entertained the thought that I might be wrong or lying about his mentor.


    I glanced at Jorach. ¡°Go get ready. Don¡¯t bother with hoods or masks or the sort. I want the king to know exactly what he achieved here.¡±


    Jorach hesitated. ¡°If that is your decision.¡±


    ¡°It is.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll accompany you,¡± Richard told the assassin lord. ¡°Just in case, you understand.¡±


    Jorach grunted, showing his back to the man with not an ounce of fear. ¡°Don¡¯t I ever.¡±


    I waited for them to be out of earshot. Then, finally, I turned to Emerent. ¡°If nothing is changed, Rheastrasza will die for the sake of your kin in the future. She¡¯ll successfully purify a black egg, and then let her own egg and herself be killed by Deathwing as a distraction while the purified black egg is spirited away. I¡¯d ask forgiveness for not asking permission, but as I said, I like to keep things honest. I¡¯d have made the same call regardless.¡±


    A slow, deep breath. A rattling exhale. Eyes shining in the clear day like glass in the rain. ¡°¡­ Compassion like yours should be impossible.¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°On the contrary, compassion like this is the most common.¡± It¡¯s why good people can be exploited even when they aren¡¯t inborn fools. ¡°That it¡¯s rare is the first notion you need to lose. But I won¡¯t rush you.¡± You don¡¯t rush healing. ¡°In the meanwhile, I¡¯ll want you to write up everything you know about your colleagues and their methods and haunts.¡±


    ¡°I see. Of course.¡±


    Wouldn¡¯t do for the Master of the Assassin¡¯s Order to get an inflated sense of his own importance. ¡°Also, you¡¯ll be teaching us and especially Antonidas how to detect dragons in disguise like you.¡±


    ¡°There aren¡¯t any quick and dirty ways, our disguises aren¡¯t disguises, they are true transformations.¡±


    Just as I thought. ¡°All the same, whatever you can think of, we¡¯ll use.¡±


    ¡°As you say.¡±


    ¡°Good. Now come. Show me what it¡¯s like to experience the world on dragon wings.¡±


    ¡°That I will do gladly.¡±


    He did do it gladly, and the exhaustion that had been weighing down my spirit all day finally started to feel lighter.


    When I reluctantly decided it was time to go down, I offered to let Richard ride behind me, but he manfully deferred on the wonderful experience. He chose to be borne in Emerent¡¯s fist instead. Because that was how Ravenholdt was going down there, he reasoned. It wouldn¡¯t do not to have anyone immediately on hand to strike him down if he tried to do a runner after all. Or worse.


    ¡°You¡¯ve gathered a real treasure here,¡± Emerent murmured in my ear on arcane winds as he bore us aloft. ¡°The best and foremost of humanity, and first among them is a man so brave and good, so true.¡±


    And a bloody duke on top of that. ¡°Yes, I have.¡±


    ¡°I will defend it as if it were my own.¡±


    ¡°Make one of your own too, while you¡¯re at it.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I have it in me, but if I say that it will just make you sad, won¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Give it time. Immortality heals everything eventually.¡±


    ¡°Even maiming?¡±


    What kind? ¡°Magic and technology will get there sooner than you think. But we won¡¯t need to wait that long regardless.¡±


    We landed right in the middle of the biggest encampment. From the air I¡¯d counted over two hundred people in total, their numbers had begun to grow today much faster than before.


    They were disappointed when I flatly told them there would be no grave exhumation. Some were heartbroken. A couple even left cursing me for giving them false hope for their precious daughter, despite the fearful awe from seeing me descend from on high on a giant monster. The strength of humanity could manifest in the oddest places.


    Parading Jorach Ravenholdt around like a trophy did, however, have precisely the effect he¡¯d promised me. And there were a fair few people with chronic issues around too, which I could help with. By proxy, at least.


    ¡°Richard, Emerent.¡± I told my disciples. ¡°I¡¯ll talk you through it. Diagnosis first, and then the rest. Since I¡¯m still indisposed, you¡¯ll have to learn on the job as quickly as possible.¡±


    Resurrecting the long dead aside, maybe a seance or five won¡¯t be amiss, if I can figure it out, I thought as the petitioners gathered enough courage to form a line. I sent Emerent to talk to the ones who had difficulty standing or walking, since they were less likely to run away from him. I¡¯ll need the practice for when I do need to start fishing for specific souls in the afterlife, in the future. Maybe.


    My disciples listened, learned, practiced and then some, all the way to late evening. Richard discovered a wellspring of patience for complex targeted treatments, while Emerentius found his own talent in reaching as many people as possible at once, especially in his dragon form. They learned so well and so diligently that I gave it two weeks before they picked up everything I could teach them.


    So well and so diligently that even Richard¡¯s uncanny ability to track the exact location of my Master Assassin at all times finally failed him.


    Jorach Ravenholdt stepped into my shadow right as dusk fell, murmuring quietly from my left. ¡°In the interest of informed decision-making, the time window to assassinate King Perenolde with our current assets is not entirely closed quite yet.¡±


    The balls on this man really were unbelievable.


    ¡°No,¡± I denied him, thinking of arcane magic, Light warding, material transmutation that was just a spirit¡¯s whisper away, and the sad reality that the sickness afflicting Alterac went well beyond any one person. ¡°No, I already know what I¡¯ll do about that.¡±

 The Wheel Everturning

    <h3 style="text-align: center">¡°-. September 18, Year 580 of the King¡¯s Calendar .-¡°


    If not for the recent spot of bother, and the fact that we had to live in a tent for three weeks while Master Zidar¡¯s crew fixed our house, the past few months would have been the most rewarding time of my life. I was making the best of my craft, I was seeing fair success in my business affairs, and I was finally learning arcane magic.


    My brief talk with the Council of Six had set off the motherlode of all political crises in Dalaran, but no red she-dragon had made an appearance yet, and Antonidas had not been recalled either. Neither had he chosen to leave, or even set a deadline for his stay with us. Naturally, I was making the best of both those facts.


    At the same time, I had also overcome my bottleneck in alchemy. More precisely, Granodior had done it for me. Having a part of him grafted to my spirit allowed me to use his frame of reference during all my rituals and experiments. It wasn¡¯t even a crutch, technically, this was literally a requirement for the higher levels of the art. I just had the ¡®high¡¯ honor of being the only practitioner in history so inept in the field that I actually needed the intercession of elementals as early as the entry-level stuff. Narett gave me no end of tough time for it.


    I¡¯d be more annoyed if I didn¡¯t derive all the amusement I could ever want from his frustration, over me not running into the same problems with arcane magic. He never lowered himself to the point where he competed with Antonidas for my time, but I was sure he¡¯d have stayed around a lot more if he didn¡¯t have his own affairs to mind back in the city. Also, he never made it a secret that he wished I¡¯d stay away from arcane magic entirely.


    I understood why, on a professional level. When Malfurion said arcane magic was inherently chaotic, he was not, in fact, talking out of his ass. Alchemy was the art of leveraging the inherent order of things for utility and self-attainment, whereas arcane magic relied on its disruption to force things to happen against natural order. On that basis, arcane magic may or may not attract demons by itself, but any weak points it leaves in the Arcane certainly will. It only makes sense for an attacking force to concentrate in the spot of least resistance after all. That was why the War of the Ancients had revolved around the Well of Eternity.


    My reservations weren¡¯t enough to stop me from learning it, though. Also, they were somewhat undermined by Narett¡¯s continued refusal to explain to me his more laser-guided antagonism towards Dalaran. Not mages in general, but those of Dalaran specifically. When I pressed him on the topic, he was as concise as he was vague.


    ¡°The proud in those high and mighty spires will do anything to recreate the feat that won the troll wars, and Titans help us if they do. I should hope you, at least, have more wisdom than them. But with how well you¡¯ve taken to that mage¡¯s teachings, I am now reduced to hoping you won¡¯t rediscover it for them.¡±


    If Narett was right about anything, it was how well I absorbed Antonidas¡¯ instructions.


    I had discovered that being able to perceive Arcane patterns let me practically copy spells just by watching them a few times. I still needed to adjust the weaves relative to me, as the Self was a major reference point during casting, and mathematics were always different when you changed a quantity, something particularly important for sacred geometry. Also, things would get much harder once I was faced with those spells that needed me to manipulate the Arcane on scales greater than my spirit could cover by itself, at which point calculus got involved. Assuming it didn¡¯t grow indefinitely thanks to how I cultivated it with the Light. Regardless, I could learn arcane spells in a tenth of the normal time, even if just by rote memorisation and repetitive practice.


    For now.


    It was a supremely useful side-benefit of my ability to Reveal everything with the Light, including the Arcane itself. But it was not unique.


    Advancing your mage sight to the point where you could perceive arcane weaves and matrices, especially as they were cast by others, was one of two major prerequisites for any human to become better than average as a wizard, never mind an Archmage. The other was being able to understand, process and apply what you discerned. Not just because of the usefulness during instruction and duels, and certainly not because the other races were inherently more powerful ¨C if anything, it was the opposite. The real reason was that a human just doesn¡¯t live long enough to advance their arcane mastery sufficiently, without this shortcut.


    I myself was still having trouble twisting the Arcane into the patterns I wanted. It was like learning how to walk and handle things all over again. I was getting there though. It was like using different legs and hands, figuratively speaking, but thankfully not for the first time because they were the same legs and hands I¡¯d been using to wield the Light.


    And oh, the ideas. The Light Reveals, which meant I could actually use it to divine what a new weave would do without actually casting it. I had a feeling I would be improvising a lot on the fly, once I practiced enough. I was leaving that for when I improved my ability to visualize in three dimensions, though, never mind four.


    For now, I was content to use maintenance and convenience cantrips. Not having to take baths or stop to clean myself up after an experiment or hard labour saved a lot on time, and the Light made sure I always ate and digested things optimally and had as much energy as ever. Conjuring food wasn¡¯t ideal, but it was definitely helping me get closer to being able to just summon nutrients into my bowels if necessary. The Light could sustain me fine for a long time, but it was always good to have contingencies. Drinking my various herbal and alchemical successes was also giving me effects to memorise and replicate. Manifesting at will the effects of the potions you make and imbibe was among the highest forms of Alchemical expertise. That was how Narett had become invisible. He¡¯d even combined the effect with a notice-me-not effect. Eventually, I should be able to do that too.


    In theory, I should also be able to manifest new weaves from the Light instead of twisting the Arcane to form them, thus casting Arcane-like spells without the weakening side effect on the fabric of reality. The Light is the power of creation, so theoretically I should be able to just make the end result manifest. I¡¯d made brains from walnuts by complete accident, surely I could get better results if I actually tried? I didn¡¯t technically need to test the weaves after all, the Light would let me know if something was a terrible idea by my standards. Any day now I might just make the breakthrough. Then I could start experimenting with systemic refinement and enhancement.


    Probably not soon though.


    Not without a good and thorough course in the established empowerment spells, especially the ones affecting the intellect. Narett cautioned me against haste on empowerment potions despite alchemy being fine relative to natural order, as spells worked by overriding it. Antonidas was being very careful and thorough in coaching me on those. Which was good. As glad as I was that all the bad times hadn¡¯t ruined my passion for learning and improving, I also wasn¡¯t in any rush. I was plenty powerful already.


    Also, I had a dragon.


    I should probably revisit druidism properly too, though, at some point.


    Even if I didn¡¯t learn it conventionally, exposure training was a thing. Could I find someone to cast Mark of the Wild on me a few dozen times, maybe? A portal to Kul Tiras one day? Drustvar? Experiencing the spell enough times should let me replicate it, at last on myself. I was already touching Nature every time I lightforged a plant. Or the Emerald Dream, if there even was a difference. Even if I fail to learn it properly, I should be able to reproduce the effects with the Arcane or the Light like the others, I was sure. Or some of them. And then add the original Mark of the Wild itself on top of everything else, maybe.


    Buff stacking, the tool of any competent adventurer.


    Granted, I wasn¡¯t an adventurer ¨C still? Yet, maybe? ¨C but I was increasingly learning that the skill set required to live the life I¡¯d chosen was every bit as eclectic.


    Right now I was testing a supersensory spell. I had the perfect spot too. Granodior had been kind enough to grow me a nice perch ¨C practically grew the entire cliff out ¨C from which I could see everything down below in the valley. Emerentius had also used his own geomancy and fire to make me a paved path and terrace. There were polished marble steps, a footway of the same, some plots of earth for flowers, a fountain, even some expertly carved marble benches and a table. Plus a huge statue of me that appeared overnight, wielding a staff and sword and wearing a magnificent cape, but we don¡¯t talk about that.


    The tip of the terrace stuck out deep above the valley itself, so far inward that most of the mountainside was actually behind me. I could see all the way down and up from the ever-growing pilgrim encampment. I was sitting at the tip of that terrace right now, with my legs dangling over the edge. It was how I tended to spend most of my downtime now, little though I needed these days.


    I still had to focus on enhancing individual senses at a time, but I was getting comfortable enough with auditory enhancements that I expected to be able to pair them with a second enhancement soon. Sight, I decided, to let me hear and see everything happening down there. It wasn¡¯t anywhere near the scope and utility of shamanic farseeing, never mind its ability to go around obstacles, but amazing for an unaided feat.


    The pilgrim camp was beginning to look vexingly like a village now, one steadily evolving from tents to proper buildings. Well-worn dirt tracks, fences, a main road with a stable, a forge, mother¡¯s herbalist hut away from home, and its garden where I¡¯d been lightforging plants now and then, while keeping an eye on her. Mostly medicinal ones. And seasonings. They had a pronounced healing and invigorating effect with no drawbacks. A new wave of herbalism experimentation was going on, Narett had organised an entire area and group of people just for that. I wasn''t directly involved beyond altering the fundamental nature of flora itself, but I was getting a share of the returns. Ingredients, curatives, drugs, reagents.


    Tribute, it¡¯s all tribute, let''s call it what it is.


    All told, the foot of our mountain couldn¡¯t quite be termed a new settlement yet, but it was a sizable enclave. Hell, they were even building a longhouse now. It would soon replace the huge pavilion currently serving as a tavern for the literal battalion of soldiers that Richard had moved over. The troops were camped around the place in neat tent rows. It was a small battalion, lest we really make the king believe we¡¯re amassing an attacking force right on his doorstep, but a battalion nonetheless.


    Speaking of auditory enhancements, there was a spike in noise down there. Enough that I could make out specific words and voices even without the spell. Greetings and well wishes. Looking down, I saw Master Blacksmith Smid Keyton¡¯s horse-drawn wagon ¨C and armed escort ¨C passing the farthest border of the camp on the way here.


    My word, it¡¯s still business as usual, I still have trouble believing it.


    Ever since I took his master assassin and let it be known far and wide that I had a huge fuck-you dragon, Aiden Perenolde had refrained from anything more that could be construed as a direct move against me or my interests. I was given to understand that the town criers had been hard at work ¡®clarifying¡¯ the ¡®misunderstanding¡¯ for a couple of weeks there. Those were clearly blatant lies while the king rethought his approach, but malicious compliance was popular among dissidents for good reason. Case in point, my new guild mates had ¨C thus far ¨C been spared collateral retaliation.


    Of course, the fact that I even had these guild mates was a miracle unto itself. That my new associates hadn¡¯t immediately ripped our guild charter to shreds and disavowed me after that disaster of an ¡®audience¡¯ was still the source of everlasting amazement. Orsur had even told me, rather fatalistically when he dropped by a month ago, that with their association well and truly exposed even before that mess, it wasn¡¯t like they weren¡¯t on the king¡¯s black list already.


    ¡°We¡¯re sure the King will gather up nerve and yes-men to try something again, eventually,¡± Lady Blackthron later confirmed when she dropped by on a ¡®detour¡¯ of her own, two weeks after Orsur¡¯s own visit. ¡°But none of us believe the king won¡¯t have us killed anyway, after he proved willing to do more and worse to the nobles. At this point it¡¯s all down to how much we can secure for our heirs, before the order comes. Unless, of course, serendipity decides to solve the matter before then.¡±


    She¡¯d given me a meaningful look with those last words. Not accusing, not even demanding, but expectant. Like me saving the day was to be expected.


    The humans of Azeroth are a cut above the rest, even the more cutthroat ones.


    It was a warming show of faith, in a time when everyone but me was under surveillance, and our customers were seeing passive-aggressive trouble as well, despite the official stance that we were fine to do business with. Sure, it wasn¡¯t all bad, the new guild technologies and services were incredibly popular with all strata of society. Also, my reputation ¨C and dragon ¨C was more than enough to shut down any notion of hostile takeover. Especially with a duke shamelessly swearing himself as my underling. Not in public, but it was implied.


    Unfortunately, all of this on top of the disaster at court, and everything that resulted from it, had the increasingly paranoid king certain we were planning to depose him. And while he was refraining from direct action against us, the indirect ways had returned with a vengeance.


    Anyone who¡¯d commissioned our new plumbing and electricity, in particular, had started to find themselves higher on the priority lists for financial audits, supply requisitions, troop requisitions, and even getting outright drafted into the army in the case of anyone below noble rank. Particularly the common workers, all except those directly employed by us.


    Because yes, border incidents had worsened as well, to the point where one seemed to happen every other week at this point. Instigated by our side, however it was done when General Hath was definitively not the type to engage in false flags. I¡¯d never met him, but everyone who had ¨C including Richard ¨C agreed on that much.


    It was plain to see why it was going on though. In this time when King Perenolde lacked the popular support ¨C or even a casus belli ¨C to declare war himself, ¡®border incidents¡¯ were a transparent attempt to force Strom to do it instead. The moral high ground from not being the aggressors would be priceless to the Alterac Crown right now, I imagined.


    Perenolde isn¡¯t preparing for a mere border war, he wants total war.


    Gunpowder. Perenolde surely saw it as me giving his rival the opportunity to destroy and subsume this country once and for all. He believed Trollbane planned to do just that because that¡¯s what he would do in his place. So he decided his only option is for Alterac to do that to Strom first.


    Projection, all over again.


    Alas for him, King Liam Trollbane was obstinately refusing to take the bait. Likely because he wanted to have a good stockpile of gunpowder first, now that the recipe had surely reached his country.


    That, too, was a mistake ¨C while Alterac did have the head start on gunpowder, it still hadn¡¯t finished weaponizing it. Strom would do best to attack now before our side finished making the bombs and cannons, or whatever else they came up with without me or a dwarf giving them ideas.


    Further, unlike Alterac, Strom actually did have a valid casus belli. Per Richard¡¯s most recent report from the border, General Hath¡¯s most recent armed exercise had devolved into a skirmish against a force led by Prince Thoras Trollbane himself. A nearly bloodless one, or we would be in open war regardless of what else. But one of the more stubborn rumors since ¨C on both sides of the border ¨C was that the prince had also gone missing in the aftermath.


    All told, it was bizarre that King Liam hadn¡¯t done anything in the time since. Especially with time running out. Once the snows began, nobody would be marching anywhere.


    But there had been a steadily growing feeling of significance ever since that happened, so I was withholding judgment. The disturbance in the Light was only comparable to the one I¡¯d felt leading up to the ambush on Richard¡¯s retinue.


    On the whole, I had precisely zero complaints about being given all the time I need to prepare my solution to this mess.


    I¡¯m only surprised people don¡¯t nag me about it more.


    Perhaps that was set to change too, though, now that Smid Keyton was here. Yes, it was for actual business we¡¯d discussed on and off since our guild¡¯s founding, in letters and missives. But I was sure this would do nothing to stop him from asking what I planned to do about everything.


    Unfortunately, what I planned to do wasn¡¯t something I was going to share, regardless of how polite and reliable the company. Operational security in this case meant that nobody could know until after it happened. Even speaking a word aloud might ruin it. The Light even agreed with me.


    How will he react to that, I wonder?


    Come to think of it, isn¡¯t there something I should very well be reacting to right now?


    Frowning, I decided to skip straight ahead to dual-sense enhancement and enhanced my sight. Then, with both hearing and sight taken beyond the farthest natural limits, I spied the events happening down below. It was disorienting, but my cognitive adaptability was quite fair these days.


    My hunch was correct ¨C Master Keyton¡¯s guards weren¡¯t all from Richard¡¯s army. All of the duke¡¯s men were accounted for, but the escort had grown beyond them. By over a third. There were more dependents than there should have been too.


    The explanation that came quickest to my mind was that some soldiers had coerced their way into the guard force, maybe as a way for the king to gain some official representation in this new holy site. But then I saw the face of the man looking up. Searching for me with weary hopeful eyes after I was pointed out to him by one of the locals.


    I recognized him. It was the one guard that had tried to block my path after I resurrected Orsur in the plaza. The man who¡¯d then stepped out of my way and dropped to his knees to pray as I passed by.


    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    Not for the first time, I wished the steam elementals weren¡¯t still sulking in the cauldron. I could really use them for a long-distance soulgaze on the man down below. Instead, Richard or I was going to have to get close and personal, if I wanted to assure myself of his intentions.


    Well isn¡¯t this the motherlode of all powder kegs?


    There were three scenarios I could see that could have driven these men to come here, and none of them were happy ones. One, the king had sent them here deliberately to see if I would escalate. Two, they had been let go from the military ¨C or worse, the Crownsguard ¨C and come here, either for the coin of honest work or seeking sanctuary. And three, they had not been let go from the force, meaning they had effectively deserted in order to come here, in which case they were definitely seeking sanctuary. There wasn¡¯t a concept of constituted police on Azeroth, it was all soldiers like in the Roman Empire.


    Seeing as there was at least one of the newcomers who had his family with him, I was strongly leaning towards option three.


    I live not even two days away from the capital, my presence here must feel like a gun held to the back of the king¡¯s head.


    I rose and turned for home.


    Time to play host.


    <h3 style="text-align: center">¡°-. September 25, Year 580 of the King¡¯s Calendar .-¡°


    I watched as the master blacksmith reverently finished affixing the hilt to the new sword we had made, out of a steel alloy that should have been impossible on this planet. At least with the current level of technology. S-type steels required the inclusion of not just manganese, but also a bunch of other elements, especially silicon in very particular proportions. The former was fairly straightforward. The latter was practically impossible at the current level of metallurgy on Azeroth. Even for the dwarves, I was pretty sure.


    Ferrosilicon was extremely common, you could get it from scrap metal, but you needed silicon added in its pure form to create the microstructures key to resisting deformation after tempering, and pure silicon was impossible to extract with the means available in the known world.


    Don¡¯t even get me started on molybdenum, people still could couldn¡¯t tell it apart from lead here. It wasn¡¯t their fault, but it was still a hurdle we had to overcome.


    Fortunately, when you could manipulate matter on a subatomic level and were soul-bound to an earth spirit capable of doing the same for anything from a molecule to industrial capacities, many technological limitations became academic.


    ¡°Well, Antonidas?¡± I finished folding the paper airplane. ¡°What¡¯s the verdict?¡±


    The mage looked up from where he¡¯d been carefully inspecting the sword with mage sight. ¡°Magic charge remains zero.¡±


    Which meant that all its enchanting potential was still free. ¡°Excellent.¡± I tossed the airplane out the door, bespelled to seek out Richard wherever he was. Arcane magic was useful like that, especially when the caster had auxiliary means of devising guidance parameters.


    I grabbed the sword and exited the workshop, whiling away the time doing random swings and testing the sword¡¯s balance while the other two watched.


    When Richard finally arrived, I held out the weapon to him. ¡°Come inside.¡± I led him back into my workshop and waited until the other two were also there, for effect. ¡°Now, Richard. Please use that sword to strike this anvil as hard as you can.¡±


    ¡°WHAT?! NO!¡± Keyton balked. ¡°You can¡¯t do that!¡±


    I looked at the man and raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°I-I mean, surely, Young Master, we needn¡¯t go that far, that is an impossible standard for any weap-!¡°


    CLANG


    Richard swung down with all his Light-assisted might and flinched in pain when the strike was completely rebuffed, dropping the sword as he grabbed at his arm. ¡°Unh ¨C feels like my bones are shaking apart, damn.¡±


    Keyton rushed to pick up the sword and mourn its fate, but then he gaped in wonder. ¡°There¡¯s no ¨C it didn¡¯t dent!¡±


    It better not have. S5 steel was ten times stronger than blade steel and had the best impact toughness of its category. If it couldn¡¯t take even one full blow without denting, it meant we hadn¡¯t made it right. You could literally cut a car door without denting a blade made from this thing, back on Earth. Also, S5 weapons can bend but don¡¯t set, they spring back to their proper shape immediately.


    Richard and Antonidas crowded around the man and were soon expressing similar wonder. They were even more impressed when the edge, which had lost some of its cutting ability, proved just about as easy to sharpen as castle-forged steel.


    I sat against my worktable with the satisfaction of a job well done. Not the greatest satisfaction I ever felt, it wasn¡¯t like we were making maraging steel or anything like that. You needed nickel and cobalt for those, especially for the higher grades, and that was later down on my testing schedule. But it was still an accomplishment.


    Speaking of accomplishments.


    I looked to my right, where the ugly lump from my personal metalworking project was sitting. The lump that had been beaten and beaten and beaten again and again until it refused to deform at all. Steel alloy, but with 13% manganese. Steel tended to lose hardness the more you worked it, but mangalloy did the opposite, becoming harder instead of brittle the more you tried to shape it. Even with Antonidas¡¯ best momentum- and impact-enhancing magic added to my greatest strength.


    Any other alloy I¡¯d have put back in the furnace to soften for further shaping, but not this one. There were several reasons.


    For one, Aiden Perenolde had put an embargo on all oil-distilled fuels ¨C the same as he had for gunpowder ¨C while the Crown ¡®assures itself of their safety towards the people and the realm.¡¯ The most blatant of his indirect attacks yet, against me and mine. But one that did have a fair bit of support among the merchant class, and the many nobles who made a living from coal mines, being such a disruptive discovery.


    For another, Azeroth still lacked industrial-grade foundries, so getting a strong enough flame would have been nigh impossible anyway, in a standard forge. Never mind keeping it constant. That was why we were using Antonidas¡¯ magic for that instead.


    Most importantly, though, we didn¡¯t have a use for fire anyway, for this. Mangalloy couldn¡¯t be softened by annealing at all, once it hardened.


    A yellow flame let you forge manganese steel to begin with, but not into anything fancy because it was tougher than carbon steel when heated. You could theoretically heat it until it was white hot, but that was more likely to make it crumble under hammer blows than take a desired shape. For all these reasons, mangalloy was considered unworkable even back on Earth, outside a few specific uses. Despite being many times stronger than S5, and even better than titanium, you couldn¡¯t shape it into tools or armor, never mind sharp edges.


    Here, though, we had magic.


    I called the lump into my palm. In terms of arcane magic, minor telekinesis was a training cantrip at best, but very convenient day-to-day. When the lump was in my grasp, I looked into it with sight beyond sight, and called on the Spirit of Alterac to do the same.


    ~ Compliance, Focus Minute, Query ~


    Make it a two-handed sword blade, double-edged, claymore configuration. With my towering, still growing height ¨C which I might, finally, have a way to get under control if my unorthodox commissions from Dalaran pay off ¨C I¡¯ll be able to wield even the longest claymore like a long sword, even an arming sword if I wanted.


    Granodior¡¯s will set itself upon the metal and slowly, slowly stretched and shaped it into the requested shape, tugging and tightening until it had a monomolecular edge. With extreme difficulty.


    ~ Shock, Affront, Grudging Respect ~


    Even the ancient spirit of earth had only barely managed to turn mangalloy into something useful. Supermetals were no joke even to living primordial forces, it seemed.


    ~ Indignity, Outrage, Promise ~


    Granodior insisted that that he only had trouble because he wasn¡¯t allowed to use any transmutation during the process. But since he could only exert this power outside himself because I let him work through my spirit ¨C which I¡¯d had to imbue into the sword itself during the entire process ¨C and because all his freshly transmuted mangalloy lacked the acquired toughness from being worked on, I remained sceptical.


    ~ Offense, Wounded Pride, Determination ~


    He insisted that he could figure out how to transmute the finished product, and he didn¡¯t need no human or fire elemental¡¯s help when he had the magma chambers deep below the ground for all his heat needs. Alas, since we¡¯d been at this for weeks and he still hadn¡¯t produced a sample with comparable work hardness, there was just one reply I had for him.


    Good luck with that.


    The Spirit did not dignify that with a response.


    I know you know you can use vibration or literally pummel the thing to harden it, why not just do that? Unless it¡¯s just a matter of pride.


    Alas, the Ancient Spirit did not rise to the bait.


    Damn, thwarted again.


    I¡¯d hoped to finally get him worked up enough to slip some of whatever feelings or wants he was still keeping from me after all this time. Or at least enough to let me figure out if it would be a good or bad surprise, when whatever it was caught up with me. No luck though, even now. Ancient spirits the size of the landscape were very good at controlling what they showed you, even when soul-bound. Who knew?


    I set the blade into an interim hilt, then I turned around and brought my sword down with all my Light-assisted might.


    With a sharp, whistling shriek, the anvil split clean down the middle.


    ¡°My word!¡± ¡°Impressive.¡± ¡°Amazing!¡±


    I ignored the awed exclamations in favour of inspecting the edge. Not a dent, and not the slightest scrape either, which the S5 sword had incurred a couple of, on the side. Also, when I dropped my handkerchief on the impact site, it split clean through. I¡¯d cut an anvil and it hadn¡¯t blunted the edge at all.


    ¡°Antonidas, what do you think?¡±


    The mage inspected my work with second sight, and told me what I had already confirmed with mine. ¡°Even here, the magic charge is zero. Moreover, the enchanting potential of this dark iron is the greatest I¡¯ve ever seen in any material.¡±


    Dark iron, really? Could it be?


    ¡°You advance the craft and doom us who pursue it to despair in the same breath,¡± Keyton grunted. ¡°What use are wonders if we cannot produce them in any real quantities?¡± Antonidas had been needed to keep the flame strong and constant enough for both the S5 and mangalloy. He¡¯d not had an easy time of it either. ¡°Is this truly all there is? Is castle-forged steel the pinnacle of what we can put to use, while everything above is the domain of magic and providence?¡±


    ¡°Until we can make the foundries I have in mind, I¡¯m afraid so.¡± In other words, until King Perenolde¡¯s embargos ¡®expired,¡¯ we were stuck with the same fuels and techniques as everyone else. That said¡­ ¡°But that doesn¡¯t mean there aren¡¯t other things we can work on.¡± I gave my new sword to Richard to play with, since he was the only one around with anything approaching a good enough height. ¡°Come with me, master Keyton, let me tell you all about seric steelmaking.¡±


    S-type steels and magalloy may be a bitch to produce, but I had no doubt that Damascus steel would console the poor man and then some. It didn¡¯t quite live up to the legend, but it was still a lot better than the stuff Azeroth had right now.


    The super sword¡¯s done, now for the knives and polearms. And a warhammer or two, while I¡¯m at it. Maybe even a spiked mace. And a quarterstaff. A sceptre too, maybe? Definitely a full suit of armor. And spares for everything, in several types so I don¡¯t have to walk around in full plate all the time. And mail undershirts! Or scale if that proves too finicky. Plus more of everything for my family and friends of course. Hmm, this might take some brainstorming.


    Not the guns though. Those were non-negotiable.


    I¡¯d revisit the issue when we finally got around to abrasion-resistant steels, at least for the armor.


    A shame we haven¡¯t seen the same amount of progress with ceramics.


    Master Keyton did eventually ask me if I had plans, any plans at all, to deal with this whole mess with the king. He¡¯d made sure to ask me that with Richard there, tossing what he thought was a discreet glance between me and him. Like everyone else in our guild, and in the pilgrim camp and half of Alterac City and who knew where else, the man expected a rebellion or civil war to be declared in my name. Any day now.


    Unfortunately, what I planned to do was still something I hadn¡¯t shared with anyone, even Richard himself. It definitely wasn¡¯t something I was going to share with Keyton, or anyone else subject to surveillance. Which I did tell him.


    Somehow, though, the man only looked reassured when he left.


    What do these people imagine I¡¯m going to do, exactly?


    Whatever these people thought or believed, it couldn¡¯t be anywhere near as preposterous as what I was actually planning. Was that a good or bad thing?


    ¡°They probably don¡¯t,¡± Richard told me after we were alone. ¡°Think about the ¡®what¡¯ and ¡®how,¡¯ I mean. After a point you just don¡¯t wonder about these things anymore, you just believe.¡±


    Like one believes in a higher power? ¡°Same as the guards then, you think?¡±


    ¡°I would say so.¡±


    I had been entirely right to assume option three ¨C the guards were all deserters. From the Crownsguard, which was the worst possible option. It made their situation very sensitive, more so than even the bad blood that existed between some of them and a number of the pilgrims already here, whom some of the former crownsmen had wronged over the years. Mostly on orders, but the leeway from that was always limited once the ones who gave the orders could no longer protect you. Assuming they didn¡¯t make you their fall guy to begin with.


    On the one hand, desertion was only less contemptible than betraying king and country to the enemy, both of which they¡¯d technically done through this one act.


    On the other hand, Richard had soulgazed all of them and found that not only were they all genuine in their repentance, but they¡¯d only deserted because most of the royal favour and promotions were increasingly going to sick monsters now. Monsters who had very little hesitation in acting on their nature, both towards the people and them, their co-workers. Or subordinates, now.


    On that last point, at least, everyone else also agreed. It was the same reason why the number of ¡®pilgrims¡¯ coming and literally settling at the foot of my mountain kept getting higher and higher every week.


    Yet again Aiden Perenolde is severely overreacting, but what else is new?


    I was immensely thankful that Richard had managed to buy the land. As conflicted as I was about my name being on the deed, it was better than the sheer nightmare of charters and ownership that would have erupted later, if we didn¡¯t get ahead of the issue. Master Keyton had even assured me, just today before leaving, that the guild would start coming over more often too, to set up proper shop down in ¡®Saint¡¯s Tier.¡¯


    ¡°Are the former crownsmen still moping over me ¡®shunning¡¯ them?¡± Which I hadn¡¯t, I just had a lot of more important things to do than play usher all day. Obviously.


    ¡°Fit to cry, my lord.¡±


    I looked seriously at my first disciple. ¡°Up until now, most who came that weren¡¯t driven by mere curiosity have had real healing needs and have supported themselves. If we start giving sanctuary, we¡¯ll need to actually start supporting some of these people. And that will only invite more.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± Richard met my eyes resolutely. ¡°I¡¯ve already sent word to Mercad for a supply train to be assembled.¡±


    What would my life be now, if I hadn¡¯t been there for that ambush? ¡°Don¡¯t be too generous,¡± I warned him. ¡°And don¡¯t make it a permanent arrangement. If people want to live under our protection so much, that doesn¡¯t mean they can just leech off of other people¡¯s hard work. They¡¯ll have to earn their livelihood and happiness just like everyone else.¡±


    ¡°I understand.¡±


    ¡°Alright.¡± I sighed gustily. ¡°I suppose I¡¯ll be going down there this afternoon.¡± Before my ¡®show of contempt¡¯ towards the deserters got them run out. Or stoned to death. And everything else Richard had to order his men to take all reasonable measures against, which said everything I needed to know about how the ducal guard viewed their erstwhile peers. Not well, to say the least.


    I took my sword back from Richard and gave a few warm-up swings. ¡°Until then, go ahead and start teaching me how to actually use this thing.¡±


    I trained with the sword. It went so and so.


    Then I went down to ¡®Saint¡¯s Tier¡¯ and met the men.


    They were ashamed, but desperately hopeful. When I gave them sanctuary, they were just as desperately grateful. So grateful that the one guard I knew and the one who¡¯d brought his family both fell to their knees and wept. If I¡¯d worn a robe or a cloak, I had no doubt they would have clung to the hem and kissed it at my feet.


    Any society where men are so easily brought to their knees in tears is fundamentally broken.


    Alas, the wheel of time refuses to make a full turn without adding even further complications to my life. The day of Keyton¡¯s departure was the same day when the major significance of nebulous nature finally found its way to ¡®Saint¡¯s Tier¡¯ as well. In fact, it found its way to the tavern pavilion just as Richard and I were finishing our round of drinks. The round of drinks we¡¯d deliberately gone down there for, to make sure nothing too bad happened once the unfortunate deserters failed to mingle. Peacefully, anyway.


    ¡°What the devil is he doing back here?¡± Richard quietly fumed on seeing Jorach Ravenholdt come in. The Master of Assassins was in a virtually perfect disguise as a ranger, false face and everything, but it turned out you could very easily recognize someone you had soulgazed, just by intuition.


    I was, admittedly, mildly surprised at his return as well. I¡¯d long since interrogated him about all the passages and weak points of Alterac Keep. And the city. And the rest of the country. And every other scrap of relevant information he could think of. I¡¯d made him write up a detailed breakdown of everything. I¡¯d even had him follow through on his promise to help us devise ways to contain him and his, before I finally let him take his loyalists and go regain control of Ravenholdt Manor. If he was back now, in person but with no signs of duress, I could only assume things were stable there again.


    Unlike Richard, though, I wasn¡¯t distracted from Ravenholdt¡¯s travel companions.


    The cosmic forces of schadenfreude really want a war, don¡¯t they? I wryly took in the other two men. Bet they didn¡¯t expect the Old Fowl of the Mountain to come down from his nest just to play secret bodyguard, though.


    ¡°Richard,¡± I discreetly cast a sound muffling spell as I watched the wandering historian ¡®Myrnie Wolmet¡¯ from the corner of my eye. And his tall, burly, green-eyed redhead ¡®bodyguard¡¯ that was very boisterously embarking on a self-imposed mission to make merry friends with everyone on the wrong side of¡­ what I was very sure would devolve into an epic bar brawl as soon as a drop of spittle landed on his impeccably groomed beard. ¡°I do believe we¡¯re hosting foreign royalty.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± the duke hissed, barely managing not to draw the newcomers¡¯ attention. ¡°Who ¨C no. No, no, no, surely it can¡¯t be¡­¡±


    I left coins on the table and led Richard out the back entrance of the pavilion. Most casually.


    ¡°Your Worship,¡± Richard growled, spitting out my most bothersomely widespread title. The tile he only used in extremely rare cases. Specifically, those extremely rare cases where he wondered if his entire life might not be a fever dream after all. ¡°Please tell me you were joking and that wasn¡¯t Prince Thoras Trollbane back there.¡±


    ¡°You want a saint to lie?¡±


    ¡°Dammit!¡±


    My sentiments exactly. ¡°Don¡¯t soulgaze them for now.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I have a whole list of things I really shouldn¡¯t want to be doing right now!¡± Richard growled. ¡°Why are they here? No, what is Ravenholdt thinking bringing them all the way here, the capital is two days away! How did no one recognize them?!¡±


    I, of course, completely ignored my disciple¡¯s outburst with all the magnanimity inherent to the most despicable of cult leaders such as myself. ¡°His beard had traces of oil and hair chalk.¡± A rowdy tavern was not the best place to practice super hearing, but eminently lucrative for sight and smell.


    ¡°That ¨C he was in disguise too. Of course. But then why take it off on the last stretch? Without ditching their guide too, Ravenholdt must have insinuated himself deep into their confidence, damn him and his forked tongue. But still! Whatever he told them of you or this place, it¡¯s still extremely dangerous. We are literally on the king¡¯s doorstep, we have people here that were Crownsguard until three days ago, this is madness!¡±


    ¡°Or boldness.¡± Certainly not courage. I considered what I knew of the happenings abroad. ¡°A warrior prince just a few months shy of his scheduled wedding, going on one last heroic adventure that may or may not have been approved by his King-Father, because he hasn¡¯t lived long enough to have his enthusiasm smothered by responsibility.¡±


    ¡°Well it certainly can¡¯t be experience,¡± Richard grunted. ¡°He can¡¯t have suffered any true hard knocks or he wouldn¡¯t be pulling a stunt like this.¡±


    ¡°True. Still though¡­ Averting almost certain war would seem like the most noble of justifications to such a man, I imagine.¡± I gave my Paladin a pointed look. ¡°Especially if the only way you can conceive to avert it is winning it all by yourself.¡±


    Emotions played on Richard¡¯s face, then settled on resignation. Begrudging and self-conscious, embarrassed resignation. ¡°Curses.¡±


    Truly, my first disciple had the most excellent self-awareness.


    Still not the best insight into others, though, or he¡¯d have realized I was throwing shade at myself more than him, in this one case.


    Finally, Richard set aside the issue of how much he had in common with our newest royal guest and looked at me worriedly. ¡°What do we do?¡±


    ¡°His handler seems fairly competent, and the man himself seems well on his way to making fast friends with at least three of your officers. Just let them know to watch that he doesn¡¯t get drugged and carried off in the night. Or go off hunting in the woods by himself. I¡¯ll talk to Jorach about the same, I assume he¡¯s had at least one of his own men trailing their hapless trio. If they approach us without false pretenses, we¡¯ll treat with them. If they don¡¯t, we won¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Just like that?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Now come, precious paladin mine, let¡¯s bless some babies!¡±


    Yes, people had started bringing me their newborn children for benediction as well. I¡¯d not gotten around to asking a cleric if they did anything specific during Lustration, beyond the obvious burst of Holy Light to make sure the infant was as healthy as possible. I made sure to always tell the parents that I wasn¡¯t a substitute for the Church, but ultimately chose not to discourage them. Stable long-term investments were the best investments after all, even when nobody else knew about them. Especially then, in this instance.


    The Aegishjalmur was too taxing on the spirit to brand on a newborn, but it wasn¡¯t the only useful stave I knew.


    Granted, my stave against hostile magic probably won¡¯t do much either, without them cultivating some manner of mystic abilities of their own. Like every other ward in this world, it needed to charge up somehow. Also, again, no telling what variance in effect might result from different mystical paradigms. Still, there wasn¡¯t a single human spirit that didn¡¯t have at least some amount of power. By the time they were old enough to be useful targets to mages and warlocks, the stave should have collected enough power for the occasional one-off.


    I¡¯ll never get to hold my brothers like this.


    As I was handing the last child back to their parents, I spotted the Prince of Strom watching me from the back of the gathered crowd. He looked unreasonably pleased with himself, despite his freshly bruised black-eye. I didn¡¯t give him the slightest sign of acknowledgment. If he wanted something, he¡¯d have to come forward.


    I¡¯ll be waiting a while, won¡¯t I?


    If he ever got word of this, Aiden Perenolde would no longer be overreacting. At all.


    But there really was no reason to dwell on any of this anymore.


    I am going to solve all the realm¡¯s problems.


    Thoroughly and permanently.


    Just as soon as Antonidas finds me that damned fish.

 The Vagaries of the Holy and Just

    <h3 style="text-align: center">¡°-. October 14, Year 580 of the King¡¯s Calendar .-¡°


    In contrast to the world¡¯s ever so grandiose problems that I had already found solutions for, my personal problems were proving to be much more stubborn. Chief among them my mother¡¯s mental health. She had turned ¡®pretend until it goes away¡¯ and ¡®fake it till you make it¡¯ into something almost approaching an art form. ¡®Almost¡¯ being the key word there. It was like that thing that tries to be art but fails just sideways enough to slip into uncanny valley ¨C you feel uneasy just from exposure. Then the memory of the exposure. Then both. Before, during and after. Every time. Every day.


    It was a terrible approach to dealing with trauma, and I made no secret of my expert opinion on the matter as the only person in the room with any real claim to enlightenment.


    Mom dared me to soulgaze her.


    I¡¯d have done it too, if I didn¡¯t think it would break her spirit completely. Mid-way through the all too extended denial stage of traumatic miscarriage was not the best time to learn that the world was due an apocalypse at the claws of aliens and dragons and an infinite army of demons from beyond the stars. And zombies.


    She didn¡¯t know about any of that, but she did know ¨C well, believed ¨C that I was born in this world with a purpose much bigger than her and dad, never mind what I thought. She was only half-wrong too ¨C if I didn¡¯t tell them any of it before, I certainly I wouldn¡¯t risk burdening her at such a critical time.


    Mother used her ¡®victory¡¯ as further justification to act as if nothing had happened. Took my backing down as a perverse confirmation that I had bigger things to worry about than her.


    She wasn¡¯t more than half wrong about that either, exactly, my purpose in life was to change the future of the universe for the better. The same could, of course, be said of everyone, but I couldn¡¯t pretend that the scale of my potential impact wasn¡¯t vastly beyond most others. In fact, my scope was so dramatic that the most important of people would ¨C and did ¨C undergo dramatic and life-altering changes in goals and behaviour, when confronted with it. When they were at their best. Richard was proof of it, and Narett was still politely deferring on being soulgazed for the same reason. So was Antonidas.


    I¡¯d still have pushed the matter with mother if I wasn¡¯t in a less than ideal place myself, emotionally. Having become a spirit medium, I was now actually conscious of how I interacted with others on a spiritual level.  By extension, I had, in fact, gained some ability to sense emotions, instead of relying on ¡®just¡¯ my intuition. And the Light¡¯s revelation.


    Granodior and Narett assured me I would learn to pick and choose who and what I conveyed and received. Unfortunately, that required exposure training. Like a newborn needs to acclimatise to the air, sound, cold and light before it can even think of paying anything specific attention. Or ignore it.


    The alternative was I could withdraw into myself completely. Unfortunately, while that was very good for meditation, it only hindered me everywhere else. Having experienced expanded consciousness, I felt blind without it. Also, people felt uneasy when they had me in front of them but didn¡¯t get anything from me on that level. Everyone interacted spiritually, even if they weren¡¯t conscious of it.


    The worst part? That I could ¡®see¡¯ through walls was well known in our household since before we even moved out of Strahnbrad. This drove mother to go about her ¡®pretend until it goes away¡¯ mental unhealth project even behind closed doors.


    Long story short, the only way to prevent her silent distress from being even worse was for me to spend as much time away from the house as possible. And father, damn him, completely agreed with me on that, even if he disagreed as much as I did with mother¡¯s approach to ¡®self-care¡¯.


    You¡¯d think they wanted me gone or something.


    Yes, that was sarcasm.


    Mercifully, the law of averages always has its way eventually, which is why the next major significance of nebulous nature came along with more solutions that problems, for once.


    It definitely gave the opposite impression, though, at the start.


    ¡°My Lord,¡± Richard called as he found me up on my perch. Not the terrace above the enclave, but the patch of untouched nature atop the mountain ridge, vaguely above my dragon¡¯s lair. I¡¯d gone there to completely draw away from the world. I¡¯d pulled inward to get a break, so I hadn¡¯t sensed him coming up. I still knew through the Light that the significant development of nebulous nature was very near, but I hadn¡¯t needed to look deeper this once. ¡°You have some¡­ visitors you will want to meet in person. At once, I think.¡±


    ¡°Of course I do.¡± I couldn¡¯t go more than two days without some grand drama demanding my presence. Worse, today seemed to be one of those occasions when the drama didn¡¯t even do me the courtesy of happening when I was still down below, lightforging plant life in the herb plot. ¡°What is it this time, did the Order of Assassins implode again? More deserters? The new court sorceress dropped in for a curse, perhaps, or does the king still not have one? Light forbid you tell me it¡¯s a tax auditor.¡±


    ¡°None of those, Lord Wayland.¡±


    ¡­ This was the first time Richard didn¡¯t call me Ferdinand.


    ¡°They¡¯re¡­ wandering priests, so called. From somewhat further up North than we usually get around here.¡±


    I came out of my deliberately inward-looking meditation and turned to behold Richard, and the three men that had followed him up to my high perch.


    The newcomers were familiar. Dressed down so that nobody recognized them, but I knew them.


    ¡°Lord Wayland,¡± Richard stepped aside, glancing at me apologetically but nonetheless certain that leading these three up without checking with me first was the right call. ¡°These are Lonso, Alyn and Thure.¡±


    It was¡­ shockingly reassuring to be reminded so soundly that I now lived in a world without ubiquitous spying, cameras and microphones. One where a dusty robe and a shortened name was enough to pass yourself off as a different person. ¡°¡­ I suppose I should be glad this is the best the Church of the Holy Light can muster in terms of subterfuge. I¡¯ll take it to mean I don¡¯t need to worry about some secret order of insidious inquisitors bursting out of the ground at midnight to torture and catechize.¡±


    ¡°Is that something I should devise?¡± asked ¡®Lonso¡¯ in that reassuringly pleasant manner you couldn¡¯t forget. ¡°Create my own Inquisition?¡±


    ¡°Seeing as such orders and their methods have echoed throughout the universe so loudly as to create an entire race of fell demons by that name, I¡¯m going to advise a hard ¡®no¡¯.¡±


    ¡°Thank the Light, finally a straight answer,¡± ¡®Lonso¡¯ said as he reached up to pull down his hood. ¡°It has been a while since I could be sure of anything coming out of this land. All the envoys and ambassadors talk in double words and deflections, even for the tritest trifles. The people haven¡¯t been much different either, here, more so since when I last came by, barely over a year ago. It has made it rather impossible to get a clear picture of anything, these days. Except the one thing, of course.¡± The short, stocky, bearded man looked at me squarely. ¡°The closer we got to the capital, the more people seem absolutely sure you¡¯re some manner of divine prophet.¡±


    Don¡¯t I know it. ¡°Archbishop Alonsus Faol.¡± I didn¡¯t even pretend to make assumptions about why he was here. Or his attendants. ¡°Ser Uther. Clerist Turalyon. Greetings.¡±


    ¡°To you as well.¡±


    ¡°¡­ Lonso, Alyn and Thure, did those names really fool anyone?¡±


    ¡°Probably not, but who can tell when someone is playing the fool in this land?¡± Sir Uther said gruffly from behind their short leader, proceeding to pull his robe off over his head as if it was a personal offense. The armor beneath was the same as last year, but clearly not as well kept. Likely on purpose to further sell their ¡®disguise.¡¯ How much did it pain the former knight, to treat his kit so poorly? ¡°I still say the last handful only pretended not to recognize us because they didn¡¯t want the trouble.¡±


    ¡°And Light willing, it all worked out just fine as always,¡± the Archbishop reassured the other man.


    ¡°I hope that¡¯s true,¡± Uther harrumphed. ¡°But I still think that ranger was on to us.¡±


    Ah, so it was the ¡®ranger¡¯.


    ¡°Peace,¡± Turalyon urged. ¡°He was long enough ago that we¡¯d have been waylaid by some manner of armed force at this point if he chose to report us. Be at ease that he chose silence instead of selling us to any malcontents.¡±


    ¡°Or the ¡®malcontents¡¯ are just setting up a different play,¡± Uther huffed, but subsided.


    Jorach Ravenholdt is going well out of his way to not make me regret giving him back his autonomy, isn¡¯t he? Fair was fair, I won¡¯t blow his cover. ¡°A divine prophet,¡± I slowly tasted the words. Each time they felt a tiny bit less ill fitting. ¡°Is that all they¡¯re saying about me?¡±


    ¡°Certainly not,¡± Alonsus Faol gave me a deep stare. ¡°But I¡¯ll wait to discuss that ¨C and more ¨C until we have four walls and a roof around us.¡±


    How very reserved compared to the first time. I stood up. ¡°Will you be accepting guest right, or are you here purely on business?¡± Just the three of them, despite the danger to the most famous man in the world. Traveling in secret. Not known to even the country¡¯s king.


    The Archbishop, alarmingly, actually hesitated at my question. Briefly, but it was there. ¡°I will be glad for Guest Right, but only because I trust your ability and willingness to abide by it and discuss business matters both.¡± The man gave me a look that was at once trusting and pointed, and I knew, with my various developments in terms of awareness and empathy, that the nature of what he going to say next had been planned in advance. ¡°Especially if I get it from your father.¡±


    So it was like that. ¡°Come with me, then, and he¡¯ll be right with you.¡±


    I had to pause before setting off, when I felt the feeling of relief from the Archbishop, and the raw surprise from the knight. Uther was¡­ very surprised at my easy compliance. I could tell now that he had been on guard for me reacting poorly at the possible slight. He hadn¡¯t expected me to comply so easily, and he especially didn¡¯t expect me not to feel insulted at being indirectly told I wasn¡¯t fit to grant guest right myself. Uther, it seemed, was surprised that I still allowed myself to be treated as having an inferior status to anyone, even if that ¡®anyone¡¯ was my father, the household¡¯s master.


    Fair was fair here too, I was a walking insurrection, I owned the entire mountain, and I had one of Alterac¡¯s dukes serving me above and beyond even the king. Also, I had a dragon.


    Dad still owned the house though, so that was that.


    Speaking of my father, he reacted just about the way one might expect at suddenly having the Archbishop of the Church of the Holy Light on his doorstep. Fortunately, the latter was quite practiced at managing the startled and distressed. Mother was also shocked, but actually felt hopeful to my six sense after that, for the first time in months. More so as the evening wore on, even as her spirit felt heavier too. Bread and wine was given, wash basins were provided, and soon we were all ensconced in the dining room, enjoying a small feast from our best stores, which had grown fine and abundant indeed.


    Narett wasn¡¯t in residence, and Emerentius was off doing a very pointed flyover of the border with Strom, so it was just Richard and Antonidas joining the rest of us at the table. That gave us enough people to fill the silence. That said, a proper host didn¡¯t ask anything of guests until they were eased of hunger and weariness, which included not discussing any of the grim questions and news at the table. The conversation stayed instead on light topics, with only the occasional dip into the matters of family, friends, and what news and pursuits we each had that didn¡¯t skirt the issues of sedition, treason and tyranny.


    Eventually, though, we retired to the den to sit around the fireplace. Mother excused herself to prepare rooms and draw our guests some hot baths, but father stayed as was proper. Then, the Archbishop finally revealed that he was leading a large ceremonial procession to Stormwind for Winterveil, in a bid to revive ties with the far-flung legacy kingdom of Arathor. But he¡¯d taken a detour to come over for a visit first, ahead of the docking date. Secretly.


    Since he stopped there, I asked if he¡¯d received my packages, only to find out neither of them had reached their destination. Not the rune primer I¡¯d sent by courier last year, and not the more recent one with the staves either. Antonidas was kind enough to make copies of both notebooks now, which the three clerics were quite appreciative of. Turalyon even began to study them on the spot. But that still left me wondering about the hedge knights I¡¯d hired as couriers. Worried too. The first one in particular was a Strahnbrad native and I¡¯d never heard back from him. I¡¯d need to look him up, or his family to see if he at least made it back.


    ¡°I will send a transmission back to Capital,¡± the archbishop promised without me having to ask. ¡°We should at least be able to find out if they made it past the border. It¡¯s not impossible the failure was on our end.¡±


    ¡°No, just very improbable,¡± Richard grunted, scowling. ¡°It was probably confiscated by customs, but that doesn¡¯t account for the man not coming back to let you know.¡± Richard caught my eye, and I shrugged. I¡¯d certainly ask Jorach, but what were the odds he knew every contract ever taken on every random go-between? It was supremely unlikely, and I didn¡¯t care to speculate on what records existed or survived even before the shadow war among the murderous spies that had only just simmered down.


    Assuming he hadn¡¯t been killed by bandits or ¡®bandits,¡¯ which was far more likely.


    ¡°Perhaps he was merely unreliable?¡± Antonidas ventured. ¡°Or unlucky. It¡¯s not impossible his bones lie in some yeti¡¯s lair.¡±


    Then again, I had new means now. The little steamers wouldn¡¯t be able to stretch nearly far enough from all the way over here, even if they weren¡¯t still sulking in the cauldron. Every day I got closer to wanting to reignite the Aura half of Aura of Vigor just to see what happened, but for now I was still inclined to keep building my inner strength instead, while waiting for them to get over it on their own. ¡®It¡¯ being their shame at the realization that they¡¯d been behaving like parasites. Never mind my opinion on the matter.


    The little critters weren¡¯t shy of taking cues from Mother at her worst, when it fuelled their existing bias. Very like human grandchildren on their part.


    Could I maybe use¡­ whatever the equivalent of far sight was for earth spirits? Granodior had given me that flash of a vision when I asked about the steam elementals, and I occasionally used it to get an overview of things down in the enclave. Could he do the same for other things and people? Even if he wasn¡¯t personally familiar with them, he should be able to use my frame of reference to find them. Or check that they were somewhere or other, if their spirits touched the ground at any point. I knew where one courier lived, I¡¯d even been there.


    Spying on people in their own homes was a slippery slope I wanted nothing to do with, never mind what it might do to my ability to consistently defend home and hearth. Mine and others. Via the Light at least. The Light works intuitively, so if I no longer considered private property to be inherently, intuitively sacred, my ability to ward places like my and Orsur¡¯s home would suffer, wouldn¡¯t it? I certainly wouldn¡¯t be able to do it spontaneously anymore, by just walking around a place and thinking about the Havamal really hard.


    I would still find a way, there was always a way, but not without exhaustive rune work and time-consuming effort, and certainly not with such broad parameters as ¡®safeguard this home and its denizens against everyone the owner might consider undesirable on any given day, but not against his conscious choice or otherwise to his own detriment as understood by himself and also common sense just in case¡¯. Which did, indeed, potentially include myself if the owner and I were to have a falling out.


    If I fell to the point where the letter of the spell was all I could muster, I may as well just switch entirely to arcane magic. Whose warding disciplines, incidentally, I didn¡¯t know my way around yet. They were not a priority in Antonidas¡¯ lessons, at my own request, since I had the Light-based variety well enough mastered for things like that.


    Perhaps¡­ Maybe check to see if someone was taking a walk down the public street closest to their house? It wasn¡¯t perfect, but it was within the rights of anyone capable of walking down that same street.


    ¡°No,¡± I dimly heard my dad murmuring, right as the Spirit of Alterac decided to do me the kindness I¡¯d just conceived of without waiting to be asked. ¡°Don¡¯t interrupt him. He¡¯s got his ¡®I¡¯m changing the world and don¡¯t think I won¡¯t¡¯ scowl on.¡±


    I shook my head clear and straightened from my slouch, noticing that Richard had a hand raised for silence as well. ¡°He¡¯s gone. The first courier, I mean, from last year.¡± The specifics of Granodior¡¯s vision settled and I had to amend. ¡°Well, unaccounted for at least. He hasn¡¯t set foot anywhere near his home in months.¡± I paused when Granodior finished supplying me what qualified as short-term memory for an entity that lived forever and whose body was the literal country. Or a huge chunk of it anyway. ¡°At least not since July.¡±  In other words, since the day that Granodior woke up.


    ¡°Definitely the border guards,¡± Richard decided. ¡°Then after they intercepted the package, the delivery man would have vanished mysteriously to make it look like the work of bandits or wild animals. I wouldn¡¯t be shocked if they did it on the Lordaeron side of the border too.¡±


    The three ¡®pilgrims¡¯ exchanged looks, but they didn¡¯t comment on the casual evil we were attributing to Alterac¡¯s monarchy.


    Instead, the Archibishop levied me with a most intense gaze. ¡°You did not use the Light to divine that. I would have known.¡±


    ¡°No, I didn¡¯t.¡±


    I waited for the others to give up on waiting for an explanation I wasn¡¯t going to give them. Other than Narett, who figured it out on his own from how ¡®vast¡¯ I felt for a little while there, when alchemy began giving me results other than complete failure, the only one who knew about Granodior was the dragon. Well, other than Odyn and the Valkyries and whoever else they shared it with, if anyone. Let everyone assume it was the steam elementals, or whatever else. Antonidas surely suspected something, but he hadn¡¯t brought it up so neither would I. He¡¯d been much more concerned with geriatric molluscs and void entities.


    At Granodior¡¯s own request, I was not advertising his existence. ¡°Why have you come here, Archbishop?¡±


    ¡°The Alteraci diplomats in Lordaeron decry you as a heretic.¡± That was news to me, but not at all surprising. ¡°The people here believe you are a genuine prophet so exalted that the Light blessed you with the eternal service of a giant fire-breathing dragon.¡±


    ¡°Emerentius, yes. The Light didn¡¯t give him to me, I used it to free him from the forces of evil.  He¡¯s not around right now, but he should return at some point tonight. I¡¯ll be happy to introduce you tomorrow morning.¡±


    Alonsus Faol, Light bless him, gaped. Not as widely or for as long a time as Uther, or even Turalyon, but he still did it. ¡°Not just a wild rumor then,¡± he coughed, rushing to recompose himself. ¡°But if that flight of fancy is true, then how much of the rest...?¡± The bearded man levied me with a look more intense than anyone had ever given me, save the very dragon we¡¯d just discussed. ¡°The people here also swear that you can and have brought back the dead.¡±


    ¡°Only the very recently dead, just the once,¡± I admitted, because that was nowhere near secret either. ¡°And all the real work was done by a Valkyrie.¡±


    ¡°¡­ Yes, a great angel born forth on feathered wings, sent down from heaven by a patron no scripture ever names, even all the apocryphal ones.¡±


    ¡°Tyr fell in battle before he could pass down anything to our vrykul ancestors, and all the scriptures were written much time after by Lordain¡¯s people, or later still. I happened upon other sources, and they have since been verified. I have some reading material for that as well, if you wish. Incidentally, if a raven starts stalking you, talk to it because it might just start talking back.¡±


    ¡°Young man, I expect better than glibness from the one I so enjoyed talking the evening away with last time.¡±


    Everyone expects better. ¡°Your holiness, I sympathise with the idea of a probing interview, but it really is unnecessary. You came here at great personal expense and danger, in secrecy not shared with even the king of the nation, just to talk to me. You can get right to the heart of the matter and I will return the favor with all due respect and lack of pretense.¡±


    Alonsus Faol sat back. He looked at me. Everyone looked at him. And me too. And back. I wondered if he was weighing the good and bad of sending his bodyguard away to talk to me in private, and if he wanted or expected me to do the same with everyone on my side of the room. I couldn¡¯t tell what he was thinking or feeling, even with my new spiritual awareness. The Light in him was so bright that it eclipsed everything else.


    ¡°Alright,¡± the man finally decided. ¡°Then I will ask upfront ¨C are you aiming to found a new church?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    The archbishop sagged.


    In disappointment and fear. I still couldn¡¯t feel them, but they were drawn plainly on his face, ¡°Then I fervently hope you have some truly extenuating circumstances to present to me, because the only other explanation for the full sum of your actions is that you are arranging the ugliest and bloodiest war in the history of humanity.¡±


    ¡°That is too far!¡± Richard erupted, standing up suddenly.


    Uther did the same, a stern warning in his veteran eyes. ¡°Your Grace, let us keep our calm.¡±


    Richard glanced at Uther and dismissed him in the same move. Not as a threat, but as a danger. However offended he was on my behalf, Richard didn¡¯t expect any of them to break guest right. ¡°You claim to expect better of your hosts, but do not give half the same courtesy. I will say that I expected much better from the paragon of my faith.¡±


    ¡°Am I really?¡± Alonsus asked grimly, not rising or tensing even as some heavy woe came upon him. ¡°Your Paragon, truly? You will make such a claim here, now, oh Duke?¡±


    In other words, how could he claim that when he obviously followed me first and foremost?


    ¡°You assume a conflict of loyalties where there is none,¡± Richard scoffed. ¡°You claim you talked to the people, will you claim that the farce in the throne room somehow did not reach your ears amidst all that?¡±


    ¡°I will not, but as wielders of the Light we are expected to act according to the highest purpose, not react on impulse to given offense.¡±


    ¡°Impulse ¨C offense!¡± Duke Lionheart snarled, even as Uther tensed.


    But Richard then closed his eyes, took a deep breath and released it slowly. ¡°Oh. Oh, I see. Never mind then, my apologies for my outburst. It seems I have nothing to be upset about after all.¡± Richard then, to Uther¡¯s complete befuddlement, sat back down in his chair and waited expectantly for our talk to resume.


    ¡°¡­ That did not go like I expected,¡± Uther muttered, sitting back down as well.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it,¡± I told the man. ¡°You just lack context, that¡¯s all.¡±


    ¡°I truly hope that¡¯s not all it is,¡± Alonsus said in a voice thick with dread and dismay. ¡°The nearer I came to this place, the more I¡¯ve felt like the future is set to drown in blood and hellfire. I want to believe the best of you, Wayland, I really do. I even did, up until I heard about you unleashing the secret of dwarven black powder. What were you thinking? What you did, unveiling the secret so brazenly, it has all nations rushing to make it now, in ever greater and greater quantities, all the while thinking up louder and uglier weapons. Even Lordaeron, home of the Holy and Just, is recruiting every alchemist it can find to verify and apply the recipe you tossed out like wolf bait, just so it won¡¯t be left behind. What drove you to such madness? I do not want to believe it was just pettiness towards an even pettier king.¡±


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    Sitting there, under the pleading gaze of that man and the judgmental stares of two strangers, Richard¡¯s quiet confidence in me was more than outweighed by Antonidas¡¯ blank-faced neutrality. And my father¡¯s sudden and distressed indecision about what to believe, even if it only lasted a moment. Perhaps I should have felt misjudged and cornered.


    I didn¡¯t. I sensed a fulcrum in the Light, and for once it was unneeded, even though I still appreciated it.


    The archbishop hadn¡¯t asked for a private word, never mind for me to meet him alone while he got to keep his companions. Alonsus Faol had come already resolved to not do anything to me, no matter what turns our conversation took. Moreso, his assessment of my actions was entirely correct. The only thing he got wrong was the nuance. I wasn¡¯t out to start the ugliest and bloodiest war in the history of humanity.


    I was preparing for it. ¡°I¡¯m willing to submit to the Rite of Judgment Unmerciful right now, if it helps.¡±


    Alonsus Faol froze.


    A frightful silence followed then, deep and¡­ resentful.


    I discreetly sought the source of the intruding feeling and did not find it in any of the people present. Aiming my attention outwards, I failed to find any observers or loiterers. Since Antonidas had also long since warded the house against scrying, on top of my own workings towards the same ¨C which had been tested and improved until he himself couldn¡¯t breach the defenses anymore ¨C I could probably rule that out as well. What did that leave?


    What is that?


    The answer, surprisingly, came from Granodior.


    ~  Reverse Echo, Spite for Lost Chance for Malice Aforethought, Foretelling of Woe ~


    Back on the day of my past life awakening, I¡¯d idly mused that meeting Alonsus Faol, Uther the Lightbringer and Turalyon in the same day, was an atemporal echo from whatever I would end up doing in the future. A ripple of synchronicity backwards in time. Now, Granodior was telling me I was experiencing the¡­ evil version of that. Based on his own experience from far back, when Fahrad subdued him. The feeling had been just as cloying and alien then too.


    Knowing what we both knew, we could¡­ probably speculate that it had been an echo of the mollusks¡¯ anger over Fahrad fooling them into sparing the spirit. Whenever they finally realized it. Or will. Which, for here and now, meant¡­ oh no.


    Who will feel extremely angry at this in the future, that will impact said future to the extent that I can feel an echo here, now?


    And for that matter¡­


    Who did I just set up to become the target of old gods or demons or orcs or what have you?


    ¡°Do you mean the words you just uttered?¡±


    Did I just doom this man to suffering and death? ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Please repeat that,¡± the archbishop requested, slowly getting up from his chair even as I and everyone else did the same. ¡°I want to make sure there is absolutely no confusion here.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I am completely serious.¡±


    For the first time, the Rite of Judgment Unmerciful descended upon me not at my own bidding.


    I felt a sting inside my head, but I was still ready to catch the other man if he staggered.


    He didn¡¯t. He didn¡¯t sway, didn¡¯t flinch, didn¡¯t even twitch.


    Alonsus Faol just stood there, looking up at me in abject confusion. ¡°Nothing,¡± he breathed in total disbelief. ¡°There is¡­ nothing? The Light found fault with nothing. How can there be nothing?¡±


    I sighed. ¡°There was quite a bit actually. I skipped what could otherwise have been an amiable and insightful group talk, just now. I misjudged your intentions. You hadn¡¯t been stalling or beating around any bush, you¡¯d hoped to re-establish the rapport of before.¡± For himself and also Uther and Turalyon. He¡¯d come in still hoping and assuming the best of me. Between the two of us, it had been Alonsus Faol who went more out of his way for my benefit, rather than the reverse. And not just out of respect for our host, my father. ¡°Insofar as respecting guest right, I am the one who fell behind.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t dazzle me with technicalities,¡± the archbishop grunted, still with that raw confusion. ¡°How can there be nothing? The Rite judged me no less thoroughly than you, and all I understood was that my misgivings were all true also! Your discovery ¨C the blasting powder ¨C what you¡¯ve unleashed upon the world, thousands of people, tens of thousands ¨C more! ¨C are going to die choking and screaming if things keep proceeding as they have, I¡­¡± The man drew away and fell back into his chair. When he spoke again, his voice was blank. ¡°I do not understand.¡±


    Richard tried and failed not to look vindicated. Everyone else looked between me and the high priest with varying degrees of confusion.


    ¡°There was always a guarantee of war between Alterac and Strom,¡± the Archbishop murmured, almost entirely to himself now. ¡°But now it is looking as though all nations of man will become embroiled during our time, in the greatest bloodbath that ever was. You have set mankind on the path to a war that will end all wars, one way or another, and yet the Light sees fit to deem it¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­ Just?¡± Richard dared.


    ¡°¡­ No,¡± the archbishop replied at length. ¡°Not just¡­ Not just in the least, but¡­ good and right.¡± The man hesitated. ¡°Necessary.¡±


    I could only hope that meant that ¡®the war to end all wars¡¯ would be against aliens and demons instead of each other, and that it would actually live up to its name here, instead of setting up an even bigger and worse one to follow in ten or twenty years.


    The silence stretched on, and no one seemed to want or know how to break it. After a while, Richard looked at me with something like cautious expectation. Soulgaze him, his gaze told me. Asked. Asked why not.


    I was considering it. Considered making the offer at least. There was no way in hell I was inflicting it on any of these men without informed consent.


    Before I could decide one way or another, my father beat me to it. ¡°Your Holiness.¡±


    Alonsus Faol gave a start, then a look of apology. ¡°Forgive me, good man, I was¡­ adrift.¡±


    Dad gave me a quelling look that was entirely unnecessary, but I couldn¡¯t hold it against him, considering things. ¡°Would it be presumptuous of me to think we¡¯ve all had enough for one evening?¡±


    ¡°¡­ I would be grateful for a respite to contemplate matters.¡±


    ¡°Please follow me then, a hot bath should calm everything down and your rooms should be ready for you.¡±


    Perhaps it really was enough for one evening. The whole thing felt¡­ unfinished, but since the only wrong call in that whole talk had been my own, I could live with the consequences for a night.


    So that¡¯s what I did.


    Alonsus Faol had more than regained his composure by morning, but he didn¡¯t go out of his way to resume the discussion of the prior evening, for which I was glad. It gave me some time to do what had become my usual sit-down on the terrace.


    I¡¯d spent much of the night in Reflection, but the source of the echo of malice of the prior eve hadn¡¯t become any clearer to me during the night, even after coming up with my most creative parameters during Light meditation.


    The rest of what I pondered turned out even worse. Very informative, but the tidings were most ill on the whole. No matter how I turned the idea of just telling the Archbishop about, well, anything, I got very loud and glaring warnings that I¡¯d be inviting disaster just by mentioning the orcs aloud in his presence, never mind more critical factors.


    It was enough to make me worry that I¡¯d made a huge mistake telling Emerentius about Rheastrasza¡¯s future, if just mentioning future events aloud was so risky. I was at my worst then, it was very possible I might have missed a warning.


    Thankfully, Reflection on that particular matter didn¡¯t indicate I had anything to worry about on that front. Of course, that just meant Alonsus Faol came with altogether new caveats.


    Given his upcoming itinerary, it was easy to guess that he¡¯ll run into a certain someone that¡­ might not necessarily be a danger now, but would very likely become extremely so if he divined anything I told the archbishop. Through whatever means, of which this world had many.


    I was regretting the lack of proper telepathy. Mind magic was another non-priority in my Arcane studies, which had barely begun as it was. Worse, it wasn¡¯t really much of an option regardless. Antonidas himself could only speak in words mind to mind, and he couldn¡¯t grant that ability to other people. For now anyway. According to him, Dalaran regulated invasive mind magics most tightly, at least for the purpose of delving people still alive. Considering that arcane magic worked by disrupting natural order ¨C in this case the other guy¡¯s brain ¨C I had to approve of the caution.  Still, it was unfortunate to find out that true telepathy was the realm of demons and warlocks. For now.


    But then¡­ that would only lead to the same problem by a different path, wouldn¡¯t it? A man as righteous and brave as Alonsus Faol would probably confront the relevant unworthies outright, wouldn¡¯t he? Even if it killed him. Deathwing was probably still hibernating, otherwise I can¡¯t imagine he wouldn¡¯t have descended on this place to avenge himself on me and mine for the insult that Emerentius represented. That left Medivh.


    Alonsus Faol was going to be in the same room as Sargeras.


    Arguably, that went without saying, Medivh was the closest friend of King Llane Wrynn, after Anduin Lothar. Of course they were going to meet.


    The risks I was being warned away from indicated a bit more than superficial interaction though.


    Medivh was one of very few I was sure did have true telepathic powers, though the Light should be too bright in Faol for him to get anything. Alas, as I¡¯d experienced for myself, there were ways to weaken and drain it.


    Medivh should have just begun his ¡®hold banquets and feasts to relieve the boredom¡¯ phase of his life, will he invite the archbishop and company? Does he dose the food with truth potions? Something else?


    I wasn¡¯t sure how powerful Alonsus Faol was, but I was sure it was not enough to survive that monster, especially at this early stage before he approved the more militant applications of Light magic. The Light agreed with me.


    I spent the rest of the night trying to come up with some manner of equalizer or workaround using staves of protection. Good news, I didn¡¯t get any notion that even Sargeras could nullify all of them. Not discreetly, anyway, and not without the bearer dying from the strain in the case of my more creative ideas, which themselves still needed work.


    Unfortunately, even if I did somehow convince Alonsus Faol to let me brand him six ways to Sunday ¨C without me being able to speak a word of why ¨C it would invite enemy attention, towards the archbishop and me both. There were staves to hide things, and even staves to make you forget that you hid things, but a notice-me-not field would just make it impossible for the most public figure on the planet to do his job, even if it somehow did work against the ¡®Guardian¡¯. Never mind who else would be present, like King Llane Wrynn and Anduin Lothar. Also, sufficiently strong willpower could no doubt overcome it.


    More targeted solutions were theoretically possible, but they required a more personal touch. Like how the Dragon Soul would need one of Deathwing¡¯s scales to make vulnerable to destruction.


    Guess I¡¯m keeping my mouth shut, I thought morosely. Maybe the man will study the staves on the journey over and apply his own protections. He¡¯ll be at sea for a good bit of it, right?


    If nothing else, I would make sure he knew the true divine shield before he left, if he didn¡¯t already.


    I was on the perch over the valley when the archbishop finally sought me out, and he didn¡¯t speak even then, for a while. I practiced dual sensory augmentation while he got his thoughts in order.


    ¡°I would like to meet this dragon.¡±


    ¡°Alright.¡± I rose and stretched while waiting for my hearing and sight to return to normal. ¡°Will Turalyon and Uther be joining us?¡±


    ¡°Not for now.¡±


    ¡°Then I won¡¯t get anyone on my end either. Follow me.¡±


    Emerentius moped less than he used to, but he still brooded in his underground lair a lot of the time when I didn¡¯t have him doing something. This was in spite of how much he enjoyed sunning himself. He had this persistent problem with wanting to curl up under a rock and die of shame.


    Literally.


    When we finally reached the dragon, Emerentius uncurled from where he was sleeping, pinned me with his big eye as he always did to reassure himself that I was still there to expect him not to waste his life anymore, before finally addressing my guest. ¡°Ah. You. The leader of the brave and just, who is good and valorous in truth, even though you don¡¯t know.¡±


    Visibly taken aback, Alonsus Faol nonetheless mastered himself well. ¡°I don¡¯t know what, precisely?¡±


    That alien barbarians are going to invade Azeroth just to soften it for the infinite army of demons from beyond the stars that¡¯s coming to destroy the world.


    The dragon looked to me and back at the man. ¡°That is not for me to say.¡±


    Alonsus paused, but decided not to press. He instead proceeded to ask questions of the dragon, some simple, some not, some private, some rebuffed with varying levels of firmness. I whiled away the time communing with Granodior and double checking what we¡¯d found about that one courier. Still no trace of his spiritual aura anywhere around his home.


    Didn¡¯t speak about any coercion his family may or may not be under either, friendly or otherwise.


    ¡°Wayland,¡± the archbishop finally addressed me again, though he hesitated to face me now. ¡°Your writings. They don¡¯t cover all you¡¯ve come up with, do they?¡±


    ¡°Only the basics of healing and defensive applications,¡± I admitted. ¡°We¡¯ve already confirmed that the Light isn¡¯t the only mystical force that can power and use the symbols. But we don¡¯t know enough to tell how different mystical paradigms will change outcomes, yet. It¡¯s possible to extrapolate other uses, but whoever stole those books will have to do that without help from me.¡±


    ¡°¡­ And yet something drove you to abandon that prudence?¡± The man asked, half to himself. ¡°What you did in the throne room¡­ What could make it the right decision? What do you know that we don¡¯t? What could be so ¨C so terrible as to forgive ¨C offset¡­ no, it¡¯s even worse, isn¡¯t it? Somehow, I don¡¯t know how or why, you felt it necessary to change the face of war forever.¡± The man¡¯s words went so much quieter then. ¡°And the Light¡­ didn¡¯t highlight any argument to the contrary.¡±


    Seems I wasn¡¯t the only one who spent much of the night immersed in the Light to seek Revelation.


    ¡°Wayland,¡± Alonsus eventually broke the silence again. ¡°There is one more thing the people claim about you.¡±


    Just one? ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°They say you only need to gaze into a man¡¯s eyes to know his deepest nature.¡± He eyed me sideways. ¡°They say you can do the inverse of that just as easily.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not easy,¡± I replied. ¡°It¡¯s truthful and straightforward, but there¡¯s nothing easy about it. And I don¡¯t get to choose, it¡¯s always both ways.¡±


    ¡°But you can do it,¡± Alonsus concluded. ¡°If you were to do it with me, would it enable me to understand?¡±


    We don¡¯t have to, I wanted to say, but didn¡¯t risk. ¡°This is a fairly large leap from wanting to take things slow and steady yesterday.¡±


    ¡°Words are ripples in the wind, they are as empty as they are easy to divine by the base and nefarious.¡±


    I¡¯m not the only one who spent the night Reflecting over how good an idea it would be to discuss matters. In words.


    It didn¡¯t matter how secure our home was from divination if the person I shared secret plans with left its protection. Looked like my plans for the King and his cronies weren¡¯t the only ones I¡¯d keep my silence on. ¡°The more people know something, the likelier it is that someone is going to dream up the same information just from being part of the zeitgeist.¡± I looked at the other man seriously. ¡°Or, as a completely random example, get a sudden feeling that their disguise has just been blown.¡±


    Not to mention, some people were prone to muttering, like our farmhands. And Dad. Also, though the steamers and Granodior were now exceptions, the elements, on average, were not our friends. Especially in a land without an entrenched shamanic tradition. Who knows who binds spirits of air and makes them bring gossip from far-off places? Maybe not Deathwing, but I wouldn¡¯t bet against Dalaran or its renegades.


    Never mind Medivh.


    And what about the Emerald Dream? Dreamwalking was a thing too, and I knew for a fact that the green dragonflight wasn¡¯t in full control there anymore.


    ¡°I don¡¯t imagine you have much proof for any of¡­ whatever it is,¡± the archbishop said with a casualness that all three of us could tell was completely forced. ¡°Or you wouldn¡¯t be acting so circumspect.¡±


    ¡°Not the sort that would pass muster with lords and kings.¡±


    ¡°But it does with dragons?¡±


    I said nothing, because I didn¡¯t know how to reply. All the while, Emerentius beheld us silently.


    ¡°Well then.¡± The Archbishop of the Church of the Holy Light turned and met my eyes squarely. ¡°It¡¯s a good thing I am none of those things, now isn¡¯t it?¡±


    The people of this world really were something else. ¡°Are you absolutely sure?¡±


    ¡°Do it before I change my mind,¡± Alonsus demanded, the grimaced. ¡°Please.¡±


    I considered the man, weighing matters of orcs, dragons, undead monsters, and his upcoming itinerary down south among lords, kings, commoners, and body-snatching demonic titans possessing a misbegotten son.


    I concluded that I couldn¡¯t decide what I should tell him and what not. I couldn¡¯t even decide if I should pick and choose. Not just generally, but with this man specifically. The problems on my old Earth always got out of control because the good people with any amount of power were never informed enough. Also, strategy and a top-down chain of command were always the way to go when you¡¯re already at war, but when you¡¯re still at peace¡­


    Well, if you want to make the best of peace, the better bet is always decentralization. Not of power, necessarily, but of executive authority.


    Clarity finally dawned on me then. It wasn¡¯t secrecy that was more important than anything here, this man was. The brightest future ¨C as I aspired to it ¨C needed him to be around for some time still, alive and free. More than it needed Sargeras exposed. Which, having thought long on it, would probably lead to the very war Alonsus was afraid of. Medivh¡¯s attention was aimed outwards right now, at other worlds. If Sargeras was exposed, what were the odds he¡¯d take a new disguise and start poisoning wells more actively here, at home? Unacceptable, that¡¯s what.


    When every possible outcome is a bad one, chaos theory becomes your only friend.


    Ultimately, I decided not to decide for him at all.


    I met the eyes of Alonsus Faol and let his Light guide the Soulgaze every bit as much as my own.


    I beheld the world lit bright and hale by a good and just man.


    The Soulgaze ended to the ever-distant promise of vast malignance roaring in outrage far into the future. Several times over.


    ¡°Light preserve us¡­¡± Alonsus breathed out, shaken and pale. ¡°We will never again have peace in our time, will we?¡±


    He didn¡¯t tell me what he got from the experience, and I didn¡¯t ask.


    <h3 style="text-align: center">¡°-. October 16, Year 580 of the King¡¯s Calendar .-¡°


    The clerics stayed for another two days, during which time we exchanged notes and teachings on everything we could without touching on matters of potential sedition. Uther trained Richard in combat, having proven considerably ahead in skill. Alonsus achieved the true Divine Shield before anyone else, something neither Richard nor Emerentius had managed yet. And Turalyon figured out my diagnostic ability, even though most of his time was given to reading and writing down everything I ¨C and through me Geirrvif the valkyrie ¨C knew about the lore of Tyr, Odyn, Helya, Loken and the other Titans.


    They were not mere constructs, it turned out. As Geirrvif explained it, the bodies were constructs, but they were also just vessels for their cosmic selves, same as our bodies were four our souls and spirits. The Titan-Keepers were themselves Titans, just not of the hatched-from-a-world-egg variety.


    Odyn and Tyr in particular were divine twins, their souls born of the spiritual joining between Aman¡¯Thul and Eonar, long ago.


    Then something happened that put me firmly in the Archbishop¡¯s debt ¨C Alonsus Faol got through to mother.


    I always had a poor opinion of confession, the churches of Earth only used it as espionage and their vows of confidentiality weren¡¯t worth the blood they trampled. Also, some churches had you kneel at the priest¡¯s feet to spill all your secrets, which was one humiliation too many to bear for me. But there was a reason therapy and counselling became such a big thing despite the biggest names in the field being complete scams.


    I wasn¡¯t there when it happened, and I deliberately went as far from the house as possible when mother led the Archbishop to a different room to confess her ¡®sin.¡¯ But when she finally stopped repressing¡­ I felt the flood of tears from two hundred yards away. The emotional spillover lasted for over an hour. It was like a great block of rot was dislodged from our life, to be carried away and dissolve in the ether.


    That evening, the Archbishop held a belated funeral service for my unborn brothers, which everyone in the family including mother attended. She stayed engulfed in father¡¯s arms, weeping quietly but feeling lighter than she had in months.


    I experienced a bone-deep, bittersweet relief.


    Some weaknesses you just don¡¯t show your children.


    On the morning of our guests¡¯ departure, father¡¯s eyes were almost as misty as mother¡¯s when they came with me to see our guests off. Mother had a shepherd¡¯s pie packed for the road, and father gave the three each a pair of boots. They were the best he¡¯d ever made, and he only managed it because he badgered Antonidas and I to magically sustain him and his deftness of hands all through the night. The man would surely crash into bed the moment we were gone.


    On the way down, I asked to walk with the Archbishop alone and passed him a scroll with my parting gift.


    The man wasted no time reading it, and he became more and more astonished with each word. Astonished and near petrified at what he had just learned. The world seemed to hold its breath.


    ¡°Telomeres are just one part of a dozen when it comes to ageing,¡± I murmured. These words, at least, came with no blaring warnings. ¡°They won¡¯t solve everything, degenerative illnesses are mostly unrelated, and we¡¯ve many symbiotic life forms living within us. If they die, so will we, no matter how youthful we may otherwise be. But they are not beyond the Light¡¯s reach, and even then¡­ you should at least be able to get a good chunk of extra lifespan. In your prime.¡±


    Alonsus Faol wasn¡¯t exactly old, but he was getting there, and the fact that only the mages of Dalaran enjoyed an extended lifespan right now rather offended my sensibilities.


    ¡°Wayland,¡± Alonsus murmured, so astounded that he couldn¡¯t lift his eyes from the paper. ¡°If you believe there is some manner of debt to repay between us, I think you¡¯ve severely unbalanced the scales in the other direction.¡±


    ¡°Actually, this is sort of my backup gift. Turalyon ruined the other one. If the church manages to disseminate the capability to cure chronic diseases, it might well free up 80% of your time, but I was hoping you¡¯d say that.¡±


    ¡°I suppose that¡¯s also true ¨C wait, what did you say?¡±


    ¡°Follow me. See the man over there? Don¡¯t look at him directly if you can.¡±


    Learning that Prince Thoras Trollbane of Strom happened to be in residence down in the enclave put quite the interesting expression on Alonsus Faol¡¯s most holy visage. Learning that the man had been there for a month but was waiting for me to approach him as if I owed him something, never mind ¡®proof of my prophetic abilities¡¯, well¡­


    I wasn¡¯t present for that talk either, but only because I didn¡¯t want to make a liar of myself. I¡¯d told Richard we wouldn¡¯t treat with those two unless they came forward without pretenses, and I kept my word.


    In a not entirely surprising show of competence, Yernim Melton ¨C the caretaker of the Trollbane family artefacts, at least when he wasn¡¯t forced to go by an anagram while babysitting princes on their ill-advised adventures behind enemy lines ¨C managed to find a way past not just the Archbishop but also Uther, Turalyon and Richard to find me. He apologized on the prince¡¯s behalf and assured me that they had lacked all malice. I believed him, but that didn¡¯t mean I was going to forgive without amends first.


    Infiltrating an enemy kingdom was their right, but they¡¯d spent the entire past month infiltrating my land under false pretenses, even though they¡¯d ostensibly come here seeking me as an ally. Weltom was rapidly rising to something like a quartermaster even. It spoke well of his competence, but poorly of the rest.


    Thoras Trollbane couldn¡¯t stop glaring at me after he was drafted to play armed escort to the three, an hour later. It was the most angry and sullen emotional display I¡¯d ever induced in anyone, but I pretended not to notice as easily as I pretended not to know who he was all those weeks.


    ¡°I¡¯ll make sure he¡¯s well recognized, once back in Lordaeron,¡± Alonsus promised me. ¡°If everyone knows he¡¯s there, there will be one less reason for Alterac and Strom to go to war.¡±


    ¡°This year.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± His Holiness reluctantly agreed with me. ¡°This year.¡±


    I thought that was the end, but the archbishop lingered. I waited. The more time passed, the more I could feel the various onlookers wonder who these three were, to earn my personal hospitality and send-off.


    ¡°I will not ask what plans you have for the near future,¡± Alonsus finally said.


    ¡°I appreciate that.¡±


    ¡°That said, as proof that the Church is not deaf to the entreaties of certain Alteraci honourables, it would behove for a cleric to come here and¡­ assess whether the cries of heresy have any substance.¡±


    I became suddenly conscious of the fact that Uther and Turalyon had been particularly quiet and solemn all morning. What was more, though Uther had taken to Richard like a mentor, he was conflicted over the latter¡¯s crisis of loyalties. The dynamic was complicated further when, to all of our surprise, the Light proved stronger in Richard than Uther, despite the latter having come into it almost a year earlier, when he finally accepted the archbishop¡¯s mentorship.


    Most significant of all, Uther¡¯s reservations about Richard¡¯s loyalties had now vanished practically overnight.


    Like a Revelation.


    I looked at Uther, then at Turalyon, then back at the archbishop. ¡°You figured out the Soulgaze, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    This time, it was the Archbishop who didn¡¯t need to say anything.


    ¡°What if I say no?¡± If even this man tried to put a leash on me-


    ¡°Out of respect, I am leaving the decision to you.¡±


    That was no small thing, was it? ¡°When are you coming back from Stormwind?¡±


    ¡°After New Year¡¯s Festivities.¡±


    ¡°Then if you happen to pass by his way again, I¡¯ll be ready to give an answer then.¡± I looked at him seriously. ¡°And my confession.¡±


    Faol went still. ¡°I dread to think what you will do in the meantime.¡±


    I didn¡¯t say anything.


    ¡°Let me amend ¨C I dearly hope you will not do anything rash in the meanwhile. King Perenolde is preparing a very special event this Winterveil, and in fact I was very strongly entreated to attend myself. I declined, due to prior engagements, but the Grand Cathedral has nonetheless sent an official envoy to preside over the king¡¯s impending engagement.¡±


    Oh, I¡¯ll do something and it won¡¯t be rash. Though the rest of that was news to me. ¡°King Aiden is getting engaged?¡± Finally? ¡°To who?¡±


    ¡°I believe he has invited a number of prospective ladies from several nations, from whom he plans to choose one on New Year¡¯s night.¡±


    So an engagement party and power play. That sounded more like him. ¡°Any from Lordaeron?¡±


    His holiness very pointedly took time to consider whether giving me further answers would do more harm than good. ¡°There are two I know of.¡±


    ¡°Is any of them named Prestor?¡±


    ¡°¡­ I will not ask how you know that.¡±


    I sensed¡­ not a disturbance in the Light, but the certainty that there would be one, if I pushed that line of questioning any further. ¡°Who¡¯s the other one?¡±


    ¡°Actually, I believe I will stop here. You clearly have your own means of finding information, if you truly must meddle in the affairs of royalty.¡±


    I¡¯ll do more than meddle. ¡°What if the affairs of royalty meddle with me?¡± I thought of tyranny, death and deserters. ¡°What if I¡¯m dealing with the consequences of that right now?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    I explained to him the ¡®little¡¯ issue of the crownsguard deserters.


    Alonsus Faol all but demanded to meet them, which I had no issue complying with. I caught the attention of one of Richard¡¯s soldiers and had him lead us to where the group currently was. For all that I¡¯d gone out of my way to affirm their right to be there, they were still shunned by everyone else. Quietly, but consistently.


    The more I explained their plight, the darker Faol¡¯s face grew. When we reached the tent, he spared no time asking them questions and more questions and then, to my astonishment, he proceeded to soulgaze every last one of them too, right there on the spot. By the end, his face was so thunderous that he all but stomped back outside, heedless of the tearful reverence in the faces of the men who now knew exactly who was among them.


    ¡°That,¡± Alonsus Fol pointed harshly at the tent. ¡°Is a disgrace.¡±


    Yes it was.


    ¡°What kind of nation is Aiden Perenolde even running here?¡± Alonsus seethed, pacing angrily back and forth. ¡°This. Is. Unacceptable.¡±


    Not for the first time, I was gratifyingly amazed by the fact it was true. The archbishop wasn¡¯t being na?ve or idealistic, he was being completely truthful. This all really was unacceptable by humanity¡¯s standards, on this world.


    It was why I was willing to go out of my way for this place to begin with.


    ¡°I¡¯m taking them with me,¡± Alonsus declared, daring me to object. ¡°I trust that won¡¯t be a problem?¡±


    To Lordaeron, or all the way to Stormwind? I decided it didn¡¯t matter. Good or bad, easy or hard, it was the future these men had earned through their moral weakness. ¡°I¡¯ll get some supplies and a couple of wagons ready for the families.¡±


    ¡°Even their families are¨C? Unbelievable.¡±


    Somehow, my failure to come up with salvation for the poor men on my own, so that they instead had to be saved by outside serendipity, only made people more convinced I was blessed and favored by higher powers. The thanks and tears were even worse this time than when I gave them sanctuary.


    The Archbishop and company left on the morning of October 16, Year 580 of the King¡¯s Calendar, taking all but one of my problems with him.


    Maybe it was how raw and grateful the whole thing left me by the end, but I ended up changing my mind about Alonsus¡¯ oblique request. For Richard¡¯s sake, I asked Uther to stay. I made it clear to the man too, that my friend was my one and only reason.


    ¡°One might wonder why you would not want me around,¡± Uther said, though the joke fell flat. ¡°Unless you plan to do something you know I won¡¯t approve of.¡±


    ¡°For better or worse, I am in mortal conflict with the king.¡±


    Uther froze.


    ¡°This cannot be redressed because he made the choice not to.¡± I turned to cooly meet the man¡¯s eyes. ¡°I won¡¯t let it come to war, but that is the best I can promise. Will that be a problem?¡±


    Uther hesitated, but when he replied he was just as sure of his words as I was. ¡°Quite possibly, but it will not be up to me to judge.¡±


    ¡°On that, at least, we agree.¡±


    ¡°¡­ It is still a most lofty promise, I hope you realize.¡± Uther beheld me seriously. ¡°Can you really keep it?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I turned to led the way back home. ¡°Yes, I dare say I can.¡±


    ¡°Do you need to? You¡¯re secure enough now, especially with that¡­ dragon of yours. If even that isn¡¯t enough, why not just leave? Any country will be glad to take you.¡±


    ¡°For the same reason you didn¡¯t seek your fortunes out of Lordaeron.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t try to sell me bridges, that¡¯s completely different and you know it.¡±


    ¡°How do you feel about a soulgaze?¡±


    For a while, the only sound came from our footsteps.


    Finally, though, Uther had his answer. ¡°Teach me how and I¡¯ll do it myself.¡±


    Well, I suppose I couldn¡¯t fault his caution, and I especially wasn¡¯t going to look down on someone prioritising their autonomy and sanctity of self.


    Uther wasn¡¯t quite finished though. ¡°Have you ever considered that you¡¯re not even a man full grown and perhaps shouldn¡¯t be taking any further grand burdens upon yourself?¡±


    ¡°I may be young now, but by the time real evil comes I¡¯ll be in my prime.¡±


    Uther didn¡¯t have a ready reply for that.


    How appropriate that it doesn¡¯t feel like a victory.


    Fortunately, it didn¡¯t feel like loss either. Despite everything that was coming.


    Alonsus Faol and Medivh would soon be in the same room together, Aiden Perenolde might be aiming to tangle mankind in the sort of web of alliances that caused the first world war, and I was getting the eerie feeling that I already knew why Narett held the mages of Dalaran in contempt.


    But my mother was healing, Thoras Trollbane was out of my hair, alchemy was finally working properly, even the deserters were out of my misery, and Antonidas had finally found me that damned fish.


    Cry me a river, Sargeras, the universe is unfolding exactly as it should.

 The Strategic Cost of Prenotion

    ¡°-. December 20, Year 580 of the King¡¯s Calendar .-¡°


    There was no Christmas on Azeroth, because the one and only organized church here hadn¡¯t gone around genociding everyone who kept to the old ¡®devilries¡¯, only to realize they¡¯d run out of steam well before they ran out of infidels and should therefore just settle for co-opting what they could of the old ways. In fact, such an atrocity probably wouldn¡¯t have happened even if the trolls hadn¡¯t done the job for them.


    Which is to say, the Zandalari Trolls strategically eradicated all of humanity¡¯s shamans and druids and other seers and wise folk ahead of the Troll Wars, as proof of power and good faith to their local Amani cousins. It was why Thoradin accepted so easily Lordain¡¯s condition of total conversion when the Troll Wars broke, and why no one else complained either. If anything, with the spiritual malaise everyone fell into after the old ways ¡®failed¡¯, the visions and power the Naaru sent the Tirisfal tribe became the saving grace of the beleaguered leftovers of humanity at the time of the War of Founding.


    I had a very strong suspicion that the end result was only the least of what the Naaru were hoping to achieve, with those visions. Contrary to what a certain self-contradicting Chronicle back on Terra said, Lordain¡¯s sister Mereldar was never a warrior. Not just because the humans here weren¡¯t so insane as to bring their women and children onto the battlefield so their whole tribe could be eradicated at once, but because she had always been an oracle. In fact, she received the visions from the Naaru ¨C like everyone else who did ¨C before Thoradin came to treat with them, not after the War of Founding was all over.


    This was just my speculation, but I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if the Naaru had intended for the Light to buttress and enhance existing traditions. To spark the same sort of mystical revolution that I¡¯ve found myself stumbling my way through piecemeal. In a single year I became more powerful than anyone else I ever shared air with ¨C yes, even Antonidas as he currently was ¨C just because I had both the Light and the elements on my side. With both Alchemy and Arcane magic added to the mix now, I was having serious trouble imagining a limit to my future development.


    There wasn¡¯t any inherent incompatibility between divine, arcane and spiritual mystical paradigms, beyond the different mind-expanding methods and mindsets required of each. Humans had a lot of trouble living long enough to master even one path, so I couldn¡¯t blame anyone for specialization. But I was now living proof that dabbling in all three could have a positive compounding effect on both power and skill acquisition.


    I doubted my results would have been so good without mastering the Light first ¨C especially its oracular aspects ¨C and I couldn¡¯t entirely rule out that I was a unique exception thanks to being a reincarnation with an eternity of introspection under my belt¡­ but Richard and Emerentius were going to get an elemental of their own as soon as they had their breakthrough with Aura of Vigor.


    Uther too, why not? He wasn¡¯t a friend yet, never mind a close confidant, but I knew him to be good. It was the perfect occasion. Though Christmas didn¡¯t exist, we did have Winter¡¯s Veil.


    Winter¡¯s Veil was the traditional New Year¡¯s commemoration. It lasted from the Winter Solstice ¨C which had been on the night of December 19 this year, so last night ¨C until the Day of the First Moon, which was the equivalent of New Year¡¯s Day. This, I¡¯d found out, involved some rather complex celestial measurements and calculations to decide when the next year actually began.


    Observances and festivals were all tied to astronomy, and everyone still used a Lunar calendar here, which may or may not be Elune¡¯s hidden influence. The oddities stemmed not from the fact that Azeroth didn¡¯t have any more perfect rotation around its sun than the next planet, but also from having two moons, not just one. Moreover, while the bigger moon ¨C the White Lady ¨C had a practically identical cycle of phases as Terra¡¯s Luna, the smaller of the two ¨C the Blue Child ¨C alternatively took just under or just over a standard year to reach its Full Moon phase.


    This measurement, in turn, was relative because Azeroth¡¯s revolution around the sun didn¡¯t equate to a perfect twelve-moon Lunar cycle either. I did not envy astronomers or Kul Tiran tidesages. This didn¡¯t even account for the counter-gravity exerted by the moons on each other, or on the world by the moons and vice versa depending on how close or far they were from the planet. Especially when they were close to each other and aligned, during the celestial event known as the Embrace.


    As a consequence, the Day of the First Moon was not necessarily the next New Moon after the December Solstice, but the first New Moon phase of the White Lady after the Blue Child has had its Full Moon phase of the year. Thus, where the people of Terra could get away with using either leap years or the occasional 13-month lunar year to bring things back in order, Azeroth semi-regularly had something called the ¡®Interregnum,¡¯ which this year would last for eleven days. That is to say, everything between the last day of December and the Day of the First Moon was considered to not be part of any year.


    This was intrinsic to how the people on this world kept the calendar year synchronised to the seasonal and astronomical cycles, but the name Interregnum was not chosen at random. The period between the end of December and the Day of the First Moon was considered ¨C not just by us humans ¨C to be symbolically outside time, and thus outside the authority of any powers, mortal and divine alike. Needless to say, this came with certain implications as well as risks and opportunities, from lack of taxation to certain mystical phenomena that weren¡¯t purely the result of placebo and make-believe.


    The idea that we¡¯d have to wait for Muradin Bronzebeard to introduce the Winter Veil holiday to the alliance wasn¡¯t any truer than the rest of Loken¡¯s mistranslated propaganda. The dwarves¡¯ only contribution would be in their more festive and optimistic approach to the event. Chiefly in terms of gift-giving, though I¡¯d already pre-empted that as well, last year. Which was good because doing it this year would only make me look like a hypocrite, once I did everything else I planned to do.


    For humanity specifically, the end-of-year occasion was more solemn, with feasting and celebration reserved for the last two days. Besides sermons and wakes for the spirits of the departed ¨C and Tyr of course ¨C the people used the Interregnum to introduce children to the community ¨C those that only came of age after the summer solstice ¨C officiate marriages, annul marriages ¨C given sufficient proof of infidelity or harm ¨C make peace, swear oaths, break oaths by mutual agreement, sign contracts, nullify contracts prematurely ¨C by mutual agreement even in defiance of royal seal ¨C and various other milestones big and small.


    Jorach Ravenholdt had given me to understand that even the assassins generally abided by these customs, and those that decided not to be part of the ¡®generally¡¯ soon stopped being part of anything at all.


    He¡¯d also given me to understand that everyone down below hoped ¨C and expected ¨C that I¡¯d oversee or judge over all the formalities aforementioned. Richard and everyone else with an opinion told me the same, despite that my business associates had managed to wrangle a scrivener to come settle down in ¡®Saint¡¯s Tier¡¯, and we even had an actual ordained priest down there now, in Uther. Somehow, ten times as many people as usual had decided that Saint''s Tier was absolutely the place to bring their business and their families during the holidays.


    You¡¯d think that more people would look askance at the fact that I never attended any church service of any kind since the day I Remembered, but apparently not.


    Of bigger concern for me personally was that folk rites still retained some animistic flavor, which Granodior generously looked upon with only the slanted eye of a landlord patiently indulging illiterate squatters. It was such a vexing feeling to experience, even by proxy, that I¡¯d made him teach me what qualified as proper rite for communing with spirits, just so I could go around telling it to the relevant people.


    I had to do it without even hinting at Granodior¡¯s existence, as he continued to want nothing to do with anyone but me. But for once I was willing to lean on everyone¡¯s willingness to do as I said without explanation, just so I didn¡¯t have to suffer through the spirit¡¯s grumpy exasperation more than once.


    Interestingly, Granodior wasn¡¯t entirely annoyed just for himself. According to him, Greatfather Winter was something different from an elemental spirit, but nonetheless a very real entity that sometimes actually manifested out of the winter blizzard.


    Yes, really.


    Finally, and most important by far in the short term for me, was that the Night of the First Moon was when King Aiden Perenolde was going to hold his engagement ball. Naturally, this carried certain implications for my high-impact winter cleaning, which I had scheduled for the same date. It was a thoroughly effacing scenario that I was preparing, and without the Light I would surely have been sad and possibly depressed leading up to it. I still didn¡¯t feel particularly merry, and certainly not happy, but I was very much committed because the alternative was World War I Azeroth Edition, complete with guns and cannons and chlorine gas to the face. Just in time for hordes of aliens, dragons and demons to rape and kill us all right after.


    I was not going to take the blame for Aiden Perenolde¡¯s choices, or the choices of any others. But as the lone change in initial conditions as defined by chaos theory, I was going to take responsibility.


    Alas, clear commitment didn¡¯t translate into clear strategy, even if the tactical scenario was vaguely well defined. While my assets for the occasion were finally all secured, the majority of them were of the intangible sort, and thus being regularly swapped and upturned as new options appeared, or old ones became impractical. For example, I might have to completely re-think everything depending on what success ¨C or failure ¨C I achieved in finally dealing with my stubbornly depressed steam elementals that were still completely ignoring me.


    Mostly out of shame. It was still stronger than their growing hunger. Somehow.


    Thankfully, the tangible assets, at least, were no longer a concern. Granodior had long since prepared the item I asked for in the bowels of the earth, and Antonidas had finally procured the very particular fish and spices I needed. Not without a comedy of errors, admittedly. While the spices had been easy enough to source from the more whimsical bakeries around the Violet Hold, my magic teacher ended up slumming with the black marketeers, and spelunking through the Dalaran sewers when even that went nowhere. To no more avail than everything else he tried, alas. All of it drove him to just give up and resort to his very special approach to improvising abstract spell formulas to summon the things across space and time. Both times. Completely blind.


    One of the fish I wanted was from a continent nobody had explored since our vrykul ancestors fled it. The other one was from a different continent that nobody on ours knew existed, except the elves. I had been completely wrong to assume some variation of the creatures would also be found here.


    Antonidas, ironically, minded it all less than I did, as he was able to do the summoning from his new accommodations on our mountain. I¡¯d hired my business associates to raise an entire separate workshop for him. He said it spared him having to dodge everyone who had something to tell or ask him about his continued estrangement from the City of Wizards. But it was still an imposition on my part, and while I was paying him for all the trouble he kept going through for me, his agreement to help without making it conditional on me sharing my plans was more than money could buy.


    Speaking of fish though, only one of them was going to be useful as is. The other one I only needed for the fat.


    I entered my workshop and stood near the wall while Narett finished refining the last pygmy pufferfish oil. It wasn¡¯t distillation, but his process did require broiling it in a mixture with a number of concentrating compounds. Here, too, I had someone going out of their way to exceed my request. The oil in its base form should be good enough for what I needed, but Narett had offered to develop a refinement process, ¡®if only to sate his own curiosity about this heretofore unknown reagent.¡¯ I would have refused, but Antonidas did summon an excess of the things ¡®to have a comfortable margin of error so he didn¡¯t need to go through everything again¡¯ so it wasn¡¯t like Narett would deprive me of critical resources. Also, I had another reason for wanting Narett to stick around longer than usual this time.


    Which is to say, I¡¯d intended to come up with a softer approach to discussing my very strong suspicion about his ¨C and Alchemists¡¯ in general ¨C tension with Dalaran. Ultimately, though, I decided the direct approach would work best after all. Narett knew me well enough by now to notice when I was being circumspect, and I had too much respect for him to skirt and waffle. Most importantly, even after a whole night of Reflection on the notion of just telling Narett anything, I got none of the premonitions of tragedy that I did for Alonsus Faol.


    The man finally straightened up from the glass flask simmering on the alembic. ¡°This batch isn¡¯t finished yet, but I do have nine other vials filled and stoppered over there. I¡¯d love to know what you mean to do that requires the power to make yourself one foot shorter, but somehow I will endure. Dare I hope you changed your mind about selling me a couple?¡±


    ¡°Not until next year, no, assuming there¡¯s any left. You¡¯ll have to talk to Antonidas if you just can¡¯t wait until then.¡±


    ¡°Hmph.¡±


    Yeah, that was the answer I expected.


    I ambled over to inspect the vials of pygmy oil, lifting each up to my eyes in the sunlight coming through the windows. The vials looked exactly like I recalled from my last life, art style notwithstanding. I was really just killing time until Narett was finished. The next topic would require his complete engagement.


    I wasn¡¯t really worried about efficacy, the liquid showed the same mystical weave to my second sight, and felt potent and consistent when I overlapped my spirit with it, no matter the vial. There wasn¡¯t an overabundance of them, so I couldn¡¯t be completely confident that I would learn how to replicate the effects by the time I ran out. That didn¡¯t really matter to the success of the operation though.


    I was confident in my chances otherwise. Even if I failed to add their magical effects to my repertoire of at-will abilities, the one-off effect should last me long enough to make sure my ¡®solution¡¯ to Aiden Perenolde¡¯s enmity was as discriminating as it was definitive.


    Granodior had already promised his help, but Alterac Keep was warded against mystical intrusion thanks to wards built into its very foundation. Also, below a certain scale Granodior needed my senses and perspective for detail work. And there would be quite a bit of detail work, if I was going to successfully share my most diagram-shifting ¡®blessing¡¯ with so many people of a mind so different and even diametrically opposed to my own.


    Being discriminative was very important, considering all the guests that were going to be in Alterac Keep on New Year¡¯s Eve. Especially the foreign ones. The ball was going to be attended by everyone in the kingdom who still wanted to maintain a pretense of loyalty, as well as a fair few foreign guests.


    Not just the prospective ladies and their retinues, but also other foreign delegations, among which would be numbered the ailing King Archibald Greymane of Gilneas. That was another man with progressively worsening mental problems, though rumors on the why were confused at best. I could only hope insanity wouldn¡¯t become a trend with human kings.


    I wondered if this was the point where the groundwork was laid for Isiden Perenolde¡¯s later backing by Gilneas. The boy existed, according to Richard, but was only a toddler right now. Isiden was even heir to the throne until Aiden had his own children, so he was unlikely to be fostered out. But I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if Gilneas¡¯ ambitious king didn¡¯t see all the future possibilities that I was going to destroy, despite his other issues. Whatever they were.


    All in all, it was very much a high-tension, low-action lead-up that I couldn¡¯t share with anyone because of my commitment to operational security of the ¡®don¡¯t tell anyone at all just in case¡¯ variety. The silver lining was that I¡¯d only need human help in the aftermath, to manage the fallout, so at least everyone else¡¯s hands could remain clean.


    Relatively, anyway.


    Eventually, the alchemist of still undisclosed age stoppered the last phial. I waited next to the tube rack for him to deposit it in its place. Sensing that I had something to talk about, and possibly the privacy weaves I¡¯d been casting and enforcing around the workshop the whole time I waited, Narett turned to me expectantly. ¡°Alright. What¡¯s going on in that overactive head of yours this time?¡±


    ¡°This thing between you and Antonidas.¡±


    ¡°Gods, this again?¡±


    ¡°Yes, this whole thing between the Alchemists and Dalaran¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes, what about it?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s thorium, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    There was a moment of raw, bewildered disbelief.


    Then Narett went white as milk.


    I was right. ¡°History would have gone a lot differently if the feat that ended the Troll Wars could be repeated. But it hasn¡¯t, and the fact that not just Dalaran but even the elves haven¡¯t figured out how to do it again leads me to believe that-¡°


    ¡°Do not!¡± Narett lunged at me and put a hand over my mouth, not caring that I was so much bigger than him now. ¡°Do not speak of it! You mustn¡¯t speak of, you can¡¯t even mention th-¡° His tongue seemed to twist in his mouth - a geas? ¨C then his pallor went completely ashen. ¡°You cannot tell them! You cannot tell anyone, you cannot even speak of it aloud lest ¨C if you have any respect for me at all, as an alchemist, as a teacher, as a fellow man, you will not utter the slightest word of this ever again!¡±


    The idea that Narett and his not-a-society of Alchemists knew the secret of atomics, and in fact were even doing their moral best to keep that secret, might seem like a logic leap even with the Light lighting my way¡­ but I was from Earth.


    I knew my 1970s high school science. I knew about the Brahmastra. I¡¯d read about occultists and alchemists. Some of my own professors had also been alchemists in their off-time, yes, the vocation continued even in the modern day, though in my youthful arrogance I¡¯d secretly looked down on them for it back then. Most importantly, the internet made sure I found out about Fulcanelli.


    I¡¯d originally dismissed his story as an urban legend because of the whole ¡®divine hermaphrodite¡¯ nonsense that took over the narrative at the end. Now, though, with my alchemy teacher holding my mouth shut in literal, visceral panic, I was willing to allow the possibility that only the last third of that story was hogwash. Probably tacked on by someone way late in the telephone game, who clearly had an agenda and wouldn¡¯t know reality from alchemical allegory even if it hit him in the face.


    I slowly reached up, gently grabbed Narett¡¯s wrist and removed his hand from my face. ¡°I¡¯d have hoped to have convinced at least you by now that I¡¯m not foolish. Or callous.¡±


    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    Narett¡¯s face twisted into something dark, then chagrin, then shame for the briefest of moments, before he withdrew and reached blindly behind him until he found my rickety chair and fell in it. He hunched forward with his face in his hands. ¡°¡­ There is no secret so terrible that you¡¯ll leave it well enough buried, is there?¡±


    I said nothing. What was there to say? When your enemy¡¯s an infinite army of demons from beyond the stars, and you can¡¯t take the slow and steady way even if you tried because it summons literal eldritch gods-enslaved monsters, could you actually afford to pretend atomics don¡¯t exist? Also, if gnomes didn¡¯t have nuclear power by now, they would soon.


    ¡°How did you even figure it out? How do you even know about ¨C how do you know so many things from so many disparate ¨C oh, why do I even bother? You will never give a straight answer.¡±


    Because I¡¯m a reincarnation with knowledge of the future. ¡°Because it¡¯s a secret every bit as sensitive as this one, and you said no to the only way I have to seal our otherwise blind trust. Precisely so you wouldn¡¯t risk slipping this secret, I¡¯m guessing, along with everything else you want me to discover on my own step by step.¡±


    Narett didn¡¯t dispute it, and he didn¡¯t suddenly change his mind about the soulgaze either.


    Should I tell him I don¡¯t need Alchemy to be immortal?


    No. This was already a monumental topic, tossing another in would just make things worse.


    Back on Earth, when I¡¯d read the supposed canon about the Troll Wars and how they concluded, several things struck me immediately.


    One, the notion that nobody tried combined casting before could clearly be nothing else than pure dogshit.


    Two, if it only took a handful of arcanists backed by a few scores of barely educated apprentices to create a cataclysm so big and mighty as to produce a literal pyroclastic flow ¨C as that¡¯s the least outrageous explanation for what killed not just Jintha but the loa, the trolls¡¯ literal gods before they could react, so it had to have been in a literal instant ¨C there was no way the spell wouldn¡¯t have been used as a deterrent or intimidation, if not deployed outright in literally every other mass conflict since.


    And yet it never happened, and in fact the matter didn¡¯t cross anyone¡¯s minds ever. Not in history, not during Orcs and Humans, not during Tides of Darkness, not during Reign of Chaos, not by Dalaran against Arthas or Archimonde during Frozen Throne, not during Wrath of the Lich King, not by anyone during the Cataclysm, not during Kairozdormu¡¯s little time war, not when the Burning Legion finally invaded, not for anything ever. They didn¡¯t even try it on Argus when the good guys had a spaceship capable of literal orbital bombardment.


    Comparatively, the Scourge were able to zombie swarm the high elves in a conventional campaign across an entire country without such a spell even being brought up, just so they could go and use the entire power of the Sunwell to create a single lich. The same Sunwell which, if the official narrative of the Troll Wars was to make the slightest bit of sense, should have been able to fuel at least ten of those ¡®columns¡¯ of ¡®fire¡¯ at the same time.


    Per minute.


    Long story short, I call bullshit.


    However, if it wasn¡¯t purely a feat of magic, say if there were to be some veins near enough to the surface, of a certain primordial element that becomes fissile when exposed to processes that induce neutron capture, which turns out to be one of several inevitable and necessary mechanics in literally every Arcane transmutation, conjuration and energy-state related spell out there¡­


    You wouldn¡¯t notice it at all, normally. Splitting one atom didn¡¯t do anything, no more than fusing a couple did. It took thousands of atoms fusing at once on your skin just to make you feel a little warm. Moreover, only the bigger and flashier elemental spells were noticeably exothermic, and there were other explanations for that than nuclear physics, especially in a world where people didn¡¯t know about atoms at all. Not even the gnomes knew about it back then, I was pretty sure.


    Until I brought up the topic even Antonidas had only ¡®agreed with prior speculative papers¡¯ that something smaller than ¡®particles¡¯ must exist, and even then only through deduction based on the fact that his oh so special cutting spell severed things too neatly. Considering that there are and almost always have been gnomes in the Kirin Tor, this lack of knowledge was a big deal. It told me that either Gnomeragan haven¡¯t cracked atomics yet either, or they have a healthy respect for state secrets despite all the other known gnomish foibles.


    But if a single gram of hydrogen could produce 616 billion joules, or the equivalent of 145 tons of TNT, then a surface vein of thorium suddenly turning into Uranium 233 while the forces of physics are being instructed to ¡®blow this entire area the fuck up¡¯ by means of exotic wave-form patterns converging upon the same spot from every direction¡­


    Back on Earth, lore nuts used to go on about how elements and ores from Azeroth couldn¡¯t be the same as those from Earth, even if their names and appearances were identical. Thorium even came up in that discussion specifically. An old quest called it ¡®the strongest of metals,¡¯ so strong that a lockbox made of the stuff would be impossible for a full-grown yeti to break open. Naturally, that would be nothing at all like the Terran version of Thorium, which was barely better than iron in terms of hardness, and often worse depending on the isothope.


    Since reincarnating though, I¡¯d found that to not be the case at all. Even without accounting for the language differences, all the elements had the same properties I remembered. I could only conclude that the differences were down to lore writers not knowing what they were talking about ¨C par for the course in 95% of everything ever written ¨C and having to subordinate the overly simplistic crafting system to character and zone levels.


    Neither cobalt nor iron exposed to inherently destabilizing chaos matter would be harder than abrasion-resistant steels or mangalloy, which in turn were stronger than titanium. In a sane world, Dark Iron would have remained the endgame material through all the expansions.


    Of course, in a sane world retcons would be made only to fill up plot holes, not make bigger and worse ones. Point the last ¨C the art. Setting aside how the concept art for the firestorm back on Terra looked only a little bit different from a mushroom cloud, all the art here was speculative and post-dated the battle. As well it should, as none of those present for it could have seen it clearly. Why? Because looking at something hot enough to carbonize gods from the inside out would be so bright as to be literally blinding ¨C kind of like, oh, a nuclear explosion.


    I pulled my spare fold-out chair from under the worktable and took a seat next to the man. ¡°If I told you,¡± I said lowly, ¡°that there is a menace coming to this world so terrible as to make even this worth delving into, what would you say?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d call you a liar,¡± Narett said hollowly. ¡°And then immediately call myself a coward for making accusations based only on emotion.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not an answer.¡±


    I waited. I waited a good while.


    ¡°You cannot tell them,¡± Narett breathed finally. ¡°Any of them. You mustn¡¯t. The entire basis of arcanism is to go against common sense, they will not, they cannot help themselves, they will use it, and then they will abuse it even if just to see how far they can go.¡±


    ¡°Probably.¡± I agreed. The warnings and disturbances I felt in the Light from my own ideas had more than doubled since I began to learn Arcane spells. ¡°But my question stands.¡±


    It stood. It stood for quite a while with no answer.


    I had plenty of patience, but this was not the time for it. ¡°I¡¯m not going to wait for anyone¡¯s permission,¡± I warned him. ¡°There is a menace coming for this world, and it¡¯s one so terrible that we will be facing literal extinction if it¡¯s not denied every foothold.¡±


    Naret lurched from his chair and stepped away from me, looking blankly at the wall with his fists clenched. I wondered how much he¡¯d already deduced before, of what I¡¯d just revealed about the future. That I knew any of what would come in the future, however it happened. His entire body was rigid, and his face was stuck with tension. When he spoke, his voice was rough but his words final. ¡°If ever a time comes when absolute catastrophe is the least of terrible options, then we will take responsibility.¡±


    No you won¡¯t because I¡¯ll have already done it myself, I thought grimly, acutely conscious of what longevity and immortality could do to one¡¯s perspective of time. The time is much closer than you think. ¡°I apologise in advance for the disappointment I¡¯ll cause you.¡±


    Narett¡¯s head snapped around to look at me in pure anguish.


    ¡°I won¡¯t involve the mages,¡± I said, standing up as well. ¡°I¡¯ll make as certain as possible of the trustworthiness and discretion of anyone else involved, and I¡¯ll make sure collateral damage is as minimal as I can make it. But that¡¯s the best promise I can make.¡±


    Emotions flew over Narett¡¯s face, and he made to speak several times, before a dreaded resignation and disappointment was all that was left. ¡°Do what you will.¡± His tone was bleak. ¡°You¡¯ve discovered the secret all on your own, however you¡¯ve done it. I¡¯ve no claim on anything you do next.¡±


    That¡¯s as good as saying you won¡¯t teach me anything else from now on.


    No claim means no responsibility either, and some might argue that further involvement with me of any kind would qualify as endorsement.


    I didn¡¯t drag that issue out into the open, and neither did he.


    Narett rode out the same day. That had always been the plan, he was in high demand back in the city around this time. But I still couldn¡¯t help but wonder if this would be the last time he associated with me. Where before I only worried about Aiden Perenolde¡¯s thugs coming for him in the night¡­


    Now I found myself experiencing an all too different sort of unease.


    ¡°-. Interregnum 580-581, Day 10 .-¡°


    The day just before First Moon¡¯s Eve was the last and biggest day of carousing, when the solemnity of the Interregnum was a distant dream and everyone goes out feasting, visiting, singing, and generally having a good time. Or causing drunken mischief with or without ¨C and to ¨C everyone else. It allowed for the actual First Moon¡¯s Eve to be dedicated to sleeping off your hangover, after which the afternoon and night could be dedicated to welcoming ¨C or cursing ¨C the new year¡¯s arrival in private with family and friends.


    That Aiden Perenolde chose First Moon for his ball could only be a deliberate provocation. I didn¡¯t know what went on in his head, but I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if he chose that day specifically so he¡¯d have a higher chance of no-shows, and thus a higher chance of having someone to judge a ¡®traitor¡¯ for propagandistic reasons.


    He could even spin it as a slight against the foreign delegations on the part of the absentees ¨C like Richard ¨C even if no one really believed him. The dignitaries obviously had to be there for at least one or two uninterrupted weeks to justify the effort and expense of the trip to begin with. It would be a flimsy fiction, but not the worst he¡¯d done.


    Regardless, that was going to be tomorrow¡¯s problem. Which was good because today was shaping up to be¡­ I didn¡¯t even know. I could feel in the Light that there was a major significance of nebulous origin almost on top of us, but I couldn¡¯t puzzle out its nature even after four consecutive nights of turning it over in the Light. Not because it wasn¡¯t clear, but because there were a whole bunch of other things converging at the same time, which would define¡­ how the main one unfolded? Or how I took it? We? Us? Us who, exactly?


    The most bizarre part was that none of the approaching somethings felt in any way related to what I was going to do tomorrow. Or, well, some did, but they didn¡¯t feel like they would in any way affect my resolve to go through with it.


    At the same time, the major significance of nebulous origin felt more important than tomorrow, plus everything that had happened to me and mine all year. Combined. But not more important than some of the stuff I myself had done, like arguing with a Valkyrie over whether or not Odyn had earned himself getting strangled. Or getting his raven familiar strangled, the degree of separation there was still unclear.


    Then, too, there was a second biggest major significance of nebulous origin that the first one seemed to be dragging along like a lackwit on a sled, except it wouldn¡¯t have anything to do with me specifically for at least a few years. Probably, anyway.


    Bloody confusing. And worrying. And frustrating. Probably why other psychics and oracles just leave it at ¡®I sense a disturbance¡¯ after the first couple of years.


    Absurdly, all this bizarrely non-alarming tension had for once made me seek escape in the mores of day-to-day life. The timing arguably couldn¡¯t have been better too. Which is to say, I¡¯d been down in ¡®Saint¡¯s Tier¡¯ just after dawn to ¡®bless the start of the festivities,¡¯ again in spite of the fact that we had Uther there to officiate such things now.


    I¡¯d still expected it to be more of a bother than anything, but the authentic merriment proved beyond contagious. I even surprised myself by not immediately absconding back to my lofty perch. I was instead so completely entranced by the sight of my parents getting completely swept up in the holiday spirit ¨C my mother smiling ¨C that I lingered with them as long as I could before the people started to crowd us.


    I then turned the Aegishjalmur upon the busybodies that didn¡¯t know how to mind their own business, with a very clear admonishment about their unseemly behaviour. Just because it was the holidays didn¡¯t mean I was suddenly going to tolerate mobbing. I made sure that was very well understood before I made my climb back up the mountain.


    I spent a while watching from my terrace just to be sure, but everyone seemed to take chasing me away from the festivities exactly as hard as I hoped. They were now giving my parents their space to enjoy the day as freely as they did themselves, which was nice.


    Glad that I wouldn¡¯t need to waste my time running surveillance, I turned away from the cliff and set off for the house. I¡¯d just seen Orsur Kelsier drive in on his wagon down below, so that was the first of a bunch of surprise developments identified. I¡¯d have to get a guest room ready for the man myself. Since we continued to be the best employers, we¡¯d given our farmhands the Interregnum and next week off.


    Hopefully no one else in our guild came over. None of them lived closer to this place than Alterac City, which was two days away, so anyone who was here today wouldn¡¯t make it home in time to be with their loved ones. It would have bad implications all around depending on how much coercion was involved in the decision.


    We still had the pavilion set up outside if the need arose, as Richard had made it a permanent donation, but the thought of that ridiculous man only had me rolling my eyes. I hadn¡¯t had to outright order him off to spend the holidays with his wife and sister in yon different country across the sea, thankfully. But he¡¯d been so awkward and regretful about ¡®abandoning me¡¯ at such a ¡®critical time¡¯ and could he still not persuade me to let him help with whatever it was I was planning after all?


    Honestly.


    Suddenly, I stopped. There was a light in Antonidas¡¯ workshop. Even though he¡¯d left days ago.


    The packed snow crunched under my feet as I detoured over. When I knocked on the door, the ¡®come in¡¯ was as startled as it was absentminded. I went through the door, only to be met by the sight of the mage rummaging almost chaotically through several different folders while floating books were turning their own pages all around him as he wrote something down at carpal tunnel speeds.


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you be in Dalaran with your family that I made pine after you by keeping you on retainer, for which my mother took it on my behalf to apologize in the form of pies?¡±


    ¡°Just a few more minutes,¡± the mage grunted, pointedly leaning over the desk so his voluminous sleeves hid what he was writing. ¡°I had a sudden idea that couldn¡¯t wait ¨C well, that I thought couldn¡¯t wait but is shaping up to be more time-consuming than I hoped, even if it works ¨C but I¡¯d left some of the reference materials here.¡±


    ¡°Dare I ask?¡±


    ¡°You will do as you will, as always, but I will not answer this once. It might still be nothing.¡±


    My eyebrows climbed up. Some of the titles on the floating books were from my assigned reading on enchantment, and others weren¡¯t familiar at all. Was this one of the more pleasant surprises in store for me perhaps? Or was I just tempting fate? My precognition was so overloaded today that I couldn¡¯t tell either way. ¡°Well, alright then.¡±


    ¡°As always, I appreciate your forbearance.¡± Antonidas stepped back from the table ¨C still blocking my view ¨C and cast a spell that packed every book, note and paper he¡¯d been rummaging through in his bag of holding. Only when everything was squirreled away did he turn to face me, looking almost furtive. ¡°Well. That¡¯s all I came back here for. Let me wish you the best tidings again, for the New Year. I¡¯ll see myself off.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll walk you to the spot.¡±


    Antonidas didn¡¯t need any pre-prepared teleportation circle, and in fact his abstract approach to spellweaving allowed him to draw on the energies at both departure and destination points to teleport. It was why he could do it from anywhere to anywhere, something which only a handful of the oldest Kirin Tor mages could accomplish over long distances. Everyone else had to use leyline intersections of power, or multi-line roundabouts if they wanted to make an actual portal.


    Suddenly disappearing still caused a fairly strong air implosion though, which left a mess behind, so mages avoided doing it indoors unless it was a room specifically set aside for it. They especially didn¡¯t do it around important research and paperwork if they could.


    Once Antonidas vanished, I checked in on the ever-steaming cauldron ¨C still sulking, wait just a few more hours little ones ¨C and then visited Emerentius¡¯ lair to make sure he hadn¡¯t lied when he took my advice to shapeshift into an unknown face to enjoy the day. I was always very careful not to give him any explicit commands unless he was being particularly obstinate about self-flagellating himself into an early grave, so it was always possible he might choose the wrong sort of agency to exert.


    Fortunately, today was not that kind of day. Well, unless he¡¯d gone somewhere else entirely, but that was entirely up to him. Hopefully nobody would get too badly on his nerves down there.


    It was around dusk, while I was laying out the freshly aired bedding and was considering a second trip down to get my guest and parents, because a massive blizzard had just come out of nowhere, that utter misery barrelled into my sixth sense. It was shocking, a comet of gloom and wretchedness borne down from the sky on dragon wings, dreadful and woebegone grief from a wound freshly reopened. The dragon landed, the woe spilled forth, and my father all but carried it to our door.


    I snapped out of my shock and made it to the entry hallway just in time to watch the door all but slam open from the force of the snowstorm. I could barely see the dragon¡¯s outline in the blizzard, but I didn¡¯t care. My mind was fully on the sight of my parents stumbling over the threshold, my father holding my mother up while she tried in vain to stem her tears with hands covering her face. I was stupefied.


    Then my father let go of mother just for a moment, scrambling to close the door behind him, and she saw me. She promptly lost the battle with whatever dregs of restraint she¡¯d managed to hang onto. She burst into wretched, heaving sobs, stumbled away from dad, beat me away with a pained cry when I tried to meet her, and fled deep into the house, down the hall and down the stairs, out of sight and hearing behind the loud, harsh slam of the storm cellar door.


    I stood there in the hallway, gaping. I was absolutely dumbfounded. I was even, for the first time in either life, dangerously close to feeling betrayed by the Light. None of my premonitions had hinted at anything like this. Just what the hell else was going to happen today that this would be completely irrelevant in the grand scheme of things? And even the not so grand scheme of things, what the fuck?


    Behind me, the door final snapped shut.


    ¡°Dad.¡± I turned, my voice as harsh as the snowstorm outside. ¡°What the hell?¡±


    Domar Hywel leaned his head on the door for several long, strained breaths. When he turned around, his face was grim and tight and he conspicuously looked in mother¡¯s wake instead of meeting my gaze. ¡°They called her Holy Mother.¡±


    ¡­


    I suddenly realized, with that oracular acuity that had made the bliss of ignorance into a sad and distant memory, that the storm cellar was the part of the house farthest from the master bedroom. The master bedroom that was now my bedroom, because Master Zidar could be very clever and efficient when it came to putting his best effort into a building project, so he¡¯d decided mid-way through the renovation that an all-new nursery would be a good ¡®surprise.¡¯


    ¡°Fuck.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Dad said bleakly, rubbing his face wearily. ¡°That¡¯s pretty much it.¡±


    I¡­ This¡­


    What could I even say? ¡°¡­ I¡¯m going to check on Emerentius,¡± I decided completely unnecessarily. Because I didn¡¯t know what else to do. What even could you say when something bad happened and it wasn¡¯t anyone¡¯s fault? ¡°If you can get things laid out, I¡¯ll make some tea ahead of dinner.¡± I turned and passed Dad on the way to the door.


    Only to stop with my hand on the handle when Dad held out an arm to bar my way.


    ¡°You do that, son.¡± He still wasn¡¯t looking at me. Where our spirits touched, I felt nothing in him other than shame. Why? This made no sense. ¡°But after that, I think it¡¯s time we talked.¡±


    ¡°¡­ Yes,¡± I agreed, not looking his way either. ¡°I think so too.¡±


    Looking inward, I tried and failed to find any genuine surprise at all of this happening now. Of course something would rear its head on the personal front too. That¡¯s just how it goes.


    But at the same time, I didn¡¯t find any resentment either.


    What I felt from outside was a different matter entirely.


    I opened the door and stepped into the storm. The blizzard was oddly painless on my skin, and it didn¡¯t steal my breath even as I stepped further and further away from shelter. I ignored all of it in favour of what I could sense beyond the physical.


    ¡°There is something in the wind,¡± Emerentius grunted when I finally reached him, enveloping me under the shelter of his wings. ¡°And old power but¡­ strange. Fogged, but not literally. Vague?¡±


    ¡°Befuddled,¡± I supplied, because I sensed the same. ¡°And there¡¯s something else too, or an echo of something. Like it only came because it was¡­ Lured? Enticed?¡±


    ¡°Solicitude,¡± the dragon found the right word this time. ¡°Yes, that feeling I know well.¡±


    The blizzard was here by its own choice, but not at its own behest. Someone had cajoled it to come here. ¡°Quite the combination,¡± I huffed. ¡°Makes you wonder about who¡¯s behind it. Was anything special happening down there when the storm broke?¡±


    ¡°Nothing particularly grand or public yet,¡± the dragon said, though he gave me a meaningful look despite that. ¡°But it did send everyone running for shelter just in time to miss your lady mother breaking down.¡±


    Well.


    Wasn¡¯t that something?


    Granodior, I thought. Is anyone dying or in pain? Stranded?


    Other than those instances that had nothing to do with this because someone is always dying or in pain somewhere, the answer was a definitive no.


    Both here and elsewhere. Apparently, the blizzard was so widespread as to cover all of Alterac¡¯s heartland, but the very strong winds were also unnaturally gentle on the living, and the downfall failed to trap or bury anyone despite the sheer volume of snow it was putting down everywhere.


    Someone is either making a point or has no sense of scale.


    Greatfather Winter was it?


    Granodior, alas, had nothing more to say.


    I let Emerentius retire to his den and took my time walking back to the house. I cast my senses as wide and intently as I could. The blizzard felt like a muddleheaded old fogy upon my spirit, but didn¡¯t make it hard to breathe despite the wind being so strong as to fell trees and build giant snowbanks in their wake. I didn¡¯t hurt.


    This is fine, I thought wryly, to that old mental image of a dog wearing a hat while sitting on a chair in the middle of a burning building. Despite how appropriate that memory felt to my current situation, I found that I wasn¡¯t any more worried than before.


    Even with this newest development, it still wasn¡¯t my building that I was seeing come down in flames in my mind¡¯s eye.


    The mages who founded Dalaran had once deployed nukes without knowing what the hell they were doing. The Alchemists could deploy nukes at any time because they did know what the hell they were doing. Someone or other had summoned a huge winter storm by means of an entity at least as vast as my Earth Spirit partner, but it wasn¡¯t doing any harm. All of this was apparently just the start of what was to be in store for me tonight. And I¡¯d deliberately held back until the grandest and most public international event that Alterac had seen in over a century, all the while planning and replanning my strategy until history¡¯s most flagrant regicide was reduced to a mere secondary goal.


    But sure, Mom and Dad.


    We can talk.

 The Life and Opinions of Greatfather Winter

    ¡°-. Interregnum 580-581, Day 10 .-¡°


    Emerentius promised to keep a proverbial eye on the blizzard, so I went back inside. I found Dad in the kitchen, standing with his arms crossed near the pantry and staring unblinkingly at the table. Since he didn¡¯t look up when I entered but this was his conversation, I set about making tea while he sorted his thoughts out.


    No words were spoken while I filled the tea pot, while I waited for it to boil, while I laid out some cookies ¨C mother stress baked a lot more than she used to ¨C and not even while I finally poured tea for both of us. Dad just stared at the table, and then the tea and snacks I set on it. On the inside, he was a rattling whirl of too many emotions to bother picking apart. Ugly ones.


    I finished pouring the tea and waited. Nothing happened, so I decided to take the tea pot back to the stove to keep it hot.


    Dad pushed away from the wall, grabbed his mug and hurled it at the wall with a scream of rage.


    The glass shattered to pieces in a spray of steam and hot water.


    Silence returned again, with just the whistling of the blizzard cutting into the speechlessness now filling the room to bursting.


    So much for that birthday present.


    I glanced at my father. He was staring at the mess on the floor, completely blank.


    I walked by him into the pantry and brought out the broom and dustpan.


    Dad slumped where he stood with a look of shame.


    I said nothing and began to clean up. The shards were everywhere, I should have used the wooden mugs instead. The tea was everywhere too, I¡¯d have to get the mop out after this and then-


    ¡°I hate that we¡¯re such a burden to you.¡±


    My hands stilled. Even with everything Mom had gone through this year, I¡¯d never heard Dad sound so bitter.


    Then I continued sweeping.


    Dad laughed even more bitterly at the sight of me. Almost madly. ¡°Oh, what a sight I must be. The world¡¯s great walking miracle and here I have you sweeping floors ¨C how have you not washed your hands of us in disgust?¡±


    ¡°Dad, has it ever occurred to you or Mother that you¡¯ve already done all the work needed to earn your happiness?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t give me platitudes when the only reason we have what we have is all you.¡±


    ¡°A case could be made for me being the cause of all the bad too.¡±


    ¡°Hahaha!¡± Dad¡¯s laughter this time was like a frenzy. ¡°Oh, we all know why all this ill is really coming down on us. Wealth we did nothing to gain, honors we never earned, worshipful eyes we sure as hell don¡¯t deserve, your mother ¨C your brothers¡­¡± Dad pulled the nearest cupboard open, grabbed the first bottle in reach and took a long swig of firewine. When he spoke again, it was in a hoarse rasp. ¡°This is heaven¡¯s punishment for keeping you from your holy path.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, who¡¯s the enlightened saint in this house?¡±


    ¡°YOU SHOULDN¡¯T EVEN BE IN THIS HOUSE!¡± Dad roared.


    Then he slumped with a face full of pain. He hauled the bottle to the table and finally collapsed in his chair. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t be here. You should ¨C you should be out there.¡±


    ¡°Doing what?¡±


    ¡°Blessing, smiting, healing, founding your own kingdom, I don¡¯t fucking know! What am I next to kings and princes and assassins and the fucking Archbishop coming on a literal pilgrimage to see you, I don¡¯t know shit, I¡¯m a fucking cobbler!¡± This time it was the bottle that flew across the room and smashed to pieces against the pan rack. The dripping liquid splattered over the palls and kettles like dripping blood, even over my face despite the distance.


    Dad stared at the new mess, at me, then dropped his face in his hands. They were rough and callused from work, but not spotted. His physical health, at least, wasn¡¯t backsliding.


    My own kingdom, huh?


    I wiped my face clean with a kitchen towel, finished sweeping the mug shards, swept what I could of the bottle too, and emptied the dustpan in the bin. Then I went into the pantry and back to get the mop.


    When Dad spoke again, his voice was a hoarse rasp. ¡°You can¡¯t languish here, son.¡± He didn¡¯t dare speak louder than a whisper as if his own words damned him. ¡°You have to leave the nest. I thought we could ¨C you¡¯re still not sixteen but ¨C we¡¯re not kicking you out! We don¡¯t want to ¨C you¡¯re our son but ¨C you can¡¯t waste your life here! Not because¡­ You can¡¯t waste your life and your blessings, son, not¡­ not because the two of us can¡¯t get our shit together!¡±


    ¡°Mhm, as opposed to what?¡±


    ¡°Damn you, it doesn¡¯t matter if we¡¯re worse off without you! Everyone is worse off without you, the hell are we so special? You¡¯ve already ¨C we already have ¨C we don¡¯t matter, fuck, it shouldn¡¯t even matter if we die. The Light, the Gods, the ancestors all damn me, I should¡¯ve spoken up when the Archbishop was here, we should¡¯ve ¨C we could¡¯ve left with them to Lordaeron and then you wouldn¡¯t-¡± Dad was all but pulling at his hair now. ¡°Sometimes I wonder if the world wouldn¡¯t be better off if you¡¯d been born to literally anyone else.¡±


    ¡°Then Falric and Marwin would grow up to become undead zombies.¡±


    Dad twitched, then he looked up to me in confused grief.


    ¡°Were I not part of the picture, Falric and Marwyn would have been born only to be separated before they were old enough to remember each other¡¯s faces. I don¡¯t know if one or both of you died, or you went properly blind and what else, or just gave them up. But Falric grew up on a farm only to run away and join some foreign military. And Marwyn grew up an orphan street urchin before running off to also join the same foreign military.¡±


    I found a few loose shards, so I switched back to the broom for those before I switched back to the mop to wipe up the last stains.


    ¡°They reconnected many years later, as captains under the same leader, just in time for said leader to fall to the manipulations of a demon triumvirate and become the slave of an evil undead abomination of near godlike power. Falric and Marwyn then got killed by their sworn commander, only for said commander to immediately raise them as undead too. Falric and Marwyn then proceeded to lead a nigh-endless horde of walking corpses to overrun the continent in the name of their undead master.¡±


    I squeezed the mop in the bucket and wiped up the last spots.


    ¡°They never knew each other for siblings, they never had the joy of family, they never got to form their own legacy, and their stories ended at the sharp end of a blade both times.¡±


    I finished cleaning and returned the mop, broom and dustpan to the pantry. I returned to the kitchen and washed my hands. As I wiped them, I looked at the unfamiliar bar of scented soap and my mind drew a blank. I didn¡¯t know what ¡®tribute¡¯ this came with. Or when. I must not have been there for it, we had an entire system for it now. Good god.


    When I turned around, Dad was looking at me with glittering eyes. ¡°You¡­ really do know the future, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Some parts, and they¡¯re all obsolete now.¡± Except for those that weren¡¯t. It was on the tip of my tongue to say ¡®don¡¯t presume to tell me what my path is again¡¯, but I decided it wasn¡¯t the right time. ¡°Drop any notions of heaven¡¯s judgment or self-flagellation, unless you¡¯re willing to apply it equally to me too. If we¡¯re just going to judge everyone by different standards, then you could just as easily say I¡¯m most at fault for provoking the king into coming down on our heads. In that vein I¡¯m more guilty for Falric and Marwyn than anyone.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s horseshit!¡±


    ¡°Yes it is, I¡¯m glad you agree.¡± I nodded. ¡°There is no deeper explanation for this than the fact that the king is an asshole.¡± And the molluscs of yore were even bigger assholes because they started out as the biggest assholes and only got more petty from being thrown in prison.


    ¡°¡­ I had-¡° Dad¡¯s voice wavered, thick with emotion. He coughed to clear his throat, but it didn¡¯t help. ¡°I wasn¡¯t supposed to start blubbering all sorry for myself, I had this-this whole speech...¡±


    I snorted and walked over to put a hand on his shoulder, because now was the right time. ¡°Never underestimate the worth of a good man¡¯s life. And don¡¯t presume to tell me what my path is aga-¡°


    Dad lurched from his chair and hugged me tight around the middle. He sniffled in my chest. I could sense his tears now, feel them soaking my shirt. ¡°You¡¯re such a good son.¡± I felt his whole body tense from struggling not to let any more out. ¡°I-I don¡¯t know that w-we deserve it b-but¡­ i-if you say so, I won¡¯t question it anymore.¡±


    I hugged him back. ¡°I do say so.¡±


    Dad wrestled with a sob, lost, then lost again and barely won after two more. His whole frame coiled to the point of snapping with his effort to regain his self-control. I held him until he finally did.


    When I let go, though, he didn¡¯t. He clung to me, as if trying to pull strength from me for¡­ for what?


    ¡°No, no, son, wait, I¡­¡± Reluctantly, he pulled away, wiping his eyes as he did. He blew his nose in his handkerchief. When his eyes met mine again, they were red but surer than I¡¯d seen them in months. ¡°That eye thing you do¡­ do it on me.¡±


    I felt like I should have felt a glimmer or disturbance or something in the Light, but nothing came. ¡°¡­ Are you sure? It¡¯s-¡°


    ¡°I know what it means!¡± Dad snapped, then cringed at his own outburst, averting his eyes and forcing them back to mine the same moment. ¡°I know what it means, what it does but ¨C I¡­¡±


    I waited for him to find words, because I didn¡¯t know what he wanted to say either.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe son,¡± Dad admitted as if it was some horrid shame. ¡°I tried, I keep trying but I just can¡¯t. This ¨C if you ¨C at least then I¡¯ll believe something, right?¡±


    Believe what? That he¡¯s ¨C that they¡¯re not a burden? Worthless? ¡°I can¡¯t control what you see,¡± I warned him. ¡°I¡¯m told it¡¯s a lot.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care,¡± Dad said bravely. It was a lie. ¡°Please.¡± That wasn¡¯t.


    I complied.


    I experienced the most honest humility, remembered the sour distaste of self-deprecation I¡¯d left behind an eon and a lifetime back, and then a yawning, wretched hollowness swallowed everything and nearly overwhelmed me completely.


    I staggered, shocked and dizzy from the sheer amount of self-loathing my father somehow managed to function under. To hide all this time. Hide from me. ¡°The¡­ s-strength of mankind-¡° I groaned, cradling my head as I stumbled back. ¡°M-manifests in the most troublesome ways.¡±


    ¡°Ohhhh,¡± Dad moaned in a daze. A chair toppled out of his path before the caught himself on the table. I didn¡¯t have the presence of mind to catch myself, never mind him. ¡°Oh¡­ oh¡­ What ¨C a heady feeling.¡± There was a shiver in his tone that was¡­ exultant, and his eyes on catching mine again were the same. ¡°To know you brought forth the most important thing in the world... how empowering this is.¡±


    Dad¡¯s eyes. They glowed.


    ¡°The Light¡­ It feels¡­it¡¯s¡­ is this what it¡¯s like for you? Is this¡­ how you feel all the time? How you live?¡± Dad¡¯s wonder somehow rose above even that all-abiding self-contempt. It sunk back far too quickly, but I had the oddest feeling it had filled more than gotten lost in the dark void beneath. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ Rapture¡­¡± Suddenly, Dad snapped out of it and gave me a look of borderline alarming intensity. ¡°Son, explain this Soulgaze thing to me right now.¡±


    ¡°Well-¡°


    ¡°How does it work? What¡¯s the process? Tell me how it¡¯s done!¡±


    I watched my father, and the Light that now abided in him but¡­ also didn¡¯t. It was there, but it didn¡¯t come from him. It had gone from me to him. It was like one, single sunbeam had settled within him for a singular purpose still pending, but nothing more. Not growing. Or replenishing. Just¡­


    Waiting instead of fading. ¡°You remember how I explained it to Richard?¡±


    ¡°Perfectly.¡±


    ¡°Alright, then you should get it easily.¡±


    I explained in the best terms I thought he¡¯d understand. As I did, the Light began to glow more and more out through Dad¡¯s eyes, and his skin too.


    ¡°The Light ¨C I never understood what you meant whenever you said¡­¡± Dad mumbled in a tone that made me worry I¡¯d have to stop him from falling again, but it didn¡¯t come to that. His eyes seemingly had trouble staying locked on any single thing, but his thoughts shone clear. ¡°It really is all Revelation, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    Dad straightened where he stood, turned around, marched downstairs to the basement, ripped the locked door to the storm cellar right off its hinges, stomped in and hauled mom up from where she¡¯d huddled down in a corner to cry. ¡°Look at me, woman.¡±


    Mom looked.


    Before my eyes, my father soulgazed my mother.


    And as I stood in the door, leaning against the frame, I watched in amazement as all the Light in my father went into this one, single miracle. A debate of the mind and an embrace of the spirit lasting years condensed down to a single moment.


    ¡°Oh Domar¡­¡±


    Mother embraced Father. It was a tight, fervent thing but not¡­ desperate. Somehow, all the wounds on her soul were now healing over, the entirety of her own self-loathing completely scoured clean, leaving just raw but clean grief behind.


    I turned away and gave them their privacy. Left behind the place where I¡¯d just watched my father use all of his Light to carry my mother through the equivalent of a lifetime¡¯s worth of couple¡¯s therapy. In a literal blink of an eye.


    I guess the rest of Father¡¯s commitments don¡¯t need the Light¡¯s help to achieve.


    That was fine. That was the sort of future I wanted to create, wasn¡¯t it?


    I eventually stopped in the den. Looked out the window at the late winter night. The Blizzard had stopped. The Soulgaze¡­


    It was the best idea I ever stole.


    A streak of light cut through the night.


    Wait, meteorites fall down, not up.


    There was a boom. A crackling. Sparkling lights in the sky bloomed like a giant star.


    I gaped.


    A second flew up and erupted in a glow, red instead of green. Then a third, colored gold. The fourth was blue.


    I stood rooted to my spot and stared in wide-eyed astonishment as I looked out the window to behold fireworks.


    What the hell?


    I stared, dumbstruck. I ran outside. I stared some more. The fireworks continued. The first fireworks that ever existed on Azeroth, fireworks which I¡¯d had absolutely no hand in, were exploding in the night sky right outside my window.


    Oh Holy Light, can you bring Common Sense back from the grave or not?


    I only realized just how long I ¨C and Emerentius over there ¨C had been standing and staring at the exploding lights when my parents tromped out to join me.


    ¡°What the devil?¡± Dad balked. He looked normal again, no golden glow in sight, inside or out. ¡°What the hell is that? Are we under attack again?¡±


    ¡°¡­ No.¡± I finally found my voice.


    I rushed to pull my boots on.


    ¡°You¡¯re going ¨C of course you are, what am I-? Should we come too? Stay? Bunker down?¡±


    My first impulse was to say ¡®damn right you¡¯re not going anywhere¡¯ but¡­ It was not that kind of occasion. While I¡¯d not say that ¡®not acting on my first impulse¡¯ has been my greatest strength, it was still been pretty high up there. I calmed myself and gave Dad¡¯s question the Reflection it deserved.


    The Light had precisely nothing to say. It shone extremely brightly from the source of the disturbance though. About as bright as me.


    ¡°¡­ I sense no danger, so do as you like.¡± I finished pulling my shoes on. ¡°Do pardon me for not waiting though. I¡¯ll send word either way.¡±


    Just as soon as I got answers to my many questions, like what, how, why, when, why here, and how the hell this still wasn¡¯t important enough to register in the Light as more than an afterthought next to everything else that hadn¡¯t happened yet today.


    "-. .-"


    Because I didn¡¯t want to cause a panic, and there was nothing but cheers being heard from below, I chose not to swoop down on dragon back. Instead, I made my way to the base of the mountain at the fastest sprint I¡¯d ever run in my life. Either life. Needless to say, Mom and Dad were left behind in the first ten seconds. Emerentius himself could barely keep up with me, even with his human form practically peak human.


    When I finally cleared the last bend, I had only enough time to scan the crowd for the spot where the fireworks were shooting from. Even that I only managed thanks to my superior height. Then Orsur Kelsier, of all people, the man I¡¯d brought back to life in the middle of the public square in Alterac City, shoved his way into my path.


    To grovel.


    ¡°Lord Wayland, I am so, so sorry about this! I didn¡¯t know he¡¯d followed me, I don¡¯t even know how he did it with that entire cart of devilries ricketing every which way, I certainly don¡¯t know where he got those¡­ whatever they are! I didn¡¯t think ¨C never imagined he¡¯d ¨C I didn¡¯t know he was here! If I did, I swear I¡¯d have done something, told someone ¨C I¡¯d have gone to you first thing!¡±


    I rubbed my face. ¡°Slow down and use proper sentences please.¡±


    Orsur opened his mouth -


    ¡°And that¡¯s all you¡¯re getting!¡± A voice I must have heard at least once before boisterously bellowed from beyond the now quiet fireworks cart over yonder, at the middle of the gathered throng. ¡°Empty lights for empty hearts!¡±


    What¡¯s this now?


    ¡°Don¡¯t give me those looks, you brats! And don¡¯t you go fake-crying to your parents neither, it¡¯s not gonna work! What¡¯s that, boy, you think that poor sod that calls himself your father can do anything to Greatfather Winter?! Isn¡¯t it you who always tells your friends he¡¯s so big and fat he¡¯ll be lucky if he doesn¡¯t trip over his own navel? Isn¡¯t that why you¡¯re such an ungrateful little hellion and always making his life a living hell?! Don¡¯t you glare at me neither, old boy, it¡¯s the truth!¡±


    There was much laughter and jeering from the throng of humans, and even the mini-humans before they belatedly realized they couldn¡¯t tell if it was the fat man or them that were now the target of the unexpected flyting. I didn¡¯t hear the comeback over the ruckus, but the first voice only got louder and more rumbustious.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you get it, Fred? They don¡¯t care! You''re not important to them! You never were! You¡¯re just something to poke at! Something for Brat, Scrat and Hooligan here to bounce off of for a while until something else comes along! They could easily find other ways to amuse themselves, but they don¡¯t want to! Children are devils, ¡®specially these ones! That¡¯s why I¡¯ve not brought them any presents this year!¡±


    ¡°NO!¡± Came the cries of dismay from waist-high. Well, my waist-height.


    ¡°You see, they cry in pain as they attack you! Devils, all of¡¯em!¡±


    There was a cacophony of childish outrage at that, then an even bigger one when the little ones realized the adults were all laughing at them, or pretending not to. Or scowling. It was a miracle that I was still able to make out the ¡®but that¡¯s what all you grownups do!¡¯ amidst the chaos.


    ¡°What kind of reason is that?!¡± Balked the man in red. I could see his sleeve above his overloaded cart as he shook his fist in the air. His coat was a deep crimson with white fur at the wrist. ¡°Those are all bad people! Don¡¯t pretend you don¡¯t know that, you can¡¯t fool the Snowfather! Devils like you aren¡¯t devils just because you¡¯re naughty, you¡¯re also smart!¡±


    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°Not smart enough, clearly,¡± grumbled the man I assumed was Fred, I was finally close enough to make out his words too. Wonder of wonders, despite how everyone got out of my way the moment they realized who was tugging them aside, they didn¡¯t cry out or give me a wide berth like they usually did. Instead of drawing attention to me, they went back to crowding the spectacle.


    As was so often the case, the sacred had clashed with the entertaining and lost terribly.


    ¡°You can¡¯t just keep your sack for yourself!¡± Some kid or other was shouting. ¡°Why even bring it then?!¡±


    ¡°To make your lives a living hell in return for all the people whose lives you make a living hell, why else?¡±


    I practically felt the long-term change in the children¡¯s morality and critical thinking, it was breathtaking.


    ¡°Honestly!¡± Not-Santa-Claus was still talking. ¡°Poking and prodding and laughing at this poor creature, why, the sheer nonsense! Having so much fun at the fat man¡¯s expense and then holding him in contempt at the same time, that doesn¡¯t make any sense! Either you like that he¡¯s fat or you don¡¯t!¡±


    ¡°STOP CALLING ME FAT, YOU ¨C You -¡± Fred exploded, then tried to un-explode himself when he realized he was about to curse Greatfather Winter in public, and call him all manner of names in front of the children and everyone else. ¡°Like you¡¯re one to talk!¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that got to do with anything?!¡± Greatfather Winter hollered shamelessly. ¡°How¡¯s that an argument?! Just because I¡¯m also a fat fuck doesn¡¯t mean you¡¯re any less of a fat fuck!¡±


    But he barely has a beer belly in comparison-


    ¡°Light save us,¡± Orsur pinched his nose as the cries of dismay turned from general mayhem into distinctly more womanly outrage at the foul language. ¡°Bad enough the nobles keep foisting him on us every year, he just had to decide this was the year when he goes off-script instead of being his regular nuisance back in the city, Tyr damn you, Blindi!


    But didn¡¯t the nobles say it was actually the guilds who always-?


    My hand snapped out to seize Orsur tight by the scarf. ¡°What did you just call him?¡±


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t you start with me woman!¡± ¡®Blindi¡¯ scoffed from the eye of the storm of motherly outrage. ¡°I just told you how devious these brats are, you think they don¡¯t know better than to say such foul things?! Oy, you imps, listen up! If you dare use such dirty words where anyone can hear you, you won¡¯t get any presents next year either!¡±


    ¡°Nooo!¡± The children cried in dismay, falling over each other to swear sideways and noways that they¡¯ve definitely been good and not naughty, honest!


    ¡°How¡¯m I supposed to believe any o¡¯ that?¡±


    I sent Geirrvif a mental prod. That was when I realized my Valkyrie minder was conspicuously just far enough away that she had deniability if she claimed not to have noticed me try to communicate with her.


    I covered my mouth to smother my sudden urge to laugh.


    Nobody realized what was happening here, did they? The strength in his every movement, the authority in his voice that no one moved to silence or do violence on him for, the way the blizzard itself seemed to have halted just to hang from his every word, the two ravens that came down from the sky to land on the eaves of the longhouse. As I came to a stop where I could see him fully, it looked like they were on his shoulders instead of the roof across the square. There was something meaningful in the birds¡¯ eyes, every bit as much as his, and there was a glimmer in their crops before the glint passed.


    They didn¡¯t know. None of them knew. They didn¡¯t realize, didn¡¯t know, didn¡¯t see.


    Nobody had a clue who this was.


    ¡°Beg pardon, good sir,¡± Uther¡¯s voice came from somewhere ¨C oh, there he was, I was wondering where he was in all this. ¡°But surely you can¡¯t mean to punish all the children for the crimes of this handful. That wouldn¡¯t be justice!¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Greatfather Winter harrumphed sceptically. ¡°I suppose I might potentially imagine my cold, iced-over heart thawing a little bit if they apologize to this poor man. And they¡¯d better mean it! And no more cursing unless it¡¯s for a good cause!¡±


    ¡°How bout no more cursing period?¡± A gimlet-eyed matron was saying with a glare to one of the bigger boys. ¡°I¡¯ve a mind to bring out my soap.¡±


    ¡°Good luck with that!¡± ¡®Blindi¡¯ scoffed. ¡°No, really, I mean it! Every time they lie to your face that they promise not to do it again, that¡¯s one less present I have to lug over!¡±


    ¡°This is a conspiracy!¡± One of the scrappiest little lads caterwauled. ¡°A conspiracy! Conspiracy!¡±


    ¡°No duh,¡± Blindi said. ¡°You made a gang so the people you¡¯re tormenting are making a gang. What did you think would happen?¡±


    ¡°But ¨C but that¡¯s not fair, you¡¯re¡­¡±


    Greatfather Winter waited patiently for the boy to dig himself a deeper grave. In fact, his patience was only less heavy than everyone else¡¯s judgment. ¡°¡­Yes?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re ¨C we¡¯re just kids! You¡¯re grownups! You can¡¯t do that!¡±


    Change a couple of words around and you¡¯ve got what the King and his thugs liked to say to every Alterac citizen of they tried to revolt.


    ¡°Bah, it¡¯s the only thing in your little lives that is fair right now! Madam, you hear that, the little devil thinks you dames and men are supposed to be all helpless and hopeless, the cheek!¡±


    ¡°Yes, I heard him, unfortunately.¡±


    ¡°Well, that just won¡¯t do! Bad enough he doesn¡¯t realize that means he¡¯ll be just as hopeless when he grows up, to hear such an insult to your good name ¨C at least I assume it¡¯s a good name, what¡¯s your name? What¡¯s her name, young miss?¡±


    The positively plain daughter of the seething matron blushed as Greatfather Winter swooped down on her and clasped her hand between his large ones with a beaming smile. For all that his eyes were blank with cataracts, his teeth were perfect and his white beard was the most finely groomed object in a hundred leagues. And real. ¡°I-I¡¯m Glinda, sir ¨C I mean Mira! My mum¡¯s name¡¯s Mira.¡±


    ¡°Mira? No, it can¡¯t be, not Mira Deniau! I swear I know that name from somewhere ¨C oh!¡± The old man let go, turned away, clambered up on his cart, kicked a bunch of dangerously crooked rockets out of the way and hauled a huge red sack from beneath the rest of the pile of fire hazards. He then untied the top and reached into the sack all the way to the elbow, then the shoulder, then he stuffed his head inside before - ¡°A-HA!¡±


    I had not the slightest urge to facepalm when ¡®Blindi¡¯ pulled himself out of his bag, cursed his own beard to high hells for tangling with the sack rope, and finally produced a gift box on top of a smaller gift box on top of two bigger giftboxes and a giant wool sock filled with candied fruit hanging from his thumb.


    ¡°I was right, but it makes no sense!¡± The bushy beard seemed to complain, because you couldn¡¯t see anything above it from behind the gift pile. ¡°I¡¯ve got gifts here for the two of you, and even your man daydreaming over there about brutally murdering me IF ONLY HE WEREN¡¯T SO FAT!¡±


    ¡°SCREW YOU!¡±


    ¡°But I have no idea why these other boxes are here, read the labels for me will you, miss, I¡¯m blind don¡¯t you know!¡± Greatfather Winter stumbled and lurched to the edge of his cart and wobbled one of the boxes at the younger woman. ¡°Look at these name cards, what¡¯s that they say miss? I knew it! Those are devils¡¯ names they are, I ain¡¯t giving gifts to no devils!¡±


    I¡¯d have called it a fair act back on Earth, but¡­


    This wasn¡¯t an act at all, was it? He¡¯d really meant it that he hadn¡¯t brought presents for the bad children. And that he wasn¡¯t going to give gifts himself to the bad children. The sack was full of gifts, but over half of the ones he¡¯d just pulled out hadn¡¯t been there until just now. Those boxes had only just appeared in his sack from somewhere.


    The woman and girl had to scramble a bit to catch the boxes and stocking, and the mother made a long show of reading the labels in a snit too. ¡°You¡¯re right, Snowfather, these are the names of complete hellions. Why don¡¯t I hang onto these boxes, and when I find whatever children share these names, I¡¯ll maybe pass them on. If they aren¡¯t devils of course.¡±


    ¡°Do as you like!¡± Greatfather Winter shrugged. ¡°I sure ain¡¯t gonna lug them back all the way, it takes energy to get all over the place at my age you know! Give them, keep them, use them as kindling, it¡¯s all the same to me.¡±


    I watched in wonder as the dark fate of three children, and many others besides, shifted Light-wards right before my eyes.


    I kept watching as, one after another, one gift after another, one merciless roasting after another, Greatfather Winter lightened the fates of almost every single one of the people, big and small, for whom he pulled a gift from his huge sack. Every time, their expectations were shattered, their darkest beliefs fractured, and their self-interest became that tiny bit more enlightened.


    I can¡¯t bring myself to wish I was more gregarious, I thought privately. But I¡¯m glad there are those who are.


    Hopefully it wouldn¡¯t always take a literal god to achieve.


    For the rest of the time it took the old motor-mouth to dispense gifts, I just watched and stood there. First with Orsur. Then alone when he volunteered to collect my parents so I didn¡¯t need to double back, when they appeared on the path. Then I stood with him and my parents together, when they finally caught up in confusion.


    For that entire time, the children who hadn¡¯t been singled out swore up, down and sideways they¡¯ll be totally good, just like they¡¯d been totally good this year too, they were nothing like those guys, honest, so please won¡¯t you give us our presents now pretty please with milk and cookies on top?


    ¡°And where¡¯s this milk and cookies, or are you lot just lying to the Snowfather too?¡± Blindi demanded, scouring the area with his blank eyes as if he could actually see.


    Blindi. The drunkard who infuriated everyone in the throne room before tearing the mask off that entire farce at the end. Blindi, a name I knew from Earth.


    The Blind One.


    A name of Odin.


    ¡°YOU!¡±


    Who, me?


    Greatfather Winter pointed a finger at me and crowed happily. ¡°THE PARTY POOPER!¡±


    Eh?


    The old man jumped out of his cart with his ever-full sack over his shoulder, sunk up to his shins in the snow to crack the earth beneath without breaking his legs, then stomped over with his aforementioned sac digging a groove in the snow in his wake. ¡°Your Saintliness!¡± He beamed joyously when he finally reached me. ¡°Your creation is most merry!¡±


    You don¡¯t say, I thought vaguely with a pointed glance at the distressing pile of explosions waiting to happen. It teetered. ¡°Some might also say very dangerous.¡±


    ¡°Dangerous, traitorous, warlike, pah! Just now it put more smiles on people¡¯s faces than it¡¯ll make graves for the next ten years. It¡¯s a shame I can¡¯t say the same about you!¡±


    ¡°¡­ I must be quite the bad man if you say it twice.¡± Did he figure out what I was going to do tomo-?


    ¡°Bad, pah! Feh! Fie, even! You¡¯re not the slightest bit, that¡¯s the whole damned problem! How¡¯s a man supposed to make a good flyting if he doesn¡¯t have anything to complain about? You¡¯re not arrogant, you¡¯re not close-minded, you insist on not controlling anyone, you play the elusive sage so much that I can¡¯t even accuse you of fostering a bad atmosphere! You even came here in the middle of my performance and didn¡¯t interrupt me like some joyless tyrant! You have the sheer gall to not have any of the usual faults for me to lampoon, what do you have to say for yourself?¡±


    ¡°Good job to me?¡±


    ¡°Good job? GOOD JOB?! How am I supposed to rag on you not fostering the right atmosphere when you don¡¯t provide any atmosphere at all?! You don¡¯t even inspire these people to go out of their way for you, they just do it on their own, the sad saps! They¡¯ve got themselves wound up so tight, it¡¯s a wonder there¡¯s any joy in anything! How can you live with yourself?! Oh hello Orsur old boy, I didn¡¯t see you there.¡± The old blind man suddenly turned to my business partner. ¡°Is your significance sense tingling yet, or are you going to miss the gods¡¯ omens for the entirety of this new life too?¡±


    Orsur Kelsier gaped at the old man. His eyes widened in confusion, then shock, and then they outright bulged in disbelief. ¡°You ¨C how do you ¨C are you saying ¨C it can¡¯t be! Not you! There¡¯s no way-¡± The ravens on the roof gave a couple of very loud caws. ¡°¡­ I must be dreaming. This is a nightmare!¡±


    I¡¯m missing something here.


    ¡°You¡¯re not and it¡¯s not, be glad for it! The only ones you¡¯d be sharing that dream with are mud squids.¡± As quick as he ambushed my business associate, ¡®Blindi¡¯ turned to my parents. ¡°And who do we have here? If it mustn¡¯t be the Saint¡¯s parents! My, that¡¯s quite the bewilderment you¡¯ve got there, old chap. Shame you got it all figured out already, guess you don¡¯t need any of my more paltry gifts. But my lady, what weepy eyes you have, I shan¡¯t countenance it! Here, have a dragon.¡± Blindi reached into his sack and dumped a gigantic, larger-than-an-ostrich egg into my mother¡¯s arms.


    She almost fell over from the sudden weight.


    ¡°Legend has it this egg is the most special egg to ever come down from the heavenly fortress of Odyn himself! Granted, the legend is just a couple of days old because the Lord of Hosts only just made the breakthrough, reproduction is really complicated! If this thing hatches, it¡¯ll be an omen that you¡¯ve earned the grace of his greatest milestone of the last thousand years and-¡°


    CRACK.


    The egg split down the middle and shattered into a hundred shards, leaving my mother scrambling not to drop two very confused cat-sized dragons. Mini-dragons.


    They croaked.


    The reactions of all the bystanders defied all attempts at description.


    ¡°HA!¡± Blindi crowed in delight, then turned to point up at me gleefully. ¡°Look at that, you¡¯re not special!¡±


    It was impossible to tell if the silence of all and sundry was more awestruck or mortified.


    Then it didn¡¯t matter, because it was pierced by a sharp, whistling sound like a boiling teapot, which promptly broke into the loudest, deepest, most heartfelt laughter than I had ever seen or heard from my mother in my whole life.


    Agnes Hywel erupted into literal guffaws, laughed herself to tears within seconds, and continued to laugh while hugging the poor, confused baby storm drakes with no thought left to anything else. Not even to keep standing upright. Dad had to scramble to hold her up and barely manged to prevent her from falling down along with her all-new clingy attachments.


    ¡°I suppose this means you¡¯ll be needing the dragon-rearing guide as well, here you go old boy.¡± Blindi promptly reached in and out of his sack and shoved a positively gigantic tome at my father where his hold on mother was weakest, no by your leave no nothing. Weighed down as he already was with mother, he damn well nearly fell over too.


    Dad¡¯s mouth worked soundlessly for a while, then he looked between the man and me, shut his mouth, gave a very strained ¡®Thank you¡¯ and turned back to my laughing mother just so he had an excuse not to deal with either of us anymore.


    I turned to the man next to me. Greatfather Winter was a full head shorter than me, not even as tall as Uther. But he stood proudly with his hands on his hips, looking eminently self-satisfied. I looked from my laughing mother to him.


    ¡°All-Father.¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°You are the God of Joy.¡±


    Blindi blinked hard, then his blank eyes turned up at me in astonishment. I suddenly knew they were every bit as blind as they seemed. He opened his mouth and actually closed it without knowing what to say. Once. Twice. Three times. ¡°¡­ It¡¯s been over fifteen thousand years since titles and crowns have carried any real power, but I actually felt something just now.¡±


    I ignored the many whispers and stares around us while I thought of several replies to that, but none of them were better than nothing. Fifteen thousand years, that time frame sounded important, but the why eluded me. It felt close at hand, but I would need to think about it.


    ¡°Alright, I¡¯m done,¡± Orsur suddenly said flatly. ¡°By your leave, Master Wayland, I¡¯m going to get blackout drunk. Pease excuse me.¡± The man promptly turned and left without waiting for leave.


    I looked at him until he shoved his way out of sight behind the crowd line. Then I looked at Blindi again. There was something I could do here that I didn¡¯t need to think twice about.


    He noticed of course. ¡°What¡¯s that look now?¡±


    I wondered why Odyn would use such a faulty body, but I was content not waiting for the answer. ¡°Since my ¡®saintliness¡¯ has caused you such a bother, I hope you¡¯ll appreciate this small infringement on your autonomy.¡±


    ¡°Eh?¡±


    I put my hand over his face and gave sight to the blind.


    Blindi staggered back from me, groaning with ¨C I didn¡¯t precisely know what it must have felt like, but I could imagine quite a bit. When he came back to himself and blinked owlishly at his surroundings, he wasn¡¯t filled with the same emotion of ¡®par for the course¡¯ that now radiated from the awestruck crowd around us. He marvelled at me.


    For a second, but still.


    ¡°Drat,¡± the now clear-sighted man huffed. His eyes were the most unremarkable brown. ¡°There goes most of my act.¡±


    ¡°In all fairness, it would be more suspicious if I didn¡¯t heal you.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t I know it,¡± the god in man¡¯s clothing groused, instead of smiting me for caring about the opinions of mortals without even asking for his. ¡°I suppose I can¡¯t complain about getting exactly what I asked for, just don¡¯t expect me to thank you! Now come, you will appreciate receiving your own gift in a more private setting. I¡¯ve set aside that tent over there. Let¡¯s get your lady mother inside before she really shames everyone into never laughing again on account of them having not a hope of matching her quality. Or lung capacity for that matter.¡±


    This was a rather sudden turn, but leadership was like that. It was obviously going somewhere so I nodded and asked him to lead the way. He hoisted his sack over his shoulder and went first.


    I let him and my parents go on ahead while I stopped for a few moments to talk to Uther, who¡¯d clearly caught on to a lot more than everyone else in the crowd.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know who or what that man is,¡± Uther quietly told me after I assured myself he had things covered. The former knight looked more at ease in priestly garb than he used to, though I suspected it was partly owed to the winter drafts making it less torture to wear armor under all that cotton and wool. ¡°But the Light walks step in step with him. Him and those birds, there¡¯s something about them, the only thing here that¡¯s as well defined in the Light is you. I don¡¯t know what they bode, but then, they¡¯re not here for me.¡±


    ¡°Make sure nobody touches the stuff in the cart.¡±


    ¡°Normally I¡¯d say the guards have it in hand, but on this I share your concerns.¡±


    By now, people were back to giving me a properly wide berth, so I was not hindered on my way to catch up to the others, nor was our path barred to the tent. Which was also conspicuously free of any loiterers. Nobody seemed to get within five meters of it actually. Scanning it with my second sight, I noticed some manner of magical weave making it nobody else¡¯s concern besides the caster¡¯s. And ours, now.


    Emerentius had overcome the someone else¡¯s problem field as well, and was waiting for us at the tent flap. He was looking strangely at the baby dragons, who scowled back in suspicion up until he held the back of his hand for them to sniff. He also frowned when I asked him to stand guard outside, giving Blindi a particularly untrusting stare, but didn¡¯t gainsay me.


    ¡°Oh, a self-appointed guard for little old me, how auspicious! Since you¡¯re just going to stand here doing nothing, why don¡¯t you watch my sack so you don¡¯t get bored, there¡¯s a nice lad! Oh, before I forget.¡± Blindi rummaged through his bag and handed me an all-new package. ¡°A Merry Winterveil to you too!¡±


    It was a book. Not as big as the one Dad got but still big enough, bound in whalebone carved in the likeness of a corvid. The runes on the cover read ??? ??????, ??????? ??? ????????? ?? ????????¡¯? ????????? ??? ?????. ¡®The Caring, Rearing and Banishing of Everyone¡¯s Familiars but Yours¡¯ by Aerylia Gildedrein, illustrated by Skovald the Ill-Fated.


    Skovald, isn¡¯t that-?


    Emerentius grunted at the old fogy act, but didn¡¯t move to kick or do any other violence on the bag of gifts. Perhaps it would have been a different matter if there were any hints that the interior of the tent was subject to any space-time anomalies, but it wasn¡¯t.


    When we were inside, I was met by the sight of shelves, crates and boxes, and sacks and bags and hanging braids of garlic, onions and various other herbs. I realized that when Blindi said he¡¯s ¡®set aside¡¯ a tent, he¡¯d meant no more than that. Seems the local quartermaster had made this into a dedicated long-term storage pavilion, specifically the one where people collected all my ¡®tribute.¡¯


    I hummed. ¡°I suppose being a place which people already tended to leave alone made it easier to shroud.¡±


    Blindi nodded sagely. ¡°And no Arcane was harmed in the making of this spell!¡±


    Mom¡¯s laughter had finally wound down, which gave me mixed feelings. Much more mixed than the crooning pleasure of the two whelps now enjoying her petting and scratches. On the one hand, laughing until she dropped wouldn¡¯t have been entirely healthy. On the other hand, she¡¯d been operating on a severe shortage of joy for too long, and she hadn¡¯t sounded crazy or anything. I would have been happy listening to her continue for a while yet.


    Dad hovered over her, wringing his hands and unsure if he should help her with the unexpected additions to our household or not. Or our stable? No, storm dragons were as sapient and intelligent as any other dragons, weren¡¯t they? ¡°Can they speak?¡± I asked Blindi.


    ¡°Mannish, Draconic, Titan, Earthen, Dwarven, Darnassian, Thalassian, Zandali, Drust, Drogbar, Taur-ahe, Pandaren, Mogu, Kalimag, they even picked up the language of Death from Eyr and I.¡± Blindi crossed his arms and watched the two baby dragons. ¡°They know a fair amount of the basics of living and honest work too. There¡¯s never any shortage of old sages and warriors with nothing to do around Valholl. Finding the right people to talk within the egg¡¯s hearing distance has never been a difficulty.¡±


    Eventually, the dragons finally began to pay attention to their wider surroundings. They sniffed and peered at my dad critically. They playfully spat crackling bursts of ozone in Blindi¡¯s direction. Finally, they deigned to look at me, only to promptly hide behind Mom¡¯s coat and squint from under her shawl.


    ¡°You¡¯re a bit bright for their fresh eyes, such Light as yours they only saw through their shell before this,¡± Blindi told me. ¡°They will get used to it in a day or three.¡±


    Well, as far as openings went, it wasn¡¯t the worst. ¡°Would you be willing to accept our hospitality, at least until then?¡±


    To my surprise, Blindi shook his head. ¡°For myself I¡¯d be glad to, but I am not alone here, and my companion is not the sort you can house under a roof. He doesn¡¯t have the best notion of scale as he currently is.¡±


    ¡°The blizzard.¡±


    Blindi¡¯s grin became thinner. ¡°If you know so much of me, then you should know of my kin as well.¡±


    I quickly ran through the list of names and found the only on it could be. ¡°The blizzard¡­ It¡¯s Hodir?¡±


    Blindi turned half vindicated, half something else. ¡°Regardless of what Loken or his masters like to delude themselves into believing, one¡¯s nature can only be changed by one¡¯s self. Even tormented and mind-addled, Hodir is still the winter wind. I do my best to provoke him into a chase around the world every year, just so he can see how far you¡¯ve all come and enjoy at least a few day¡¯s worth of sanity. But that¡¯s also why I can¡¯t afford to stay too long in one place. The moment he loses interest is the moment he wakes up from this dream back to the nightmare that is now his life.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not Greatfather Winter, it¡¯s Hodir.¡± The grim mood that had taken Blindi was the only reason I could contain my sudden urge to laugh. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ That ¨C th-ha! Hahahahahaha!¡±


    I stand corrected. I couldn¡¯t, in fact, contain my laughter after all.


    ¡°Yes, go ahead,¡¯ Blindi said coolly. And surprised. Confused even, perhaps. ¡°Do indulge yourself.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m sorry, really! I¡¯m not laughing at you or him, it¡¯s just¡­¡± Greatfather Winter was unavailable on account of being locked up in his own personal hell. Greatfather Winter was as good as dead, yet here is Death playing pretend while the Hogfather¡¯s gone! And I couldn¡¯t even begin to explain any of it, which only made me want to laugh harder, what could I say instead that would ¨C no, actually, now that I thought about it there was something. ¡°Why the hell would you bring him to Alterac?¡±


    Blindi¡¯s irritation vanished, but instead of the clarity I¡¯d expected to see on him, his face instead turned sad. Sympathetic.


    ¡°I mean it, why?¡± I pressed, because now that I¡¯d asked I really wanted to know. ¡°The only way you could do worse is if you went to the Dark Irons or the Trolls. Why would you be in Alterac to begin with, even? To hear everyone else, you¡¯ve practically been living here, barging into everyone¡¯s business and driving bars to ruin for over fifty years, I can¡¯t make sense of it. This is the last place you¡¯d want to bring anyone, never mind live an entire second life. Not if you want to foster sanity.¡±


    Then again, with the scene I¡¯d just witnessed, I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if he chose this place for the entertainment value he was so clearly practiced in deriving. No matter the medium, that was often a theme with godlike beings-


    ¡°Because I found no other place in the world that needed laughter more.¡±


    ¡­ Oh.


    ¡°Is it so hard to fathom?¡± His tone changed. His words already had. ¡°That is why you are still here as well, no? Perhaps that is why you were born in this land to begin with, when all others would have treated you much more kindly. You have certainly set aside any designs to leave, despite everything.¡±


    The Tribunal of Ages was even more full of bollocks than I thought, if it still made even me misjudge people after so long.


    ¡°I will answer one more question, then I have to go set off the rest of the fireworks,¡± Blindi abruptly told me. ¡°We would not want yonder blizzard to lose interest and wander off unsupervised, I am sure you agree.¡±


    For the first time since I realized what and who I had before me, I felt suspicious of the sudden turn in the conversation. I didn¡¯t need the Light to confirm to me that he was looking for me to ask something specific. Now what could it be?


    For all his professed urgency, Blindi didn¡¯t prod or nag me into being quick about it. He patiently waited for me to speak. That only confirmed my suspicion, so I decided to be very thorough in turning over every possible topic I could think of in my mind. Finally, after not too long a time in the grand scheme of things, but certainly more than it might have taken him to steer the conversation himself, I finally found something that made the Light chime in my mind.


    Loudly.


    It was something I¡¯d wondered about earlier, before deciding to let it be until I could read Dad¡¯s new manual, because surely a mention of it must be in there. ¡°These storm dragons of yours¡­ are twin hatchlings common?¡±


    Blindi smiled and nodded in approval, though the feeling that I¡¯d just passed some test didn¡¯t materialize. If anything, I got the sense that he¡¯d have done what he was about to do anyway. I could feel in the Light how something majorly significant was swooping down on-


    ¡°These are the first. It took much care and work, but you have to squeeze the sympathetic principle for all it¡¯s worth when anchoring such an important spell.¡±


    A sudden gust of wind blew the tent flap open, making way for Huginn and Muninn to swoop into the tent and land on Blindi¡¯s arm. He held it out.


    I held out mine. The ravens croaked, cawed and hopped over from him to me. Their dark eyes stared into mine. Odyn¡¯s intent conveyed loud and clear to me through theirs. The Light cast many-sided shades upon my spirit. I levied its Revelation fully upon the world so that I and everyone else with me could see.


    My eyes shone. So did the rest of me. Everything inside the tent took a golden sheen. The ravens turned almost transparent, except for the contents of their crops.


    The Light. The ravens each had inside them a golden sphere, thrumming in rhythm with the heartbeats of the two dragons in the arms of my mother. And within those orbs of Light, two small souls shone like twin stars inside tiny curled up bodies made of lightning and golden dust.


    I wasn¡¯t the first whose breath hitched. But, for once, I didn¡¯t find any words to say either.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid we could not entirely eliminate the proximity factor, or I would keep the dragons safely in Skyhold.¡±


    Souls. Two of them. Barely formed. I knew them.


    ¡°Just in case the worst happens again, however, I have assigned Geirrvif to you on an indefinite basis. She will let no more harm come to the little ones.¡±


    ¡°Falric,¡± I breathed, thunderstruck. ¡°Marwyn.¡±


    My little brothers ¨C their souls ¨C were they really here? I brushed their spirits with my own, as lightly as I could. They ¨C they were real.


    I¡¯d asked myself how life might have been. I¡¯d been asked if it had occurred to me to do to my lost brothers what I¡¯d done with the elementals¡­ The only reason why I didn¡¯t torture myself over it was because it wouldn¡¯t have worked. They weren¡¯t there anymore when I finally reached home that night, not even a haunting.


    There was no pregnant womb to put them back in either, even if I¡¯d figured something out. Manipulating flesh like that was well beyond anything I¡¯d ever done, even before I ran into the other limitations of working the Light in other people. Improvising one miracle would have been a tall order, never mind twice over and a third one besides.


    All of which were moot points regardless, because no hint of their souls had been left to my sharpest sight, they¡¯d been dead and gone for hours in a bucket.


    ¡°How-?¡± But I made the connection the moment I asked. ¡°Valkyries.¡±


    ¡°When Eyr swooped down from the sky to aid you in your great battle, it was the second time that day she had been to that place.¡±


    I wanted to reply something. I didn¡¯t. I found nothing to say.


    ¡°Is,¡± mother¡¯s voice faltered out, her hands over her mouth. ¡°I-is this real? This ¨C this isn¡¯t a dream?¡±


    ¡°Madam, no offense meant but you do not have the imagination to make me up.¡±


    My throat was every bit as clogged as my mother¡¯s. I wanted to ask¡­ say¡­ but what?


    ¡°I dared not say anything before, for I was not sure if it could be done,¡± Odyn said quietly. ¡°This is Freya¡¯s domain, not mine. My valkyries certainly weren¡¯t trained for this, and the boys were so small. Unfinished. We weren¡¯t even sure we¡¯d caught everything of them, for a little while there.¡± Odyn looked fondly at the two lights in the shape of yet unborn children. ¡°They are still unfinished. But now, at least, they can continue. Take all the time you need to be ready, and however long you wish to conceive them new flesh. The only deadline on my grace is my death.¡±


    I brought the ravens closer to my face, closer so I could see¡­ I had a million questions and a million more words to say, ask, shout at hell and heaven alike, but I couldn¡¯t say any of them. My heart was in my throat.


    ¡°I¡¯ll let you talk.¡±


    Odyn left us to talk.


    We didn¡¯t talk.


    We didn¡¯t talk for a long time.

 The Long Night of the Soul

    ¡°-. Interregnum 580-581, Day 10, Evening .-¡°


    There was something in the air. Disbelief and hope, and more disbelief and more hope. But there was also something else, a numb, shivering tension I could feel was just about to break.


    ¡°Nobody needs to say anything,¡± I spoke before the wrong thing could be said again. ¡°There¡¯s no hurry, no time limit. And it doesn¡¯t matter who does it either.¡±


    The tension stalled just before it could burst.


    ¡°If you two don¡¯t feel up for it anymore, I¡¯ll just have them myself.¡± My promise settled over us. It didn¡¯t feel like a burden. ¡°Baby sons or baby brothers, there really won¡¯t be much of a difference.¡±


    It would probably cut down on my marriage prospects, but all my current ones were about to be completely voided anyway. Worst came to worst, I could always work out a deal where I first give miss other half an heir that¡¯s all ours, before having the twins. Surely it wouldn¡¯t be impossible to find someone reasonable enough for that, right?


    ¡°You two had better be grateful,¡± I told the spectral foetuses inside Huginn and Muninn¡¯s glowing, see-through craws. ¡°Many people wouldn¡¯t bother with such high maintenance scrubs.¡±


    Falric and Marwyn did not reply.


    The tension released, giving way to a wordless, guilty relief. I didn¡¯t comment on it and neither did anyone else. I didn¡¯t look at my mother and neither did Dad, even as he held her in his arms. And the dragons too.


    The ravens stopped being see-through. Huginn tottered around on my wrist and peered at my parents, ignoring the dragons in her arms completely. Muninn ruffled his feathers and opened his beak at me to say: ¡°G-wah.¡±


    ¡°G-wah to you too,¡± I said dryly. ¡°Are you coming with me, or staying?¡±


    ¡°Tk-tk-tk-tk g-wah,¡± said the raven.


    Both birds then hopped off me and flew over to one of the tallest crates where they started grooming themselves.


    I looked at my father, who looked between me and mother, and between the ravens and the dragons, then sent me a confounded but meaningful gaze back. Leaving mother to him, I stepped out of the tent. There, I quietly asked Emerentius to keep guarding the entrance, to which he nodded gravely.


    I myself took advantage of the lingering notice-me-not spell to take in the crowds and events in the ¡®square.¡¯ The tent behind me was on one of the higher points in Saint¡¯s Tier, so I was well positioned to look over the crowd, even without my great height.


    No one was looking in my direction. Instead, all eyes were riveted on the rising, whistling rockets that suddenly burst into multicolored, cascading flashes and crackles in the sky. The earlier fireworks show had, it seemed, been just a taste of things to come.


    Down in the middle of the carnival, in the small circle of free space where the fireworks cart was, Blindi was putting on a wonderful act of being amazed and euphoric and bombastic at being able to see again.


    I sat down on a bench nearby, which seemed to have fallen within the bounds of the someone else¡¯s problem field. I watched the fireworks. I watched the people. Smiling faces, awe and laughter, happy cheers everywhere. I thought of what I had planned for tomorrow and felt both less and more conflicted.


    ¡°And now, let us welcome the new year with a toast!¡± Blindi¡¯s voice rose above the din of everyone and everything else, once the echoes of the last firework had completely faded. ¡°First of all, a toast to me! Because the father always comes first!¡±


    I pointedly didn¡¯t facepalm even as everyone jeered and groaned at the terrible pun.


    ¡°Second, to the winter wind, who was kind enough to constantly blow the smoke away so all the fireworks could be seen clearly! Also for joining us tonight without the blizzard unduly inconveniencing anyone, trust me, I know what I¡¯m talking about.¡±


    ¡°Trust a stool pigeon!¡± Someone or others hollered. ¡°As if!¡±


    ¡°To his saintliness!¡± Blindi bellowed with a wide, challenging grin as he pointed his glass straight at me. ¡°Without whose sheer gall we wouldn¡¯t have such bright and merry lights in this darkness!¡±


    When everyone and their grandchild turned towards me, I became aware that the subtle magic I¡¯d been taking advantage of no longer reached past the tent¡¯s stakes. Everyone could see me now just fine. I rose to my feet and bemusedly accepted the glass of sparkling wine that a woman I didn¡¯t know by name briskly strode over to offer on a tray.


    I looked at it. It was an actual glass, almost perfectly transparent. As I looked around, everyone had a cup or a mug made of wood, clay or pewter. But Blindi, Uther, Richard¡¯s officers, and a couple more people besides myself, we had glassware from a set like the sort that only the nobles could normally afford.


    Odyn had a good appreciation for pageantry, didn¡¯t he?


    Why did I feel uneasy?


    ¡°And finally, far and above all¡­¡± Blindi¡¯s tone took a sudden, distinctly daring cant. He raised his glass high. ¡°To the Titans, by whose will and hand was done the shaping of the world!¡±


    The happy atmosphere veered off into confusion, and my stomach dropped.


    ¡°To Aggrammar the Warrior. To Khaz''goroth the World Forger. To Golganneth, the Lord of Skies and Roaring Oceans. To Norgannon, Keeper of Celestial Magic and Lore. To Eonar, the Gentle Caretaker of All Living Things. And to Aman¡¯Thul, the Highfather, by whose will was order first brought into the cosmos at the dawn of time!¡±


    Oh.


    Oh no.


    ¡°To the Pantheon! The Great Lords of the Seven Constellar Currents, by whose hands was the world of Azeroth ordered in eons past!¡±


    I heard the words in abject dismay. I looked down at my glass. I felt faint and wooden all at once.


    ¡°Hail to those who came first! They, who came forward and set to work on forging Order out of Chaos! Hail to Them, who took the very matter of the universe, ground it down to the finest powder and sieved it through the finest sieve, only to find not a molecule of mercy, not a single atom of justice. They beheld the universe, then, and saw that it was not good. And so they set to work on the worlds they encountered. They shaped the planets by raising mighty mountains, they dredged out vast seas and breathed skies and raging atmospheres into being.¡±


    I looked up in surprise. Those words, how did he know them? Did I broadcast more than I realized, earlier when I broke into laughter at the memory of the Hogfather? Or were they mere coincidence?


    From the other side of the gathered throng, Odyn¡¯s eyes dared me to interrupt. Deflect. Deny.


    To lie.


    ¡°And then, to finally instil the notion of some ideal in the cosmos, some rightness in the universe by which it may find worth, they moulded the smaller races. They exalted us, that we may live and shape and judge all their great works.¡±


    That¡­ was not from any of the words or chronicles about Azeroth that I remembered. Also, ¡®mould¡¯ didn¡¯t mean ¡®create.¡¯ Was his wording on purpose? What was I saying, of course it was.


    I looked down at my glass again. You have to start out learning to believe the little lies, Death¡¯s words came to me. And the words of his granddaughter. So we can believe the big ones. Justice. Mercy. Duty. That sort of thing.


    I¡¯d agreed with those words in spirit, but never entirely in letter because I didn¡¯t agree that they were lies. At worst, they were dreams. It was dreams, not lies, that could ¡®become.¡¯


    ¡°May their names be worshipped and their works praised with great praise, for this night and all the nights and days to come!¡±


    I looked up. The crowd was dead silent. Even the wind had stopped almost completely, as if the looming clouds themselves were waiting to see what I would do. Say. Reply. Damn myself, perhaps. And with me, everyone who believed in me too. There were some looks of annoyance, a few of chagrin, more looks of mistrust, and many, many of bewilderment and confusion. Some were outright aghast. One or two were even outraged to the point of fanaticism.


    But none of those feelings were aimed at me. Only at him. They didn¡¯t understand, didn¡¯t know.


    I met Odyn¡¯s gaze.


    Here I am not compromising either, his eyes told me. Put your honour where your life is, the gaze I¡¯d just healed dared me.


    The Pantheon was dead, and Odyn didn¡¯t know. He didn¡¯t know, his siblings didn¡¯t know, the dragons didn¡¯t know, the elves didn¡¯t know, the trolls didn¡¯t know, the loa didn¡¯t know, the nature gods didn¡¯t know, nobody did. None of them knew. The only one who knew, who understood what happened back then, was Ra. And he¡¯d wallowed in crippling depression well before he was dispossessed of Aman¡¯Thul¡¯s power and imprisoned by Lei Shen.


    Fifteen thousand years, the realization struck me. This is why the number felt important. That¡¯s when the Pantheon were murdered.


    There was no justice to be had here, was there? There was no room for mercy either, because either I¡¯d be wronged by a lie or Odyn would be, so it wouldn¡¯t be anyone¡¯s mercy at all, just a trade of grief for mistrust.


    That leaves duty, doesn¡¯t it?


    I looked up at the clouds. What did the blizzard, the winter wind, see? Hear? What awareness did Hodir have in this form? How much did he understand? If I gave Greatfather Winter the worst news he¡¯ll ever receive in his entire existence, would he turn into a real calamity this time? And whatever I said¡­ would he take the knowledge back to Ulduar, and from there to Loken and Yogg¡¯Saron?


    Would it make a difference?


    For a moment, just for the sake of argument, I actually did consider dissembling. If I were before Odyn on his throne, he¡¯d probably be able to see through me instantly. No matter how bright I made my Light, at the end of the day he was an entity that also had the Light, for much longer than me at that. Moreover, he collected and worked with souls. Being able to dissect the spirit at a glance would be literally required for that, I imagined.


    But I wasn¡¯t there, I was here. Blindi was a remote vessel that brought forth just a fraction of Odyn¡¯s true self, no matter how much ¨C or little ¨C of his mind was present in it. At this moment. If I called on the Light to burn in the unseen world brightly enough, even he would have trouble sensing falsehood. At this distance at least.


    But suspicion wouldn¡¯t be much better, and either way¡­


    Would it be better to lie? I Reflected. By my standards. Would it be more help to the future, as I conceived it and committed to it?


    The Light, unusually, had nothing to say. A very bright and intense and vast nothing.


    The second of the Nine Noble Virtues is Truth.


    I straightened my back. I raised my glass. I pleaded to Odyn with my own eyes to understand how very, very sorry I was.


    And I did my duty. ¡°To their memory.¡±


    There was a long, breathless moment when no one understood anything at all.


    Then the cloud cover quaked so violently that everyone¡¯s attention was drawn up and away. Everyone¡¯s but mine.


    It was like watching all the stages of spiritual death unfold right before my eyes. Odyn stared at me in utter incomprehension, blinked several times, made to speak only for his voice to fail him, tried again to the same result, then his brow furrowed as thoughts and memories rushed through his head between one breath and the next. I was endued with eyes that witnessed it unfold with sight beyond sight. For the first time, it felt less like a blessing than a curse.


    Then his face slackened and his eyes widened so very, very slowly that I didn¡¯t need magic to read his every emotion off his face. Confusion, denial, a belated realization so shocking that I didn¡¯t need to wonder what it was¡­ and then disbelief, denial, denial, denial, denial, denial, before a woe so pure and wretched overcame him that nothing else could coexist.


    ¡°Hail to their heirs,¡± I said in the muteness that had overcome everything, trying and hoping to salvage¡­ I didn¡¯t even know. ¡°Whose promised ascension may yet set right what once went wrong.¡±


    Even before I finished I knew it wasn¡¯t enough. Odyn just¡­ slumped where he stood and then¡­


    The snow was soft, so his glass didn¡¯t break. Watching it fall, though I noted distantly that the drink inside wasn¡¯t the same one I had in mine, or anything at all fancy. Just normal red wine that spilled out on the white.


    It looked like blood.


    <h2 style="text-align: center">¡°-.  .-¡°</h2>


    The door almost slammed open from the force of the snowstorm, even with Dad holding a firm grip on the handle as he opened it ahead of the rest of us. I could barely spare any thought for it, my mind was fully on the task of steering Blindi inside without him stumbling on the last step.


    ¡°I cannot linger!¡± Uther shouted over the furor of the wind as he shielded the rest of us on the way in. ¡°Dragon or not, I must go back to ensure everyone reaches shelter! But there will be questions and I have no answers, what should I tell them?¡±


    ¡°Greatfather Winter got some really bad news and will be much colder company for the next decade!¡± I shouted back as I steered Blindi¡¯s feet over the threshold with my own. ¡°His substitute too!¡±


    Uther had many questions, but asked none of them and went back out into the blizzard after one last, hard-pressed look at me and my new drop-in.


    I finally got Blindi inside. The ravens flew out of Dad¡¯s cloak to watch from atop the furniture. Mother came in right after us, the dragons hanging off her skirt and bodice while leading Orsur in our wake. The man had wanted to decline our hospitality too, since he¡¯d found a place down below and didn¡¯t want to be an imposition. Thankfully, he changed his mind when I said I needed someone with a strong horse and cart to transport us up the mountain. Us and the other important guest who¡¯d initially refused our hospitality.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get him to the den, quickly now!¡± Dad fretted unnecessarily, though I didn¡¯t begrudge him his need to fill the disquiet with something. ¡°There should still be embers in the hearth.¡±


    Warm or cold probably wouldn¡¯t make difference, but putting Blindi down in a chair should finally free enough of my attention to do something other than reacting.


    I¡¯d have had Emerentius fly the two of us up, but then the Light blared loudly in my mind for once. The sentient sky shroud would react extremely poorly to a helpless Odyn being carried off by a black dragon, the separation between Blindi and the Titan would make no difference to Hodir in his current state. As it was, the blizzard had resumed regardless, and the only reason it wasn¡¯t killing anyone ¨C yet ¨C was because it was as confused as it was wild.


    Granodior was limited to ground-level and below, so he couldn¡¯t save anyone if the storm became truly horrendous. I¡¯d also have to dedicate all my awareness to him in order for him to operate at anything approaching our small scale. Needless to say, I couldn¡¯t do that right now.


    But I¡¯d greatly nourished my spirit with the Light all these months, without having to feed it to anyone else, so I was much more than before. My own mystical senses reached far enough that I could perceive some of what was going on. The winds were blowing in all directions at random, which included against each other. It was keeping the gale forces from being as bad as they could be, so far.


    Only so far.


    I settled Blindi in Dad¡¯s armchair and stepped back while mother fussed over him. She¡¯d get no reaction, but while she got convinced of that it left Orsur at loose ends. I caught his attention and led him to the room I¡¯d prepared for him earlier. Once he knew where everything was, I made my excuses and went back out to stand on the porch, despite the gale and spraying snow.


    The blizzard was verging on the truly dangerous this time. I didn¡¯t know what I¡¯d do if it got worse, but while I waited for an idea, I could think about other things. Wonder. Figure out why the Light had blared in my mind so loudly, finally. It had been so clear just now compared to the rest of the day, even the whole month. Based on past experience, the immediate answer was that the impact of unfolding events was too vast in scope to judge one way or another. At least by my standards.


    But as I stood in the blizzard and let my blood cool, I began to ponder a different possibility. One that the Light didn¡¯t immediately cast shade on.


    I¡¯m not the only one who¡¯s been Reflecting on how to go about things today.


    I was strong in the Light, but so was Odyn, and he worked on even longer time frames than me, no doubt. Of course he¡¯d use Reflection to evaluate the impact of his choices ahead of time too. If our foresight happened to focus on the same thing, closely enough, for long enough¡­ Wouldn¡¯t we end up running face-first into each other¡¯s observer effect? All I did sense before, leading up to this, was that whatever was going to happen would be significant, and little else.


    Free will was powerful indeed, even when misused.


    Add another piece to the puzzle of how the Void can get around the Light.


    I never imagined the answer to be ¡®too many cooks in the kitchen.¡¯


    The knee-jerk response would be for us foretellers to have as little to do with each other as possible, but that was by itself a reactionary, shallow non-answer. Coordination about who and what we happen to be working towards made much more sense. Odyn probably recognized what was happening immediately, and went ahead anyway, which made perfect sense too. Whether as a lesson to me ¨C or not ¨C if the average Joe could do what he had to do without any future sight at all, what excuse did we have?


    Delegation was the ultimate superpower for a good reason.


    Or maybe the opposite was just as true, and prophets could get even more reliable insight if they looked into the future at the same time. Together. I¡¯d already used the Soulgaze as a medium for something fairly groundbreaking with Emerentius, why not this too? The details would need to be figured out in the future, but for right now¡­


    I went back inside, to the den where only Dad was still keeping guard. Mom had given up on trying to coax a reaction out of our catatonic guest and went to see the other one instead.


    I marched in front of the chair, turned Blindi¡¯s face up and Soulgazed an avatar.


    The experience was literally psychedelic, but the hallmark feature of the mystical process, one I had taken for granted before but noticed being absent now, was the sense of the interconnectedness of all things. It was missing ¨C no, not missing, incomplete. Like some part of the experience¡­ wasn¡¯t.


    The sights, sounds, smells, emotions, the dimensional breaks and curves that buoyed them and were buoyed by them¡­ They unraveled around me, and in me and through me. It was like traveling through a multi-directional tunnel made of thought waves and light beams, while at the same time I also was the tunnel. But despite rising to that state of scale, to that immanence with the cosmos that I¡¯d only surpassed when I was happily dead, the being I found at the other end didn¡¯t acknowledge me. He didn¡¯t look at me, didn¡¯t communicate with me, he wasn¡¯t even aware of me.


    Just a large, massive man made of soul and mineral, slumped on his throne.


    I pulled back.


    Odyn¡¯s body is encased in pink marble and white jade, I thought dimly as I caught myself before I fell. I was dazed. So why is he turning blue?


    No, I knew the answer, didn¡¯t I? Either Helya and Old God magic was to blame, or it just came naturally with being a psychopomp. Considering that all his Valkyries shone golden, the second was very unlikely.


    I stood in my living room and loomed over my guest while I got my mind back in order. Blindi was blank, Odyn had completely withdrawn to his greater self in the Halls of Valor and left his vessel empty.


    He¡¯d done it none too gently either. I comprehended Blindi¡¯s nature now. The body before me had once belonged to a man with the aspirations and talent to become a brave and mighty warrior, if not for an incident that made him a lackwit. So Odyn sent a Valkyrie to offer to raise him to Valholl, where he could fulfil his potential instead of being locked in a body that didn¡¯t let him string two thoughts together, until he finally died choking on his own spit.


    The man accepted. In exchange, Odyn gained a body he could possess at a whim. He¡¯d been using it to work his will in the lands of man ever since.


    But when pulling back from it this time, he hadn¡¯t shut the door behind him. I could see the ways, the spiritual structures in place for it, the mechanisms, the traps, the safeguards. They were all as dull and comatose as he was. He didn¡¯t just lack the presence of mind to re-engage them when he pulled out, he broke and ruined all of them with how suddenly and harshly he withdrew. He probably didn¡¯t realize he pulled out at all. Back. Away. If his reaction was even a fraction of Ra¡¯s, then Odyn had completely shut down. Odyn¡­


    Odyn was vulnerable.


    In all the worst ways.


    ¡°Dad,¡± I called, ignoring the alarming ideas about Loken and Helya that I was thinking up as fast as the blizzard was getting worse outside. ¡°That thing you did, the Soulgaze with mother, what exactly did you give?¡±


    ¡°Everything?¡± he asked more than answered. ¡°You can control-? What am I saying, of course you can, but I didn¡¯t ¨C it didn¡¯t even occur to me. I guess¡­ I just offered everything I could?¡±


    ¡°Everything, huh?¡±


    I Reflected on my situation. I Reflected on it very deeply. Even now, I still didn¡¯t get anything but the same sense of major significance. I pondered the implications of that. And my options. Especially the options that didn¡¯t involve killing Blindi right now and burning him to ash to scatter in the wind. The very distraught and soon-to-be unfriendly wind if I made the wrong decision here.


    Above on the chandelier, Huginn and Muninn watched me. From up atop the mantlepiece, the dragons watched me just as intensely. This would be a formative experience for them too, then.


    I steadily felt myself relax.


    The Light works atemporally.


    If I still couldn¡¯t sense anything specific, that could just as easily mean Odyn would Reflect on what I was about to do too. Himself. In the future. More so, distance was merely a suggestion where the Light was concerned, if you know what you¡¯re doing. Especially if you have auxiliary means of getting what you want.


    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    Or, in this case, where you want.


    I got myself a chair of my own, pulled it in front of Blindi, sat down and Soulgazed him second time.


    It was a testament to the wrongness of the entire situation that the experience unfolded almost exactly the same, despite that this was one mystical undertaking that should never be less than unique. The end result was the same too, which worked just fine for what I meant to do. The vision settled once more, on the sight of the large, massive man made of soul and mineral, slumped on his throne.


    I left my body entirely and astrally projected through Blindi¡¯s empty shell all the way there. Just flew my spirit over, straight through the open door.


    Between one thought and the next, I appeared at the foot of Odyn¡¯s throne in the Hall of Glory.


    Immediately, I heard a double-take behind me. Just one, female, familiar. Eyir. In front of me, Odyn didn¡¯t react at all, despite that his glowing eye wasn¡¯t closed. It told me just how bad and time-sensitive the situation was. He hadn¡¯t had the presence of mind to even dismiss anyone to think and grieve in peace, Eyir had no doubt had to do it for him. That was why I didn¡¯t sense or hear any of the valarjar that should have been on sentry.


    I wasted no time on turning or talking, on vain attempts to explain anything to anyone, and instead used all of my Light to cast the Divine Shield. Around both of us.


    Then I flew up as all ghosts could, kicked off the arm of the throne for speed, grabbed tight onto that ghastly magma beard of his, and Soulgazed a deity.


    It was like plunging face-first into the sun with my eyes open. It didn¡¯t burn, but that was my only reprieve. His thoughts and emotions were variegated geometry turning in on itself, and their every tug and turn pulled at my edges, stretching my spirit and revealing seams I didn¡¯t know it still had. He was so vast, he saw and considered so much, so quickly, so many things at the same time that it threatened to dissolve my sense of identity. Had I not had a plan coming in, I might have felt alarmed.


    But the human spirit is no mere trifle either, especially one who¡¯d lived after death for as long as mine had.


    I focused very hard on the distant memories of this world from another life and offered them up. Them and everything else I had to give.


    The golden radiance took them, harshly, almost unwittingly, carelessly. Ripped them out of me along with a chunk of spiritual mass that was none too small. I didn¡¯t resist. It was needed to contain them, to keep them in one piece, a single unified record, however scrambled. Even if it didn¡¯t work, the pain would be good practice in case my plans for tomorrow fell through and I had to go with my more painful options. And because it was a part of me, I could sense its path and its transformation even if I couldn¡¯t follow in its wake.


    Inevitably, Odyn¡¯s circular thoughts forced mine into his focus, because he barely had the mind to decide what should be in focus, and the chaos shuddered to a halt.


    I tried to pull out. To give him back his privacy.


    He didn¡¯t allow me. I hadn¡¯t even sensed him turn his attention to me, but he had me in his grip.


    I didn¡¯t struggle.


    He¡­ didn¡¯t punish my transgression.


    He beheld me. Everything about me. Finally, he acknowledge me, or at least the fact that I was there.


    He dissected every memory I had of Azeroth from Earth, though they didn¡¯t induce any paradigm-shifting conclusions. Variations of all of them had played out in his own war games and visions, so they were nothing new. All except the last one. The last memory, and the foremost among them. The campaign of Argus. He followed it all the way to its conclusion, when the Pantheon came back to life despite all odds against them.


    He watched it, riveted.


    Then, very slowly, carefully, mournfully, he set it apart from the rest. Separately.


    To be completely disregarded with the rest of the wishful thinking.


    I gave my sympathy freely, and I hoped Odyn would forgive me for giving him this spot of hope someday. I¡¯d only pushed that memory to the forefront to shock him out of his downward spiral. I didn¡¯t trust a hope that it would come true either, and I made no pretense to the contrary. Those who first envisioned Azeroth on Earth were culled early on. All the ones telling the stories by the end were petty fabricators with an axe to grind.


    With a mighty effort that was still just barely enough, Odyn finally witnessed me, and through me further back, through memory and time until he reached the calm, self-fulfilling solitude of the afterlife that I¡¯ll never truly leave behind. Only there, in that eon of life beyond death, in the proof to the contrary of how horrible he had witnessed the hereafter to be, he finally found a speck of comfort.


    The Soulgaze ended without my say so.


    I found myself in the palm of Odyn¡¯s hand. The Light ¨C his Light ¨C was flowing through me, soothing the searing pain where my spirit had been scorched by his beard of stonefire. Around us, a Divine Shield turned ever so steadily, but it wasn¡¯t mine. That had lapsed at some point, only for Odyn to cast a new one himself. He wasn¡¯t in any more of a mood to explain anything to anyone either.


    ¡°Go home, Prophet,¡± Odyn said wearily, his one eye shut. ¡°Go home.¡±


    I went back home.


    ¡°Get another bed ready,¡± I ordered once back in my body. My spirit felt raw, like skin scalded by boiling oil, but I¡¯d suffered worse with Emerentius. ¡°I don¡¯t know how long we¡¯ll be hosting this shell, but let¡¯s make him comfortable at least.¡±


    Thankfully, no one asked any questions.


    Eventually, I was alone with just the sentient beasts to judge me.


    I comforted them as best I could, then went to the kitchen, took the trash bin outside and upended it all on the snow. I overlayed my spirit over the glass shards. I used the Light to scry the Arcane patterns that they used to be arranged in, backwards in time like I¡¯d done for the steam elementals, and cast Holy Light at just the one.


    Glass came back together into the shape of Dad¡¯s birthday pint, whole and unbroken.


    I picked it up and examined it. There was a wisp of spirit still in it, but it was rapidly dissipating. The object itself was better than new. Prettier too.


    You could, it turned out, use the Holy Light to fix inanimate objects. In fact, it had gone from a nice cup to a masterwork, at least within the material limitations.


    Not as simple as just casting the Mending cantrip, but not as limited either.


    Best of all, it didn¡¯t undermine the Arcane at all. In fact, it repaired it. It didn¡¯t mess with time either. It was healing transformation, not entropy reversal. You just had to be able to target the Arcane substrate, not the object itself. Not the crude matter.


    The Arcane itself can be healed.


    It was unfortunate that I wasn¡¯t in the state of heart to enjoy my breakthrough.


    I looked up, ignoring the snow beating at my face. The clouds were positively corrugated, and the wind and snowfall could charitably qualify as a squall. I tired communicating with the presence in the sky, spirit to spirit, but got no response or reaction.


    I cleaned up my mess, took the trash bin and cup back inside, and went back out and down the slope to where the ever-burning cauldron was. Since none of the little sprites had come swarming me in distress, I assumed the magical flame was still there and burning, so the canopy and snow fenders were doing something right. Regardless, I had business with them, because they were the last loose end left to tie up.


    I also hoped they might be willing to talk to the blizzard on my behalf, after I was done. And that Hodir would listen to them. Sympathy for the grieving was all well and good, but not when it caused mass casualties across half the country. I didn¡¯t know how I¡¯d go about matching the Light against a force of nature, never mind an entity that could override it by being just plain better at the job.


    My workshop was near enough that it stymied the wind from one direction, but there was a big layer of snow under the canopy anyway. In fact, it had built up almost high enough around it to reach the cauldron¡¯s rim. The snow fenders had worked, so the snow just built up around them. I was honestly surprised the magical flame still worked under all that. Even if the heat maintained an air pocket, the oxygen should be running low by now.


    I looked at the cauldron and the steam elementals pretending not to realize I was here. Pretending they didn¡¯t want to crowd me and hug me until they were sated on my spiritual energy. If I opened my spirit to them, it would carry everything I feel, everything weighing me down right now. Could I really inflict this burden on them? That would just make everything even worse, wouldn¡¯t it? I was rather upset right now.


    I chose instead to walk back a distance and sit down on the farthest makeshift log bench that still put them in my line of sight, well outside the canopy. Then I just¡­ watched the steam go up for a while. I considered going ahead with the procedure I¡¯d devised over the past few months, but I was still a little rattled. I did need at least one of the spirits tomorrow, if I was to do all I planned to do, so I couldn¡¯t afford to leave them be anymore, but¡­ one more hour wouldn¡¯t cut things that closely, surely?


    The unintended guests in my home did not figure into my decision. Given how long it took Ra to acknowledge Lei Shen, I¡¯d not have been surprised if it took days or even weeks before Odyn did the same for me, assuming he didn¡¯t just get the blizzard to carry his avatar someplace else on wings of wind.


    So it was to my very genuine surprise when, not half an hour later, I was proven entirely incorrect when Blindi came down from the house and took a seat next to me on the rough log. He didn¡¯t say anything.


    I did. ¡°I am sorry.¡±


    ¡°¡­ I can feel that you mean it. It is appreciated.¡±


    It was not the same as thanking me, for which I didn¡¯t blame him. I wouldn¡¯t be able to thank someone for such horrible news either. Not without it being a complete lie.


    When Odyn spoke again almost five minutes later, his voice was outright vacant. ¡°I am an imitation.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a legacy.¡±


    A legacy of a shaman who rose to deific status for carving some manner of order during the Bronze Age collapse. Not that anyone was in a hurry to acknowledge that, or its implications. They were more interested in painting Odin as a cowardly degenerate.


    That did raise the question of coincidence, though, because at the level the Pantheon operated at, the names and assignments of the Keepers had to be beyond mere happenstance. It made me seriously wonder if the Titans hadn¡¯t known about Earth. Maybe even visited.


    ¡­ Wait a second.


    My assumption about crossing realities was based on vague recollections of what it looked and felt like to leave the Sol System¡¯s rebirth wheel. But I didn¡¯t actually have a frame of reference for any of it, so what really happened there?


    I¡¯d not thought too much of the processes involved in me coming to this ¡®reality,¡¯ but I¡¯d never believed in an ¡®all choices happen¡¯ multiverse to begin with. While I didn¡¯t dismiss the idea that other realities might exist somehow ¨C no more than I could dismiss anything else completely unverifiable ¨C I now had to wonder if I had left my home reality at all.


    I wondered if the Warcraft games came to be because someone reincarnated, or because I had. Will. In the future. Backwards in time.


    Probably not, I had no plans to go back.


    ¡­ But an anti-magic blood ward, cast around a Titan¡¯s corpse and fuelled by the blood sacrifice of that self-same World-Soul, would be the ideal place for a soul to flee to. Through means beyond the Twisting Nether. To a place where the nathrezim wouldn¡¯t find, never mind enter. If they even thought to look.


    Come to think of it, my vague memories of being dead and eventually reincarnating on Azeroth were remarkably similar to Odyn¡¯s experience existing in and out of the realms beyond the Grey at the same time, in that brief time when he was still one with his other eye. In that light, it was possible that Earth and Azeroth were in the same Great Dark. Same universe.


    Here.


    If that was true, then the oldest of Earth¡¯s creation myth gained a whole new meaning. The conspicuous dearth of mystical feats by my time also took on a whole new meaning. Even with the wildest psychedelics and occult practices, there was a distinct lack of magic worth a damn on Terra, in the modern age. By this world¡¯s scale, at least.


    So¡­ When one thought about what the story of the Divine Twins might mean, when one looked at the story of Ymir, Yemo, Yama, Pangu, whatever you wanted to call him. Our Titan¡­


    Our titan was dead.


    Our World-Soul had offered himself to be sacrificed.


    The myth said it was so Manu and all whatever other beings would have a place to live, but now I could guess the real reason, and it had everything to do with the lack of spiritual powers. In killing himself, Earth became a dead zone. And thus, it became useless to eldritch tentacle horrors, and very hard ¨C maybe even impossible ¨C to find or assail through the Legion¡¯s means, thanks to the anti-magic protection spell. Maybe it even looked like any other lifeless rock from outside.


    The sky was made from the cold giant''s skull, the myth said. But that was the oral tradition of people who considered gods to be the constellations measured and tracked by shamans and astronomers in a reflective pool at night. ¡®Father Sky¡¯ wasn¡¯t a mere thunder god starting out, he was the firmament. The solar system¡¯s heliosheath.


    If the wheel of rebirth didn¡¯t care about time any more than the Light did, assuming they weren¡¯t one and the same¡­ Or part of the same¡­


    The Sol System was a time capsule.


    And, because it had practically no other stake on the broader universe, it had the least observer effect at the quantum level. Thus, any ¡®visions¡¯ of the outer universe would come across more clearly there than anywhere else. A place where the past and future cast their shades equally, via the only vectors available: souls that reincarnated into the system, on Earth, from outside.


    I just happened to have done the reverse.


    ¡°The internal combustion engine is locked out by design.¡±


    My loose speculations were completely blown away by what Odyn had just told me. ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°The technological path that begins with steam power and internal combustion was deliberately tied up with the interplanar mechanics, specifically to prevent its proliferation. The technological advantage of the Burning Legion is insurmountable by conventional paths, the only way to even the odds is by making technology past a certain point so ruinously self-sabotaging as to be useless. That is why the Legion only spreads and invades through mystical vectors. Otherwise they would all travel around in starships enslaving or eradicating everything through orbital bombardment.¡±


    ¡°¡­ That makes a large amount of sense.¡±


    ¡°The Pantheon certainly thought so.¡± Blindi didn¡¯t nod or gesture anything else, just talking seemed to be taking every scrap of will he could muster. ¡°The alteration to the nature of civilization here also adds to Azeroth¡¯s natural qualities as the key to counter-attacking the Burning Legion. Though if you plan to put your hopes in the World-Soul, I wouldn¡¯t hold my breath.¡±


    ¡­ I wasn¡¯t planning to, but now that he mentioned it-


    ¡°I cannot see the sense in some of the things in your memory, much seems taken right out of Loken¡¯s Tribunal of Ages. But the little you know about the planet¡¯s early eons is correct. The world-soul did not produce an abundance of spiritual energy. In fact, it devoured more than it made. This precipitated the mass starvation of the elements, which in turn caused them to descend into predation and cannibalism. The world was a hellscape long before the tentacle horrors came.¡±


    That¡­ sounded accurate to some of the lore, and also like the complete opposite of Draenor¡¯s problem.


    ¡°The Pantheon gave their personal touch to this planet specifically so enough life might emerge to produce enough spiritual energy to sate that hunger. They never shared their thoughts on the matter with me, but I personally will never lay all my hopes for the future upon a creature of such high-maintenance.¡±


    That sounded truly harsh, but my own steam elementals would have sucked my spirit dry if I¡¯d let them, which wasn¡¯t much different. ¡°So why did they put so much work into this world? Or is this the standard?¡±


    ¡°One part was the environmental pressure producing some of the strongest native life forms in the Great Dark. But the greater part is Azeroth¡¯s peculiar celestial cycle, especially the two moons. Also, the Pantheons deliberately created many different and unique biomes, complete with sapient life forms, so that the planet will always qualify as a less adequate target for locator or targeting spells. To that, of course, are added the defenses around the world and system proper.¡±


    ¡°The planet¡¯s not part of any galaxy, so you can¡¯t navigate here via conventional interstellar technology. And mystically¡­¡± I snapped my fingers. ¡°The interregnum!¡±


    ¡°Yes. There are other world souls, some that could hatch into bigger and stronger beings than this one, but Azeroth is special because, in cosmic terms, it fits the similarity principle very poorly. You have all the elements to aim an outgoing teleportation or portal to practically any kind of world out there, even pick and choose details until you narrow down a specific one. But the reverse is not true ¨C the only way to get into this place is if it¡¯s given a foothold by internal traitors.¡±


    Deathwing. Medivh. Sargeras.


    If he sensed my thoughts, Odyn didn¡¯t give a sign. ¡°Azeroth is special because it is the perfect staging point: you can attack anywhere, but it is practically impossible for it to become the enemy¡¯s beachhead in return.¡±


    ¡°Almost,¡± I said.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Blindi said wearily. ¡°Almost.¡±


    We both fell silent, me because there was something coming together in my mind, and Odyn because he couldn¡¯t bring himself to do anything after that exertion. That was how he felt to me, at least. Depression was a frightful thing, I didn¡¯t even want to relate to what it might be like, at his scale.


    Finally, I realized what was nagging at me. ¡°Wait ¨C why didn¡¯t the Titans exclude atomics then? Is it because your bodies need it to function?¡±


    ¡°Because the demons cannot use it.¡±


    That¡­ was not any answer I even imagined.


    ¡°The point is not to stop technological development, the point is to deny the enemy the benefits of industrial automation they will always be able to co-opt and turn against native societies. Enchantment, at least, needs effort to subvert, and never the exact same kind.¡±


    ¡°And fusion can¡¯t be? Fission, elemental enrichment, it only takes-¡° But then I realized what he was telling me. ¡°Fel magic.¡±


    He gestured vaguely in confirmation.


    ¡°By its very nature, Fel is unstable and degenerative,¡± I realized. ¡°Not enough to alter the make of a bomb on immediate exposure, maybe, but more than sufficient to do ill upon element fertility and radiation decay over the time it would take to, say, put that bomb together to begin with.¡± What would it do to the more fiddly and long-term applications, like a power reactor? ¡°The most essential element in harnessing the power of fissile material is precision. Control.¡±


    ¡°And so, all attempts by the Burning Legion to harness nuclear power have ended in ruin for them.¡±


    That was¡­ incredible news. It still left the issue of sabotage, especially by shapeshifters like dreadlords, but that wasn¡¯t really an argument because it could be said of literally anything. Actually, a nuclear power plant would have the best protections and surveillance imaginable, in many layers normal and magical alike. Such facilities wouldn¡¯t even need to be above ground, on a world like this.


    For fel powers to be such a terrible idea even without them, it would mean that any use of them would cause anomalies in the reactor, even from a fair distance. That would trip alarms immediately, even if the dreadlord manages to fool all other modes of detection. The kind of skill set needed to cause a Cernobyl in those conditions¡­ Even if they succeeded, the demons wouldn¡¯t get a foothold anyway.


    It would make more sense to send such an agent after the leadership instead.


    I thought about Outland, and the battalion of giant mechs that the Legion might start to build there at some point in the future. Their low combat capabilities, the lack of interstellar logistics and assets being brought in from elsewhere, it all made a lot more sense all of a sudden.


    Meanwhile, on Azeroth, the pinnacle of atomic technology and all military applications already existed in the Titan facilities, including mass automation and everything else that a more conventional industrial revolution would barely manage a fraction of.


    Really, I was only surprised that electricity generation wasn¡¯t somehow locked too, since you could achieve mass production that way as well. When I asked Odyn about it, he said that was too fundamental a mechanic to mess with if you wanted any technology beyond campfires.


    Or an atmosphere.


    I hummed. ¡°You said the technology advantage of the Burning legion would be insurmountable by ¡®conventional¡¯ paths.¡±


    Odyn looked up at the clouds.


    ¡°What if we do find the workaround?¡±


    ¡°Then it will be noted and you will be encouraged to explore the technology as fully as possible, insofar as it does not actually cause irreparable harm to the Arcane or the planet, so that we are as informed as we can be of the vulnerabilities you discovered when the demons come.¡±


    I blinked. ¡°That¡¯s a lot more lenient than I expected. Is this a stance from before today, or just now?¡±


    ¡°It has always been the way. There would be no point to us Keepers if all we did was stifle life.¡± With a monumental exertion of willpower, Odyn was able to force himself to stand. He closed his eyes and sighed against the wind beating at his face. ¡°To borrow a phrase from your last life, putting the djinn back in the bottle very rarely works out, and never without pain.¡±


    I got the distinct feeling that he wasn¡¯t talking about hypotheticals anymore. ¡°If this is about tomorrow-¡°


    ¡°My val¡¯kyr can either do their assigned duty or answer your call for intervention, not both at once. Geirrvif will remain, and others are already converging as drawn by their nature, many people will die violently tomorrow night. But I cannot afford to divert more of them your way, even for you. Even if I did, there will be innocent casualties, even if just from shock among those with old and weakened hearts, well beyond your reach. For what you mean to achieve, there was never going to be a clean solution.¡±


    ¡°If you tell me I¡¯ll do more harm than good if I go through with my plans for tomorrow, I won¡¯t do it.¡±


    That, finally, got a true and vivid reaction. ¡°I actually believe you.¡± When he turned to look at me, his tone was a small bit less dismal. ¡°Before I answer, I will ask this: do you believe yourself to be good?¡±


    What a question. What did he know? What did he see? How far into the future?


    Did it matter?


    I stood as well, and took time getting my thoughts in order. I could feel the importance of this moment. ¡°A wise man once toyed with the idea that good cannot comprehend evil, and vice versa. I used to think it was nonsense. I believed that Good and Evil will not understand each other only as long as they don¡¯t meet, and then experience will teach everything the other needs to know. But life has since showed me that while most people are good, most really don¡¯t understand evil. The ones who talk and debate on the topic most confidently are usually the ones who understand the least.¡±


    ¡°The meeting between good and evil usually concludes with the better side dead.¡± Odyn made a gesture that somehow indicated everything. The world. Himself. The storm clouds. Everything. ¡°Or worse.¡±


    I chose my words carefully, acutely aware of how much less of the Light there was in Odyn compared to just an hour before. ¡°Good might be the only one that can truly comprehend the other while remaining itself.¡±


    The Light flickered ever so slightly. Brighter.


    ¡°I believe,¡± I said slowly. ¡°That Good understands itself, but Evil never will. The evil man is inherently hypocritical, or utterly ignorant of himself. Otherwise he¡¯d commit penance or suicide in self-disgust. Or at least stop. Evil cannot create, only corrupt. That¡¯s why, even if I end up shunned or exiled, maybe even hunted to the ends of the world for my acts of tomorrow, I will not hold it against anyone.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± Odyn murmured. ¡°You believe what you say. That is good. You will need it tomorrow, especially if tonight concludes for you as I expect it will.¡±


    My thoughtful mood was drenched in cold quite effectively. ¡°And now I¡¯ve an all-new cause for worry.¡± I knew I wouldn¡¯t be getting an explanation, I sensed it, the certainty. But I asked anyway. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you¡¯ll explain what you mean?¡±


    ¡°It is not a vision, merely a personal expectation based on lived experience. For that reason, I dare not share it.¡± Odyn sighed, looking at the cauldron and the spirits within. ¡°I dare not inflict myself on the matter, any matter, as I am right now.¡±


    ¡°But you think I¡¯m about to make a mistake.¡±


    ¡°On the contrary, I believe you¡¯ve acted rightly in all ways relative to this matter, and I also believe that what you are about to do is good. But I also expect it will leave you feeling quite livid.¡±


    Oh.


    Oh dear.


    What was I going to stumble my way into this time?


    Odyn took a deep, fortifying breath and put his hands on my shoulders. When he spoke this time, his tone was low, feeble, but completely heartfelt ¡°You could have become my Lei Shen.¡±


    I¡­ I appreciated the words, but that was going a bit far. Lei Shen was right there with Ra in the Engine of Nalak''sha, when there was no defense between them and no guards. An astral projection was hardly so dangerous. I¡¯d have to figure out where the Broken Isles are first, find the Halls of Valor, get there, break into Skyhold and do all manner of other things before-


    Odyn put his hand over my mouth, even though I hadn¡¯t voiced any of that. ¡°This is not just a minor trifle of appreciation anymore. This is a debt of honor. Do you understand?¡±


    Since he still held my mouth shut, I could only nod.


    Odyn withdrew. ¡°Light be with you, Ferdinand Rogasian. May others afford you the kindness you do not give yourself.¡±


    I watched Odyn leave. I watched him climb up the mountain until he disappeared into the churning clouds. The sky calmed soon after, or perhaps the clouds just lost their will to struggle, that¡¯s how bleak the air felt. When the cover of mists finally lifted from the crest entirely, there was no one there.


    I turned to the steaming cauldron. I pondered the life forms wallowing within. I considered picking up the shovel, but if things went even remotely like I expected, there wouldn¡¯t be a need to. That problem would just solve itself.


    I considered turning my back and leaving well enough alone.


    The First of the Nine Noble Virtues is Courage.


    I let my aura unfold like I hadn¡¯t allowed it since the Lightforging. All this time I¡¯d been nourishing and cultivating my spirit with the Light, only without sacrificing the results to the Aura of Vigor like I¡¯d done before. It unfolded around me, now, spreading wide and far, and farther still until my specter permeated the whole mesa our property sat on.


    The little spirits stirred inside the cauldron, despite their stubborn sulk. One even dared peak out over the top.


    I held out a hand, palm-up. I traced back my own history, all the way back to the point when the nine little spirits had tried to fuse together. I stopped at that moment, when I seized them and stopped them, mid-way through the process of forming an all-new elemental. I invoked the fullness of that memory, the reality recorded permanently in the record of the past.


    I¡¯d called it a reflection of the past upon the present before, but the word was wrong. It wasn¡¯t a reflection, it was a perfect memory of reality at that point in time.


    I called on the Light to manifest that reality anew into the world.


    A nine-fold elemental spirit core came into being above my hand. It was new, it was big, it was real, it took more than half of my spiritual mass just to form a mould in which the Light could flow and take its form. Coalesce.


    Become.


    But the Light did flow and become, and the amount I could channel had grown enough that my conjuration would last for as long as I had Light to regenerate it.


    ¡°Go on, you little brats.¡± My voice, my breath, they shook. With exhilaration. ¡°Eat your fill.¡±


    The spirits were amazed. Disbelieving. Astounded.


    But the call of satiety and growth could not be resisted forever. One of them, the bravest and the least invested in their collective sulk, ripped loose of the others and descended ravenously on my offering.


    And so it was, that at the turn of the New Year¡¯s Eve of the year 581 of the King¡¯s Calendar, I bore witness to the unfolding of all stages in lifecycle of elemental life, from infant to its prime.


    The little spirit had barely gorged on half a core¡¯s worth of spiritual mass when it began to metamorphosize. But unlike in nature and the Elemental Plane, where a spirit had to digest and grow and self-actualize and repeat until it had assimilated enough for the next stage, there was no wait here, or delay. I¡¯d stopped the fusion part-way through, at a stage where the substance of the cores was most easily digestible because it was practically transmuting itself. Furthermore, the Light worked intuitively.


    I was joined together in spirit with the little one, so well that I could easily have it serve his wants and instincts over mine.


    One core became two, then three, then six, then twelve, and more. Each time it grew bigger, each time it took longer.


    But the meal never ran out, and while the Light couldn¡¯t touch it directly without pain, the spirit was more than willing to let me play intermediary for the necessary Revelation. The whole while I felt like I was being eaten alive, my spirit was being eaten alive. But I bore through it, if for no other reason than because I¡¯d need the pain tolerance and ability to work through crippling sapped will soon. And when our different perspectives final reached un unbridgeable gap in concepts and understanding, Granodior arose unbidden within me and over him to offer up his own.


    The Spirit of Alterac¡­ He had a personal stake in this. I felt it keenly, even though I still didn¡¯t know what it was. I wasn¡¯t surprised. Though the little ones had shunned me this whole time, the same couldn¡¯t be said for everyone else. Who better to turn to than their senior?


    Finally, after many minutes, when the little steam puff had grown into a living whirlwind the size of our house, the infusion of growth and nourishment finally started to lag behind self-attainment. It brought to mind what my mother used to say when teaching me how to plant a garden. It didn¡¯t matter how long I fed the same amount of water to a tree if it was just a trickle and a drop.


    I cut the flow of power, and waited for the spirit of air and water and flame to finally finish his meal.


    The windy, whistling haze around me stabilized. The metamorphosis finally began to settle on a form. The spirit in front of me finally had enough mind to take in his surroundings again, and realized that I was bleeding from a hundred cuts.


    He all but ripped himself away from me, which didn¡¯t do me much better because it also stole my breath away. I heaved a big lungful when new air rushed back in, which didn¡¯t improve his disposition by much. Mortified, the elemental spirit melted all the snow around us and the cauldron, swept it around us to form a protective dome, then rapidly raised the temperature of the air to what I was most comfortable with.


    ~ Mortification, Apology, Concern ~


    I raise a finger for him to wait while I hunched over and kindly bid the Light to heal my body now. And my clothes too. I had to reconceptualize my situation and really focus to make it work for the latter, but I powered through it because my shirt wouldn¡¯t survive another bout like that, and there were eight more still to go.


    ~ Concern, Apology, Chagrin ~


    ¡°Does this mean you are speaking to me again?¡±


    ~ Chagrin, Vacillation, Embarassment ~


    Finally, I was able to stand straight. ¡°I name you Allayiphas.¡± I declared. ¡°But to avoid exposing your true name so others can bind you, I¡¯ll call you Phaseshift.¡± ¡®Allay¨ª phasis¡¯ was ¡®phase shift¡¯ in Greek. I shouldn¡¯t know that, I only knew English and German from back on Earth, but Revelation was proving useful in many small ways too.


    ~ ¡­ ¡­ Acknowledgment ~


    ¡°You¡¯ve internalized the process of changing the basic states of matter, as part of your maturation. Apparently. Congratulations.¡±


    Steam was fire and water and air. I¡¯d just seen him manipulate all three states, or at least the last two and their temperature. That was no small thing, as I understood it.


    The appreciation this time was wordles, but heartfelt.


    I watched the new being I¡¯d created. Unbound from the physical trappings of vapour and ice, he spanned half of my range of sight, and not just because he was so close. How much farther and wider could he stretch and fly now, I wondered.


    I knocked on the glass shell. It tinkled. I looked at Phaseshift meaningfully.


    Obligingly, he dispersed his physical form, and with it the ice dome back into snow ¨C density manipulation too? ¨C revealing once more the night, the blizzard, the canopy now free of snow underneath, and the steaming cauldron that positively boiled with anxious energy.


    I watched my little spirits.


    Their souls were filled with want.


    ¡°One at a time.¡±

 The Dark Night of the Spirit

    ¡°-. Interregnum 580-581, Day 11 .-¡°


    Arrestor, Brumean, Foamgust, Phaseshift, Snarldraft, Terminal, Windflurry, and¡­


    Roilbroth.


    Roilbroth. Soup stirrer. Because once upon a time, a baby elemental lounged on mom¡¯s stew and thought her off-hand joke about turning into a broth elemental was the grandest idea.


    I watched in shock as the flying soon-to-be-spaghetti monster swooped off to¡­ be today¡¯s breakfast? Become? Beget? What?


    I pinched my nose.


    This is it.


    This is my life.


    ¡°I hope you don¡¯t plan to turn out quite this ¡®special,¡¯¡± I told the last of the nine, the only elemental that had held back and still not emerged from the cauldron. ¡°Clearly, hoping that Granodior might impart some amount of his good sense unto you lot isn¡¯t in the cards.¡±


    Those turned out to be the magic words.


    So why did I suddenly feel uneasy?


    I didn¡¯t have time enough to contemplate the echo of dark and bitter irony that I somehow knew was my own from the future.


    The last of the nine arose more purposely than the others. When our spirits connected, I recognized him as the one who¡¯d instigated their attempted merger in the first place. When he descended upon the feast I offered, he was steady, almost reluctant¡­ but not because of that. Even through the soul-aching malaise of having my spirit devoured, I could feel that he was¡­ concerned?


    For himself, but not really. He had something he needed to do, something he¡¯d been preparing, preparing for, and he worried this would derail him like the first time. Hoped for it too, was afraid of what he¡¯d do if he succeeded, while at the same time determined not to. I couldn¡¯t understand him at all.


    Despite this, he fed. Of course he did, he was as famished as his siblings had been. The little spirit had barely gorged on half a core¡¯s worth of spiritual mass when he began to metamorphosize. His core, like the others, grew to be as large as two, then three, then six, then twelve, and more the further he ate of the nine I¡¯d conjured from past experience.


    But even as he accumulated matter and energy enough to become literally anything he wanted, he didn¡¯t grow. He didn¡¯t turn back to a purely spiritual being either, unlike his siblings.


    He declined and resisted all my attempts to play intermediary for Revelation. Where Granodior had arisen to offer his own aid with the others, that didn¡¯t happen either. The little puff of mist didn¡¯t change, he just¡­ got denser. Denser and denser, clearer, brighter and brighter until the shimmering colors in him seemed to gain their own gravity, drawing inward as much as he shone out.


    That suddenly changed when the infusion of growth and nourishment finally started to lag behind self-attainment. The little spirit coalesced in front of me into a small, rippling, glassy face with eyes that were the window to its soul. And another soul.


    Beyond him but still part of him was Granodior. His vast presence was woven into the little one in a manner not much different from how he was with me. He looked at me. Through the little one he looked at me, like how I¡¯d looked at Richard through the nine when I soulgazed him the first time in the mountains.


    The rejection of Revelation suddenly inverted. The little one pulled through me on the Light I¡¯d called forward, burned himself on it to force Revelation on all three of us, and died.


    What-agh!


    My spirit convulsed as all my Light was suddenly ripped out. Next thing I knew, I was on the ground gasping for life while I retched blood and bile. I could feel my blood spilling out, flowing from my eyes, seeping out through my skin in a thousand places, rips and tears smearing the ground red as I struggled to stay aware.


    I-this-such p-pain, what-


    I reached for the Light by reflex, only for that to be sucked away too, my body seizing further, tearing further as it was ripped by a¡­ a¡­


    This weakness, the drain, so vast¡­ s-so dark, familiar, like ¨C !?


    The Light came ever stronger, but struggled to stay ahead of me breaking down to base elements.


    P-protect me-


    The Divine Shield formed around me, solid and impenetrable but doomed to die young because all around and above and below was the Void.


    What-


    I reached for all the Light I could grasp in a panicked frenzy, unable to think of anything except heal, heal, heal me please-


    My body stopped feeling like it was coming apart at the cells.


    My head stopped feeling like it was about to crack open.


    My heart restarted. I hadn¡¯t felt it stop.


    Agh¡­


    ¡°W-wh¡­¡± I struggled to speak. I struggled to move. My body still bled and all of me convulsed. The most intense golden gleam seeped out of me through a thousand bleeding gashes as my muscles and tendons and blood vessels tried their best to reform from the tatters they¡¯d become.


    I died just now.


    My mind scrambled in two directions at once, one half trying to comprehend, the other running my diagnostic spell the deepest I¡¯d ever gone only to ¨C my body ¨C I¡¯d just experienced chaotic failure of my covalent bonds. My tissues ¨C no, my cells had almost broken down at molecular level, I¡¯d very nearly been disintegrated.


    I literally died just now.


    ¡°W-¡° I coughed blood. I could barely breathe, and not just because of my injuries. ¡°What the ¨C hell is this?¡± My words were dust and nothing else because there was nothing to breathe, the void had eaten even the thinnest matter by the time I cast my shield. Everything beyond it was coming apart in a dirge of dark sizzling arcs of annihilation. The air was being unmade faster than it filled in, there was nothing around me and above and below but the Void.


    ~ Repression, Want, Desire Ours ~


    The little spirit. He¡¯d changed. Shockingly, fatally, before I even knew what happened he had died. It somehow killed me too, but there was nothing like a life bond, why? If my spirit hadn¡¯t grown as strong as it has-


    ~ Resolve Ours, Resolve His, Resolve Mine ~


    Granodior helped him ¨C helped him do the spiritual equivalent of mindmeld on me so he¡¯d read from me where to aim when¡­ committing ritual suicide as they¡¯d been planning and preparing the little one for the last few months ¨C ¡°You did what?!¡±


    ~ Desire Ours, Desire Yours, Mutuality ~


    ¡°You don¡¯t decide what I want!¡± My snarl was more mental than voice, there still wasn¡¯t enough air. ¡°You do not make decisions for me!¡± The Void had eaten the air like it now ate the Light my shield was made of, incredible, even the perfect defense was mere food, was this the Light¡¯s weakness or mine? No, my mind ¨C I can¡¯t get distracted, my brain ¨C I was still having a stroke heal that right now!


    ~ Desire Ours, Resolve Ours, Outcome Thine ~


    I tried to rise only to slip, and not just because my whole body was one mass of pain. The snow at my feet ¨C no, not snow, the earth¡­ Not earth either, the dust¡­ Dust was what I crawled in, all I could see around me, a bed of grey and lifeless powder at the bottom of my forcefield and around and away, rising up as the vacuum pulled and twisted it round itself.


    I crawled back in a bid to escape the pull of annihilation. I could feel the ground shifting and dropping beneath my feet as the earth continued to disintegrate. Like I almost had. More and more every moment that passed.


    Outside my shimmering golden shell that lost strength faster than I could fuel it, I could see nothing. The darkness swallowed up the Light leaving nothing to see by, save too few motes that vanished in the widening gap. There was only dust, roiling at me and around me, a dust devil made of destruction and ending centred around a predacious dark star.


    Dark Star, the disjointed thought pulled at my anguished mind as I crawled away. The wording, why is it important-?


    The thought slipped past me as I hit against an almost solid wall of wind. For a moment, I didn¡¯t know if I should be amazed or horrified that the other elementals were charging in to be unmade and devoured like me. I shouted a warning through my own spirit, through the Arcane, in my own mind. Stay away, get away, don¡¯t come near here, that and a dozen other things howled out without sound, before I realized that wasn¡¯t what was happening.


    Vacuum effect, the nearly useless revelation came instead of what I¡¯d almost grasped. As the air is swallowed up, more rushes in.


    But for the wind to implode at such speed had to mean that the rate at which it was being consumed by the void was truly-


    The earth beneath me lurched like a snapped whip and tossed me out of the yawning gap, into the sheltering sheen of an arcane forcefield that rose to bar the way from whence I fell.


    ¡°He¡¯s alive!¡± ¡°Thank heavens!¡± ¡°Grab him, move him back, quickly!¡±


    Arms grabbed me, pulled me. Richard. And Uther. They dragged me away. Past Antonidas who was holding up the protection spell.


    Arcane forcefield, I thought dimly as I gasped for air. My own protection had failed and I didn¡¯t notice. It can¡¯t hope to¡­ no¡­ It¡¯s¡­ working? Better than the Light?


    The wind whistled in my ears as it was sucked in with the speed of a hurricane. I could feel Phaseshift envelop me, and the others around us too, dampening the worst of the shear. My feet dug a deep groove through the squalling snow as the others never stopped dragging me. Not until we passed outside the forcefield, and then further still to shelter from the gale behind Emerentius¡¯s dragon form.


    How are they all here? I tried to comprehend as the healing Light ¨C mine and theirs ¨C finally started making a difference in my brain. How long did that all take, how much time did I lose? Again? When?


    ¡°Antonidas¡¯ alarms triggered on his quarters here, and your workshop as well!¡± Richard shouted over the wind once he propped me against the dragon. ¡°He teleported over, assessed the situation and contacted me immediately. We coordinated and decided to treat this as a hostile area. Per your prior instructions, I first evacuated your parents to my keep in the south, and the new household additions as well. My Lord, what is happening here?!¡±


    ¡°If the fake-blind man is behind this, I apologize for leaving you alone with him!¡± Uther said from where he looked around the dragon back the way we came. ¡°As soon as we find a way through that, I will show him the back of my hand! What is this magic?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t kno-¡°


    ~ Disclosure, Deferral, Revelation ~


    I hunched over as my mind threatened to splinter again under a deluge of new information. My inner havoc was swept aside by memories of the far past. Mankind¡¯s past. And Granodior¡¯s own, when crystalline beings from across dimensions bestowed his kind with visions that promised new beginnings as surely as the Light conveying them burned him from within.


    The humans ¨C Lordain¡¯s sister Mereldar ¨C they weren¡¯t the only ones the Light¡¯s avatars reached their hand to. What they offered humanity was not the same as what they offered the spirits of the world.


    I reeled under the weight of conflicted feelings reaching back nearly three thousand years. Disbelief, hope, mistrust, longing, refusal, regret, want, want, want, want just barely not enough to overwhelm the fear, but if another could do it for him-?


    ¡°-ourself said you had to leave Dalaran before you found out about the imprisoned ones,¡± Richard was arguing with his hand firmly clasped over Antonidas¡¯ own. And his transmission stone. ¡°Even that just by happenstance!¡±


    ¡°I said they didn¡¯t confide such sensitive information to me, not that they didn¡¯t have it!¡±


    ¡°The decision is not yours to unilaterally make!¡±


    ¡°The decision is anyone¡¯s to make, whatever that is almost killed him of all people! I will not jeopardize the safety of everything because your loyalty is greater than your sense!¡±


    ¡°The Light-¡°


    ¡°Has failed!¡± Antonidas wrenched free and pointed at Uther. ¡°Your second highest clerist is here, and he doesn¡¯t know anything either! Dalaran are the only ones with a hope to handle an attack like this now!¡±


    ¡°Not an attack,¡± I said as much to them as to myself. I felt around for a grip and hauled myself up by Emerentius¡¯ scales. The next words tumbled out before comprehension caught up. ¡°They¡¯re birthing pains.¡±


    The other three were the face of incomprehension.


    ¡°It¡¯s not an enemy,¡± I explained, though understanding was just now slotting in for me too. ¡°It¡¯s the last steam elemental, the ninth, he and-¡° I stopped just short of revealing Granodior¡¯s existence, even as I questioned if I should bother anymore.


    ¡°One of those steam creatures?!¡± Richard balked. ¡°It¡¯s doing that? How? They¡¯re minuscule! They can barely put out kindling on their own, how is it doing ¨C it just tried to kill you!¡±


    ¡°He didn¡¯t,¡± I realized in astonishment. ¡°He¡¯s trying to reincarnate!¡±


    I dashed out into the open and stared at the great sphere of nothing slowly expanding to draw in the world. My shredded clothes flapped fiercely as the wind tried to suck me in, but I stood firm. The other eight spirits ¨C seven, soup was of no use here ¨C were all around me, aghast, dismayed, conflicted at what they let their sibling do in their ignorance, confused but ready to help me.


    I couldn¡¯t think of a way they could. ¡°Void metamorphosis,¡± I muttered. The Dark Star, I knew this was familiar! ¡°But why? That¡¯s the death stage of their lifecycle, not the birth ¨C unless I¡¯m wrong? Perhaps the process was flipped because he started it through suicide ¨C no, not important. Uther, Richard, Emerentius!¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°Your order.¡± ¡°Speak.¡±


    ¡°I want you to call on all the Light that you can and shoot it!¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    With a deep breath that hurt my lungs, I reached towards the origin of creation as far and deep as my spirit could go, and used all of it at once to call on the Light. All the strength I had, to my limit, then to the limit I could imagine my limit becoming. When I felt like I could pull no more, when it felt like I was trying to move a mountain on my own, when I was more a gate than a person, I held out my arms and unleashed everything in a great, blinding, continuous beam of radiant gold into the Void.


    At first there was no effect. Then the expansion of destruction accelerated. There were shouts of protest and dismay, but I didn¡¯t relent. ¡°We don¡¯t have time!¡± I yelled over the clangour. ¡°Help me or stand aside!¡±


    Emerentius took to the air. Richard dashed to the right. Uther dashed to the left. Antonidas stepped up beside me and pointedly, defiantly activated his transmission stone.


    It didn¡¯t work. There was too much disruption to the Arcane so close. He¡¯d have to flee and try from farther away. Abandon us.


    ¡°It¡¯s alright,¡± I rasped, my every breath a monumental effort. ¡°You have ¨C good judgment ¨C other loyalties ¨C no hard feelings.¡± Even if he chooses his own best judgment over mine. ¡°Go.¡±


    He didn¡¯t go.


    A second beam of Light joined mine from beyond the devouring darkness. Then a third. Then a fourth. The darkness was boxed in and assailed from all the four cardinal points. The more Light we fed it, the greater it grew. The greater it grew, the stronger the wind blew. The more time passed, the more the Void encroached outward until it was almost on top of us, a looming, large, perfectly spherical space filled with nothing while the wind pushed itself and us at it with the force of a hurricane.


    The void gained colour. A swirling vortex of golden shimmers became visible through the dust at its core, waves and motes of light spinning like the corona of a star around it. It was more dark than bright. Potent, but failing. There was purpose within it, and want of life and will and determination. But its thoughts reached out past the yawning gap with something barely short of desperation because its form was unstable and unfinished. It was dying even as it struggled to Become.


    I felt the dark star reach out to me, for help and insight and understanding. I gave them freely, but¡­ I didn¡¯t have, didn¡¯t know what it needed. Neither did Richard. Or Uther. Not even Emerentius. At the back of my soul, Granodior was a roil of awed dismay and selfish hope and repudiation.


    What is wrong with you?


    ¡°Wayland!¡± Antonidas called me through a spell to let us speak despite the roaring of the wind. ¡°What is that?¡±


    ¡°¡­ The greatest miracle you¡¯ll ever witness,¡± I couldn¡¯t tear my eyes from the sight ahead and above me. What it told me... ¡°It wants to talk to you, mind to mind, spirit to spirit.¡±


    ¡°You think me mad?¡± Antonidas balked. ¡°I feel nothing from it save hunger and despair!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not trying.¡± I looked at the brilliant light whose dying end even all our Light couldn¡¯t stave off. ¡°You have protection spells active, it will never disregard such statement of intent. What it¡¯s trying to become ¨C it doesn¡¯t violate. Even when it¡¯s his last hope while dying before he even gets to be born. It doesn¡¯t know enough because I don¡¯t, we don¡¯t know the Arcane enough to pattern-mould a form that can last in the Order of this world. But you might, arcanist!¡±


    ¡°¡­ I don¡¯t understand anything that is happening here,¡± the mage released a heavy sigh. ¡°But I¡¯ll trust you.¡±


    Antonidas dropped his mental protections.


    The dark star¡¯s last sentiment was reverent gratitude.


    Then it imploded.


    The void winked out. The air finally filled the vacuum that nature abhorred. The roaring of the wind snapped and reversed with a mighty boom. The roiling dust cloud burst outwards, washing over us like a tide so thick it blotted out the light of both moons, which had finally peeked through the clouds again.


    I cut off my Light and swayed, light-headed. Beyond my sight, I felt the other three beams stop as well. I pushed forward through the haze, driven by anxiousness and urgency that came out of nowhere. Not to Richard or Uther, though I could hear them coughing. I heard the flapping of dragon wings too, again and again. And more. They blew the dust away, letting me see where I stepped. Where I had almost fallen.


    A hole in the ground. Not a crater because there had been no impact. A perfectly curved basin left behind by a sphere of annihilation that had eaten into the mesa until it couldn¡¯t grow anymore. The pit was almost thirty meters wide, as deep as I was tall, and round to the point of geometric perfection. Even where it continued upwards into the space where the rear-most half of my workshop had been.


    Everything had been perfectly undone along the curve, except one corner and wall. Unmade. As I stared at where my life¡¯s work had been, a shingle fell down from the last bit of roof still intact.


    I jumped down, digging a deep grove in the dust layer as I slid to the bottom, and hurried to the centre where ¨C where¡­


    The newborn Naaru descended from on high.


    He was tiny, barely more than a Naaru¡¯s mark, two sky-blue crescents centred around a small disc of golden fractals no larger than my thumb.


    ¡°What¡­ is it?¡± Richard¡¯s voice approached from somewhere I didn¡¯t turn to see. ¡°The power ¨C this feeling¡­¡±


    I reached out. Up.


    The baby Naaru ignored my hands and floated closer to settle on my brow.


    My consciousness expanded to what I¡¯d only ever attained during my deepest channelings. I felt strong. I was full of energy. I thought I might be able to extend my senses and awareness for miles, and I did. I knew, with certainty, that I could swing my hand right now and a groove would be dug through the ground at the foot of the mountain, from one end of the enclave to the other.


    But the people down there were already spooked enough. They hadn¡¯t missed that something had happened up here, they were out and about, staring up at the sky, speaking in worried whispers. I sketched a message in the snow instead, that all was well.


    The thought came, then, like a light flung back to the past from my future, that with us joined like this, even true construct creation and manipulation might finally come within our reach.


    ¡°S-¡°


    Just when I was about to say his name, the baby Naaru separated from me, pulsed once with love and sadness and commitment to destined death, and plunged down to disappear into the earth.


    What?


    ~ Desire, Eagerness, Vindication ~


    What?


    ~ Vindication, Thirst, Want of Grace Once Spurned ~


    My confusion was drowned under an unease more intense than anything else I¡¯d ever felt in my life, then I saw the small light descend into a deep den far and down, only to vanish inside a waiting mouth of stone and rock.


    ~ Commitment Mine, Commitment His, Glory Eternal ~ (Thirst, Desire of Eons, Want)


    The Light suddenly regained the clarity of the future as if a large part of the past interference was now gone.


    ~ Forbearance, Assurance, Commitment Ours ~ (Want, Want, Want Overwhelming)


    I fell to my knees to dig into the earth with my hands. I reached down as far as my spirit could stretch, but I found nothing. I astrally projected and plunged down, right, left, anywhere. I only found darkness, and always wound up close to where I started ¨C Granodior was corralling me?!


    I returned to my body, held up by Richard who was talking to me. I didn¡¯t listen, I was struggling to understand what ¨C how ¨C why ¨C when had this been set in motion? I¡¯d seen no inkling-


    It is not a vision, Odyn¡¯s words came back to me. Merely a personal expectation based on lived experience.


    Odyn¡­ he hadn¡¯t seen this either. Him. What could have interfered with even his sight? There were no fixed moments in time, there were moments when free will reached critical mass and literally none of the outcomes could be predicted, but this ¨C I refused to just believe this was like that, and the Light rung loudly that I was right.


    ¡°It was you,¡± I breathed. It wasn¡¯t Odyn. It was never Odyn. ¡°The other observer effect ¨C the reason my foresight was impaired, why I couldn¡¯t see anything¨C¡° The Light wasn¡¯t the only means of foresight, spirits were routinely consulted for predicting the future too, the main role of shamans was to cast auguries. ¡°The reason for my blindness to the events of today, it was you!¡±


    (Want, Want, Want) ~ Admission, Confidence, All Will be Well ~


    ¡°Granodior¡­¡± I ¨C I was wrong. If just any other seer could muddle your foresight, then there could be either one seer or no foresight at all. But if it didn¡¯t just cancel out¡­ then it was down to just the ones with enough ability and will to interfere against your purpose.


    Just the ones who happened to look at the same events, by coincidence, by volume, or by knowing exactly what you were looking at the whole time. ¡°You planned this, prepared this ¨C all this time you interfered with my sight ¨C manipulated him to ¨C for months ¨C nestled right next to my soul, you have the gall to claim mutuality you bastard!¡±


    ¡°My Lord!¡± Richard called me, shook me. ¡°What¡¯s wrong? Who are you talking to?¡±


    I clenched my fists in the earth and barely noticed his futile attempts to lift me up. To talk to me. Talking had failed, astral projection had failed, I couldn¡¯t press the issue when I didn¡¯t even know where Granodior was, I couldn¡¯t travel so far down without digging for weeks, attack¡­ what? Alterac¡¯s whole landmass? I¡¯d be lucky if I got a bunch of gems to glitter underground and then I¡¯d be spent. Spirits were elusive, they weren¡¯t like elementals with a physical core-


    I stopped.


    ¡°Ferdinand!¡± Richard called louder. ¡°We can¡¯t help you if you don¡¯t tell us-ugh.¡°


    I called down Judgment on myself, on the part of Granodior that had been merged with me, and through it him.


    Granodior flinched. I saw it. I felt it as my mountain shook. I swayed in pain, his and mine, but I judged again. Another earthquake, stronger. Again. Again, again, again- nothing?! No, there was one but not here. I caught barely a glimpse of a rockslide through Granodior¡¯s senses before he blocked his part of the bond entirely, the sheer gall to ignore me-


    ¡°Wayland!¡± Uther hauled up to my feet by both shoulders. ¡°Snap out of it! Whatever you¡¯re doing, it¡¯s-¡°


    I shoved him away as Judgment came down on me with more force than I¡¯d ever called in my life. The tremors were stronger now, but they happened far to the south in the lowlands bordering Hillsbrad. I continued, again and again until the Light¡¯s judgment was one, pulsing, near continuous beam of wrath. But Granodior wasn¡¯t even paying attention anymore, every blast of Judgment merely scorched at the edges of his self. My output¡­


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    This was the reason why non-physical entities had to be corporealized before they could be vanquished. I was so limited compared to the vast scope of spiritual entities even now, I couldn¡¯t damage him any more than I could have healed him fistful by fistful when we first communed. Even if I could¡­ all I¡¯d achieve is more earthquakes, landslides and avalanches half-way across the country.


    My anguish was being overtaken by white rage but there was no outlet, there was nothing I could do. If only I could find where he was ¨C no, the physical form I saw was just a puppet. Just enough of his spirit invested as he needed to eat the little one, that complete and utter rot pustule.


    I can¡¯t stop him, I realized bitterly as I shook with abject futility. I can¡¯t stop this, I can¡¯t save my ¨C the-


    ¡­ There was nothing I could do to him.


    My chest barely ruptured under my claw strike, but my incorporeal hand speared straight through and ripped Granodior¡¯s spirit graft out through my back.


    I barely kept from collapsing.


    My Light faded.


    The others cried out at the sight I made, a second, hazy outline disjointed from my flesh like a double vision, goring itself through.


    Far and deep in the earth, the Spirit of Alterac was shocked out of his thirst.


    ¡°What are you doing!¡± One or another of the others cried. Or two. Or all three. Four. I was too dazed and my senses convulsed too harshly to tell.


    They didn¡¯t have time to take me to task, to demand answers, to grab me.


    Dust and earth kicked up so fast that the earthen hand had wrapped around me before they could react.


    ¡°What are you doing?!¡± The earth of Alterac spoke to me through human words for the first time, his voice flanging as the rest of his body formed onwards from his arm. ¡°Stop!¡±


    Uther¡¯s power word enveloped me in a shield, then Antonidas¡¯ severing spell cut the earth¡¯s hand at the wrist just in time for Richard to take his mace to my restraints.


    ¡°Go to hell.¡±


    My incorporeal arm ruptured my spirit outright on the way out.


    The vaguely humanoid earth vessel drifted back like a landslide. It ignored the follow-up maneuvers and spells to stare at me in incomprehension, all the way until the three men paused in confusion at the lack of hostility.


    ¡°Alterac,¡± I gasped in breathless pain, holding the diaphanous lump in my bare fist. It was transparent, but quickly turning dark. Effusions dripped between my fingers like bloody sand. ¡°The land ¨C of wicked ¨C of cowards.¡± I began to laugh. ¡°How fitting that the spirit of the land itself should be every bit as craven! Duplicitous!¡±


    ¡°Our Pact-¡°


    ¡°Is worthless!¡±


    My head went light. I swayed. I fell to the side-


    Richard caught me, supported me, He held me upright even as he glared at the spirit of his own country. Farther away, now, Antonidas and Uther flanked the creature, wary. All around us, the spirits of wind and water and flame whirled tensely. Farther off, up outside the pit, the dragon stood and watched. Imbued his own will into the ground. Waited.


    ¡°The worst part ¨C is that ¨C you could¡¯ve asked.¡± I panted, regaining my balance through sheer fury. ¡°Just now ¨C the little ones ¨C were practice for the pain. All these months I¡¯ve been cultivating my power, my spirit, all leading up to taking your pain on myself when I gave you what you¡¯ve always wanted. What your entire kind has always wanted. I was waiting. I didn¡¯t want to overstep, I was waiting for you to ask, that¡¯s all it would¡¯ve taken. We¡¯d have discovered how to Lightforge spirits together. Instead you¡¯d rather eat a baby!¡±


    I tossed the spirit core away in disgust. It fell into the earth and out of sight.


    The Spirit of Alterac stared at me in incomprehension. ¡° ¡­ ¡­ I do not understand you.¡±


    ¡°You are a coward,¡± I ground through clenched teeth as my senses returned. ¡°To your last whimper.¡± My strength rose back within me, letting me stand unaided again. ¡°You''d rather act behind the back of your only friend, to gaslight an infant that doesn''t know anything. And now that he does know something, he takes responsibility for his past actions, unlike you! Your conviction isn¡¯t stalwart, your gratitude is the opposite of devout, and our pact didn¡¯t endure half a year!¡±


    ¡°You speak of responsibility?¡± The earth rumbled. ¡°When you fail to comprehend the future boons?¡±


    ¡°He has more worth and potential than you ever will!¡±


    The truth in those words resonated so strongly in the world that even the spirit of the land could not deny them.


    ¡°I should have wondered about it before, damn me.¡± I cursed myself bleakly. ¡°How does a lone dragon, even a black one, incapacitate an entity as vast as you? On his own? When he was so young? Only if you never fought back, never let yourself acknowledge danger, never confronted him. Like you never let me acknowledge you to others, or reveal your existence at all. A creature that eschews hardship to the point of self-destruction, someone like you who¡¯d rather eat a baby than endure a fraction of the pain that your nemesis did, to get the one thing your kind has always longed for most. Why would I ever suffer my fate to be entwined with one like that?¡±


    I stopped to catch my breath. Waited for an answer. Something, anything, everything, this¡­ why did it come to this? Or could I truly claim not to know?


    ¡°¡­ ¡­ You would impose your own mores on me? On us?¡±


    I almost saw red. ¡°Don¡¯t invoke morality when you¡¯re the only form of elemental life not beholden to cannibalism!¡±


    I waited for an answer. A reply. Any word at all. None came.


    As always, the one who said ¡®you can¡¯t make an omelette without breaking a few eggs¡¯ was the one person not willing to be the egg that gets cracked.


    Granodior¡¯s eyes lost their light, the risen earth lost form, and he was there no more.


    ¡°A coward,¡± I sneered. ¡°To your last whimper.¡±


    The last stones and dust from the large earth body crumbled and fell still. Slowly, so did the dust. The silence of the night finally returned. The others watched me, wary, worried and full of questions.


    They didn¡¯t get their answers this time either. The earth began to vibrate, strongly, quickly, faster and faster and then it suddenly burst like a geyser in front of me, leaving behind a tall, polished, green staff made of thorium. It was capped with an orrery as big as my fist, and all of it was studded with white topaz gems from top to heel.


    I stared at the object in front of me. I stared at the object that I had asked Granodior to make for me. I stared at what he had insisted was a gift but was now being used as a peace offering. A bribe.


    I felt just about ready to explode with rage.


    ¡°EMERENTIUS!¡±


    Everyone flinched. Even the earth.


    The dragon took to the air and landed on my other side.


    ¡°We¡¯re leaving.¡±


    ¡°My Lord-¡± ¡°Wayland, you can¡¯t just-¡° ¡°You owe us an explanation-¡°


    ¡°NOW!¡±


    "-. .-"


    Emerentius flew us north. With speed and purpose. The thought vaguely came to me that maybe deceit and treachery hadn¡¯t had their full of me tonight, but I refused to let Granodior¡¯s treachery taint all my other friendships. I just leaned forward on the dragon¡¯s neck and let my fury smoulder the whole way.


    Sometime later, we crossed over to Lordaeron and further in. There were some lights in the distance, and watchtower beacons. They were faint but many enough to tell me it was a city. I didn¡¯t ask, and then Emerentius turned eastward for another stretch.


    When he landed, it was amidst trees atop some rather sheer hills surrounding a sizable body of water. Despite myself, I tried to piece together my location. Was this Darrowmere Lake?


    Emerentius lowered a wing for me to glide down.


    My knees were so weak when I dismounted that I almost couldn¡¯t walk. I sat on the nearest rock I could find and put my head in my hands. The sound and shimmer of transformation came from where the dragons stayed, but I didn¡¯t look.


    My arms, my legs, my whole body shook with¡­ I didn¡¯t even know. Fury wasn¡¯t strong enough, anxiety wasn¡¯t strong enough, terror wasn¡¯t it, horror closer but still not strong enough even then, not when ¨C not when I¡¯d¡­


    If I, even with all my foresight, if I could be used with such impunity ¨C so callously ¨C


    ¡°I didn¡¯t see it coming,¡± I whispered, my black rage finally giving some way to shame. ¡°I didn¡¯t see it coming at all.


    ¡°That¡¯s why it is betrayal.¡±


    I laughed bitterly at the dragon¡¯s words. I looked up when I heard human footsteps. I was surprised to see what he held. My bandoleer.


    The bandoleer with the bags of holding that I¡¯d commissioned from Madam Tayer some time ago. I thought that had been destroyed with the rest of my things.


    ¡°The range of destruction wasn¡¯t so great at the onset,¡± he explained. ¡°I was able to save some items.¡±


    He walked away to give me my space.


    Looking through my bags, I found practically all my essentials there. My rations, my herbalism and alchemy kits, my toolkit, my fingerless gloves, my weapons, my guns, potions, the items I¡¯d painstakingly stacked up on for today, the deed to the mountain. The case of magic eater fish was there too, the ones Antonidas had accumulated far too many of while still on his doomed quest to find the fish I actually wanted.


    I also found an unfamiliar package. On taking it out, I found it to be a bundle of clothing. There was a card attached. It was a Winterveil gift that Madam Tayer had sent me through Orsur, as a surprise. I¡¯d created a new tradition, just like that.


    It was a gift I hadn¡¯t received yet. Emerentius must have found it, or been given it to pass on when everyone was evacuated.


    I looked down at myself. My clothes were a mess of scraps and loose threads. I called on the Light for them to mend, but too much of them was gone. I supposed it was just as well. Just because my biggest ally betrayed me didn¡¯t mean I was going to drop everything else going on in my life.


    Yesterday¡¯s shirt and slacks weren¡¯t the attire most appropriate for insurrection.


    I put on the clothes. They adjusted themselves to fit me, the inherent self-realized enchantment that was testament to their maker¡¯s skill. One of several. There was a jerkin too, and pauldrons and bracers to go with it. Boots too, done in the same. Someone else had contributed these, Master Keyton? He was a smith though, not a leatherworker. An associate? New guild member?


    The clothes were quite luxurious. And distinctive.


    This is the image I project to people.


    I looked to where the dragon was. Emerentius was still in human form, standing straight with his back to me. He had a hand out, palm-down, and his eyes were aimed intensely at the ground.


    I felt the earth begin to vibrate, and then vibrate harder, outright shaking not much different from the end to the events that had just passed. The soil burst allowing for the rise of a familiar sight, an identical sight to the one that had finally sent me into a rage back home.


    A thorium staff as tall as I was, capped with an orrery as big as my fist, and all of it studded with white topaz gems from top to heel.


    That¡¯s right, the mithril deposits near Andorhal did have some thorium mixed in.


    ¡°My abilities may not stretch to the same scale,¡± Emerentius told me as he approached to offer his creation. ¡°But I have skill enough to substitute for him in this, at least.¡±


    I hesitated, but accepted the offering. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°I would say you are welcome, if this did not come at the price of you learning in such a painful way, how my forebears won the War of Shaping despite the gap in scope.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°Elementals are imbeciles.¡±


    Despite everything, I couldn¡¯t help but bark a laugh.


    One more time, I was seized with the impulse to drop everything else and hunt Granodior down no matter what it took.


    But I had no way to find him, and no resources to call to help me, at least not in a time window worth a damn. Dalaran, maybe? Even if I did, though, what then? Wage war on a whole country¡¯s landmass? Could he be corporealized? I had his name, assuming it was the full and real one and he didn¡¯t lie about that too.


    But if Ragnaros could choose to be summoned without the ritualists meaning to, without them even knowing what they were calling, who¡¯s to say an entity like that couldn¡¯t just refuse? And what if he holds the people on the surface hostage? Did I want to drive him to that point? Could I afford to? Would he use the method of matter recomposition I showed him?


    Even if he didn¡¯t go that far, collateral damage might be unavoidable regardless. Every time I harmed him, an earthquake happened. Do enough harm and he would stop controlling where they hit. Might be unable to.


    The world doesn¡¯t stop turning on anyone¡¯s whim, let alone mine.


    I collected myself. I had a job to do, and a rapidly shrinking time window for it. I was weary, in pain and depressed, my spirit was literally gouged through and bleeding. The Holy Light could heal the flesh and bolster the mind, but the spirit was what was used to move it to begin with. Healing a wound like this, the seat of the soul itself, it wasn¡¯t as simple as just casting Holy Light at the problem over and over. It had to heal naturally. Over time.


    But there were cures for everything if you were willing to pay the price. Time cured all ills, but it didn¡¯t need to be of the objective sort. Just a meaningful enough subjective experience. Engagement.


    If ageing could be slowed, then it could also be accelerated.


    I called on the Light to bear me through what would be, what would become of me if I sat atop a mountain and just meditated for the next three years.


    It wasn¡¯t an instantaneous process, but it also didn¡¯t take more than an hour.


    My spirit healed over. It was less than before, it seemed that this method allowed healing but at your own expense, and certainly not self-transcendence. Or the technique wasn¡¯t complete.


    But I was still strong enough for what I needed, and would be able to rebuild and grow again from here on too. That would have to be enough.


    I rose to my feet, feeling like I could face the world once more. I was older, but jumping from the age of fifteen to eighteen wasn¡¯t that big a sacrifice. I was taller too, even as I felt I still had more to go. At this rate I¡¯d surpass the tallest Kul Tiran in short order. Maybe I¡¯d keep growing until I grew as big as the Vrykul of old, the genetics were all there.


    Fortunately, my practice and preparations for today¡¯s operation meant I had a good enough grasp of size altering magic, to bring myself back to a height that could still fit through doors.


    I was ready, but didn¡¯t feel it.


    I looked at Darrowmere lake.


    It belatedly occurred to me that being here did not make sense. ¡°How¡­ did we get here so fast?¡± No dragons flew this fast, how ¨C?


    ¡°I am able to use the Leap of Faith spell as a continuous effect. The tunnel vision and inertia makes it dangerous enough to be useless day to day, certainly suicide in battle, but for long straight lines with no obstacles, I¡¯ve found virtually unlimited acceleration to be most convenient.¡±


    ¡®Convenient¡¯ says the dragon about¡­ probably the greatest breakthrough in transportation this world had seen in ten thousand years, actually. ¡°That¡¯s amazing.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    I tossed a rock in the lake. I tossed another one. I chose a flatter one next and sent it flat against the surface. It skipped seven times.


    I stretched. I tested my range of movement and deemed it good. I stroked my new beard and took a few minutes to trim it into something passable. Then I endured a few additional minutes of Emerentius quietly disdaining my substandard skills while undoing my work and putting in his own, because as an assassin he was well versed in all methods of grooming and disguise.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    ¡°As you say.¡±


    Once more, I rose into the sky on the back of a dragon.


    ¡°¡­ Do you think it will work?¡± Emerentius asked as he aligned on the path back to Alterac. ¡°What the spirit means to do?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± That was the most painful and damning thing about all of it. ¡°It won¡¯t.¡±


    Elementals could self-actualize by devouring the cores of their fellows all they liked, but the Light didn¡¯t work that way.


    ¡°So it is all for nothing?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± The confession tasted like ash in my mouth. ¡°The little one didn¡¯t think so.¡±


    Ever since I took up my purpose in this world, I¡¯d done my best to choose the actions that made for the freest choices. I never discounted the possibility that I¡¯d regret it later, but I never imagined that I¡¯d have to stand aside and respect the choice of a newborn infant to offer himself up as food.


    ¡°Why did he not renege?¡± Emerentius asked me when we crossed the border again, sometime later. ¡°The pact was in bad faith.¡±


    ¡°He must think his sacrifice will be worth it,¡± I said bleakly. ¡°He might even have seen it in a vision of the future. He¡¯s a being literally made of the Living Eternal Fire, I can¡¯t guess what kind of insight and foresight he has now. Even if he doesn¡¯t, he¡¯d have made the same choice anyway. This is just the sort of thing the Naaru do.¡±


    ¡°Good has unfathomed depths of its own, it seems,¡± Emerentius mused as he flapped his wings, taking us higher. ¡°I am not sure I appreciate them, but I suppose it¡¯s not such a bad thing, for good to do the right thing regardless of how anyone else feels about it.¡±


    If it is the right thing, I couldn¡¯t help but doubt.


    ¡°It will not be painless, will it?¡± Emerentius wondered. ¡°Or quick.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Days, weeks, months, years, how long before he¡¯s fully digested? And he¡¯ll be alive and in pain for all of it. Alive so he can give and keep on giving all the Light he can the whole time. ¡°It won¡¯t be painless. Or quick.¡±


    We reached Alterac City just as dawn was breaking.


    Emerentius drifted into a slow, circular glide far above the capital, where no one could spot us. ¡°Has the plan changed?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± I took a deviate fish out of my pack and checked with my second sight that it was still the right arcane pattern. ¡°I¡¯ll rely on you for passage through the mountain, as discussed.¡±


    I ate the fish and promptly shrank down to half size. I started taking out vials of pygmy oil and drank those next. Each one shrunk me down to size even further, and I didn¡¯t stop until I felt the other magic approach critical charge. While becoming a pygmy would make for some fair schadenfreude, this wasn¡¯t what I¡¯d come out here to do.


    I was so small now that the mouth of the vial took up half my face, but I wasn¡¯t done.


    I cast a forcefield to protect me from the force of the air, pulled out the baby spices, sprinkled them all over me and abruptly shrunk down to a tenth of the already small size I had become.


    The three magics combined brought me down to the size of a mouse. With a bit of Revelation and tweaking, I was able to further improve the efficiency of all three effects until I was as small as a fly.


    Conveniently, the magic affected everything within my aura in a continuous effect, including my equipment and the air.


    My weight was still the same, and my density was several orders greater than before, but those were a feature, not a fault.


    Also, I could levitate.


    ¡°Young ones,¡± I called to the elementals that I¡¯d helped transcend. They¡¯d stuck by me, followed me all the way here despite my condemnation of their basest nature. Didn¡¯t abandon me even after I laughed when Emerentius insulted their whole race. ¡°Will you help me today?¡±


    ~ Concern, Determination, Agreement ~


    I jumped off the dragon.


    Phaseshift caught me and carried me down in a funnel of wind. The others felt left out, so they linked together in an invisible current to bear me hence, from up amidst the clouds all the way down to earth like on a slide.


    I hit the solidly packed snow at a sprint, unnoticed by anyone because of my small size in the lingering darkness. I glided forward, and back and round and forward again. With each skid I formed runes and patterns on the cobbles and earth under the snow. They were imbued with my spirit and actively channeled the Light, but went unseen beneath the white cover, save for the slightest glimmers in the occasional patch of thaw.


    With the spirits preventing noise from traveling more than one foot away, I recited the first ten stanzas of the Havamal as I went, projecting it strong and wide through the Arcane. Over and over again each time I reached the end. The same words formed in runes from the lines I left behind with every step and slide. The stanzas were interspaced with passages enunciating the function and purpose of the spell, and those to come.


    I left a trail of Lightforged runes behind me in a perfect circle around Alterac Castle, right outside the walls of the keep. Up and down streets, under and through homes when they were in the way.


    When an obstacle blocked my path, I moved it. When a building or wall was in my way, I jumped over it, or inside through cracks in windows and keyholes. There I¡¯d inscribe the next segment of the ritual on the underside of the floor. When I had to hide from people, I just stopped in a mousehole or a shadowed space to etch my ritual circle from a distance. Precision got easier and easier every time.


    The smaller one¡¯s body was, the greater the accuracy and better attention for detail. More of the spirit was free to use and apply creatively as well, it turned out.


    Eventually, I reached a dead end in the form of the mountain. Alterac Keep was partially dug out of a peak, through which ran a number of supply and escape passages. It was where the castle got its independent water supply as well.


    Asking Emerentius to use his earth magic to dig a fresh tunnel was the most obvious option, but an unnecessary one. It would have made it much more likely for us to be discovered as well, security and surveillance were quite tight for the occasion.


    But he was Fahrad, the Black Blade, once the second in command of the Ravenholdt Assassin¡¯s Order. He knew where and how to sneak without arousing suspicion. More importantly, he and his former master knew where the tunnels and secret rooms in the mountain were. He only needed to open slits no thicker than a trencher through the rock, from one passage to the next until I was all the way through to the other side.


    With his sense of smell, tremor sense and my second sight bolstered by the elemental spirits aiding us, nobody saw us.


    There were wards and spells here and there, but not many so far away from the castle proper, and none that couldn¡¯t be circumvented. I had quite purposely gone wide for this first stage.


    ¡°The First of the Nine is Courage,¡± I intoned when the first circuit was complete. The entire circle glimmered as it became anchored in place, ready to be cast later.


    Then I went on to walk the other eight.


    Courage, Truth, Honor, Fidelity, Discipline, Hospitality, Industriousness, Self-Reliance, Perseverance.


    The bell tolled noon just as I completed the last of the nine rounds. The steadily brighter glow from the ritual circle could no longer be missed by even the most casual observer. Already there were murmurs and pointed fingers, running children and guardsmen, soldiers gathering in rows up on the walls.


    That was fine. Advance warning was the whole point. It meant that the people inside had all the incentive they needed to separate back into their factions, instead of being all lumped together for the second stage.


    And third.


    I returned to full size at the outer end of the Central Square


    I approached the castle gates at a steady walk. The Light shone out of me, casting my face and hands in a golden sheen. The glow seeped through my new clothes as well, and I had no illusions about what kind of sight I made.


    A long form-fitting coat split all the way at the front, to let me stride purposely forward. Beneath were matching trousers and a dress shirt and vest. Around my neck was a long scarf, its long end fluttering behind me in the breeze. All were made of a double-layered runecloth so strong even I couldn¡¯t tear it lightly. All were so white you couldn¡¯t tell them apart from the cleanest snow, except for their hems and collar made of brocade woven in cloth of gold.


    The armor was a sight to behold too, made of leather from some manner of beast, etched in flourishing patterns and dyed wholesale in burnished gold. The back of my leather vest was etched in a single mystifying pattern, like plant life leaning away to make way for a tree, long leaves sprouting around a central spire of knots and vaulted arches. The design culminated in a flower made up of seven Arathi knots, between my shoulder blades.


    No one barred my path. Not even the patrolmen.


    My wake was filled with people uttering whispers and prayers.


    The castle gates closed by the time I got there, but that was fine because I could levitate. The spirits bore me aloft on wings of wind as I simply jumped over the gate into the inner yard.


    Arrows and crossbow bolts pinged off my invisible forcefield, but I ignored them and moved on.


    I only stopped when the side entrances to the barracks slammed open and disgorged an entire company of soldiers. They came together to bar may path, one hundred men-at-arms in five rows of twenty, full armor and pikes aimed. A perfect hedgehog formation between me and the doors to the great hall.


    Just as the captain was about to address me, I pointed up.


    A dragon¡¯s roar shook the air as Emerentius came down from the sky. At the same time, I activated the ritual and caused a golden forcefield to spring to life. The globe encased the entire castle in a sphere of Light, both above and underground. The dragon landed on the top of the golden shell just as it closed. He glowed too, then, and so the burden of keeping the ritual powered was no longer mine.


    Let¡¯s go, everyone.


    Windows frosted over and hinges froze stiff as Foamgust and Brumean went to work. Snarldraft and Windflurry kicked up a gale so strong that the packed snow flew up like a blizzard. When that wasn¡¯t enough, Phaseshift began to assault the ground with alternating warm and cold extremes, until the older snow, earth and frozen mud broke down to dust and lifted up into the air.


    Within fifteen seconds, the entire courtyard had been overtaken by a dust storm. Eyes stung, throats clogged, lungs coughed. It was impossible to see more than a meter in front of you, even if you could somehow force your eyes to stay open in all that.


    None of it touched me as I turned to the right and my next destination. Phaseshift followed me, his job done. I bid Arrestor and Terminal to spread through the entire dome, in and out of the keep both so they could actively scan for castings to interfere with. As true spiritual entities again, they were uniquely suited to do that. Mana was a measurement unit, not a resource. The one and only means anyone ever used for unassisted mystical acts was the spirit.


    My minions wouldn¡¯t be nearly as good as an anti-magic field, they¡¯d need to choose who to target and would only be able to interfere with one person each at a time. But I didn¡¯t need them to disrupt all magic, not even most magic. I didn¡¯t need them to do it indefinitely either.


    Just teleportation, for however long it took me to complete stages two and three. Just any attempts at seeking outside reinforcement.


    And escape.


    When I reached the entrance to the dungeon, it was locked, so I shrunk mid-leap to pass through the keyhole and returned to my regular size on the inside.


    I strode up and down cell blocks, leaving behind more golden glowing runes with every step, along the floor.


    Some guards tried to bar my path, so I smote them. A few backed away with heads bowed in fear. A few more threw their weapons to the floor and offered their service. These I accepted after looking into their eyes, then directed to reclaim their arms and disarm the other guards instead.


    I soulgazed every prisoner as I passed by as well, the experience nothing compared to Odyn or Emerentius. Some were there rightly so I left them be. Some were there unjustly, so I unlocked their cells and told to wait until I send word that it¡¯s safe. Some were there for true crimes, but repented and were willing to make a try at a more honorable life. These I also freed, but made sure were all denied weapons and gathered in a separate room from the rest just in case.


    I only stopped twice.


    The first was when I found Narett. The sight of my alchemy teacher on a torture rack stopped me in my tracks. The look on his face when recognizing me was only less soul-striking than him being unable to talk. When he opened his mouth and showed me that they¡¯d cut off his tongue, I had to clench my fists and remind myself that the nine noble virtues included discipline.


    I healed him. Regrew his tongue and his pulled nails. I glared at his right arm that ended at the wrist. Regrowing a small muscle was one thing, but lost limbs needed time I didn¡¯t have, or biomass he didn¡¯t have. How long had they been starving him? When had they snatched him up?


    ¡°They fed it to the dogs.¡± Narett coughed harshly as black phlegm clogged his lungs. ¡°Forget it, I¡¯ll be fine once I get to my philosopher¡¯s stone, just get me out of here.¡±


    ¡°Wait with the others until I¡¯m done. You¡¯ll know when.¡±


    He didn¡¯t wait. He salvaged some clothes and boots off one of the guards I¡¯d knocked out, picked up a mace and knife, and followed in my footsteps.


    When I stopped the second time, it was to the sight of my farmhand. Howard. Kairozdormu, the bronze dragon of time. Who¡¯d tilled our fields, collected chicken eggs, and grown our turnips with the sort of enthusiasm I still couldn¡¯t imagine being totally faked.


    He was huddled in the corner of a dark, dank, windowless cell. He was covered in scars, had only one eye, and lacked his right foot and entire left arm. When I pulled the tiny door window open and looked inside, he didn¡¯t acknowledge the sound. When I undid the lock and opened the door, he blinked slowly in surprise and met my eyes with a grim, smirking grimace.


    I soulgazed him without any warning, without any restraint or deliberation. I¡¯d already given him the benefit of the doubt, and like Granodior he¡¯d wasted it. I was sure there had to be people, not just gods who could resist my Soulgaze, who could turn it against its purpose even, but he didn¡¯t even try.


    I saw with crystal clarity the future that could have been, the future that Kairozdormu had planned for me. Becoming king, Alterac rising in strength around me, industry, diplomacy, a new order for the entire continent in the east. It wasn¡¯t even a bad idea. I could do an incredible job at kingdom building.


    I wasn¡¯t sure what to do with my other realization, that everyone I¡¯d met who could see the future was so much better at it than me.


    ¡°It can still come to pass,¡± Kairozdormu rasped as the vision ended, not caring about Narett or anything else outside the two of us. ¡°Give the word and I will make it happen.¡±


    ¡°Now you need my permission?¡± I began healing his injuries as best I could, but his missing limbs were even closer to hopeless than Narett¡¯s. ¡°Why would you bother? What makes this so important that you would let them do this to you?¡±


    Kairozdormu was a giant time dragon, he could have escaped at any time, could have destroyed the entire castle if he wanted. His entire goal was to divert the flow of events into a new direction, a timeline he considered better than the one Nozdormu stewarded. I couldn¡¯t imagine why he would let anyone do this to him.


    ¡°Nozdormu told me I have to convince you to convince him.¡± The dragon-man hissed in pain as his rib snapped into proper place. ¡°If this doesn¡¯t prove my commitment and beliefs, nothing will.¡±


    ¡°See, this is why lizard brains are nature¡¯s dead end. This isn¡¯t you assuming responsibility, it¡¯s emotional blackmail.¡±


    ¡°If you are only going to-¡°


    ¡°You have to do one simple thing before I say yes or no,¡± I interrupted him with a last burst of healing light.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°Try to leave the castle.¡±


    I left him without another word. Only shook my head when Narett tried to ask questions. My feet took me from the dungeon to the other chambers on this level. The well room, the wine storage, cold storage, the bunker, the escape passages in case of a siege, now blocked by the golden Light like the rest. I traced a runed glowing path from one room to the next along an inward spiral underlying the entire castle until I stood in the middle of the undercroft.


    The prisoners had deployed through the entire basement of the keep while I worked, trying up guards, securing supplies and weapons, barring doors against the reinforcements trying to come down while brainstorming solutions. The realm¡¯s injustice was turned to my benefit here, now. The prisoners included some of the most competent and stalwart of all walks of life.


    Labourers with grit, a medicine woman accused of being a demon lover by a highborn suitor she¡¯d spurned, a former lawman with the most discerning eye but too many scruples, former soldiers, former officers with the know-how and discipline to get everyone organised.


    It was a stark contrast to the chaos that continued up above. The heavy resistance and arcane counterattack I¡¯d been on guard for failed to materialize. I sensed with sight beyond sight that a task force with at least three mages was almost finished setting up outside, but that was dreadful response time. I sensed a second one too, through the ceiling almost right above where I was. Coincidence?


    Either way, they were too late.


    The muffled thunk of a walking stick heralded the return of Kairozdormu. He stared blankly at me but didn¡¯t speak. I didn¡¯t either. We both knew why he¡¯d failed to pass outside the shield. I¡¯d included an element of Revelation just so everyone who tried to cross it would know why they failed.


    Instead, I sat down. Poured the Light into the ritual script, until every room in the Alterac Keep undercellar glowed like sunlight. I poured more of myself until this and the outer dome became a single, synchronized whole.


    Then I called Judgment down on the entire castle.


    The force with which the Light smote me almost made me lose my life on the spot.


    Judgment¡­ was a double-edged sword. Empasis on sword. To invoke it, to commit to balancing the scales between you and your target¡­ it meant that you committed to infringing on the privacy and sanctity of another¡¯s being. It was a direct, intimate, hostile act and turnabout all in one.


    To enact it meant that you committed to violence. You committed to being judged in turn for everything ill you did the other person, including being wrong to call down Judgment in the first place. It was a mighty task just to unleash it on a single target. You needed a dedicated ritual circle to do more. Or less.


    If I¡¯d done this back when the king summoned me to court, I would have died right there.


    There are still some good people, I thought with relief. Even here.


    Awareness returned slowly. Achingly. My sight was a torn canvas of moving spots. My breath burned going out. And in. My head pounded. My skin was drenched in sweat. Vaguely, I felt arms around me. Narett, trying his weak best to support my body as it spasmed and seized. Even so much older than most here, he¡­ was the closest to innocent.


    More slowly than ever, with more pain than ever, with an effort of will so fragile it was a wonder I could do anything at all, I managed to heal myself one more time.


    My flesh mended. My head still spun, but my sight cleared. My body seized one more time and slumped bonelessly.


    But my spirit didn¡¯t share that relief. It was a torn and tattered mess of waves, ripples and diaphanous webs quickly breaking apart.


    It ¨C still wasn¡¯t as much pain as Emerentius went through. And, at the end of the day¡­


    This was always part of the plan too.


    Slowly, painstakingly, agonizingly, I managed to spread my spirit far and wide. Managed to get the elementals to spread it far and wide for me, even as they grew frightened and distressed on my behalf. Farther and farther they took me, until I permeated the entire castle and beyond. Until I was present in every inch of space inside the dome, however faint.


    I breathed deep, of prison stench and fear and human waste and dead vermin. Now that the time had finally come, I thought about what I had been preparing to do all these months.


    I found that I had no reservations left at all, to deal with purely human evil.


    ¡°Beyond the flow of time ¨C and thought of the gods ¨C there springs eternal and boundless the Light that shows the Truth.¡±


    Here, now¡­ with everyone fallen and defenceless, at their most vulnerable¡­ with their spirits wounded, their characters laid bare by Judgment indiscriminate, their souls at their most open¡­ I infused every fragment of myself with the Light, with the clearest expression of my most refined method of Revelation, and then¡­


    I gave all I could of myself as a gift.


    ¡°May this sacrifice ¨C be my blessing. Let all who abide here ¨C share equally in it. Let all of you on this day ¨C and as many days as the Light shines in you ¨C see as I do.¡±


    With a relief so sharp it made me feel like I¡¯d just been born anew a third time, all but the core-most part of me broke apart in a myriad pieces. So many pieces that not a single person within the Dome was passed over. Not even the dragons.


    There were four dragons in Alterac Castle.


    I blinked slowly. I did my best to hold myself upright with shaking arms so Narett didn¡¯t have to anymore. I did my best to breathe. I felt weaker than I ever did, less than I was even before the Light and my memories came back to me. But¡­ The pain was much less, barely a burden.


    And the Light was still with me.


    In the end, I had no reservations about dealing with inhuman evil either.


    No one was getting in. No one who possessed fewer than three of the nine noble virtues was getting out. Not so long as Emerentius maintained the ritual from outside.


    And inside this Dome of Penitence, powered by my spirit, fuelled by the Light¡¯s grace and driven by my lingering will to happen without fail, under the watchful gaze of Valkyries flying on wings unseen¡­ The Royal Court and its foreign guests, the most numerous assembly ever gathered in one place by King Aiden Perenolde of Alterac Kingdom, descended into an orgy of violence and blood as everyone began to soulgaze everyone.


    I reached into my bag, I pulled out a magic eater fish, and I ate it. In part to see if I had enough left in me to see this through to the end. See if I still had discernment, power and self-control enough to pre-empt, suppress and dispel the wild magic in it.


    I did.


    I waited a bit more, to see if my stomach turned at what I had just done.


    It did not.


    For all that there wasn¡¯t any foresight involved, Odyn had been completely right.


    I was, quite thoroughly indeed, utterly livid.

 The Shifting Flow of Fortune

    <h2 style="text-align: center">¡°-. The False Lady .-¡°</h2>


    She had been seduced.


    Taking the girl¡¯s face had been a last-minute whim. She¡¯d been using a throwaway face before that, convinced that the tall tales about a ¡®purified¡¯ traitor in the black dragonflight were just that ¨C tall tales. In other words, in need of verification but almost certainly untrue, and thus guaranteed to not demand any sort of long-term commitment. For all that humans were the mortal race that posed the greatest threat to dragonkind, their rumors tended to be the opposite of accurate.


    Then she saw the dragon in question by mere happenstance, flying over the border while she was masquerading as a Stromgarde army camp follower, and knew she had to look into this herself.


    Infiltrating Alterac conventionally would have been too much tedium for too much risk. The Ravenholdt assassins were a troublesome adversary, she knew this even before she learned that the traitor black dragon had been in their ranks. Moreover, going in as an unassuming outsider was too much risk for too little reward, she was unlikely to gain any more information than she had already gleaned, never mind direct access to this ¡®Emerentius.¡¯ Worse, if she did get access, it would likely involve at least a show of allegiance to this ¡®Prophet,¡¯ even if just to appease his pet Duke.


    Since open sedition was needlessly troublesome to navigate, it made more sense to join the other, stronger side. Conflict was inevitable either way.


    Stealing the identity of a foreign noble was therefore the best option, but not one done lightly. Adopting a high-profile identity would tie up a lot of her time. If she did it as a short-term scheme only to dispose of the identity after a week or month, it would be an unacceptable waste of assets and leverage. May even invite investigation and suspicion, perhaps even discovery of her true nature in the worst-case scenario.


    Compounding matters, her opportunity window to insinuate herself into Alterac¡¯s court was very brief. She didn¡¯t have the time to fully charm, enthral or otherwise divert suspicion about inconsistencies in ¡®Ysolde Prestor¡¯s¡¯ behaviour. Or her father¡¯s, a Lordaeron noble who¡¯d initially refused to entertain the Perenolde suit, and even had someone already in mind from down in Stormwind.


    Many times had she already wondered if the price was truly worth it, but she dared not rouse her sire from his millennia-old torpor for mere rumors.


    Then the young King of Alterac neatly derailed her entire mission by being so infuriating as to drive her to absolute distraction.


    His mind was too sharp for casual enchantment, he didn¡¯t eat food that wasn¡¯t tasted and tested in front of him, magically and alchemically. He didn¡¯t drink from bottles he didn¡¯t witness being thoroughly cleaned before being opened and tested in front of him the same way. He didn¡¯t clasp arms with anyone who hadn¡¯t removed their cloak, he didn¡¯t shake hands without gloves on, he didn¡¯t kiss any cheek that had any sort of makeup on.


    He didn¡¯t even marry her normally. Instead, Aiden Perenolde held a sudden, unannounced ceremony that very morning, with just the priest, parents and witnesses.


    It was so unexpected that she¡¯d almost been caught missing from her room! She¡¯d meant to finally access the dungeon where the rumored bronze dragon was kept, while everyone else was too asleep and drunk to catch her in the act. She barely made it back to her chambers in time, and she had no time at all to find an opening to work her ¡®charms¡¯ on her ¡®father¡¯ who¡¯d been getting cold feet.


    Even that didn¡¯t matter because the young king got his way all by himself, somehow. She didn¡¯t know how, she hadn¡¯t been allowed in the room for it, it was galling.


    Aiden Perenolde then had the insolence to ¡®reassure¡¯ her that it was all to ¡®spare¡¯ her the ¡®usual¡¯ courtship troubles. Which was to say, the local games of gossip, knives and poison that ¡®might be too much for a gentle lady from outside the country¡¯. It wasn¡¯t just the women scorned she had to worry about either, he told her with such genuineness that even she believed him for a moment, it was enough to make her want to scream.


    The man was demanding and gracious, thoughtful and condescending, mildly mannered but also refusing to take no for an answer, perfectly able to have his way even against her much older ¡®father,¡¯ who should have been beyond coercion because he was the subject of a different king¡­


    By the time the priest pronounced them man and wife, her whole body was aflame with wanton devilment. If Aiden Perenolde wasn¡¯t already a black dragon, she was going to find a way to turn him into one because this? All this?


    This was unacceptable.


    She had been seduced and she didn¡¯t hate it, it could not be borne!


    Even now, finally engaged in the lovemaking that the young king had refused her every time before ¨C even when she snuck into his bedchambers ¨C he turned away all her advances and only made a move when he was good and ready.


    That, as it happened, was after they¡¯d bathed together. Soaked in the hot soapy water long enough that nearly every contact drug she¡¯d brought out for the occasion had long since washed away. It was outrageous, infuriating, the insolent man took pleasure in every discomfort he inflicted on her, it made her face burn and her blood boil with every one of her failures until she was driven to complete distraction.


    But.


    But. Finally.


    Finally, she¡¯d wo-


    ¡°Lover¡¯s Frenzy, I assume?¡± the young king said in her ear, one hand locked on her breast and the other between her legs.


    She didn¡¯t freeze at first, but only because she was mid-whimper and didn¡¯t realize what he¡¯d said until after he¡¯d locked his grip on her, clenched his fingers, ran his thumb repeatedly over- over- through- aah!


    ¡°Fast-acting aphrodisiac, absorbed through flesh but not skin, does not dissolve in water, an able choice I admit, but I assure you it¡¯s unnecessary. Also, I am not ignorant to the other effect of the concoction, which renders the user susceptible to suggestion after the act. That you¡¯d apply it to yourself means you¡¯re protected from the same. Meaning you¡¯ve either a secret talent for poisons, a secret mastery of alchemy, or you aren¡¯t human. What shall I look for first, milady? Pointed ears beneath your silken hair, or scales beneath this velvet skin?¡±


    He knew?! He ¨C no! ¡°Mnnn~ah!¡± She wrapped her arms around his neck and ground against him with a moan, just before she might have hesitated too long. ¡°You can ¨C look under my ¨C skin ¨C all you ¨C like ¨C husband!¡±


    She burned inside and out, at losing again, at how low she¡¯d brought herself, at how she hadn¡¯t entirely pretended just now. It was worth it, she told herself. It had ruined his certainty about what he¡¯d just called her out on. He wasn¡¯t so sure anymore about what he¡¯d just seen through. He¡¯d seen through her.


    Her new husband turned rougher, drawing ever more wanton sounds out of her for the rest of their foreplay, then he ruthlessly withdrew the moment he¡¯d scrubber her womanhood clean of the drug. He exited the bath and walked out of the room. Left her there. He ¨C he just left her there! He left her there, alone, to stew in ¨C without ¨C pent up like some lubricious ape ¨C she ¨C he ¨C that lowly wretch!


    She took as torturously long as she could to get herself presentable, because if he was going to leave her unsatisfied and make her wait on top of it, she¡¯d return the favour ten times over.


    She finally went looking for him after no one came for her for over an hour, stewing on the inside from yet one more defeat.


    She found Aiden in his private study ¨C this was the first time she was allowed in ¨C just as he was sending off a servant to arrange a meeting with Archibald Greymane about Isiden¡¯s fostering ¨C he was giving his worthless nephew more thought than he was giving her!


    Before she could say anything, a guard came running in, dashed past her and whispered something in the king¡¯s ear¡­ which she didn¡¯t hear with her superior senses because of a ward on the desk, damn that man!


    Whatever the message was, it made Aiden turn stiff and cold.


    Ten minutes later, she was locked with her ¡®father¡¯ and their retinue inside a guarded suite ¡®for her safety,¡¯ while her new husband went to deal with whatever it was. She was denied details, unlike her ¡®father¡¯ who also withheld her the details because ¡®gentle ladies needn¡¯t worry about such things,¡¯ the audacity!


    More than ever before, she regretted her impulsive decision to kill the Prestor girl and take her face. If she¡¯d known this would happen, she¡¯d have come as someone more inclined to bloodthirst, the Gilnean mistress perhaps? Archibald Greymane kept strange bedfellows, but putting on the airs of a ripe matron wasn¡¯t beyond her skills. Then she might even have been allowed down in the dungeons, to add her own expertise to the bronze knave¡¯s interrogation.


    But no, she¡¯d have had to cater to a doddering old fool instead, and his woman that she¡¯d be replacing was the sort to have schemes of her own. Too much work for anyone to uncover and co-opt in the time available.


    They were kept locked in almost long enough for her to seriously consider bringing out her spells, damn everything else.


    The smite came with no warning. One moment she was fuming over having to restrain herself, the next she was screaming in pain, toppling from shock, collapsing to the floor from the searing blow to her very spirit. She cried out as her sight burned golden, her body and spirit both convulsed as she was judged by powers spurned, she relived her entire life in an instant but was not allowed any self-delusion.


    When the gift of foreign strength entered her, she hadn¡¯t the wits to question it until it displaced the largest, newly scorched tendril of fleshy pus around her soul. Settled in to burn hot and bright for a day, what ¨C who ¨C why ¨C who dared?!


    ¡°Agh ¨C wh-what happened - Ysolde?!¡± came her ¡®father¡¯s¡¯ stammer as he knelt by her and pulled her up. ¡°Daughter, speak to me, plea ¨C agh!¡± Lord Prestor flinched as she met his eyes.


    She flinched too, as the deepest essence of him was revealed to her. Her breath stopped when she realized the deepest truth of her had been bared to him.


    She couldn¡¯t react to the impossible feeling that she was the one found wanting.


    ¡°Wh-what was that? Who ¨C what are you? Where is ¨C what have you done with my daughter?! Where is she? Who are you? What are you?!¡±


    It took all her strength to push him away, and she swore to herself that her scream was from effort rather than fear at the man¡¯s bared blade.


    Her dragon breath was pitiful, but somehow barely enough. The man fell back from her with a scream, dropped his knife and kept screaming as the fire caught on his hair and clothes. She felt a spike of terror when it looked like he might put it out. But the last of her molten spittle landed on the oil from the toppled lamp, fallen off the end table by the door.


    The dying screams of Lord Prestor were long and torturous, but still ended before her shaking stopped. It took even longer to muster enough strength to climb back to her feet. The screams and choking from the servants were a wretched mirror of her own, as the whole room burned around her, filling with smoke and the smell of roast pork. She wrapped her arms tight around herself in dazed confusion and soul-deep pain.


    She snarled in fury.


    The dying screams ended to arcane missiles, and the flames to icy waves


    That she needed more than one frost nova ignited what was left of her hobbled mind, until she felt such fury that the locked doors were pulverized on the way out.


    She was-


    ¡°Good Gods, milady is that you? What ¨C fire! You, get water! You, go warn he King that whoever did this is already in the castle! Milady, let me-¡°


    She didn¡¯t know any of the guards, but she did after their eyes met. Worse, they suddenly knew even more about her. The leader¡¯s reaction was so sharp and loud that even the messenger paused to turn.


    She almost didn¡¯t manage to act first. Again.


    The hallway filled with fire just before it would have filled with naked swords.


    And as she cast her eyes down to avoid further repeats of the same, as she stomped past screaming, writhing bodies and through her own flames, as she kept her head bowed low as if in shame, Onyxia, Daughter of Deathwing, swore that she¡¯d find whoever had done this and make their entire bloodline pay.


    <h2 style="text-align: center">¡°-. The False Suitress .-¡°</h2>


    When the Archbishop came to her, she thought he¡¯d take her along on his procession to the southern continent, perhaps even introduce her to the people in her eventual parish. Her training at the Grand Cathedral was drawing near a close. She also knew that her parents refused to consider any suitors from outside their home country.


    With all omens aligned with the prospect of her return, it was the perfect way to satisfy all parties. So when the head of the Church arranged a meeting, she was confident in the path that the Light had seemingly prepared for her.


    She hadn¡¯t imagined that Alonsus Faol would ask instead for subterfuge and deception. But ask he did and accept she did, to attend the Alterac Grand Engagement Ball as his secret eyes and ears.


    She could see the logic, she was a highborn lady fully flowered and unspoiled, but still a few weeks short of her majority. Therefore, any attempts at a whirlwind wedding would be illegitimate, even if they found a corrupt enough priest to officiate. More importantly, she hadn¡¯t taken her vows of anointing yet, and even if she had, the oaths of the Church didn¡¯t preclude nuptials. If anything, it was the opposite ¨C the Light¡¯s virtues were the same ones that sustained a good and fruitful life, including children.


    By presenting herself as one of the eligible maidens of Stormwind, she was even guaranteed at least some time in private with the king. With Ser Saidan in sight as her chaperone, of course.


    She¡¯d steeled herself for weeks of double speak and false smiles.


    She didn¡¯t last three days.


    The Court of Alterac was a den of serpents, to the point where she barely endured the first feast, before dropping all pretense that she would entertain any engagement prospects.


    She imagined this was her punishment for taking the mission for the wrong reasons. She¡¯d accepted not for duty, or even relish at the challenge. Instead, she¡¯d agreed mainly because she was curious to find out more about this child saint that His Holiness was so taken with, perhaps even meet him. This young man acclaimed as a Prophet when he was no older than her, the man who gained his own dragon somehow, after he brought a man back from the dead. The prospect was just too irresistible to miss.


    May the Archbishop and the Light both forgive her weakness, but in the end the subterfuge hadn¡¯t been needed at all, to complete her true mission here. She witnessed all she needed before she even reached the keep. The powers of true far sight may still elude her, but the practice she got with more modest ranges let her witness more than enough.


    By the time her retinue was in sight of Alterac Castle, she wagered she could make a fair guess about which of the king¡¯s men were corrupt. She knew the faces and the ¡®crimes¡¯ of at least one third of the people currently languishing in the royal dungeons too.


    Were the local priests complicit, or coerced? Blackmailed? Perhaps their letters were being intercepted?


    Court, if anything, was even worse. Appearances were so well confected it was nearly saccharine, but beneath the veneer was all pus.


    It was a small blessing that hers was not the only foreign delegation. Key word being small. Stromgarde was a no show, the Kul Tiras contingent left early, Dalaran sent a single mage ¨C recently dismissed under suspicious circumstances from the Council of Six ¨C and the entourage from Lordaeron proved almost as fickle as their hosts. Lord Prestor was a fair enough man, but the Lady Ysolde was the sort that fit a bit too well in with the locals. Even the Gilnean delegation only welcomed her once she proved able to ease the king¡¯s illness, and not with open arms.


    In the end, she stuck with the last because it was where she could do the most good.


    King Archibald Greymane of Gilneas swung between pathologically shy and explosively paranoid, the latter being why he insisted on coming personally. Not to present any eligible maiden, but to negotiate the fostering of King Perenolde¡¯s toddler nephew.


    Unfortunately, he wasn¡¯t able to follow through on any of it because of his frail health and paranoia. He was too thin, pale, tired quickly, he was irritable and lacked patience, he bore the company of strangers very poorly, was always anxious, barely managed to sleep, he had trouble thinking and concentrating, even his memory was failing. Worst of all, he suffered from tremors in the hands, face and head, some of them extremely sudden and jerky. There seldom passed a day without him injuring himself in some way.


    The silver lining, if you could call it that, was that the man¡¯s wish to avoid people meant he rarely left his guest suite. This put the burden for everything on his son Genn. It was an unfair toil, but the prince latched onto any opportunity to be elsewhere with a tragic, guilty relief. Not because of the burden of care, but because the king unloaded all his paranoia and hostility and condescension on him, whenever he was there.


    A fool, weakling, scoundrel, traitor, a complete incompetent for still not making any headway in his plans of treason, what the king accused his son of changed almost daily.


    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    It was that ultimate perversion of love, when one ¡®trusts¡¯ only their closest family with their ¡®true¡¯ self. The face they don¡¯t dare show in public. The proof of Genn¡¯s unparalleled status in his father¡¯s heart was in how the king didn¡¯t subject his mistress to the same hardship, despite her almost never leaving his side.


    Light or no Light, she couldn¡¯t bear to see it. Not without doing something.


    It took persuasion, luck, and the Light¡¯s guidance for her entreaties to bear fruit.


    It was thanks to the newest holy arts that she succeeded. The arts His Holiness had introduced to the Church just before she was sent here. The arts divined by that same Prophet that was so completely avoided in conversation here. The diagnostic spell was the only one she had achieved any manner of skill in, but she expected it to become her mainstay.


    Archibald Greymane had mercury poisoning. And not just the trifle from touching contaminated coins either.


    King Archibald Greymane of Gilneas was an alchemist. And not just any alchemist either, but one well on his way to creating a philosopher¡¯s stone. She didn¡¯t know much about the vocation, alchemists ¨C true alchemists ¨C kept to themselves. But she did know that ingesting mercury was one of the late stages. It was why so many of them used to die, before their secrecy thawed enough that they dared seek help from the Clergy, for the Light¡¯s steadfastness and healing.


    She did not know enough to judge. Perhaps the miracle elixir at the other end of the torment made everything worth it.


    To her shame, her ability to purge toxins was almost non-existent compared to mending bone and flesh. True diseases had long eluded the Church, and mercury was one of the poisons that posed similar challenges. It was a prominent element in alchemy for good reasons. That gap in ability was not easily bridged.


    Now, though, with this spell, she had the sight and insight that she¡¯d lacked. That they¡¯d all lacked.


    She¡¯d still only reduced his symptoms so far, but that alone raised her higher in the king¡¯s eyes than all but blood kin. She also managed to repair the damage to the lungs, and more general decay from insufficient air. She was almost ready to broach the topic of extracting the toxin outright. She should have focus enough to try without making things worse, at least.


    She¡¯d offer once she had a private moment with Ser Saidan, she decided. She wouldn¡¯t act without all due forewarning, she was not that kind of lady. Doubly so since it wasn¡¯t all good news. While the better rested and mellow king had begun to treat his son better, this also revealed a deep animosity between Genn and his father¡¯s mistress, who no longer commanded all royal favor.


    The latest damage to the king¡¯s lungs was almost completely undone when Judgment came down on all five of them.


    She flinched from the Light¡¯s sheer density. All at once, the mistakes of her life played out inside her head, with none of the biases or justifications.


    But she didn¡¯t fall. She didn¡¯t sway, didn¡¯t start, didn¡¯t topple. She didn¡¯t hurt.


    When the gift of foreign strength entered her, she was not caught off guard.


    She saw a verdant forest surrounding a rent cove whose ground was not ground but instead moist flesh. On it was table with a jenga tower rising up into infinity. In front of it, a wizard matched spells with some sort of green-skinned brute, magic and might clashing in snarling contempt as dwarves, gnomes, trolls, elves, giant bug creatures and man-bulls and many other things were trampled underfoot.


    Above them, three giants of flesh and metal matched the Light against Fel darkness, while beings of golden crystal stood opposed to two horned fiends. All around, dragons swarmed the sky from horizon to horizon. The Black licked at the pus spraying up from the fleshy ground. The Red ate their own tail. The Green turned in their sleep. The Blue mourned and rejoiced. The Bronze wove threads of sand into looped knots.


    Tentacles and tendrils of blood and bile seeped up from the bedrock. Two burning eyes glared down from amidst the corpses of gods littering the Great Dark. The Fire burned. The Air roared. The Water roiled. The Earth languished in sorrow deep below. Each and every time the chaos churned, block upon blocks of the trembling tower fell down from heaven.


    And right there in the middle, cross-legged on the table at the base of the jenga spire of time, sat a man with blond hair and a beard and blue eyes. He was taking blocks out of the tower¡¯s base, coating them in glue, then putting them back in place, one by one by one until a wholly new, unyielding foundation grew taller than his hands could reach. So he used the falling blocks to make a club instead.


    Then he got up, bashed the wizard over the head with all the force of salvaged time, took the green brute¡¯s staff, and swung it hard at the tower, smashing everything upwards from his hard work apart.


    The man¡¯s eyes met her own as the future fell to pieces around them. Then the eyes were gone. There was only Light shining forth. The axe came down and smashed through the table, rending down into the flesh below. It s???c???r???e???a???m???e???d???.


    Lady Mara Fordragon reeled back, away from the king on his chair, up to her feet from where she¡¯d sat on the small seat nearby. She struggled to hang onto the ¨C the vision ¨C soulgaze, some inner certainty told her ¨C to sear it as clearly as she could inside her mind.


    She knew, now.


    The Prophet was real, he was true, he was here.


    And as the results of the Judgments of everyone else in the keep echoed in her spirit, she knew that not even a third of them would make it past his wall.


    Not even the dragons.


    Save one.


    There were four dragons in the castle.


    ¡°Ohhh,¡± moaned Archibald Greymane, eyes wide and grief-stricken as he looked up at his son, whose first thought had been to check on his father despite everything. ¡°Oh¡­ Oh my son, I killed your mother¡­ I persuaded her to take the mercury together, curse me! I didn¡¯t want to face it. Like a coward, I didn¡¯t ¨C wouldn¡¯t ¨C every time I refused your help, every time I said a real man doesn¡¯t need it, every time my tongue spewed its poison at you, I lied. I was just punishing myself for my sin. Punishing you for nothing, my poor boy, I¡¯m not worthy to be in your sight¡­¡±


    Such family hardship healed in an instant, it was a miracle. A miracle while Mara could barely stem a measly illness of the flesh.


    ¡°Wh-what was that?¡± Ser Saidan rasped somewhere behind her. Much closer to the ground than his massive two-meter bulk should be.


    She would have turned, but the king¡¯s eyes met hers.


    The symptoms of mercury poisoning were the whole point, she suddenly knew. Mercury being poison was not disputed. Alchemists merely considered it all worth it for the mental effects. They did not consider paranoia and other psychological issues to be symptoms of the mercury, but a consequence of the self-reflection ¨C and reassessment of everyone else ¨C that mercury induced.


    If they survived long enough to come to terms with all the lies told to them ¨C by others and themselves ¨C they might just get close enough to enlightenment to see into the final mystery.


    She did not see how it was worth it. Even if imbibing the poison tore the veil off all self-deception, it was not a quick or easy process. Was this why Alchemists were so solitary? They became absolutely horrible people for ¨C so long a time, too long for even the ties of kin to endure. Was the final discovery worth so much? Losing everything and everyone that made life worth living in the first place?


    The second soulgaze of her life ended with the feeling that Archibald Greymane now asked himself the same.


    ¡°My Lady!¡± Saidan¡¯s voice came, louder. There was rustle of plates and heavy footsteps, clank and thud of his large shield against the floor, then his hand was upon her shoulder. ¡°My lady, please! Are you alright ¨C that was ¨C the Light, I can -¡°


    She reached up for his hand reflexively, looked back to find him transfixed, then followed his gave to the Lady Tharia and was promptly transfixed herself. The woman ¨C she was covered head to toe in gruesome scars, old one previously hidden, and her eyes-


    The third soulgaze of Mara Fordragon¡¯s life ended with her backing away in open-mouthed horror.


    She didn¡¯t have time to warn the others before they, too, met the serpent-like eyes.


    Saidan Dathrohan jumped between them with no time to spare, molten flame spraying around his shield with the smell of pitch and dead multitudes. The dragon breath singed her sleeves, caught the king¡¯s leg and the prince¡¯s arm, knocked their senses askew so harshly that they couldn¡¯t think through the pain and she screamed-


    ¡°Light,¡± the knight grunted. ¡°Give me strength!¡± The man set his legs and dove forward, splitting the fire breath harder, wider.


    Wide enough that they finally escaped its wrath and could finally think again through the pain.


    ¡°RUN!¡± The knight bellowed. ¡°RUN, RUN NOW!¡±


    It was all she could do to help Genn Greymane carry his father out the door.


    The last thing Mara Fordragon heard on the way out was a dragon¡¯s roar screaming out of a woman¡¯s throat.


    The last thing she saw was the Light weakly outlining Saidan Dathrohan with power he¡¯d never grasped before.


    <h2 style="text-align: center">¡°-. The False Goblette .-¡°</h2>


    They still made her wait. After all the trouble she went through to get herself captured, sold to a circus, and hauled all the way to Alterac¡¯s capital as the festival¡¯s star attraction, they still made her wait. Every chance taken, every leeway afforded, all occasions come and past, everyone in the Capital and many beyond had come to see the savage greenskin in a cage. Yet still no sign of the all-knowing boy.


    All the events planned for, every trick played, every insult sneered and trick inflicted on the more daring simpletons, and here at the end still nothing. It was ridiculous, absurd, unacceptable, it had been weeks!


    What kind of diviner missed all this?


    As a final insult, the ¡®good¡¯ king of this benighted land had ¡®kindly¡¯ declined the circus access to anywhere closer than the outer ring of the city. To ¡®protect¡¯ his more refined subjects and guests from ¡®unfortunate exposure.¡¯ She didn¡¯t know if the exact words belonged to the king or just the guard captain that delivered them. She didn¡¯t much care either, she wasn¡¯t here for either of them.


    She was on her second day of considering that maybe, possibly the insolent boy had actually had good reasons to ask that she not come over as a goblin. Once again, she decided that if it had really been that important, he¡¯d have made it an actual condition instead of a mere request. If he was truly as all-knowing as he claimed, he should know that a dragon¡¯s visage was no trifle to take on and off like a rag.


    When the giant golden dome snapped in place around the central keep, her cage was too well tucked away inside the smallest tent for her to see it.


    She definitely felt it though.


    And the roar, everyone heard that.


    The nearly riotous stampede to get a better look meant that she didn¡¯t have to put any effort into escaping. Sneaking around until she reached a roof was only slightly more difficult. She ignored the inner voice saying that she wouldn¡¯t have had to go through all this trouble, if she¡¯d just snuck her way into the kingdom outright, goblin or not. The blacks tended towards elaborate schemes, the only way she¡¯d stayed ahead of them was by doing it even better.


    She stood on the roof of the random hovel and saw a giant dome of gold. A giant dome of Holy Light with a huge dragon right on top of it. Bigger than her. He stood. He watched. He was black.


    They made her wait for this?


    She stood and stared at the strange sight of a black dragon¡­ not doing anything.


    ¡®Emerentius.¡¯ The kinslayer. An assassin of lords and kith they¡¯d never known existed.


    ¡­ She had been politely invited, and it was almost certain the boy-saint knew about her secret work to purify black dragon eggs. Since there hadn¡¯t been black dragons trying to assassinate her every moment of the day since, the invitation may still be in good faith. It wouldn¡¯t do to make any hasty decis-


    The inside of the dome flared brightly.


    Over one hundred lives were instantly snuffed out.


    She gaped, wide-eyed.


    Then even more lives began to end, men, women, and then even two children died to ¨C foul murder ¨C butchery ¨C treachery!


    Treachery!


    She shed her goblin form and took to the sky with a roar.


    The other dragon¡¯s head snapped towards her instantly.


    She braced herself for an attack, but none came. The other merely straightened, rose to stand on just his hind legs with ease she envied, and watched her approach. His altered body structure was a remarkable surprise that threatened to enthrall her, the Life magic within wanted to understand and adopt it post-haste, to be able to stand so erect, so graceful. But she pushed it down.


    He looked surprised. He had the gall to be surprised, wasn¡¯t his new ¡®master¡¯ supposed to be some peerless seer? Or did the boy play games as well?


    She soared high, made a wide sweep of the castle and the dome around it, then banked low to land on the face of the mountain peak right above it and him. ¡°Why the surprise, oh kinslayer? Did your ¡®master¡¯ not invite me himself, or was that a ruse?¡±


    The other stared at her. ¡°Rheastrasza?¡± He rumbled incredulously, heedless of the many humans pointing, staring, listening and panicking all around them. ¡°Lady Rheastrasza, is that you?¡±


    ¡°You do not sound pleased to see me.¡±


    ¡°¡­ This is not a good time.¡±


    ¡°It is always a good time to stop the foolish and brazen.¡± She tapped the transmission stone under the scale of her palm, tried to contact Korialstrasz. Her heart sank when it failed. Had they ¨C he couldn¡¯t have been slain, she¡¯d have felt it! ¡°Cease whatever this is at once!¡±


    ¡°I cannot.¡±


    ¡°I will not ask again.¡±


    ¡°I will not fight you.¡±


    ¡°Then this will be easy!¡± Her flame filled her gullet to bursting, then she leapt and dove down, bathing him in her hottest, most purifying fire of life as she flew by.


    He crouched low over the dome and took it. Didn¡¯t make a sound as her fire scorched his flesh. When she banked around for a second sweep, she saw that the damage was much reduced compared to all other blacks she¡¯d ever burned. What did get through was already healing.


    She almost abandoned her course. She¡¯d been told all the details the mortals could find about his ¡®Lightforging,¡¯ if it was really true¡­ If he really had been freed from the Old Ones¡¯ influence¡­


    Inside the dome, people old and young continued to die ever faster, and then a child fell to murder again, a girl not even flowered.


    No, she could not ignore the many times before, when the blacks made dead fools of the rest of them with ruses much more convincing than this.


    The black did not move at her second plume of fire. Or the third one. Or the fifth.


    On the sixth pass, she made as if to breath on him again but bodied him instead, if the dome fell then Korialstrasz should-


    The black jumped over her, grabbed her by the wing on landing, wound around one full circle before she understood what had happened, and sent her hurtling dizzyingly away, to crash and roll to an indignant stop in the middle of the public square.


    She scrambled back to all fours with a snarl. She didn¡¯t know how she¡¯d avoided pulping or otherwise harming any of the humans around her, but his disregard for them sealed her path. Her breath came in fits and sparks. The snow melted and steamed around her, both the falling flakes and the layers around her feet. Once more she tried to reach her Queen¡¯s consort. Once more, she failed.


    He doesn¡¯t need continuous contact with the dome, she thought as she rose back in the air with wrath and frustration. This will be harder than I thought.


    ¡°Please, milady,¡± the black pled, and he sounded so earnest, damn him. ¡°Do not create conflict where there is none.¡±


    ¡°Oh, but there is and you know it,¡± she growled, landing once more above him. ¡°You are overstepping your mandate, black dragon, and infringing on mine.¡±


    ¡°My loyalty has changed, but it needn¡¯t conflict. Please do not do this.¡±


    ¡°Then you cease. Then we may speak.¡±


    The other briefly closed his eyes in resignation. ¡°For what you may yet achieve in the future, I will not bring you lasting harm.¡± Any hope that he was surrendering perished when his eyes opened to show determination shining like the sun. ¡°But even so, you will not interfere.¡±


    ¡°What a lofty claim!¡± She rumbled in turn, making sure not to let slip her inner disquiet at his odd behaviour. Pushed away how earnest he still sounded, what it could mean for him to be so strong in holy power, she couldn¡¯t let herself believe it, not after so much. Not when she didn¡¯t know Korialstrasz¡¯ fate, no so easily, not so soon, not now, not when children kept dying. ¡°Perhaps I should read into it more.¡±


    ¡°Do as you must.¡±


    She obliged.


    Rheastrasza of the Red Flight took to battle against her ancient foe.


    And on the streets below, men, women and children ran for their lives, driven by quaking earth and the roars of dragons.


    <h2 style="text-align: center">¡°-. The Rightly Guided .-¡°</h2>


    (earlier that same night)


    He was praying when he felt Wayland perish.


    It was only his faith that kept him in the Light despite his shock.


    It was the freshly revitalized will to try new things that guided his next act, but he only succeeded thanks to experience.


    He projected out and up. His awareness resolved itself high into the sky, far above any bird or cloud. The entirety of Stormwind Kingdom far below was his to know, and he knew he could peer into the dark swamp to the east, or south into the Vale of Stranglethorn if he wanted.


    He did neither. He turned instead to the North and flew forth, hastened to trace back that connection even though it left his body empty. The soulgaze was no paltry divination, it embedded a deep synchronicity that did not fade unless deliberately spurned. He didn¡¯t know if Wayland knew, but he did know that he could use it to find him. So he did, flying at the speed of imagination, so quickly the world became like a tunnel of light around him, up and onwards to the North, all the way to the edge of the continent of Azeroth, then further.


    When he stopped above the boy¡¯s mountain home, his vision resolved into a scene of endless hunger and absolute destruction. A dark star eating the world, bite by bite, devouring the very forces holding matter together, sucking out even the Light of creation itself to feed its yawning maw.


    When he tried to get closer, his vision began to tear and ripple as the pull began to tug at his own edges. The monstrosity was even inflicting itself upon the spirit world. Defying the pull took much of his strength, but at least it let him reach and see within. Darkness. More darkness. An Angel of Death.


    She was there, curled up on the ground. Curled around Wayland¡¯s spirit, who writhed as the Valkyrie struggled to keep it from tearing completely loose from his flesh and blood.


    She was failing. Even if it weren¡¯t constantly drained to feed the ravenous darkness, a valkyrie¡¯s Light did not easily cross into the living world.


    He almost spelled Wayland¡¯s doom when he reached out to them, her focus shattered, but there was no other choice. If an angel¡¯s light was reserved for the world of spirits, man would just have to bear the burden in the realm of life.


    He prayed as fervently as he ever did in his life.


    He barely succeeded, and it would have been for nothing if Wayland hadn¡¯t invoked his protection spell in time.


    It ¨C Light ¨C such weakness he¡¯d never felt ¨C even at his most sickly as a child ¨C where was ¨C he ¨C his body ¨C it was so far away, he ¨C he couldn¡¯t ¨C he had to¡­


    He would have been lost to the green dream, if not for all those days he spent at sea, weaving runic enchantments into his body and staves upon his bones.


    ¡°It ¨C seems ¨C we both ¨C saved each other ¨C ¡° rasped Archbishop Alonsus Faol as his head lolled on the floor, fallen weak and empty from his nightly prayers inside the Sanctuary of the Royal Chapel in Stormwind Keep. ¡°But ¨C what was that ¨C it was ¨C it is!¡±


    Wayland! Wayland was under attack! He was dead, had been dead, he was dying again that very moment!


    Alonsus only found his feet on the fifth try. He stepped on his mitre, knocked the Holy Book off the altar, knocked two candlesticks over and down on the way out, but he ignored all of it. The candles were unlit, darkness was nothing to the Light, and the Light would surely forgive him for prioritising its most beloved son.


    The Archbishop stumbled, hobbled, strode, ran and sprinted with nearly mad urgency, out of the Church, across the grounds, through the queen¡¯s garden and into the keep through the nearest door he found. Sentries balked in shock and tried to catch up, but they failed because the Light drove him. With every breath he felt stronger. With every step he got faster. With every moment he felt a growing premonition that something terrible would happen soon.


    Please, Light, don¡¯t let me work a miracle only for him to suffer or do something more terrible!


    The servants cried out at the sight he made, but he didn¡¯t have time to look or act any less mad than the crisis unfolding. He demanded to know where to find the king¡¯s mage, and dashed where he was directed too fast for whys and thank yous.


    If only he¡¯d had the slightest foreboding! Then he might have accepted King Llane¡¯s offer of spending the last night of the Interregnum with him and his, instead of bowing out to let them be with family and friends as was the way.


    The guards outside the royal suite barred his path from sheer shock at his dishevelled appearance. He almost wanted to conjure a shield and barrel through. Almost. The Light was with him, his strength would smash even the locks on those big doors.


    ¡°I need to see the king¡¯s mage!¡± he shouted instead, so loud that all inside would hear him. ¡°Right now!¡±


    Refusal, denial, questions, demands to know why he was in such a state, things were fit to become even more of a circus than they already were, before the doors opened from the inside.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on here?¡± thundered the voice of Anduin Lothar. ¡°What racket is ¨C Your Holiness! What in heaven¡¯s name?!¡±


    Alonsus barely got his request out, hit all at once by the shortness of breath he¡¯d been spared on the way over. He was ushered in, led to a chair and hovered over by the King and Queen and Arathor¡¯s heir while he regained his speech.


    ¡°I need ¨C¡° he wheezed, finally, standing back up. ¡°I need ¨C Master Medivh!¡± he cried in relief on seeing the sorcerer there. ¡°Thank the Light you¡¯re here! Forgive me your majesties, but I need the help of your mage! Sorcerer, you claimed to be unequalled in matters arcane, I need you to prove it! How far away can you traverse by spell?!¡±


    The four exchanged glances, but King Llane, Light bless him, did not make light of his urgency. ¡°Where do you need to go?¡±


    ¡°Alterac.¡± The Archbishop cradled his forehead, unsure if the image of woe he just saw was a new vision or recent memory. ¡°As deep in the heartland as you can get me.¡±


    ¡°What happened-?¡°


    ¡°What is happening, there is no time, I need to get there now or not at all, please. Can you do it?¡±


    ¡°I can,¡± the mage himself finally said, equally curious and grim. ¡°I¡¯ll be wanting and explanation, but if it¡¯s so urgent as to have Your Holiness come charging in like a feral beast, we cannot dither. Do I have your permission to scan your surface thoughts?¡±


    ¡°Why ¨C visual reference?¡±


    ¡°As true to your desired destination as you can.¡±


    ¡°Anduin, summon as many guards as you can!¡± the king commanded, even as he was ushering away his wife. ¡°We¡¯re going too.¡±


    Alonsus almost staggered in relief, and a raw self-recrimination. How witless and single-minded could he be that he didn¡¯t request proper help himself? And more? A king, a man among men, the greatest of mages all before him, willing and eager. Yet even as he begged for profane passage to the other side of the world, it never once occurred to him to ask the mage to also come along. How ¨C? Why ¨C? In such a dire hour ¨C had he internalized the prejudice against the arcane arts so deeply that ¨C?


    The Aegishjalmur came alight around his mind. Not at Medivh¡¯s probe, but a second one, subtler. He looked for it. Found it. Lost it. He could not understand what had just happened.


    But Gegn Galdri ignited like a furnace in his breast. And as the Light poured into the stave to turn away some evil spell, the Veldismagn came alive with defiance, and Lukkustafir showed the blind wherefrom sprung the evil it failed to turn away.


    Alonsus turned his inner eye to see its path.


    Behind Medivh¡¯s own mind, a demon stitched into the fabric of the man¡¯s flesh stared back at him, its face completely startled and misgaged.


    It was the same face from Wayland¡¯s visions.


    For one, fatal moment, Alonsus Faol was stunned into complete inaction.


    He barely had time to throw up his arms before a wave of indiscriminate destruction exploded out of Medivh with catastrophic might.

 Subterfuge Is a Fickle Turncoat

    <h2 style="text-align: center">¡°-. Aiden Perenolde, King of Alterac .-¡°</h2>


    He was blinded but could see. He was deafened but could hear. The Light had sought to rob him of even his wits, but that didn¡¯t work either. Unlike all the others he¡¯d since stepped over, it didn¡¯t work. Not yet. He wasn¡¯t as weak as the rest, and all the pieces of the Alterac Regalia that he wore had activated to sustain his body and spirit in his hour of greatest need.


    How ironic, then, that it got harder and harder to push down the wish to find relief in oblivion. Not that the boy-prophet would let him. Not for the next day. One day. One day where he wasn¡¯t deaf to his life collapsing around him, one day of being unable to escape everyone else¡¯s gaze, one day when he was no longer the judge but the condemned!


    He had one day before he was rendered an insensate cripple, because the royal artefacts would either burn out or stop working at the absence of a threat. That boy. That piece of him. That boy was in his head. In him! How did the artefacts not prevent it from happening? It was an even bigger violation than the smite!


    ¡°All that holier than thou posturing!¡± growled Aiden Perenolde as he finally put his knife through the eye slit of his last bodyguard. He didn¡¯t know where the prophet was and he didn¡¯t care if he was heard or not. It wouldn¡¯t make a difference with him literally inside his head now, he was sure of it! ¡°Yet here at the end, you just aim for the same thing: to control everything! To make everyone else think the same way you do ¨C no, the way you want them to think! Us! Me!¡±


    Aiden had tried to act decisively after the spell, despite feeling like his body and soul had been slashed bloody, but then he crossed eyes with his guards and everything went to hell. At first they couldn¡¯t decide if Aiden should be killed or seized, whether for ransom or trade with the prophet. Then they began to see straight through each other too, and suddenly they were killing one another in sudden personal vendettas.


    Aiden only survived unscathed because two of his men actually stayed loyal.


    Then they crossed paths with Valea Twinblades, and he didn¡¯t survive unscathed anymore. Somehow, he didn¡¯t know how, she¡¯d gathered a whole corridor¡¯s worth of people to her side in just the last ten or twenty minutes. Some wavered at the sight of him, only to lose all hesitation after he first avoided, then failed to avoid meeting their gaze. It was galling to look away and down like he was guilty of something, and it was no use in the end. A child got him. The Blackmoore boy. A boy that had the nerve to hold him at fault for executing his traitor father!


    One of his last bodyguards stayed behind to buy time with his death, and it was just Aiden¡¯s luck that the last one decided to have a change of heart at the worst time!


    The jest was on the prophet this time, though. It was his gifted insight that warned Aiden of the incoming treachery.


    In pain from cuts and many more bruises, and frantic to get a moment¡¯s peace even if just to reassess things, Aiden fled from where his last bodyguard had tried to kill him, down secret passages only he should know.


    Unfortunately, he had to double back and turn down the servant corridor when he found the last stretch caved in. Almost no dead or blind simpletons by those ways, and no children at all, which the boy-prophet would probably expect him to find meaningful.


    He reached the stairway around the west-most load-bearing turret, only to hear footsteps and voices coming from above.


    Shamefully, he ended up hiding in the privy. Stayed as quiet as he could while¡­ whoever they were passed. The Gilneas party? He thought he heard-


    A whimper startled him. From behind. Turning with a white-knuckled grip around his dagger, he belatedly noticed the privy was not unoccupied. One of his brownnosing weasels had had the same idea as him. When their eyes met, it was the first time that day that Aiden didn¡¯t come out the worse from the shared double vision.


    Aiden could only stand and stare at the tattered, dirty creature frozen before him. For a moment, he couldn¡¯t fathom how the two of them could be part of the same race. The creature was opening its mouth-


    He stabbed it through the throat before it could give away their presence. He covered its nose and mouth while it thrashed in death. When it subsided, he stepped back and blankly watched it slump dead on the latrine.


    He stood there even after¡­ whoever was outside passed out of hearing. Then longer, while screams, rumblings and the vague shapes and spirit lights skimmed along the edges of his vision all over the castle. Aiden stood stock-still until the ever-present stench of human waste changed enough to let him know the man-shaped thing infesting his privy room had soiled itself in death.


    He stepped back out of the privy and quickly went up the way the others had come from. Once on the third floor of Alterac Keep, he rushed for the secret escape tunnel through the mountain. To his dismay, the last stretch of corridor had been collapsed by some alchemical charge. Worse, the more he dug, the more gold shone through the rubble. If he¡¯d kept running, he¡¯d have died in the rubble. If he kept digging, he¡¯d just be at another dead end.


    ¡°You won¡¯t settle for blood, will you?¡± Aiden muttered as he sucked at his bleeding fingers. ¡°You won¡¯t be satisfied until you¡¯ve destroyed everything I¡¯ve built.¡±


    Was this why no hidden blade had found him yet? He thought one of the assassins or even Ravenholdt himself should have come jumping out of the shadows by now. Was that just because the boy wanted him to suffer?


    Paranoid, Aiden took some sand from the debris and tossed it around, along with small pebbles, but no invisible interlopers were revealed. He filled his pockets with some more and set off randomly through his keep just so he wouldn¡¯t stay in one place. He prayed he wouldn¡¯t run into more traitors ¨C no! He was not going to pray, not to that ¨C not because some boy made him!


    Now he came upon increasingly many bodies as he ran seeking safety. Men, women, and children too. By the way they¡¯d fallen, the young ones had either been used as hostages or killed out of pure spite. All the while, the presence of that boy haunted his steps, even as he tossed handfuls of pocket sand and ground glass at every dark alcove he passed.


    When he reached the end of the corridor, he didn¡¯t think twice before he shouldered through the door. It was the suite given to Baron Mordis and his party, he belatedly realized. The one Aiden had deliberately chosen because it was impossible to be visited ¨C or leave ¨C without everyone else on the floor knowing about it. He¡¯d taken the wrong turn, dammit! He pushed down the panic.


    There were no dead here, except for the spy girl that he¡¯d painstakingly insinuated into Mordis¡¯ castle over the past year.


    The sight was as bitter as it was infuriating. The lass had been personally trained by Montrose before her demise, but now he found her laid out on the en-suite kitchen floor, wide-eyed and lifeless.


    No wounds on her either, which meant she¡¯d died to the prophet¡¯s magic outright.


    Valimar Mordis himself and his people were gone. All their essentials as well, even if the quarters had clearly been packed in a hurry. They¡¯d all been spared. These were the standards he didn¡¯t pass, the King of Alterac thought bitterly.


    Mordis wasn¡¯t with Twinblades, Aiden recalled as he peered outside. Angevin, Twinblades, and now another traitor is revealed, how many zealots did I miss? And the collapsed escape route ¨C how long have they lied in wait in my court?!


    Outside was the aftermath of a literal civil war. The bloodbath had managed to form several opposed camps by the time it spilled out of the keep¡¯s front doors. The crownsguard and legion had disintegrated into many groups. The few who¡¯d joined the traitors still lived. The rest had died on behalf of splinter factions that had once been his court, though you could barely tell which was which now. Many of them were dead too, and the rest were subdued and kneeling at swordpoint.


    No calls for battle in Perenolde¡¯s name, or the nation. No organisation. Just a panicking mob that had tried to escape, only to smash-face first into an unyielding wall of golden energy, leaving them vulnerable to being cut down and subjugated from the rear. Cowardice, it seemed, was not a big enough sin for the Light to take their senses as it had tried with him, Aiden had never felt such resentment.


    There was a stream of escaped prisoners too, coming from the side. They were helping Twinblades, Mordis, and the Gilneas party in keeping the rest suppressed, and a path clear to the gatehouse as well.


    Their efforts were for naught because barely anyone was passing through. Many people still couldn¡¯t get through the forcefield for whatever reason, damming up against the edge of the dome of Light. Those few that did pass didn¡¯t move any further to make room. They didn¡¯t dare.


    There were two giant dragons battling right outside, roaring, arguing in their reptilian tongue, shearing the air, spells and flames spewing through the wind while the earth shook like a constant earthquake. Even there, inside the castle, Aiden could feel the thrumming through the wall. He couldn¡¯t tell the dragons¡¯ colors through the gold, but¡­


    Not all is going as you want!


    Aiden took off running, out of room, through the half-collapsed hallways until he managed to dig through to another. Instead of out, he went inwards. The Prophet¡¯s curse was a frightful doom breathing down his neck, but he now discovered a hidden wellspring of spite and wilfulness.


    The secret ways were blocked by obvious sabotage. The front was certain death when everyone hated him. The side tunnels were just more of the same. He¡¯d leave through the dungeons, but those had been the first place he sent people to, and none of his task forces had come back. Aiden wished he still had his butler and lackeys, but those who didn¡¯t die in the golden blast were either dead to traitors or each other like he himself would-


    Suddenly, the keep shook as if a load-bearing pillar had just snapped. The ceiling and roof both creaked and rumbled. Dust rose and fell abruptly, as what felt and sounded like an entire wing of the keep collapsed. The west one.


    The corridor ahead screamed with air and ash, and a sulfur stench chased by a monster¡¯s gurgling roar, another dragon?!


    Aiden turned around and ran for his life.


    A dragon inside his keep! Was this why ¨C the last escape route! It was in the same direction, but then ¨C the dragon had buried itself? Or was buried? Now it was digging its way out, he couldn¡¯t go that way, he had to get away, he-!


    Somehow, he didn¡¯t know how, he managed to outrun the destruction. All the while, the one thought driving him forward was the knowledge that it wasn¡¯t just his enemies meddling here.


    The enemies of his enemies were also here, and if there was one outside perhaps there was one inside as well. Earlier that morning he¡¯d said those things to his new wife mostly in jest, but now-


    If there were dragons fighting on his side, then this was not as over and done with as that boy wanted him to think. If there was no way out, that just meant the opposite was true going back in.


    He made it to his throne room almost unimpeded, ignoring the way the debris thinned and the bodies gradually multiplied on the way over. He hit the hidden control in his throne to slam the main doors shut. The ward also shimmered to being despite everything, that was one expense he would no longer allow anyone to gainsay him on.


    He barricaded the side door he came in through, and was just done doing the same to the other one when an unexpected voice made him nearly jump out of his skin.


    ¡°Your Majesty.¡±


    ¡°Hellspawns!¡± He whirled around with a shout and met the eyes of the Dalaran emissary before he could remember it was a bad idea.


    Nothing happened.


    ¡°You ¨C mage,¡± Aiden gasped, mind racing as he blinked rapidly. ¡°You ¨C are unaffected?¡±


    ¡°Not quite,¡± replied Archmage Krasus, formerly of the Council of Six. The elven wizard¡­ was just there, no sudden noise of displacement of wind, he¡¯d not teleported? Had he been waiting here, invisible? ¡°However, I am more adept than most of my sort when it comes to lifeworker arts.¡±


    ¡°Your sort-?¡±


    The door Aiden had first come through blew inwards.


    Through the dust came his new wife.


    ¡­ This is not how I envisioned getting the answers to my questions.


    ¡°Husband,¡± the far too self-assured voice of Ysolde Prestor came. ¡°Are you well?¡±


    For a moment, the King of Alterac was frozen in indecision. To his right was the woman he¡¯d just married. To his left was the Dalaran Archmage who¡¯d just recently been dismissed from the Council of Six under suspicious circumstances. Of the two, only the man dared meet his eyes. She was avoiding his and the other man¡¯s both, even as the Archmage was shamelessly seeking hers. Elf was as unconcerned with the forced-upon magic as he was willing to use it ¨C wait.


    ¡­ The wizard is in league with the boy? Or his patron! Damn him, it never even occurred to him, at most he thought the Archbishop ¨C but the elves! Those damned elves and their superiority, if he lived forever and wanted to put a mere mortal in his place, propping up the local hopeless idealist in a generation-long scheme would be exactly what he¡¯d do too. ¡°Wife,¡± Aiden said, looking away from the mage and straight at her. ¡°Look at me.¡±


    The woman, bless her, understood his meaning immediately. She grimaced in distaste, but obliged him despite that.


    When the double vision came, it was his foundational memory that predominated for the first time ever.


    The vision ended with an aftertaste of existential dread, and a crystal-clear reinforcement that recognizing and appeasing the proverbial cuckoo remained one¡¯s most crucial and inherent survival skill.


    He stared at his wife. The she-dragon. The cuckoo that had been won over by the nesting bird.


    And as she stared back, the two wordlessly reached an understanding that Aiden had wasted far too long eluding.


    If his own kind had done nothing but fail and betray him even at his worst, if they didn¡¯t have even a measly bird¡¯s worth of basic sense and self-preservation, what was even left for him to do but join the side of monsters?


    King Aiden Perenolde of Alterac Kingdom looked into the eyes of a dragon and felt no more human than she did. Arcane lights whisked over fingers. His own were already tight around his rapier hilt.


    The two of them turned to the third, united in grim purpose.


    Archmage Krasus pulled his hands from his sleeves. He looked upon Aiden¡¯s new wife with contempt. He looked upon him, the King, with pity. ¡°As Dalaran envoy I must avoid diplomatic incidents, but my charge as a Lifekeeper is to protect the world from the predations of the void things and their slaves. This woman is a black dragon, the most insidious of her brood. For the sake of all sense and time quickly running out for all of us, Your Majesty, please stand aside.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, mage.¡± Aiden drew his blade. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t do thaAH!¡°


    A mere gesture had Aiden flying clear across the entire hall to a rolling heap at the foot of the doors.


    It still didn¡¯t spare him the scalding cascade of smoke and steam as fire and ice clashed in the middle of his throne room.


    <h2 style="text-align: center">¡°-. Kairozdormu .-¡°</h2>


    The Prophet had not invited him along for the last act. In return, the dragon had not debased himself by asking for a place at his side. He was left behind with the rest of the prisoners, which was as considerate of his crippled state as it was galling. It wouldn¡¯t have been so humiliating if not for the reason he was spurned.


    He¡¯d tried to pass through the dome and he¡¯d failed. The forcefield judged you on your merits, it didn¡¯t let you pass unless you possess at least three of the nine noble virtues, at least as its caster understood them. He¡¯d been angry, but he¡¯d been doubly offended at the half-assed conditions for passage. If you¡¯re going to judge people based on moral criteria, at least have the fortitude to demand they measure up to half or more!


    Most of all, he¡¯d been outraged when he didn¡¯t measure up to even a mere third. He¡¯d passed discipline and perseverance, only to fail courage by a narrow margin.


    Now, the great bronze dragon was just another cripple being pushed and jostled, in a hasty bid by the unjustly imprisoned to escape the keep before the ¡®Rotten ones¡¯ tried to kill them again, or constant earthquakes collapsed the whole world on their heads.


    It was a foolish fear, the earthquake was deliberately weak and very regular in its recurrence, clearly generated by the golden black dragon in a bid to incentivise everyone below to run as far away as possible before it was too late. Successfully too.


    But he couldn¡¯t explain that and still pass as a common victim of tyranny, so he let himself be pulled on with the rest. Limped forth on his one leg and makeshift crutch while reconsidering everything that had brought him here.


    The sudden disappearance of all Infinite Dragonflight meddling from the future coincided with the moment of Wayland Hywel¡¯s conception. That in itself was not remarkable, mortals of all races were produced every moment. But his sire, the Aspect of Time Nozdormu, had found a correlation in the increasing difficulty to scry him, whether via divination magic or the Caverns of Time themselves. A difficulty which Kairozdormu himself had been enlisted to corroborate, which he did.


    The farther into the future you looked, to more likely you were to find gold glowing eyes staring back, and nothing besides save the void.


    More tellingly, the Aspect of Time had seen fit to share all this with only Kairozdormu, at least for now. It was a profound change from how borderline sidelined he had been before. He was still deciding if the Time Aspect merely pre-empted Kairozdormu¡¯s own discovery for efficiency¡¯s sake, or if it was a roundabout way to tell him he¡¯d been stonewalling Kairozdormu before. In which case Nozdormu had only been keeping him close to watch what was a destined traitor.


    To take it all as an honor or an insult, well, that was something Kairozdormu was also still deciding. Unlike the dogmatists, he was self-aware enough to know his future self would surely be among the Infinites¡¯ ranks, provided he didn¡¯t die beforehand. Their purpose for existing was the same as his own secret aim: to reject the hellscape that the Golden Timeline had become ¨C would have become ¨C and take active steps to change the future for the better. Even if that meant traveling to the past to change history for the better.


    Kairozdormu was among the few Bronze Dragons who actually grasped the full implications of the Infinites¡¯ existence being prevented. Not merely countered but rendered completely absent in both future and past. He was above most others in their flight because he¡¯d worked his way into being made a Keeper of Time, as opposed to being raised to it while being fed crumbs by Nozdormu. He¡¯d acquired his skills and insight mostly on his own, even if he¡¯d had to go around and even against the other keepers a time or five hundred.


    He even went against Nozdormu himself a time or two. Ever since Deathwing tricked the other Aspects into giving up most of their powers to the Dragon Soul, the Aspect of Time had become so absorbed by his imperfect visions of potential timelines that he¡¯d begun to slip.


    It had been frustrating, but gave Kairozdormu himself an uncommonly pragmatic understanding of the Bronze Dragonflights¡¯ limitations, and its follies. At the very least, he wouldn¡¯t go the way of the dogmatists like Chronormu, who wouldn¡¯t realize that Murozond and Nozdormu were the same dragon even if it stared them in the face.


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    That was, in fact, objective truth ¨C Kairozodormu had watched it happen in the future through the Caverns of Time. Before that future vanished like so many others.


    It would have been comical if their plight were not so bleak. Theirs and the plight of the world, nay, the cosmos itself. Had been so bleak, though after the time he¡¯d had recently, he was beginning to wonder if he¡¯d made a mistake assuming things were truly better.


    Perhaps the Infinites still exist, the bronze dragon thought as he stopped to catch his breath. Which he could only do because the rest of the group he was with had slowed down after emerging into the bloody aftermath of the Alterac Keep courtyard. Maybe they aren¡¯t trying to change history anymore because they already got what they wanted. Their disappearance from time could just as well mean they won the time war. Kairozdormu hadn¡¯t considered it before, but he did now.


    He was reconsidering the plausibility of some of his more outlandish notions too, about what the dragonflights could do if all their powers were taken to their ultimate conclusion. Particularly if the Aspects leveraged the Titan assets still extant on this world. Nozdormu hadn¡¯t pre-empted Kairozdormu about that, and while that could mean many things¡­ it also allowed for the possibility that Kairozdormu wasn¡¯t merely chasing geese.


    But then why did Nozdormu make his confidence conditional on me gaining Wayland¡¯s? The dragon in crippled human shape wondered as he stumbled to a halt when the crowd got too thick to let them move further. Is he already so hard to divine that even the Aspect of Time did not discern his true character? Or did Nozdormu only keep me in the dark about it?


    Being put through nigh-unbearable torture should have engendered some sympathy. Being crippled and maimed should have won him even more.


    Instead, the Prophet had held Kairozdormu¡¯s actions in contempt. All of them.


    He had expected some misgivings, but not that. He¡¯d not expected a saint to¡­


    To be so callous.


    Kairozdormu might have understood if he himself had been putting on a front, but the torture truly had been every bit as bad as it looked. He¡¯d been put through so much torment and lost so much strength of spirit and flesh that he didn¡¯t even dare turn back into his dragon form. He didn¡¯t think he¡¯d retain consciousness if he did. Limb loss was usually a problem only from the other side of the transformation, but the torture instruments were bespelled, and the poisons¡­


    He¡¯d been put through hell for months at this point.


    He hadn¡¯t expected Wayland to hold a prejudice against the entirety of dragonkind either. For what Nozdormu saw as the linchpin of the epoch to genuinely consider dragons to be mentally challenged as a species¡­


    Well. It was only less outrageous than redeeming a member of the blacks. Kairozdormu had not seen that coming either. Not in what he could perceive of the time ways, and not in the Caverns of Time before he left them to play kingmaker.


    Is any one human truly worth betting so much on, when the world¡¯s fate still turns on our whims more than his?


    It wasn¡¯t something Kairozdormu used to think twice about, before the Infinites abruptly stopped trying to change history through time travel on account of no longer existing. Now, though, he was beginning to wonder if he hadn¡¯t been too optimistic. For all the changes that the prophet had affected, they all seemed about to be undone or offset until they made no difference.


    By dragons.


    Kairozdormu could have understood if it was another black that attacked Fahrad, they surely wouldn¡¯t take the redemption of the greatest kinslayer lying down.


    But what the hell was the Red thinking?


    And more importantly¡­


    Can Wayland actually recover from this?


    Not only had he sacrificed all the power he¡¯d amassed in a single spellstrike, but his actions had resulted in the violent and traumatic death of men, women and even children. Hundreds of them.


    Can he really be the source of all the changes, if everything he¡¯s done can still be ruined so utterly? So easily?


    By now, the group had started moving again and were almost to the gatehouse, when the golden dome rung like a gong above them from the crash of dragon upon dragon. The mass of humanity around him panicked suddenly.


    Next thing he knew he was knocked over, his nose bleeding from the fall and subsequent stomp on his head. His mouth filled with mud and dust. He gasped for breath only to choke when someone else stepped on him ¨C stomped on him as ¨C he was being trampled!


    After all I¡¯ve done, his fury came alight like an unholy flame deep inside him. All I¡¯ve sacrificed, all that effort for these creatures and they¡¯re no better than braying sheep at the first sign of trouble, I should just-


    The Light enveloped him, then formed a shell of protection. It had¡­ an all-new flavor.


    ¡°Out of the way!¡±  The voice¡­ It was young woman. A young woman who managed to make herself heard over the frenzied mob, and even the blasts of flames and angry roars of the red and black dragons battling up above them all. ¡°Everyone get clear, now! Shame on you, all of you, can you not you see what you are doing?!¡±


    Kairozdormu felt a pair of dainty hands pull him up from the ground and push more of the soothing magic into him, easing his pain. When his hazy sight cleared, he saw a girl. Or young woman? She couldn¡¯t be any older than Wayland. He¡­


    He knew this one. ¡°Mara Fordragon?¡±


    The young woman snapped her eyes to his, clearly intending to force the Truth as was now happening for all. Kairozdormu almost couldn¡¯t suppress the shared vision in time, such was his reaction to her presence here. When nothing happened, she hesitated¡­ then continued healing him and wiping his face of blood and dirt, just as before. ¡°You know me, sir?¡±


    "¡­ You are not a face I expected to see today.¡±


    ¡°And I wouldn¡¯t expect someone¡¯s eyes to tell me so little, today, yet here we are.¡±


    ¡­ Titans, I¡¯ve been out of the Caverns for too long if I didn¡¯t see her being here. What else had changed in the time since? What else did he miss? ¡°But still not suspicious enough to deny me aid?¡±


    ¡°Not enough to change what I¡¯d have done regardless.¡± The girl got up and helped him to his feet ¨C foot. ¡°Valea! I need ¨C yes, thank you, you two, over here! Sir, I must see to others, these men will see you to safety-¡±


    Just then the red dragon managed to finally smash the golden black off the Dome of Penitence. The two dragons grappled while they fell, crashing down on the street in a snarling frenzy of claws, bites and breath attacks. The dome didn¡¯t dim immediately, but it started to.


    The only reason none of the people outside were crushed was because a sheet of light appeared over them, causing the two to slide over it and onwards in the plaza beyond. It hadn¡¯t come from Fordragon or anyone else inside. That left outside. The golden black. The black was protecting them at his own expense. The one dragon that should have been the worst of them all, he was the only one who hadn¡¯t lost control.


    Despite the near boiling chaos around him, Kairozdormu couldn¡¯t help but laugh. Never mind Wayland¡¯s actions, history was completely broken just by this! And Mara Fordragon wasn¡¯t even alone! There was Valea Twinblades here, and Genn Greymane and his father too, the royal prince and king of Gilneas helping to coordinate the evacuation now that the fighting had finally died down.


    People who still had ten or twenty years before their names were supposed to go down in history, they were all here, and more ¨C that ¨C was that Aedelas Blackmoore over there?! What was he even doing here? He was barely ten years old, nobody else had brought children younger than twelve to this whole farce! He was fatherless, who even was his regent ¨C what was he doing? Thrall¡¯s slavemaster and tormentor ¨C caring for the sick?!


    Kairozdormu laughed even harder as the little humans around him mastered their bloodlust and differences. Even as his fellow dragons of black and red battled like frenzied beasts that threatened to crush any who tried to flee. History doesn¡¯t change for any one person, except when said person infects literally everyone else he crosses paths with!


    Nozdormu, Kairozdormu, the reds, the rest of the dragons that were supposedly somewhere around here, all of them ¨C they¡¯d all made the same mistake of obsessing over a single person, a single linchpin, when in fact the true changes had been germinating all along everywhere else! Townsmen, peasants, craftsmen, thugs, assassins, farmers, soldiers, nobles, dragons, more dragons, even an angel!


    What was even left? Would Wayland somehow convert the gods next? Mayhap even the Titans themselves!


    ¡°-thing we can do, he¡¯s not the first and we¡¯ll see many more break down before this is over!¡± Mara was telling someone even as the madness continued everywhere around them. ¡°I hate to say it, but we¡¯ve more wounded and young coming, we¡¯ve done what we can for him. We could try to retake the keep, but it¡¯s still more dangerous here than out there, Ser Saidan still hasn¡¯t ¨C just get him through the dome-¡°


    CRA-KA-THOOM.


    A literal thunder sounded in their ears. And their chests. Even bones. The work of spirits of some nature, he could feel wills and wisps of energy all through the air. The Prophet had even advanced his shamanism, Kairozdormu should never have let himself be caged.


    Everyone stopped. Even the dragons that were half-way done crawling back up the forcefield.


    ¡°Lady Rheastrasza,¡± Wayland¡¯s voice came from the keep¡¯s front doors, flat and malcontent. ¡°Would you kindly back off so the innocents can start getting to safety?¡±


    The red dragon was distracted just enough for the black to kick her away. She staggered, snarled at the cheap shot, and finally froze at the sight of literal hundreds of people huddled both inside and out of the dome. Staring at her.


    She gave Wayland an unfathomable stare, cast her eyes over the rest of the crowd, didn¡¯t spot Kairozdormu for what he truly was, and finally pulled out of her battle lust. Finally, she realized that all the people there, especially those outside the dome, old and young alike, were cowering in fear.


    Of her.


    The red pulled back, jumped up and flew to hang from the side of the mountain above the keep. Too far to make out her face, which wasn¡¯t as expressive as mortals in any case¡­


    But Kairozdormu didn¡¯t need to see her to know what she felt.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Wayland grunted, his voice still thrumming like thunder in everyone¡¯s chests. ¡°Everyone move ¨C do not stampede!¡± He¡­ did not sound entirely confident or composed. ¡°Many who live deserve death, but some who died deserved life. They¡¯re only gone because they were killed by some of you who are here.¡± His voice turned cold then. ¡°I am not judging you myself only because the true enemy is still inside. I strongly suggest you don¡¯t make me decide you¡¯re the more urgent problem.¡±


    ¡°¡­ Take him,¡± Mara abruptly shoved Kairozdormu to the two men that had come to help. ¡°I ned to ¨C I must go!¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± Karizdormu grunted, summoning what shred of his true strength he still could. It was barely enough to escape the hold of the humans, but he could walk. Hobble. ¡°Take me with you. I need to talk to him-¡±


    ¡°So does everyone else, I¡¯m sure!¡± Mara was already rushing away. ¡°Doubtless he¡¯ll make time when we¡¯re not all-¡°


    ¡°He¡¯s my employer!¡± He barked, barely managing not to sway from daze at the effort. The mob had stomped on his head quite hard, damn. ¡°I¡¯ve been in the dungeons ever since ¨C I need to talk to him. Now.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re what? He¡¯s ¨C very well, lean on me, we¡¯ll-¡±


    There was a roar inside the keep, followed by a massive blast of flames that blew out a dozen windows on the keep¡¯s second floor. Rock and stone creaked and crackled in the wake of the ash and smoke, then it felt as if the entire Alterac Castle bent under a sudden weight. Kairozdormu was not a black dragon, but he could feel the earth shift such that he nearly fell off of his lone, numb foot.


    A rumble. Walls cracked, ceilings and floors fell inward, glass rained down from shattered window panes.


    Everyone watched in shock as half the west wing of Alterac Castle from the second story up collapsed on itself.


    A massive cloud of pitch and dust deluged over them all like a volcano¡¯s flow.


    Kairozdormu was too bewildered by this impossible, unforeseen development to think about protective magics in time. He choked and coughed on the ashes like everyone else, and as his eyes stung as if dunked in acid, Kairozdormu could not help but think of volcanoes and pyroclastic flows.


    This rancid flavor, pitch mixed in with dust from the debris and the sulfur smell of rotten eggs ¨C finally, the black dragon reveals itself! None of the visions had you acting in the open so blatantly, but if that¡¯s how you want it, dear Onyx-


    That wasn¡¯t Onyxia.


    The prophet¡¯s spirits strained to keep the worst of the plume away so they didn¡¯t all choke to death, but Kairozdormu no longer cared about that. He stared up and gaped at the hazy silhouette of a black she-dragon that wasn¡¯t Onyxia.


    What ¨C how? It was Onyxia, I know it was ¨C it should have been Onyxia, I saw it!


    Dammit, was nothing seen in the timeways reliable anymore? He couldn¡¯t even blame the inferior quality of bronze dragon scrying magics! He¡¯d witnessed many variations of today¡¯s events in the Caverns of Time in order to refine his plan, but they were variations, not completely different developments! He¡¯d spent years setting things up after that, made every preparation, sent every feeler and laid every lure for this day. Nothing had been left to chance ¨C


    Fahrad¡¯s redemption. The creation of Emerentius completely blindsided him¡­


    But that shouldn¡¯t matter! Not in such a short time window, and everything else had unfolded as he foresaw it. Perhaps not the prophet¡¯s rejection of him, but Rheastrasza¡¯s presence, and more importantly the way she got involved ¨C everything unfolded exactly as he had foreseen. She was here, so was he, and with Korialstrasz and Onyxia somewhere within there was precisely one part left to play, and he¡¯d made sure it would be a blue!


    He¡¯d painstakingly sent feelers and set lures for months to make it happen, before he hired himself on as a farmhand even, this made no sense! Who even was it if not-


    ¡°Curse you, human!¡± He heard her voice even before he saw it. ¡°Curse you, but you¡¯ve failed! You thought to bring this building down on me? We are the masters of flame and earth! We feast on searing metals and drink from magma streams, what is a house of stones and mortar? Nothing! And now you, too, are nothing! Hrgh ¨C gckh! Pest!¡±


    There was no man¡¯s body that could be seen, and the dust cover was still so thick that no one could keep their eyes open for long without tearing up. Everyone was harshly choking and coughing¡­ But you couldn¡¯t miss or mistake the rasping, crazed timber of that monster, or the hacking sounds as she coughed up half a shield and some armor.


    ¡°No!¡± Lady Mara cried in anguish next to him, falling to her knees with hands over her mouth. ¡°Ser Saidan!¡±


    ¡°Grrr ¨C hrk ¨C pah!¡± The black she-dragon retched and regurgitated an arm and a leg, one by one. ¡°I¡¯ll enjoy passing you, human, such insolence as yours ¨C not for three hundred years have I ¨C wait¡­¡±


    Black scales, size so enormous that no one save Deathwing himself was bigger, that voice that sounded like her throat was scarred from fire despite that black dragons breathed it. Scarred ¨C scars all over her body! Burns! Burns so hot and severe they¡¯d even scarred a lava dweller! She was covered in them, that ¨C this was ¨C


    ¡°Who ¨C oh ¨C ohohohohoho!¡± Laughed the black she-dragon all of a sudden, he didn¡¯t understand- ¡°So that¡¯s what you were really after! It¡¯s not enough to bury me alive, you thought so deny me my vengeance! I see it now, you were stalling all along, you¡¯re in league with him! You almost had me, what an insidious insect you are!¡±


    ¡°Sintharia,¡± Kairozdormu gasped through a sore throat. ¡°Sinestra ¨C Deathwing¡¯s consort ¨C¡° The one that still lived ¨C the only one who survived mating with the corrupted Aspect of the Earth, she was here?! ¡°How ¨C why her ¨C? Here ¨C this is bad! This is very, very bad!¡±


    ¡°Oh, how I¡¯ve stewed and readied for revenge!¡± Rumbled lady Sinestra as her huge body was engulfed by the glow of shape change. ¡°To have it denied me in the eleventh hour ¨C no! I will not allow it!¡±


    Inexplicably, Sintharia ¨C Sinestra, or whatever name she went by now. She turned back into a human instead of continuing the rampage she clearly had no reservations about pursuing ¨C she ¨C she ran and vanished back into the keep? What?


    ¡°Accursed dragons!¡± Wayland¡¯s hand split the smog with a screeching windshear. As his spirits blew the worst of the smog away and began collecting it in a whirlwind above the castle maze, he jumped straight from the top stairs of the castle into their midst. His oncoming form was like a white and golden spirit of wrath and vengeance, but his voice ¨C it lacked its prior strength. ¡°Light forbid we be allowed to solve our own problems! You just have to stick your noses into everything, even if it means breaking what little is left of the world! I need volunteers!¡±


    Volunteers for what? Wayland couldn¡¯t mean ¨C this was no time for skewed priorities! That was ¨C who was she wanting to ¨C ¡°Korialstrasz!¡± The realization finally found him. Kairozdormu tried to push himself up with the arm he didn¡¯t have.


    ¡°Who said that? You ¨C oh. Of course it¡¯s you.¡± Wayland hurried over and knelt to help him sit up as best he could on a single leg. ¡°What did you say? Who was that? Where is she going?¡±


    ¡°Korialstrasz ¨C Krasus, she wants revenge!¡± The heavens and hells all curse the black dragons, would they never be spared their insanity?! Kairozdormu could breathe again, and see again beyond thirty meters, but of the last dragon there was no sign. If Sinestra was here, then what about Onyxia? Where was that blasted wench?


    Wayland grabbed his face with both hands. ¡°Speak!¡±


    ¡°Lady Sinestra ¨C Sintharia ¨C she¡¯s Deathwing¡¯s consort. She tried to bring down the Kirin Tor some time ago, but Krasus stopped her. I don¡¯t know why she waited so long, Krasus has been here for days, he even managed to see me in the dungeons, but ¨C if she¡¯s here, she¡¯s not alone. Or she is, but she¡¯s not the only one, Onyxia may also be here! She¡¯s-¡±


    ¡°I know who she is,¡± Wayland let go and rubbed a hand over own his face, looking first angry, then frustrated, then bleak.


    The resignation that stole over his features was enough to shock even Kairozdormu out of his frantic outrage. It ¨C that wasn¡¯t any mere dejection, it was despair sunk so deep that it circled all the way into toneless misery.


    ¡°What even is the point?¡± Wayland asked dismally, even he ¨C even his will was spent? ¡°Just to drive us into a corner? Why would we serve when we don¡¯t even care enough to rule anymore? The world ended once already and their prisons are still there, this just means there¡¯ll be less of us to fool into getting them loose. If you disenfranchise the young too much, we¡¯ll burn the whole world down just to feel the heat.¡±


    There had been plenty of anger and grief on the way out from the dungeons, from all the people, but those feelings were shattered now. Everyone now believed that Alterac¡¯s royal house was controlled by evil black dragons.


    Now those same feelings were as dead as their hopes. Such was the impact of seeing their holy saviour brought to despair.


    Wayland closed his eyes, took a deep breath and slowly released it. ¡°Be sober like the earth and you will not lack anything. The branch full of fruit is broken faster by wind, the seed too deep cannot push through and too much water crumbles its breath.¡± His eyes snapped open. ¡°I need that debris moved, as much of it as you all can, dig out the bodies! I have enough left in me for one last calamity and one last miracle, but if they come back while still crushed and buried, I may as well be the first who falls to hell. I need volunteers!¡±


    ¡°You have them!¡± Bravely proclaimed the Lady Mara, standing up at once. ¡°Where would you have us?¡±


    ¡°I need people who know the castle, as many as possible, is there anyone who knows the secret ways? Some of them might still be open, if we can just find them-¡±


    Shadows flowed out of someone Kairozdormu hadn¡¯t thought twice about. The man blitzed through the crowd faster than you could draw a knife, left half a dozen dead in his wake and stopped on one knee before the saint. ¡°Beg pardon, your holiness.¡± He said while a bunch of others did the same among the masses all over the yard. ¡°We were hoping to find the last of the worst scum to finish them off at once, but if you need the secret ways, we know them best.¡±


    ¡°¡­ Jorach. You were here all along. Of course you are.¡± Wayland covered his mouth, but couldn¡¯t stop a short, startled laugh slipping out. ¡°I¡¯ll be counting on you and yours, then ¨C how many...?¡±


    The answer turned out to be about a dozen assassins hidden among the crowd. Which were just the ones left after the holy smite took out the rest of the ones that Ravenholdt had brought along.


    For the second time that day, Kairozdormu began to laugh. At the mess he was in, at the humans around him, at the young holy man who¡¯d spoiled his grand scheme without even knowing about it, and most of all he laughed at himself.


    With a wrench in his soul, his very spirit became fuel for a spell of temporal reversion.


    His leg grew back. His arm too. At least that was what it looked like. His breath rattled with the effort, and the pain of using what dregs of spirit he still had in place of flesh, to revert his limbs to before the moment they were hewn.


    Everyone but the prophet and his pet killers drew away in fright. Then further as they realized he was the source of the new mad cackling.


    He was ¨C so tired, the torture ¨C the human form should be a healing reprieve when a dragon¡¯s true form is grievously injured, it was no small thing to do the same in reverse. He ¨C didn¡¯t have enough to risk ¨C shouldn¡¯t try to turn back into a dragon in his state, he¡¯d lost too much, the crippling, maiming ¨C Perenolde had even found spirit-burning poisons, was that Sinestra¡¯s influence as well?


    ¡°Kairozdormu¡­¡± Wayland said lowly. ¡°You don¡¯t have to do this.¡±


    Does he think I¡¯m about to attack? ¡°Earlier, I tried ¨C to leave the dome as you told me ¨C but I was denied because I failed the test of courage.¡± Turning away, Kairozdormu exited the mass of humanity, magical shimmers coursing over his skin. ¡°I didn¡¯t understand it then, I never planned to leave to begin with, never intended to let anyone else decide the conclusion of this scheme of mine. How fitting that a saint should differentiate between courage and hubris!¡±


    His change to his true form almost knocked him unconscious, such was the damage that had carried through. He ¨C might have lost time regardless, he didn¡¯t remember reaching the keep¡¯s walls, or when he stopped half-way up the climb. With an effort of will, he clawed his way up to where Sintharia had burst through, took as deep a lungful of air as he ever had, and breathed the sands of time upon the ruin.


    He didn¡¯t remember stopping, but he must have. His footing was loose beneath him now, no more broken masonry and rubble littering the flooring still intact, mixed in with blood and rags. There was only the dust left at the end of entropic decay, and the untouched flesh of fresh human corpses safe inside beds of powder. Just as he¡¯d wanted.


    He fell more than climbed back down.


    ¡°That ¨C should make it easier,¡± he groaned when he finally made out the Prophet and his devotees through his blurry sight, old and new. ¡°Mortar and stone ¨C it¡¯s all dust now, save the bodies. Hurry now¡­ The others ¨C they won¡¯t wait.¡±


    Wayland punched his snout suddenly. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare pass out, you¡¯re too big and heavy to move! At least get outside first-¡°


    ¡°I ¨C won¡¯t be able,¡± the dragon rasped, struggling to keep open just one eye. ¡°That ¨C wasn¡¯t courage.¡±


    ¡°¡­ No,¡± Wayland said sadly, his hand more gentle now. ¡°It wasn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Do you know ¨C Prophet ¨C what the Aspects could do all together? And the Titan engines too, curse Deathwing and his Demon Soul!¡±


    If only Kairozdormu had been alive then, around to warn then not to give their powers to the traitor¡­


    But would they have listened?


    ¡°The Aspect of Life is a record of all life in the world, anything could be reborn¡­ Everything¡­ Time ¨C we bronze can scry the world as it was at any point in its history. With Dream ¨C Ysera can fathom the entire world in her slumber, the Emerald Dream itself could become the world as it was before! If only the Earth had not betrayed us, he and Magic together could refashion the Arcane itself according to its own pattern. Impose the Dream of the World-that-Was was upon the World-that-is! Can you imagine it?¡±


    ¡°¡­ The Titan Forges,¡± Wayland understood, of course he did, if not him then who among the mortals even could? ¡°Re-Origination but with extra steps ¨C are you saying it¡¯s possible to rewind time for the entire planet?¡±


    Belatedly, the bronze dragon felt chagrin at just spilling his mad thoughts out in the open, two blacks were here, three if you counted the gold one. The Enemy ¨C it always listened ¨C had surely listened in ¨C oh.


    There was the Light and the Wind and hot mists around the two of them, Wayland had already taken steps to prevent anyone else from hearing or seeing them converse.


    ¡°I¡¯m saying,¡± the dragon struggled to say before he forgot. ¡°That I think it¡¯s already been done.¡± He locked his eye on the human¡¯s face. ¡°You were not meant to exist, and the Infinites vanished from time the moment you began to form in your mother¡¯s womb. The future we knew, the one that Nozdormu once knew ¨C it¡¯s gone.¡±


    ¡°Because it¡¯s all in the past after you lot reset the world?¡± Instead of being thunderstruck by revelation, the young prophet was skeptical and ¨C and something ¨C what? ¡°¡­ No, I don¡¯t think so.¡±


    What was he ¨C? ¡°You would just dismiss-¡°


    ¡°If something like that did ever happen, I doubt it happened here. Either way, it has nothing to do with me. I came over here all on my own.¡±


    The dragon¡¯s thoughts skittered ungainly. What did he mean ¨C ah¡­ The Light¡­ it soothed his pains like the flames of life never could, it was¡­ so ¨C  ¡°Nooo¡­¡± Kairozdormu moaned, rolling over and away, out of the sight and sound concealing bubble. ¡°Don¡¯t ¨C the relief ¨C leave the pain, I ¨C I don¡¯t dare pass out any more than you want me to. Just ¨C need a moment¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­ You and you, watch him. The rest of you, bring down the corpses, you needn¡¯t be too gentle, just do your best to keep them in one piece. Lady Mara, Lady Valea, your majesties, I hate to say this but you need to pause the evacuation.¡±


    ¡°We understand,¡± came the gravelly voice of Archibald Greymane. ¡°We need to keep numerical superiority, or the rotten ones will try to take us down with them again.¡±


    ¡°Father, you leave, I will stay and-¡°


    ¡°And nothing! I¡¯m old, the future of our house is with you now.¡±


    ¡°How will we know when to leave?¡± Twinblades asked over the argument.


    ¡°When it¡¯s time, everyone will know, I¡¯ll make sure of it. If he can¡¯t move on his own by then, save yourselves.¡±


    ¡°We will, do not worry for us,¡± said Lady Mara. ¡°Lightspeed, your holiness.¡±


    ¡°Nowhere near that fast, I¡¯m afraid.¡±


    Kairozdormu thought that would be it, but it wasn¡¯t. Instead, he felt Wayland¡¯s hand on the back of his neck. ¡°Kairozdormu, if you meant anything of what you ever told me-¡°


    The dragon grunted. ¡°Everything.¡±


    ¡°Then live. And when this is over, go ask Nozdormu if the Caverns make it possible to use portals that don¡¯t yet exist. He¡¯ll understand.¡±


    Wayland turned and strode into the keep and out of hearing before Kairozdormu had a chance to reply.


    Soon after, the only sounds were tromping feet, tired grunts, bodies being dragged, and calls for help and care as the humans set about their grim work.


    The bronze dragon only realized he had passed out when he was abruptly snapped back awake.


    Alterac Keep was rumbling like it only had when Sinestra broke it, and a mighty clangour sounded through its front doors. Roars, screams, crashes and explosions, intermixed with words muffled by wafts of cold and hot winds mixed together. Every once in a while, the castle lost another shingle or window. The noises came and they went, and came and went again, but didn¡¯t cease.


    Kairozdormu sunk his claws into the earth and made to rise. Somehow, he found the strength.


    But not the will.


    He ¨C he¡¯d definitely go in and lend his useless assistance to a cause he was virtually guaranteed not to survive anymore.


    Just ¨C just give him five more minutes.

 On the Back of the Mushroom

    ¡°-. Aiden Perenolde .-¡°


    When he was a small boy, a pair of bluebirds built a nest outside his window. Then a cuckoo laid an egg in it while the parents were away. When the cuckoo egg hatched, its first act upon being born was to push the bluebird eggs and two chicks out of the nest. Killed them one after another, right out of the egg. Unable to recognize the chick¡¯s true nature, the parents fed the cuckoo chick until it got several times bigger than both of them combined, only abandoning it when it began to beat them bloody for not feeding it enough. It was the first time Aiden Perenolde witnessed the creation of life, and also the first time he witnessed murder.


    The second year, the cuckoo chick hatched too late and didn¡¯t manage to evict the other chicks because they¡¯d grown too big. The parents, having learned from the year before, recognized the parasite and pecked it to death. Upon seeing this, the cuckoo¡¯s real mother swept down, tormented the parents until they fled in bloody tatters, and ate the native chicks in revenge.


    Third year, the cuckoo chick once again hatched too late to displace the natives, but the parents¡¯ courage was in shambles. Wary of the adult cuckoo in their midst, they did not attack the parasite. They just refused to feed it until it died, starving and suffocating under their own, real children. Alas for them, the mother cuckoo was no less offended by this, and it came down upon them and their babies with even more ravenous anger then the year before.


    After that, year after year, the mother and father bluebirds slavishly fed the cuckoo chick, even if just enough to keep it alive, in the hopes that it would stave off the parasite''s observant real parents'' retaliatory attacks. Only then did they finally succeed in raising their own children to adulthood.


    Ever since then, every time Aiden Perenolde saw someone grasp for power and glory, all he would think about was that elder cuckoo swooping down to eat the babes.


    ¡°The cuckoo doesn¡¯t recognize its own nature,¡± came that hated voice that he nearly didn¡¯t recognize, as the ¨C the worst double vision ever seared Aiden¡¯s soul. ¡°Projecting all the way to the end, are you? Then I¡¯ll be glad to divest myself of my last mixed feelings about this sordid farce.¡±


    He heard a click.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t do that if I were you,¡± Ysolde warned from across the throne room, stepping over the fallen Archmage. Behind her, the other she-dragon ¨C one none of them had expected to be here but was apparently Ysolde¡¯s real mother ¨C was sinking her clawed fingers into Krasus¡¯ chest as the archmage heaved his last breath on the floor.


    Aiden looked up from where he¡¯d fallen on his face. There was a metal pipe aimed at his face, something that looked like ¨C his heart missed a beat. It was dwarven boomstick. Small, it was being held in a single hand, but he had no doubt it would end his life if-


    ¡°Some people like to look down on ¡®meaningless¡¯ childhood trauma, but I¡¯ve found it pays very much to determine exactly when someone stops being human and resolves to live the rest of their life as a monster.¡± The Prophet turned his contemptuous eyes away from him and towards his wife, though the weapon didn¡¯t even twitch. ¡°This does not extend to actual cuckoos among sapient species. Either way, neither of you have any excuse.¡±


    ¡°Grand words from someone who invited all his on himself,¡± Ysolde stepped forward, her half-burned, tattered robes becoming once more pristine between one step and the next. ¡°Trying to start an economic and social revolution in the most unstable kingdom, what did you think would happen?¡±


    ¡°Oh, believe me when I say I made no assumptions at all.¡±


    ¡°What a paltry rejoinder,¡± his dragon wife scoffed as she began to circle around them. ¡°You had your chance in front of the king, you could have ended it right then but did nothing. It¡¯s such a shame some little babes paid the price and not you.¡±


    ¡°Ah yes,¡± the prophet said in contempt, circling in the opposite direction of her. When the weapon moved away from Aiden¡¯s head, he felt like he¡¯d shudder from relie- ¡°I¡¯m to blame for an evil man murdering my family because I wouldn¡¯t let myself be kidnapped or murdered. What brilliant logic.¡±


    ¡°Compared to what? Yours? You brought a man back to life in the middle of the public square in broad daylight. But instead of capitalizing on your victory by just ending the problem in the throne room then and there, you instead gave your king an insult he could not abide, and then just walked away to let the problem fester.¡±


    ¡°I should just be murderously reactionary like you? You should have no problem with me killing you here and now, then.¡±


    ¡°As if you can.¡±


    ¡°Well that¡¯s what you want, isn¡¯t it? You¡¯re an unexpected unwanted development I can only react to, so I should do my best to kill you. If I¡¯m supposed to have such poor impulse control that you think I should have gone berserk against the king and damn everyone else who might get in my way, why should I hold back against such an acceptable target as you?


    ¡°Spare me your propitiations. They are worthless, they will always be worthless as long as you humans cannot even see that good and evil are all a figment of the mind.¡±


    ¡°You know the most dubious thing about moral relativism?¡± The Prophet said lowly, spinning his weapon around a finger. ¡°It''s never promoted by anyone you''d actually want to be around. It''s always the wretch eating a baby who claims that good and evil are just cultural baggage, never mind opinions as hollow as you, Onyxia.¡± The prophet aimed his gun at her-


    Ysolde ¨C Onyxia the Black Dragon spat flames so fast it had already engulfed the place where the man had been. Aiden managed not to shut his eyes, which was the only reason he saw what really happened. The Prophet shrunk so fast he lost sight of him and then a gust of wind ¨C where did he go?! ¡°Ware, he-!¡±


    CRAK BOOM


    A streak of blood flew from Onyxia as she spun to face the new danger, which was the only reason she didn¡¯t suffer worse than a gash across her face. Behind her, the other she-dragon¡¯s head snapped back from a much bigger blast to the belly, shot from a double-piped monstrosity.


    BOOM


    ¡°GHKAH!¡±


    A second blast caught the scarred woman in her face and sent her flying to crash several feet away in bloody tatters.


    The prophet crouched over the fallen archmage, touched him with a glowing hand and grimaced as nothing happened. He leaped sideways just as Onyxia unleashed an even hotter stream of flames. The cone of fire followed his jump faster than he could land.


    This time, Aiden saw the flames engulf him, but he saw something else too. ¡°His forcefield,¡± he rasped, pulling himself to his knees by the fallen statue next to him. ¡°He¡¯s protected!¡±


    Onyxia¡¯s flame breath tapered off with a snarl, but she followed it with a new one from her hands. There was an even stronger gust of wind this time, and her spell was disrupted. She unleashed a frost nova in response. ¡°You humans and your tricks!¡±


    The prophet grew back to size in her blind spot and shot her in the head before the afterimages even faded, he was changing his size somehow and was carried by unnatural wind!


    CRACK


    Onyxia stumbled forward- ¡°Egtelarcan!¡± ¨C but she turned it into a spin and unleashed a dozen arcane missiles back on him. Stone dust and chips flew from her hair as the other¡¯s forcefield flickered weakly over his body, she¡¯d cast some sort of stone armor? If she hadn¡¯t, would the hit have ¨C


    With a wind and upward wrench, the marble floor burst up in a cage of spikes that trapped the prophet and gored him-


    The saint shrunk again and appeared on the opposite side of Onyxia from Aiden before she even recovered from her spell.


    CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK


    Two shots deflected off Onyxia¡¯s arcane shield, the last two went by and got Aiden himself in the side and knee.


    ¡°ARG!¡± He screamed, falling back down when he¡¯d only just finished climbing up.


    ¡°Husband! You wretch, your death will last weeks!¡±


    But Hywel was nowhere to be seen, then he was suddenly just behind Aiden and reloading his weapon with a clik ¨C click ¨C clik-


    ¡°Oh no you don¡¯t! Telum flamma!¡±


    - click ¨C click ¨C click ¨C whirr ¨C snap.


    The flaming bolts went over Aiden and all hit the enemy, one of them actually singing his arm when his forcefield failed just as it struck. Hywel didn¡¯t drop his weapon and aimed just as Onyxia made a grasping motion and swiped-


    Aiden screamed at the pain in his wounds as he felt himself wrenched out of the way. He slid to a stop in front of the closed hall doors just as Onyxia hurled a fireball where he and Hywel had las been.


    Hywel jumped back, kicked up off the wall ¨C he could levitate? ¨C and shrunk in a haze of afterimages such that he narrowly avoided the flame wave and ¨C where did he go?!


    Onyxia¡¯s eyes tracked something unseen and she spewed a flaming breath-


    Her throat folded around a seemingly invisible blow. Her flames sputtered as she staggered backwards, releasing an arcane nova and following with a frost wave and forcefield around herself while she choked without air, she-


    She opened her mouth almost unnaturally wide, shoved her hand deep inside and pushed her collapsed throat back open with her fingers.


    It was just enough time for Hywel to reappear, reload his double-piped boomstick and-


    BOOM


    Onyxia¡¯s forcefield rang like a gong, but held.


    BOOM


    Her forcefield vanished just before the shot was fired, why-


    The woman had strafed before the shot such that she only took the projectile in the shoulder instead of her throat. Her sleeve tore and blood began to gush out of the wound, but she gritted her teeth and erected a wall of stone with a wave of her other hand. Only then she grabbed her wounded shoulder. ¡°When I¡¯m through with you, I¡¯ll make your petty spirits wish they¡¯d fed themselves to slugs!¡±


    Spirits? Aiden struggled to think through the light-headedness from his bleeding injuries, is that why ¨C how many powers did he have? Wasn¡¯t it enough he could use the Light with such impunity as to-


    Wait, he did do that didn¡¯t he? He trapped the entire crowd in the market, when he resurrected that man, the golden light rose up to churn the sky itself, the clouds ¨C and then that dome around that merchant¡¯s house, why isn¡¯t he-?


    The prophet had vanished and appeared behind Onyxia again to


    BANG BANG BANG BANG -


    She took three hits, grew a dome of earth around herself-


    BANG BA-


    -and then a second engulfed the prophet where he stood.


    A cloud of dusk kicked off the ground between the two balls of earth, as if angry. When Onyxia¡¯s hasty ball of defense crumbled around her, the dust engulfed her face.


    ¡°Ack-die, damn you!¡± Onyxia roared hoarsely, blood trailing down her lips.


    The second dome imploded like crumpled paper.


    But the dust cloud only billowed even more madly in response, slamming open all but the warded great doors to bring in more powdered earth and glass until Aiden couldn¡¯t see Onyxia anymore in the haze, even though he was on the outside and unaffected.


    The crumpled earth shell melted a hole just a finger¡¯s width thick, allowing the gnat-sized Prophet to escape. He reappeared just outside the whirling dust devil and shot inside seemingly blindly, once, three, six times, then he unhooked the spool-like thing to reload, click, click click ¨C


    Everything shook. Aiden was thankful he was already on the ground, but the pain in his knee and side flared, and he lost track of the rest of the earthquake in his light-headedness. Belatedly, he remembered that he still had a healing potion or two in his belt, so he did his best not to let is hands tremble too much while he pawed at the case. When the pain vanished, the relief almost knocked him out after all the blood loss.


    His head cleared to the sound of wall-shaking gurling roar. Squinting through the settling dust, Aiden Perenolde saw Hywel well away from where he was before. Onyxia was barely standing to one side. On his other side¡­


    It was a black dragon so large that it didn¡¯t fit the throne room, its form writhing and twitching as its shoulder and wing pushed against the ceiling and the walls, the walls ¨C the floor ¨C they shook in tandem with her roars, cracking long fissures that kept growing as black slime-like things squeezed out of the creature¡¯s ruined face and split belly and the roof is falling have to move!


    Aiden Perenolde barely got away from a falling chunk of the ceiling, his heart pounding in his ears.


    ¡°K¡¯ll you!¡± The frenzied creature hawked wetly amidst whirling dust and crumbling masonry, the woman ¨C the she-dragon ¨C she¡¯d survived? ¡°I¡¯ K¡¯LL YOUUU???????????????????!¡±


    ¡°Fuck,¡± cursed the so-called saint as he was engulfed in seething purple flames.


    Aiden was prevented to see what came next by rocky prongs suddenly erupting around him to stop yet another piece of falling ceiling crushing him to pulp.


    ¡°Husband,¡± Onyxia called as she landed next to him. She was dishevelled and caked in wet dust all over, blood dripping from her forehead and lips and practically soaking her left arm. She looked back at the other dragon with a complicated, vicious look before turning back to him. ¡°Get to safety.¡±


    The stones and earth were removed from him and he rushed to stand, barely not falling back down as his head went light again. ¡°Wait!¡± He called, grabbing on his wife¡¯s robe. ¡°He¡¯s weak!¡± The random facts in his mind finally made sense. ¡°Whatever he did, he¡¯s not as powerful as before. His attacks ¨C his defenses have a limit. Your fire blasts didn¡¯t breach his shield, it just expired! You can outlast him!¡±


    ¡°Well isn¡¯t that just fascinating,¡± his new wife hissed with dark anticipation. ¡°Go!¡±


    Aiden turned and ran as best he could on his keep¡¯s now constantly shaking foundations. The great doors were still locked, but the wall on one side had an all-new hole. He climbed through, feeling like his throat would turn itself inside out from the effort and dust and glass powder caking the air. But he made it to the other side, and then it was all he could do to keep going.


    He still barely made it out. His castle wasn¡¯t collapsing around him, but the unstable floor and the falling candelabra made it feel like it was really, really trying.


    Finally, finally he made it out.


    He was met with the sight of all his loyalists defeated, scattered traitors running away outside the golden dome, and a bunch of them still inside and arranged as if awaiting a charge for battle. Two dragons were in a stand-off on the outside of the forcefield. Finally, a fourth dragon, a giant bronze one was inside. Sprawled across a quarter of his welcome courtyard, seemingly dead. All around him were corpses of men, women and children.


    Devils, how many are there?! How many dragons insinuated themselves in my court?!


    The floor shook so strongly then that his light-headedness finally got the better of him. He lost his footing to the earthquake and fell down the stairs, all the way to the ground. It was only his enchanted mesh that let him survive with nothing worse than an added blow to the head.


    When he came to a stop, he pushed himself up to all fours and froze when he felt a sharp edge at the back of his neck.


    ¡°No sudden moves,¡± came the voice of Jorach Ravenholdt as he proceeded to disarm him and remove his equipment bags.


    Even his own assassin had betrayed him.


    ¡°Get up. Good. Now walk. No no, not that way, we wouldn¡¯t-¡° The ground rumbled as a plume of fire and smoke escape through the roof of the keep behind them. Aiden felt his heart stop as the tip drew blood, he¡¯d almost died by accident as Ravenholdt struggled to stay balanced. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t want to give them the wrong idea. That way. Quickly now, or the next time my hand really might slip.¡±


    The traitor led him the way opposite of his loyalists, but that was itself a show of weakness. It meant that there was still something to rally. Aiden could rally them. If he knocked them out of their wailing and muttering he could still change the tide of this disaster, either now or while the traitors fled like the cowards they were through whatever backdoor Hywel left, they could then-


    ¡°It won¡¯t work,¡± Ravenholdt mercilessly ruined his last hope. ¡°Those are the dregs that weren¡¯t as rotten as you. Most who might have helped you died outright. The few who didn¡¯t are blind or lackwits now.¡±


    ¡°The word of a consummate liar can¡¯t be trusted.¡±


    ¡°Quite so.¡±


    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Aiden gnashed his teeth. Gods, how he wished he¡¯d lived during the Fowl War.


    He was led to a group made up of the King and Prince of Gilneas, Valea Twinblade who seemed to command the strongest force, and Lady Mara Fordragon of Stormwind who seemed to have somehow wound up in charge of everyone. To Aiden¡¯s complete astonishment, Richard Angevin was nowhere to be found.


    To his bitter shame, he didn¡¯t dare meet any of their eyes lest the visions come back. To his even greater offense, none of them gave him more than a disdainful glance before Ravenhold was ushering him further away. They were more concerned with watching the keep, and chewing their lips every time it rumbled with flashes and noise.


    Aiden refused to walk further even as the dagger dug into his back. ¡°Where is my nephew?!¡± That was guaranteed to get a response from bleeding hearts like-


    ¡°Away,¡± was the answer of Archibald Greymane, whose manner seemed much more put together than just hours earlier. ¡°His life will be comfortable, all things considered.¡±


    ¡°I demand-!¡° Ravenhold shoved Aiden hard with his hand, then a pair of Twinblade¡¯s biggest armsmen grabbed him by an arm each and dragged him off.


    Shortly after, he was dropped on his knees near the horse awnings just outside the gates. He quickly jumped back up and looked around. On two sides of him were blank-faced men dressed like commoners but armed with daggers of too fine make. Ravenholdt¡¯s? Yet more traitors, but not from among the ones he knew about, they weren¡¯t anyone he ever allowed into his presence or access to information, he made a point of being thoroughly informed about all of them.


    He hadn¡¯t missed any spies or hired blades then, they must have only come for today¡¯s operation. Ravenholdt had indeed been true, until he turned. Aiden didn¡¯t know if he should be more glad or furious.


    In front of Aiden, sitting on a hay bale and looking at him with hard, judgmental eyes, was Narett the alchemist. The man looked emaciated and still lacked his hand, but his skin was hale and without scars.


    The added confirmation of Hywel¡¯s fall from power made Aiden feel a burst of vindication, but his outrage was still greater. And the fact that he, the king, still had to avert his eyes lest he enter another vision was too much to bear. ¡°Another that would seek to judge me,¡± he sneered, then scoffed as arrogantly as he could at the lack of reply. ¡°Go ahead then, if you¡¯ve the words.¡±


    The alchemist stood up and left.


    The complete dismissal almost sent Aiden into a murderous rage, he hadn¡¯t been bound, the fools hadn¡¯t bound his hands or brought out chains, he could ¨C he should ¨C


    He didn¡¯t. He gnashed his teeth harder and glared at the man¡¯s back, trying to convince himself it was because the turncoat had no tongue and was just trying to pretend dignity.


    A rumble louder than any heard before heralded the complete collapse of his throne room down on itself. Aiden watched in shock as the roof caved in, and the massive spume of dust, ash and smoke that burst up. Flashes of red light painted it from within, mixing like a blood moon¡¯s glare with the billowing smog. They soon became a stream of fire that burst out of the cloud outright, gushing out as the beast climbed up through the falling structure.


    Just as the scarred dragon ¨C Sinestra? What kind of name ¨C seemed to reach the end of its breath, a second stream of fire came from elsewhere to continue the assault on-


    From within the fire, a tiny speck of gold shot out, arched its way like ¨C borne by a strong wind that scattered the haze. The spark grew mid-air, to the full size of Hywel holding a green staff which he struck down.


    The butt of the staff struck the head of the second she-dragon with the force of a thunderstrike, just as it came out of the ash devil.


    CRACK-THOOM


    Aiden flinched and covered his ears at the noise, it was so loud his eardrums hurt.


    Through his squint, he saw that most others had done the same. Had he the presence of mind, he¡¯d have tried to escape from the distracted killers, perhaps take Narett hostage-


    The older, scarred dragon landed on the half-collapsed west wing. Hywel landed on the arched roof of the east wing, which was the only part of Aiden¡¯s castle still intact. Lava drips and steaming black blood seeped from the scarred she-dragon¡¯s jaws as she sought stable footing on the building she¡¯d herself broken. Ysolde¡­ Onyxia¡­ Aiden¡¯s wife was nowhere to be seen, but Aiden swore he could still hear-


    ¡°Finally down to your last tricks, boy?¡± The monstrous creature gurgled through her half-stitched mouth. The black blood seemed to be curdling into musky yarn growing in and out of her face, and her thrumming gut. ¡°Whatever it is, it won¡¯t matter!¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± Hywel¡¯s voice somehow made itself heard as if he was just a few meters away, instead of a hundred. It was a bleak and resigned thing that made everyone dread. ¡°There is no tragedy you won¡¯t relish, no victory you won¡¯t spoil. Whether or not we get our shit together, it¡¯s almost never anyone¡¯s fault but our own. But then something like this happens, when one of you lizards turns out to have been among us all along. So everyone blames you for everything, and nobody learns anything because no one can conceive of taking responsibility for themselves in your shadow.¡±


    The dragon laughed madly, almost delightedly, then the floor exploded under Hywel¡¯s feet. He was barely airborne when new flames enveloped him, from there and the older dragon both. Cries of dismay arose from those watching as the small, fading light was seemingly overwhelmed and buried in molten rock and dark fire by the two dark beasts that-


    Everything flared golden, completely golden like it only had once before, that same morning. A spiral of words began to shine up through the ground. Suddenly, from that part of the Prophet that Aiden had hoped had disappeared from within him, came words.


    ¡°The Light unites the one who sees with the one who thinks, the one who feels with the one who does, but the unwise separates them, and thus he separates himself.¡±


    Many columns of light erupted skywards from everywhere in sight, and inside the castle too, even as the dragons became more frenzied in their joint destruction.


    ¡°As the Light sees through your eyes, let it beat, breathe and flow with you, for it is eternal and without shadow, beyond beauty and ugliness, beyond good and evil, beyond life and death, beyond the flow of time.¡±


    ¡°The End,¡± the voice came from both inside and out then. ¡°Is the Beginning!¡±


    Aiden¡¯s consciousness was obliterated with a blinding, wit-shattering shock as the fragment of foreign soul inside of him gave its last.


    He woke up feeling like his chest, throat and skull had been raked inside out with sharp nails. He was on the ground. The ground that shook, but no longer with earthquakes. Instead, there were tromping feet, and bigger feet as great impacts came and went amidst roars and wing beats cut short by violence.


    Pushing up, he saw through stinging eyes that people were outright running out through the forcefield as quickly as they could. Even as they left, more people ran, staggered or limped out of the farthest and smallest exits from the right wing of the castle, joining the evacuation that just barely stopped short of becoming a stampede. Only two of the four people in charge seemed to be in the same place, the Gilneans. Where-? How long had he been-?


    Beyond them, the corpses were gone ¨C no¡­ No, Aiden recognized some of the faces among those making their last escape, they ¨C he¡¯d revived them. Hywel had brought them back ¨C so many at once¡­


    What kind of monster even was he? How could a mere man be able to-?


    A wave of fiery death bathed the air above him, through which the bronze dragon he¡¯d thought dead barrelled through despite the pain of peeling scales to bodyslam the ¨C no scars, Onyxia? Ysolde?


    Hot blood splattered Aiden¡¯s face as he stared up at the grappling dragons that lost buoyance and crashed together into the belfry. The massive tower groaned dangerously as its base was cracked through.


    Back at the keep, the bigger black dragon was in a teeth-clenched grapple with a red ¨C a red dragon too? Another one? And then the two outside, Hywel¡¯s ¨C Aiden¡¯s own assassin had been a dragon himself, before he betrayed him, and now the fifth ¨C what other colours is he going to see before this is over?!


    The dragons¡¯ clinch broke along with the last shuddering dregs of the west wing¡¯s second floor, sending the two rolling and thrashing furiously down into the courtyard where the bronze and corpses used to be, just as Hywel himself ushered the last survivors out of the East quarters.


    Onyxia bashed the wobbly bronze over the head with part of the wall and spat steaming blood at him, but didn¡¯t wait to watch it sizzle. She stumbled trying to fly, then snarled angrily and ran on the ground right where the Prophet was.


    Hywel cursed, interposed himself between the last child and the dragon, and cast a weak shield as wide as he could, which was paltry indeed, it wouldn¡¯t-


    Mara Fordragon ran in just in the nick of time, and joined her Light to his. It was barely enough, and when Onyxia stopped to take another breath, Hywel vanished and appeared right between her jaws mid-swing.


    Somehow, she spat him out before the staff struck the roof of her mouth. There was still a crack of thunder, but she took just the hit from the exploding air instead of potentially losing her brain.


    ¡°Go,¡± Hywel gasped at the woman when he landed again, and the fools who¡¯d stopped to gape. ¡°Get out while you still can!¡±


    ¡°What about y-¡°


    ¡°That¡¯s my business!¡±


    As if to make a liar of him, the other black dragon flew belly-up over the lot of them and crashed into Onyxia just as the latter tried to leap away. In her wake, the red dragon who¡¯d thrown her jumped with aid from his wings and spat a wall of flames that were as golden as they were red. He then picked up the humans and leapt all the way to the gatehouse with another wing flap that only seemed to make the fire stronger.


    ¡°Beware that one!¡± The red dragon was the only part of the ensuing conversation loud enough for Aiden to hear where he was. ¡°She took me by complete surprise, I neither saw nor sensed her, she¡¯s done something so that I specifically can¡¯t feel her weaves.¡±


    Aiden wasn¡¯t close enough to catch whatever argument started then, though he did use the wall to get there as stealthily as he could. As he did, the two blacks overwhelmed the fire wall with their own. Onyxia was slammed into the side by the returning, half-dead Bronze just as she made to leap forward. The bigger one had no one to stop her.


    She leapt to attack the red, who met her half way. ¡°No means no, Prophet!¡± The latter grunted even as his opponent snapped like a crazy beast at his face. ¡°Besides, you¡¯ve been wrong before! I¡¯m not as important as you seem to think!¡±


    ¡°What do you-?¡± Hywel muttered just as Aiden drew close enough to hear. Then he snapped his fingers. ¡°Tyranastrasz! He¡¯s still alive.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll not be led around by imperfect foresight!¡± The red lied so blatantly that Aiden could spot it a league away-


    ¡°But you¡¯re not just ¨C Dalaran-¡±


    ¡°Has dismissed me, thanks to you!¡± the dragon Krasus grunted as he wrestled the enemy aside. ¡°Hurry, before we¡¯re overwhelmed!¡±


    An earth tremor threw Aiden to the ground and he lost the next part of the conversation. When he finally regained his bearings, Narett was running up from the gate, where the last stragglers had gone through. ¡°That¡¯s done!¡± So he did have his tongue again, curse that boy ¨C! ¡°We¡¯re the only ones left, Wayland, where do you¡­?¡±


    Risking a better look, Aiden peered over the overturned cart and saw the alchemist turn ashen.


    ¡°No,¡± Narett breathed, backing away from Hywel in horror to the confusion of everyone else. ¡°You can¡¯t mean-¡°


    ¡°Either this or they rouse Deathwing to break the world.¡± Hywel shifted grimly on his unsteady footing. Suddenly his tall, broad-shouldered body no longer obscured the headpiece of his staff. Even surrounded in floating blue and golden glyphs visibly shuddering against some mighty inner force, it shone so brightly that Aiden couldn¡¯t look directly at it. ¡°They cannot be allowed to live.¡±


    Sinestra bit deep into Krasus forelimb and managed to push him nearly far enough to crush the humans. Most of them ran out of the way. Hywel swayed in place, pushed off the heel of the red one and proceeded to half-run, half-stumble back in the direction of the keep even as the battling dragons nearly crushed him to death in their frenzy.


    ¡°Wayland,¡± Narett called after but didn¡¯t follow. ¡°The force ¨C you won¡¯t ¨C can¡¯t hope to-!¡°


    ¡°Then I guess we¡¯ll all see how beloved by the Light I really am!¡±


    ¡°You-¡°


    That was when the bronze got done in a second time, and Onyxia swooped down upon the loiterers. Somehow, Krasus managed to wrestle his own opponent in her path to buy a few moments. It was all the last traitors could do to run out of the forcefield before Onyxia torched them all.


    Aiden Perenolde stood there. Alone. Uncomprehending. Stunned.


    Everyone seemed to have forgotten about him.


    He¡­


    He ¨C they ¨C he was the king, Hywel had come for him, the Light¡¯s own Prophet, a literal Saint come down from heaven just to judge him, but now nobody¡­


    Nobody cared about him.


    The next while passed in a daze. He stared at where last four had left through the forcefield. He stared at the unknown dragon outside breaking the standoff and cutting into the path of the traitor-leaders to demand answers. He tried to stay out of the way of the dragons battling around him, only narrowly surviving because even Onyxia wasn¡¯t paying attention to him anymore.


    All she cared about was getting past the red dragon to kill Hywel, because unlike Aiden she seemed to understand what was going on. Something that scared her.


    When the three monsters took their fight away and finally began to demolish even the east wing, Aiden ran to where the last of his court was huddled and tried to rally them. Shook them, called to them, screamed at them, pushed, slapped, anything and everything he could think of until the first stone flew.


    They tried to stone him to death. A crying maiden tossed a rock at him, and it was like the gates of hell opened all at once, screaming blame and hatred at him as if he was to blame for every evil under the sun, called him ¨C him a traitor ¨C a dragon lover as if he¡¯d called them here, ran him off screaming that he¡¯d sold them out to monsters.


    Aiden only survived because half of them were blind, and none of them had the will to get on their feet anymore. They stayed there, shellshocked or weeping, and didn¡¯t follow as he ran.


    He ¨C what was ¨C they just ¨C what kind of people just gave up and went collectively mad? Was this the best Alterac could muster? What kind of creatures had his House been pandering to, that they acted like¡­?


    He stared at the forcefield in front of him. He didn¡¯t think to flee out for the gates when he ran from the mob, he didn¡¯t think about anywhere, but here he was. He tried to reach through the forcefield and couldn¡¯t, even though three literal assassins had passed through not long ago. Visions assaulted his mind, judging him, and he pulled away with a snarl.


    ¡°Even here at the end, it¡¯s all just mind games!¡±


    Seized by the spite of the condemned, Aiden Perenolde turned around and ran back into the keep. Fallen debris, upended earth and blocked passages barred his way, but none knew the castle better than him. He picked up what weapons he found along the way, from corpses and whatever display cases hadn¡¯t been looted.


    He thought he¡¯d find Hywel in the throne room, but he didn¡¯t. He wasn¡¯t in the Council room either, or the receiving area.


    Finally, he caught up with him in the corridor leading deep into the keep, towards where Aiden would have his private office if they were one floor higher.


    His thrown knives missed. So did the axe. The wind itself turned the weapons aside. When Aiden drew close to try and stick him with a spear, steam scalded his hands so hot and sudden he dropped the shaft. The same happened with his mace, and his sword. When he tried to use fists it was his face that got scalded, and he felt like he was cooking inside out when the hot vapours went up his nose and down his throat into-


    ¡°No.¡±


    The steam withdrew along with his breath.


    ¡°Don¡¯t sully yourselves.¡±


    Only rage kept him from losing consciousness. ¡°You ¨C think ¨C you¡¯re so superior! How many people just died so you-?¡±


    ¡°One thousand three hundred and eighty-eight.¡±


    What?


    ¡°That includes the ones still shambling outside, they just don¡¯t know it yet.¡±


    What?


    ¡°Seven hundred and thirty-four nobles, three hundred and twenty-two servants and household guards, three hundred and thirty-two royal guardsmen.¡±


    Those words ¨C those numbers ¨C that ¨C that was a third of his royal guard, barely a tenth of his servants, but almost all of his noble court. Not even a hundred of his lords had made it out? If so many ¨C he had to be lying ¨C so many ¨C his whole court!


    ¡°Power attracts, and it reveals,¡± Hywel sighed tightly as he shouldered open the door to the game room. ¡°But you¡­¡± He ¨C Hywel was panting for breath, he sounded exhausted, he was exhausted, tired, Aiden ¨C he quickly got to his feet and followed him through the door, he still had a couple of knives- ¡°At least nobody brought any children younger than twelve,¡± Hywel said as if that made him any less of a monster, such hubris!


    Aiden jumped forward and stabbed him from behind.


    The knife found flesh.


    Aiden was shocked. He¡¯d done it?


    Aiden let go of the blade and backed away warily, but the Light¡¯s retaliation didn¡¯t come. Instead, blood began to spill around the wound, over the white cloth. It didn¡¯t heal. It wasn¡¯t healing, Hywel, he ¨C he couldn¡¯t heal himself anymore!


    Fury and vindication came together in an unholy union, giving Aiden the strength to make his final strike.


    His last knife exploded against a shield of Light.


    The force of the detonation hurled him all the way across the room to slam into the wall next to the door he¡¯d just come through. He crumpled to the ground, struggling to breathe, clutching at his wrist. His hand was gone all the way to the arm bone.


    ¡°That was for the thirty-two children that remain dead,¡± Hywel rasped. ¡°But you only get one.¡±


    The ceiling caved in suddenly, broken through by the maw of Onyxia leaking blood, bile, and a foul-smelling stench from her jaws as she opened her maw to-


    The red dragon snapped his mouth down on her neck from behind and yanked her out just as she exhaled. The fire missed Hywel by less than a foot and set the entire right half of the room to burning.


    Aiden struggled to look up through the smoke. The pain.


    ¡°Aiden Perenolde, feared by many, respected by few.¡± Finally, finally Wayland Hywel deigned to address him, only now at the end, though still he didn¡¯t turn around, didn¡¯t even face him while- ¡°I tried, I really tried to find some other purpose to the way you rule, but I couldn¡¯t. There¡¯s nothing there with any other purpose than to humiliate.¡±


    ¡°Look at me when you¡¯re talking to me, you-¡° Aiden¡¯s breath was ripped from him mid-word.


    ¡°Like this bravado just now, everything you do to your people, everything you tell them, everything you make them do, you do it all to lie. The less it reflects to reality the better. You inflict injustice. You force people to remain silent when they witness injustice. You force them to cheer when they¡¯re being told the most obvious lies. You force them to participate in those lies, and every other sin under the sun that your cronies find taste for. All you do, everything is designed to make the people lose once and for all their sense of probity.¡±


    The staff¡¯s headpiece seemed to warp and twist the longer Aiden looked away from it, but the rest of it was the most solid and real thing in the entire room. The staff was made of some green metal, studded from top to bottom with white topaz gems. The one nearest to the floor was blue, though. Aiden didn¡¯t know why, but it felt like the most meaningful sight he¡¯d ever seen.


    ¡°I know why you do it. A society of emasculated liars is easy to control. To assent to obvious lies, to co-operate with evil is to become evil yourself. One¡¯s ability to resist anything is thus eroded, and even destroyed. From there, the only things left for power to attract are the corrupted. Bloated egos, petty grudges, vain cravings.¡±


    The prophet reached up and unfastened the headpiece of his staff from the rest. Held it in one hand and just stared at it. ¡°Have you ever seen an amputated spirit? A maimed one, even? A soul bleeding? And infant aborted mid-way through term? The world is a long-suffering thing, it can endure the likes of you forever. But I won¡¯t.¡±


    The Prophet held the light sphere up, and the thing ¨C the glowing orrery ¨C flew upwards through the newly opened hole in the ceiling.


    ¡°I¡¯d have ended it with you. The cancer is all ripped out now, I would rather just shoot you in the head and be done. But in a world like this, mankind''s actions are never entirely our own, so the consequences of mine can''t discriminate either.¡±


    Aiden tracked the thing with his eyes. Higher and higher it ascended, above flames, above the dust and smoke that seemed to draw away from the wake of its passage. As it rose, the dome of Light outside seemed to grow ahead of its path, sharpen, rise in height like an ever-narrowing cone in the sky. On the outside, the traitor black dragon ran round and round and upwards in a spiral along its outer surface. Changing it. Shifting its shape.


    ¡°Wha-how-NO!¡± A desperate roar of denial came from the bronze just as the four battling dragons flew too high to fit. Onyxia shoved her head under his belly, pushed him over and kicked him through the golden dome all the way outside. ¡°Curse youuuu-!¡° The bronze howled weakly as he rolled and slid down the exterior of the light, clawing uselessly as he tried to arrest his fall. ¡°You pus-gobbling tapeworm-!¡±


    The cone grew taller, ever taller and narrower until the three battling dragons left couldn¡¯t fly up through it even if they wanted.


    The tip stayed just ahead the orrery¡¯s ascent, until, finally, when the forcefield had grown so high that Aiden couldn¡¯t guess the distance, it opened up to let new air in, and the sight of the distant blue sky.


    Absolute hell broke outside as dragons both in and beyond the Light began a race towards the top, as if it would determine all their lives.


    Why?


    Surrounded by hellish flames and hallowed by the skylight above, the king could finally see the Prophet as he truly was. A walking dead in all but name. Weak. See-through, almost. Nearly hollow to his eyes. Everywhere a wound should be, had been, gold shimmered and seeped out through his skin as if there were no flesh beneath anymore, just the Light replacing more and more until the man that used to be there was just memory. A mimicry of life but nothing real.


    It was the most frightful thing the King of Alterac had ever seen. ¡°What are you?¡±


    ¡°I am Ferdinand Wayland Hywel Rogasian, and I am here to impose my moral code.¡± The Prophet was enveloped in a globe of runes as his hand fell. ¡°Be at peace.¡±


    Life came to an end in a white flash.


    Death took him with the terrifying feeling of falling, then being snared by mouths of slime. It pulled him down, dragged him, crushed him together with everyone else who¡¯d died. Dozens, hundreds were snared and crushed together with him in a desperate pile of writhing limbs. He tried to claw his way past, through, up, somewhere.


    But the souls around him recognized him, and like an unholy spell their wills joined together to push him under, down, down for them to step on, stomp and climb over in their bid to break free of hell while he ¨C no, NO!


    ¡°No,¡± many voices came from all around, like a heavenly choir. ¡°Not even for scum such as this.¡±


    A wave of Light purged the dark tendrils, and all the souls flew free.


    A different pull seized him then, looser, gentler but somehow even more impossible to defy. He couldn¡¯t see what it was, the world was blinding brightness even as it faded. So bright that even the shapes of angels at distant points around the city could barely be made out.


    There was nothing to hear either, except an echo that was so loud it had gone past sound into the realm of touch.


    He could only feel himself floating, rising under a power not his own, pulled around in a spiral, a wide and winding spiral that narrowed with every revolution, each circuit taking him slightly more towards the sky.


    Finally, like coming out of a snow bank, he could see the sky again. But instead of endless blue, there was a gray vortex swirling from horizon to horizon.


    He felt like he shouldn¡¯t be afraid, but he dreaded anyway. There was a river of souls around him, and all of them hated him. All of them hated him, and none of them were the one who murdered him.


    In a bid to look for him, to see anything else but their scorn, he looked back down.


    It¡­


    That¡­


    There were three dragon souls down there. Two were just faint drops of molten stone, rapidly hardening while the bulk of their shape was just bile-filled pus sinking into the hellish much that had almost swallowed him. A third was life and fire, but still too heavy to be drawn up into the vortex with the rest of them. It languished where it died. The others¡­


    The Traitor Black crashed brokenly on the outskirts of Alterac City, barely avoiding killing everyone in the circus caravan as he dug a groove into the earth. The other dragon outside ¨C a red ¨C peeked up through her wings from where she had taken cover under the ridge just beyond. And the bronze¡­


    The bronze was shooting like a meteor away towards the south, somehow still alive even after being blasted away by the barest edges of the ¨C the¡­


    As Aiden Perenolde was sucked into the vortex to the Otherworld, the last thing he saw was an enormous, sprawling white cloud that looked bizarrely like a mushroom cap.

 Martyrdom Makes Sacrifices of All

    <h2 style="text-align: center">¡°-. Alonsus Faol .-¡°</h2>


    Hagall saved his life.


    ¡°Astonishing.¡±


    A ¡®lesser¡¯ stave Wayland called it, but the symbol Alonsus had etched on his own breastbone still managed to ward off that first wave of destruction, and had defended him from all other direct magical harm ever since.


    ¡°Even now you still live.¡±


    The same wave of magic that killed everyone else in the room, and those outside too as it destroyed the doors, the walls, even brought down the ceiling, it parted around him by a thumb¡¯s width, as did all spells that tried to do him harm after that.


    ¡°I compliment you on your stubbornness.¡±


    King Llane, Queen Taria, Anduin Lothar, the guards, servants, all throughout the keep ¨C so many ¨C all fallen, all dead, strewn over the floors.


    ¡°Never has one person managed to defy me purely on the strength of his self-delusion, let alone for so long.¡± The invisible destruction was an ocean all around them now, the demon was carrying it like an aura, but even as it continued to press upon Faol, the mage ¨C the demon gestured and telekinetically lifted a massive slab of fallen ceiling.


    ¡°Scutum,¡± Alonsus rasped as he almost didn¡¯t intercept the slab of wall. As it shattered, he felt the shaking in his skull, his bones, the staves ¨C they turned aside hostile spells, but thrown masonry was a different matter. ¡°Light, be our-argh!¡± The floor split beneath his feet and he fell to the room below.


    Levita-ngh! The destruction ¨C still ¨C the Fel ¨C it harmed the spirit itself, Faol couldn¡¯t cast anything while that wave ¨C that ocean ¨C Together then! The Light could suppress pain, but as his leg snapped at the knee he chose not to spare himself, and instead screamed it out as loud as he could, through voice and spirit both.


    ¡°Hngh!¡± Medivh ¨C whatever possessed him grunted as he felt all of Alonsus¡¯ agony through the psychic scream. ¡°Irritant.¡± The thing hissed as he nonetheless managed to slow his fall to land properly, though his posture wobbled in the same leg. ¡°You actually made me feel pain.¡±


    It was the first time Alonsus had been able to retaliate, he¡¯d lost track of time of how long he¡¯d been ¨C not fighting, it had to be hours. Hours during which the possessed mage had steadily escalated his attacks. It was all Alonsus could to do defended himself enough to try to save ¨C someone, anyone, he couldn¡¯t save anyone in the end, they were all dead to this ¨C this ¨C the pain ¨C it deafened the ears, blinded the eyes, the mind ¨C


    ¡°Weep not for your failure, it was inevitable,¡± Medivh ¨C the demon said with a mockery of kindness, even as he began to blast him with beams of destruction every other while. Alonsus remained immune still, but the creature had taken it as a personal offense ¨C a challenge ¨C ¡°Sometimes there are no paths to victory, no clever tricks. Sometimes you do everything right, everything exactly right, and still you fail. Sometimes the day just ends, and you didn¡¯t save it.¡±


    A mighty blast of wind threw Faol against the wall. He didn¡¯t know how he mustered the Aegis to survive. He thanked the Light for Wayland¡¯s epiphanies, if not for the protection and healing symbols he¡¯d etched into his own bones ¨C these runes that were not given to harmful miscasts like the hodgepodge of scripts that mages were forced to mix and match via trial and error, even the elves didn¡¯t know where they all came from-


    Wayland didn¡¯t do it, Alonsus mind betrayed him. Didn¡¯t etch his bones full of them, is that because there are risks he didn¡¯t share, or he just distrusts himself? Hesitates to use his own-


    ¡°Do not let your heart be troubled,¡± Medivh¡¯s mocking tone took on a threatening cant as the hurricane pressure finally broke. ¡°Lest you realize the eternal punishment that awaits all mortals who presume to defy their god.¡±


    Alonsus slid down the wall and nearly fell further, but he refused to bend his knees. Even though the Light still hadn¡¯t healed him back, he wouldn¡¯t kneel, not to this thing. ¡°True ¨C god,¡± he panted, leaning against the wall. The agony of flesh mixed with the feeling of rarefied heat inside his chest. ¡°A¨C true god ¨C would not have ¨C such ¨C an uneasy vanity as to hide your real face from mere ¨C mere mortals.¡±


    ¡°You taunt me,¡± the demon mused as another chunk of debris lifted from the ground. ¡°Even now, after you¡¯ve seen how outmatched you are.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve ¨C exposed you,¡± Faol rasped, lifting his eyes to meet those of the monster. ¡°You ¨C cannot trick these people anymore.¡±


    ¡°These people who are dead?¡± At Medivh¡¯s gesture, the air seemed to pull away from Alonsus, leaving him without breath. ¡°Dead because you could not leave well enough alo-GH!¡±


    There¡¯s only You, Me, Us, connected, Two judgments, Three Spirits, One single Truth regardless of either of our beliefs, the Light Revea-!


    ¡°BEGONE!¡± the Demon lashed out with its Fel power and wrenched Medivh¡¯s eyes out of the Soulgaze just a moment too soon. ¡°Agh ¨C you ¨C you dare¡­¡±


    I¡¯m a fool, Faol cursed himself as his soul ached, if only he¡¯d practiced the skill more, Medivh ¨C the demon ¨C if it had been Wayland, would it still have resisted the technique? So easily-


    ¡°You willful, proud, foolish old man!¡± The demon snarled as he lashed out with a wave of fire. His other hand covered half his face, his eye ¨C it looked like death. ¡°In trying to serve your Light you would doom yourself and it by looking into the Void itself! Do you have the barest inkling what-¡°


    ¡°A god preaching fear?¡± Alonsus interrupted him, despite the dread he¡¯d almost glimpsed. He was not interested in what lies a demon had to spread, and you never let an enemy reclaim his balance, even an old man like him who¡¯d never fought anyone knew that. ¡°A mere man can contain in his love more than he can contain in his hatred, warmth raises more than the cold can descend¡­ Even at our worst, the easy spreads more than the uneasy, light reaches more than darkness can reach, the power that unites is greater than the power which separates! If you¡¯re so above us, if a mere man can do all of this, what excuse do you have?¡±


    For a critical moment, the demon was rendered completely speechless.


    Alonsus didn¡¯t know if he was panting more from exhaustion or pain, but he had a truth to face now.


    At the end of the day¡­


    He was no warrior.


    He had no idea how to capitalize on this opening.


    ¡°¡­ I acknowledge your will, Priest,¡± Medivh¡¯s voice was like a judge sentencing a man to eternal hell, and Alonsus, in that moment, completely believed him. The mage¡¯s hand looked like a claw as he raised it high. Outside, something rumbled loudly. ¡°I will make great use of it in the wars to come.¡±


    Doubt flesh¡¯s every word, Alonsus thought grimly. Only now the epiphany for how to finally retaliate came upon him, when it was too late ¨C no! Doubt every word, find your own light! Alonsus mentally recited from Tyr¡¯s scriptures, even as he conjured runes and words from a much newer source in his mind¡¯s eye, forming sentences and incantations with the ones that blazed beneath his flesh-


    ¡°Now-¡±


    The long and the short have the same middle, the small circle and the big, the small globe and the big globe lean on the same point, all which is great hides in the little, the seen and the unseen occupy the same space!


    ¡°Be Silent!¡±


    A mighty crack like a peal of thunder shook everything as not lightning but a flaming meteorite smashed through the ceiling to impact where Alonsus stood.


    The meteor eradicated his whole half of the room and the hallways behind him, and broke the floor along with the next three all the way to the basement, and further still as the shockwave cratered the earth where it struck. Behind him, the castle creaked ominously as load-bearing struts were cracked through.


    But none of it touched him.


    Alonsus stood as the meteor passed through him, and he fell after it when there was nothing to stand on anymore, but he was slow to fall, because he was as light as the air, as invisible as the light amidst the Light, and even more untouchable than a ghost.


    It worked.


    He¡¯d always known, down to his soul, that the Light was Grace bestowed only upon true need¡­


    But Wayland was right as well.


    Once it had Graced you, the Light did not mind being wielded.


    He landed in the dark of the castle¡¯s war vault. He pressed a hand to his chest as he took a deep breath. He was of the world but also not of the world, closer to the Light than Life and Matter. The fire, dust and smoke could not touch him now, and the air itself couldn¡¯t touch him either. But it was enough to breathe the Light.


    Even so, the relief at surviving only did what the demon hadn¡¯t, and brought Alonsus to his knees at last. His body was broken, his spirit was tired and so raw it felt like it might well disperse¡­ Every moment the demon unleashed his destructive magic took a toll as his spirit had to exert itself on the stave¡¯s behalf. The creature¡¯s disdain was his salvation there as well, it could clearly focus its attacks into tight beams of annihilation, but it had deliberately escalated in steps just to see how much Alonsus could take ¨C the thing¡­


    It had been testing him, meant to¡­


    Recruit him? Or whatever shell was left after he was demoralized and unmanned, it truly was a demon, Light help him.


    My Light is not enough, he concluded bleakly. No normal fiend was this, such power¡­ A hundred priests, his memories scrambled to tell him. It took a hundred priests to contain Medivh when he awoke his powers the first time. His father still died, he was the only one who died, was it murder ¨C no! Not important, what¡¯s important is¡­


    ¡°Brothers,¡± he clasped his hands tightly together and cast his prayer into the distance. ¡°Sisters,¡± he reached out as far as he could through Far Sight without drifting too high ¨C too far from the city ¨C there was a forcefield around the castle? Or a spell? Was that why no one came to help? ¡°Anyone who can hear this plea, please lend me your Light, your strength!¡±


    At first there was nothing but shock and confusion, and Alonsus wasn¡¯t sure if he¡¯d just imagined it ¨C they were already distraught? The destruction! The meteor would have been seen from all over the capital!


    But then a second Light responded, like a pillar of gold shining up through the spirit world. Then two, then five, then a dozen, more, from every church and chapel. Even Turalyon answered him, from all the way at Northshire Abbey where he was spreading Wayland¡¯s discoveries, well outside the city. They didn¡¯t know, didn¡¯t understand, couldn¡¯t see more than Alonsus¡¯ unseemly feelings, but they answered in his greatest hour of need. Their Lights were¡­ so much dimmer than Wayland¡¯s, but they were sincere, they were here and¡­


    And they cast their shine through the spirit world like a shimmering aurora that reflected off gleaming helms and feathered wings.


    Angels! Alonsus thought with a burst of hope that seemed to bolster all his brethren as well. Angels are here, this means ¨C I can ¨C Wayland said he only had to ¨C we can still save these people!


    The hope was like being born again, in the total fullness of strength. His spirit calmed itself. His body mended itself. His clothes were ruined, but his modesty was still intact, which was enough. Unimportant next to the task before him.


    Faol filled himself with all the power he could take, bent his knees, and jumped up. High and higher, he was lighter than the dust, enough to ride the air itself. Up above, where Medivh¡¯s voice was no longer the only one spewing curses and incantations.


    He cleared all five stories in a single bound.


    He found himself in the midst of fire, wind, water, lightning, and hatred churning through the dust from the fallen meteor as arcane might manifest three ways.


    Unevenly.


    Unfairly so.


    ¡°-ncil of Tirisfal, come to stamp down the upstart in the nick of time, is that what you think this is?¡± Medivh taunted ¨C who? ¡°You could have leveraged your status and your power against my mother and I long before this, even set me up to fail outright! How unfortunate you were so focused elsewhere.¡±


    ¡°Power alone does not confer the right to play god!¡± Came the voice of Grand Conjurer Huglar as he descended through the ceiling wreathed in the rippling haze of an air elemental. ¡°But you¡¯ve roused us now, and even the Guardian¡¯s Powers will reach their limit eventually.¡±


    ¡°Cleaning up your own mess is not playing God, it''s just being responsible,¡± the demon had the gall to lecture as his arcane shield became more and more visible under pressure from arcane missiles and gale-force winds. ¡°Speaking of, where is my mother? I was sure you¡¯d go running to her first thi-¡°


    The floor under Medivh was destroyed by a sudden upsurge of water. He had to tighten his forcefield in a ball just barely wider than he was tall, and he outright bounced off the ceiling, and the far wall too before flying down to land again.


    ¡°Perhaps we have unintentionally allowed a bad situation to become untenable, but if so then you are correct,¡± said Grand Conjurer Hugarin as he rode the current of his own water elemental up from the lower floor. ¡°Owning that is the only responsible thing to do. You will not be able to hide behind your mother¡¯s skirts this time. The power that has been so misused, that Magna Aegwynn would not relinquish out of pure hubris, it will be reclaimed here and now.¡±


    ¡°Even if it means committing murder?¡± The thing had the gall to ask as he stood amidst the corpses of hundreds he¡¯d just slain.


    Huglar and Hugarin responded with twin blasts of elemental force.


    Fire, earth, water and lightning-crackling winds collided with a loud shriek of wafting steam. It kicked up even more ash and dust in the air, and Alonsus quaked in the air from the aftershocks.


    Aegwynn, stolen power, old grudges that don¡¯t ¨C what? Alonsus looked around and saw that all traces of Fel were already gone. Medivh¡¯s aura worked to dispel magic traces even more easily than it unmade life, was that how he stayed hidden for so long? They don¡¯t know they¡¯re fighting a demon!


    Alonsus considered calling out, tell them, explain¡­ there was surely a way to control the air even when you couldn¡¯t touch it, Huglar was doing it right now. Could he do it to speak? But how would it help? They already were fighting their hardest, he¡¯d just distract them and Medivh¡­


    Medivh wasn¡¯t trying his hardest. ¡°You claim to be the world¡¯s guardians,¡± he taunted as he matched them spell for spell without having to incant. ¡°But what power do you even have when you couldn¡¯t take back what you gave my mother? Only the invisible strings of insidious influence, and it''s tainted everything you¡¯ve done. What use were you during the Gnoll Wars? Or before?¡±


    The air elemental flowed apart to make way for a charge by the water one. ¡°A war you started!¡±


    ¡°A war I finished!¡± The tsunami split around a wedge-shaped wall of stone. ¡°The Council of Tirisfal, hah! Busybodies all rotten from the inside with maggots crawling out. It all built up, little by little, over time. That''s why Aegwynn took this power for herself. And she was right, wasn¡¯t she? After all, she made me!¡± The air began to grow hot and dry with the sound of crackling flames. ¡°Someone with equal powers to her, and she didn¡¯t need to lose her own for it! The power of the Guardian exists twice over now, how it must burn that you didn¡¯t think about doing this yourselves. Is that what you plan? I wonder, do you have broodmares lined up alrea-¡±


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    Alonsus emerged from the dust and destruction right at Medivh¡¯s back.


    ¡°What-?!¡±


    Like a ghost, Alonsus flowed through the man-demon¡¯s shield and reached past the demon¡¯s look of disbelief to grab Medivh¡¯s spirit instead. ¡°Thus didst Tyr spake: virtue does not derive from faith-¡±


    ¡°Res Omnem Annihil!¡± Complete matter destruction passed through where Alonsus stood, unmaking everything in a yard-wide line behind him.


    ¡°-it precedes it! That is why the Light bothers with us at all!¡±


    An even mightier attack came through the spirit world, but while Alonsus felt like he was coming apart, his chant went on, the attack passed, and he was still there.


    ¡°You-how?!¡±


    ¡°Though I walk in the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil for I dwell in the Light¡¯s embrace!¡± Closer to the Light than the world, so far out of the world of substance that even the worst of spells were merely glancing blows.


    ¡°We¡¯ll see about that!¡±


    Another assault every bit as strong struck him, even as Huglar and Hugarin unleashed their strongest spells upon their enemy. The demon¡¯s shield of stolen power rang like a gong and began to crack.


    ¡°Medivh!¡± Alonsus called to the insensate spirit within. ¡°Awake!¡± If the mage had handed himself willingly, he¡¯d be awake to serve and obey, not cut off from his own mind by this net of hellfire! ¡°I am with you! The Light is with you! Do not worry about salvation, the Light strives to save you, all of us, always! The first faint gleam of Heaven is already inside you, it has always been! Accept it! Receive its Grace, as I did!¡±


    With an unearthly roar, the demon lashed with his arm. The blow passed through Alonsus like he wasn¡¯t there, but the entire floor tilted such that the elementals had to flow and reform, and both mages were thrown off balance.


    Not Alonsus, for his grip was firm and he was already adrift. ¡°Let Grace work through you, with all your power!¡± Inside his grasp, Medivh¡¯s spirit tossed and turned, like in a nightmare. ¡°Do not hesitate, do not second guess! Recognize the possibilities in the moment and rise to the challenge offered, embrace them with courage! Hope has not forsaken you yet!¡±


    ¡°You mean that¡¯s not-?¡± Huglar muttered elsewhere.


    ¡°If not Medivh, then ¨C no ¨C it can¡¯t be! Huglar, don¡¯t let up, we have to bring him down or-!¡±


    ¡°Pathetic!¡± The demon snarled as he was forced to turn his power towards defense from the other mages. ¡°On the cusp of your greatest achievement only to undermine it all by false promises to a fool and a weakling, how very dro-¡°


    ¡°Silence, you wretch!¡± For the first time, Alonsus Faol¡¯s voice overpowered the monster¡¯s. ¡°Your own nature is proof against your blandishments! Even you possess virtue, or you¡¯d have long destroyed yourself! The only way evil achieves anything is if one retains virtue enough to be a threat! Courage to defy all convention, perseverance to resist the suicidal call of the knife, discipline to hone skill, temperance to control your intrusive urges while your schemes bear fruit! Beast, man, god, titan, even demons no matter how debased, all are nothing without such things! Of us all here, you are the least!¡±


    Medivh¡¯s face twisted hideously. ¡°You presume to judge me?!¡±


    ¡°I am the Archbishop of the Church of the Holy Light!¡± Alonsus roared with a voice that rang like a hundred bells. ¡°It is my right and responsibility to judge the likes of you!¡±


    The Rite of Judgment Unmerciful descended upon all three of them, bright and terrible.


    ¡°To have faith is to trust yourself to the water!¡± Alonsus declared clearly. ¡°When you swim you don''t grab hold of the stream, you will just sink and drown! Instead you relax, and float!¡±


    Something in Medivh¡¯s spirit changed, as if a man on the cusp of waking, still in the nightmare but aware enough to recognize what control he had over it. Control. Spirit. Power shifting away from the control of the fiend and to him. Spiritual power enough to match a hundred priests.


    Alonsus knew just where to put it.


    ¡°Beyond the flow of time and thought of the gods, there lies the Living Eternal Fire, out of which all things come and which through everything takes shape. Everything and nothing are its breath, emptiness and fullness are its hands, motion and stillness are its feet, everywhere and nowhere are its center and its face is the Light. Nothing is made without the Light and everything that comes out of the Light is the Life which that takes form!¡±


    Light began to glow up from every corpse in sight as he began to recite from an all new scripture.


    ¡°The hull of the fruitful thought is the will, without will thought dries up and is of no use. The patience of the seed is the power. Just as the will and patience of a seed make the feeble sprout push through the hard earth, so does the spirit sprout the soul a new life through the flesh!¡±


    Light began to shine up from the corpses out of sight too, beyond floors, walls, even under debris where they¡¯d been crushed ¨C tragedy in the making, even now!


    ¡°I will see what relentlessly distresses the springs of the mind and soul of my fellow, I will bring him the peace and clarity in his mind, and so his life and mine will be like the ripe tree! My bones and my strength will not weaken, and when I return to where I came from, it will be full with the warmth of those who follow in my footsteps!¡±


    Ethereal shields began to rise above the buried dead, shifting the rocks aside ¨C the Arcane! Even insensate, Medivh¡¯s will was pure enough to shape it to their aid, Faol¡¯s words ¨C they reached him!


    ¡°The End¡­¡± His voice was joined by those of his distant brethren, and even the angels poised above them in the air. ¡°Is the Beginning!¡±


    With a rattling breath, all who¡¯d died that day came back to life.


    ¡°Oh ye of too much faith!¡±


    With a sudden wrench like the pull of a hungry pit, the reborn spirits were ripped out of their bodies, all of them, all at once, all over again.


    What?


    With eyes still locked on the creature¡¯s, Alonsus¡¯ entire vision was overtaken by a starless void as the monster clashed minds with him. His consciousness wasn¡¯t obliterated only because the soulgaze he¡¯d invoked before finally ran its course, and even then it only saved his mind because of all his staves of protection.


    As suddenly as everyone around him had suffered second death, the pull of the yawning dark yanked him back into the physical plane with a sickening wrench, just in time to feel as if his spirit was being torn out of him.


    A backhand sent him tumbling away with force enough to almost snap his neck.


    "You mortals, ever grasping beyond your purpose.¡±


    Alonsus rolled over, tried to look around with blurry sight. The bodies ¨C everyone ¨C almost everyone was dead again, they¡­


    ¡°You cannot fathom the all-consuming void. What can one mote of golden light illuminate within the abyss? Countless stars. Countless worlds. Countless lives. All fell to me. All brought to nothing. All the teeming chaos of creation? Brought to order. Then to flame.¡±


    The spirits ¨C they were loose, falling, pulled towards the creature wearing Medivh¡¯s skin, it ¨C the demon ¨C he was eating them-


    ¡°I saw your mind even as you struggled to fathom a mere glimpse of my memory. You never faced any true danger, yet you struggle every bit as strongly as so many have done before. Your courage never wavered. Why? Arrogance? Ignorance? Or perhaps your hope was at the whim of another all along?¡±


    Only sparks remained to rise form the dead, souls bereft of spirit, not even scraps left to live off of, the thing devoured them ¨C the souls were left bodiless in both worlds, naked, drifting loose, away, down ravenous maws and up streams towards a grey sky. A weak pulse of Light from the angels beyond lifted the ones falling down, but they only dimmed further. Up and away, beyond hope of life. They couldn¡¯t come back. They couldn¡¯t be brought back, none of them ¨C the angels, they were dim and distant, had the fiend harmed them too? Even them? Great Tyr, what-?


    ¡°It can¡¯t be,¡± Huglar wheezed from where he¡¯d fallen, near delirious from the soul-deep blow. ¡°Sargeras?¡±


    ¡°Mortals, gods, titans, the Pantheon themselves could not contain me. They tried. And they died. Compared to them, you merely glitter. You fly around me, smaller than a speck of dust. I am inevitable. I cannot be denied. You strike this incarnation with all your might, set against it all your guile and it changes nothing. Now the end comes for you all, and it comes in fire.¡±


    With a snap of his arm, a wave of infernal flame engulfed the fallen from of Huglar, turning him to ash.


    Only the other conjurer was left. And Alonsus, and¡­


    And¡­


    ¡°W-what have you done?¡± came the weak, shellshocked voice of Anduin Lothar.


    Medivh¡¯s body froze just as it was about to incinerate the unconscious Hugarin.


    ¡°What is this, what ¨C no, no!¡± Clothes shifting, disturbed debris, a man crawled on the ground with frantic, wheezing gasps. ¡°Your majesty, milady, Taria ¨C Llane¡­ Llane!¡±


    Alonsus looked aside. He saw the shambling form of the Lion of Stormwind crawling, hunching over the dead bodies of the king and queen. His eyes stung, the tears, they¡­ they¡­


    Light curse me for a fool! Alonsus thought in despair. I was granted a miracle ¨C thrice over and I wasted it! If only he¡¯d taken more time, a stave ¨C the Greater Hagall, if he¡¯d drawn the spell on the floor while Huglar and Hugarin kept him distracted, if he¡¯d managed to activate it, would it have stopped all magic in its range? Even¡­


    Even¡­


    ¡°What is this?¡± the lone survivor of the second death looked around with wide, dilated eyes. ¡°What is this, when¡­ how¡­ Why? Medivh¡­ What have¡­ Tell me this isn¡¯t what it looks like! Say it is a nightmare!¡±


    As if Anduin Lothar¡¯s voice was the key to some deep lock, the demon receded from the man¡¯s face with a last ugly snarl, leaving just shock and incomprehension behind.


    Medivh ¨C he awoke ¨C only now ¨C too late, too late, too late!


    Medivh looked around with blank incomprehension, stared at the corpses of the king and queen, stared at the broken face of Anduin Lothar who cradled the corpses in weak, trembling arms.


    Then he disappeared in a rush of shimmering circles of arcane light. Vanished amidst discordant chimes. Away.


    Alonsus Faol stared blankly at the spot he had been.


    He¡¯d found Wayland¡¯s demon.


    It was the most vile mistake of his worthless life.


    <h2 style="text-align: center">¡°-. Richard Angevin .-¡°</h2>


    Antonidas could only teleport them some distance outside of Alterac City, not even on the plateau proper. When he finally managed however, the three of them could do nothing but stare open-mouthed at the sky.


    It was completely obscured by a gigantic mushroom cloud.


    Uther moved first, setting off at a march towards the city with clenched fists and a stone-cold look on his face. Richard followed, forming Tyr¡¯s sign by reflex to center himself. Antonidas was both the most and least affected of all of them, and he was also the first to break away. He¡¯d been casting detect life spells, and he got increasingly strong returns up until they were just a hundred yards away from the last rise.


    They followed him through the forest, and then a massive trail of destruction as if something large and heavy had impacted the woods at an angle. At the end, they found the bronze dragon that had so eluded and frustrated Lord Ferdinand. He was broken, bleeding, and nigh insensate when Richard approached. It took all his strength to cast a healing spell powerful enough to make a difference to such a large creature.


    Even then, the dragon didn¡¯t stay conscious for long.


    ¡°What happened here?¡± Uther demanded when Richard¡¯s entreaties failed.


    ¡°I ¨C I found my courage¡­¡± The beast¡¯s tongue twisted in its own mouth, then its eyes closed and it could not be roused again.


    As they were wondering what to do about the beast, a second dragon came down into the freshly cleared heath, red and almost entirely undamaged. ¡°I will watch over him.¡± She said as if they had no choice but to comply. ¡°You have far more urgent concerns.¡±


    They warily left, though Antonidas broke off from them as soon as they were out of casual detection range. ¡°I must report this to Dalaran,¡± he said grimly, turning back to where they¡¯d come from. Towards where the Arcane wasn¡¯t so damaged as to make long-range magics impossible. ¡°I will catch up later.¡±


    Richard and Uther continued on to the city, expecting the worst. Expecting chaos.


    They got it, but only the tail-ends. Whatever calamity had taken place, the initial shock and outbreak of panic had already run its course. More people were shaking and weeping than running in chaos. When they reached the gates, there was no stampede of citizens fleeing whatever disaster had befallen the capital. Only some sparse groups that were as desperate to get away as they were convinced they¡¯d already suffered the worst.


    Some recognized Richard, or at least his crest, and the priestly robes Uther wore. Even then, few managed to muster enough coherence to explain¡­ far too little. But all agreed on the same things.


    Dragons battling in the sky above Alterac City, and inside the castle as well, a great dome of golden Light over the King¡¯s Keep, people panicking, people fleeing, then a powerful flash of light¡­


    Crowds were much thicker inside the walls, more so the further they pushed towards the main square. Here the evidence of a panicked mob was more evident, but also the evidence that it had been cut off at the knees. Walls were cracked here and there, the buildings of everyone wealthy enough to afford glass had their windows shattered. Worst of all, as they advanced to the heart of the city, they saw that the glass shards were actually the least of the worst.


    Of the entire population of Alterac city, at least one in four of everyone couldn¡¯t see anymore.


    By the time they reached the spot where the walls of Alterac keep should have been, Uther¡¯s face looked like it had been carved out of stone, and Richard had no idea what to think or feel about any of this either.


    The only reason they stopped was the cyclone.


    A gigantic cyclone of dust and ash whirled where the castle had been, thick, churning, whirling, lifting dust, ash and smoke up to the air as if to feed the cloud that now obscured the sky. The funnel pulled at their clothes and their hair as they came close. Then Richard passed through some invisible outer boundary and the sudden noise almost deafened him.


    He stumbled back in shock. The noise was like the aftershocks of thunder, and he¡¯d felt¡­ He¡¯d felt ¨C


    He¡¯d felt something, like contact without contact ¨C like he¡¯d felt whenever Lord Ferdinand communed with the little spirits of his, and they tried to talk to him too.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Uther barked over the noise, and that of the muttering, fearful, weeping crowd at their back. ¡°What did you see?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re keeping the noise contained,¡± Richard replied, not knowing what else to say. ¡°The noise and ¨C something¡­¡± He dared push back into the din, and listened even as the wind and grains raked his skin. He stood still until he felt that touch on his mind. After enough time, enough impressions and images and random recollections of Ferdinand¡¯s random comments came together.


    He pulled away, feeling faint. ¡°Lord Wayland¡¯s spirits ¨C they¡¯re containing the noise and ¨C and the poison.¡±


    ¡°Poison?!¡±


    ¡°The air,¡± came the voice of Narett the Alchemist, to all of their surprise. ¡°The air is poisoned, as is some of the dust. The spirits are keeping it high aloft while it decays, or it will poison the earth for the next hundred years.¡±


    Uther rounded on the new voice, froze in dismay at the sight he made, but it didn¡¯t stave off his demand. ¡°What in all of Tyr¡¯s heaven happened here?¡±


    The answer, it turned out, was something terrible. Something that needed Ferdinand to do something so terrible that it¡­


    It completely unmade the country¡¯s royal seat, and left upward of a quarter of the city¡¯s whole population maimed and crippled.


    Richard had no choice but to take charge of the city. When Antonidas caught up with them, he convinced him to help ferry soldiers over, like he¡¯d done at the enclave. They needed more magical help than he alone could give, they didn¡¯t have the luxury of being able to transport squads over a multitude of days.


    For better or worse, Antonidas already had his own requests from Dalaran to deliver, for permission to come in in numbers. Richard didn¡¯t bandy words and struck a deal for help bringing his own men over here.


    The situation only seemed to get bleaker the more they learned over the next two days. They found Emerentius, but he was almost as damaged as the bronze one and just as impossible to rouse. The Dalaran mages tried to pull jurisdiction over him, like they had already done for the bronze dragon. The red one ¨C Rheastrasza ¨C vacillated between being at odds with them and at odds with Richard himself. Neither party seemed willing to accept that they had no right to Emerentius at all.


    All the while, the citizens of Alterac that hadn¡¯t been maimed were switching their animosity from the dead king ¨C and Ferdinand himself ¨C to these interlopers that had invaded their land when they were weak.


    From Antonidas¡¯ constant chagrin, Richard assumed the only reason Dalaran hadn¡¯t absconded with either dragon already was because teleportation still didn¡¯t work around the place. Richard had only refrained from declaring it an act of war for the same reason. He shied away from the statement he would make if he dared do such a thing for the whole nation.


    He dreaded what his scouts would tell him too, of the movements along the border, or their other armies and lords and landowners in response to the great flash that had been seen from all over the land.


    On the third day, the twister finally began to dissipate.


    The spirits still rebuffed everyone trying to get near, even their spells.


    When Richard pressed forward, though, they let him pass.


    Walking through the wind wall was like trying to pass through a hundred small razors, but the spirits somehow managed not to draw blood too deeply, and the Light healed what they couldn¡¯t hold back.


    At last, Richard stumbled into the eye of the storm. There, at the center, it was completely calm.


    And naught else.


    Alterac Keep had been completely reduced to powder.


    It reached all the way to his knees as he pressed forward. If not for the Light empowering him he wouldn¡¯t have had strength enough in his legs to dig through.


    Finally, at the middle of a wide crater-like pit, which wasn¡¯t so much a pit as a basin dug by the willful air, he found Ferdinand.


    He was lying on his side, motionless and with eyes half-open, half-way buried in the blanket of powder.


    Richard called to him, talked to him, asked, said any number of things, but Ferdinand didn¡¯t acknowledge him. He only reacted when Richard touched him, blinking once before allowing himself to be pulled out of the chaff. Back to his feet. Onwards out of the closing dust devil, even though he just stared ahead without saying anything the whole time.


    Finally, finally, they emerged from the dust devil together.


    There was no rejoicing. Or condemnation. Just a long, drawn-out, judging silence.


    The sun began to pierce through the dark cloud in the air after too many days.


    It brought no hope, and no joy.


    Just a shambling multitude of walking wounded, who could not find any wonder in miracles anymore.


    Ferdinand pulled his wrist free of Richard¡¯s hand, walked forward, and sat down on the first thing in sight that was solid enough to bear his weight.


    ¡°Bring me first the blind.¡±


    <hr>


    <h2>Casualties</h2>


    Stormwind


    Note: Attack was limited to inner keep only, hence the small numbers.


    <ol>


    <li>Fatalities


    <ol>


    <li>King Llane Wrynn (cannot be resurrected)</li>


    <li>Queen Taria Wrynn (cannot be resurrected)</li>


    <li>Grand Conjurer Huglar, Council of Tirisfal (burned to ashes)</li>


    <li>100 men-at-arms (cannot be resurrected)</li>


    <li>132 servants (43 children) (cannot be resurrected)</li>


    <li>Total: 236</li>


    </ol>


    </li>


    <li>Survivors


    <ol>


    <li>Anduin Lothar</li>


    <li>Grand Conjurer Hugarin, Council of Tirisfal (comatose)</li>


    <li>Medivh, Guardian of Tirisfal (missing)</li>


    <li>Total: 3</li>


    </ol>


    </li>


    <li>Foreign Casualties


    <ol>


    <li>None</li>


    </ol>


    </li>


    <li>Foreign Survivors


    <ol>


    <li>Archbishop Alonsus Faol, Church of the Holy Light</li>


    </ol>


    </li>


    </ol>


    Alterac


    <ol start="5">


    <li>Dragon fatalities


    <ol>


    <li>Onyxia, Black (disintegrated)</li>


    <li>Sinestra, Black (disintegrated)</li>


    <li>Korialstrasz, Red (Krasus, Archmage of the Kirn Tor) (disintegrated)</li>


    <li>Total: 3</li>


    </ol>


    </li>


    <li>Dragon survivors


    <ol>


    <li>Rheastrasza, Red</li>


    <li>Kairozdormu, Bronze (crippled, comatose)</li>


    <li>Emerentius, Gold (crippled, comatose)</li>


    <li>Total: 3</li>


    </ol>


    </li>


    <li>Court fatalities


    <ol>


    <li>King Aiden Perenolde</li>


    <li>734 nobles</li>


    <li>322 servants (32 children)</li>


    <li>332 men-at-arms</li>


    <li>Total: 1339</li>


    </ol>


    </li>


    <li>Court survivors


    <ol>


    <li>Isiden Perenolde (king¡¯s nephew, heir dispossessed)</li>


    <li>98 nobles</li>


    <li>2145 servants and household guard</li>


    <li>636 men-at-arms</li>


    <li>Total: 2880</li>


    </ol>


    </li>


    <li>Foreign fatal casualties


    <ol>


    <li>Sir Saidan Dathrohan, Lordaeron (devoured by Sinestra, remains disintegrated)</li>


    <li>35 servants and household guard</li>


    <li>Total: 36</li>


    </ol>


    </li>


    <li>Foreign survivors


    <ol>


    <li>Lady Mara Fordragon of Stormwind</li>


    <li>King Archibald Greymane of Gilneas</li>


    <li>Prince Genn Greymane of Gilneas</li>


    <li>100 servants and household guard</li>


    <li>Total: 103</li>


    </ol>


    </li>


    <li>Fatal collateral (Alterac City)


    <ol>


    <li>133 elderly (heart attacks)</li>


    <li>34 accidents</li>


    <li>15 suicides</li>


    <li>Total: 182</li>


    </ol>


    </li>


    <li>Non-fatal collateral (Alterac City)


    <ol>


    <li>3235 non-crippling injuries</li>


    <li>234 maimed</li>


    <li>334 mental breakdowns</li>


    <li>22,566 rendered blind</li>


    <li>Total: 34,173 ¨C 7,804 (overlap) = 26,369</li>


    </ol>


    </li>


    </ol>

 Politics of Arcane Rationale

    ¡°-. January 16, 581 .-¡°


    Reach out, heal, next, repeat. For days that was all I did. First at the foot of the cyclone, healing the blind, the deaf and the maimed whether I had caused it or not. Then I dragged my feet through the city in a rounding path all the way to the outer ring, to tend to those who were too weak or scared to make the trip themselves.


    People were shellshocked, and judging, and my aid may well only have been accepted because those who escaped the castle painted me as a holy savior, come down from heaven to banish the wicked monsters that had secretly stolen the country from man.


    I didn¡¯t set the record straight only because I didn¡¯t have the will to talk. I didn¡¯t have the will for anything, not to walk, to talk, to stand, even to lift my arms. I should have been insensate and boneless, laid out in bed for a month while my spirit healed from the self-inflicted breakdown and immolation. But I couldn¡¯t afford to, not if it meant leaving tens of thousands of people blind and deaf, never mind everyone who¡¯d died. That I didn¡¯t kill. Mean to kill.


    Even so, while the body was willing the spirit wasn¡¯t. Wasn¡¯t able. Though it wasn¡¯t the physical body that failed me, I was as blind and deaf as the rest of them. The only reason I was still able to do something was by looking through the eyes of the spirits, and even then I needed Richard¡¯s strength just to get myself moving, never mind cast spells.


    I finally drifted off mid-way through restoring the hearing of a one-legged old man, but I didn¡¯t fall. My body just¡­ kept moving by rote. Moving, healing, rinse and repeat. My need had written itself into the Light. And from it. Out of it¡­ Death¡­ was¡­ so close¡­ white gold all around me, searingly bright as if I was standing inside the sun. It burned.


    The Light kept working its healing through my vacant shell until I had seen to everyone that I had harmed, and all those who came to me in between. Even with Richard and Uther helping me in shifts, it took days. Days and nights of doing just that with no interruptions until, at last, only one person was left. So my body finally left the city behind. Listlessly dragged my feet, down the road and off the road and through forest and trench, to where Emerentius was still fallen, unmoving and being fought over by people with far too high an opinion of their claim.


    My consciousness only returned many days later, with a false smell of oncoming rain, the sound of people arguing all around me, and the feeling of a stiff back from sitting on the very cusp of rigor mortis all that time.


    ¡°-ou can¡¯t be serious, Uther!¡±


    I was sitting on the ground, my back against gold dragon scales.


    ¡°With all respect, Lord Duke, you are biased,¡± the cleric so named said flatly. ¡°There is a reason the Church did not have cause to look into the happenings here ¨C it wasn¡¯t that the local clerics are corrupt, or missives were intercepted, or any other malice aforethought. At least no more than everywhere else. No, the fact of the matter is that, as bad as he was, Aiden Perenolde did uphold his role as mediator of all four estates, if only by weakening them equally as much as he could. Do not cry foul that your enemies are so emboldened, now that you have no king to defend you.¡±


    In front of me were Richard and Uther.


    ¡°I am not talking about enemies!¡± Richard¡¯s voice snapped like a whip. ¡°What I want to know is what Lordaeron is thinking, crossing our borders right now, never mind in force of arms! You¡¯d think House Menethil was more eager for war than Stromgarde!¡±


    Around us, maintaining a forcefield and an anti-travel ward, were mages dressed in violet robes. Why¡­ were they having this argument here? Amidst¡­


    ¡°You ask me for insights I do not have, when you should be demanding answers of these interlopers instead, unless you mean to paint me as some manner of abettor in addition to tyrant sympathizer.¡±


    Purple. Mages. The guards of the Violet Hold. Dalaran¡¯s prison. They were scattered in all directions, maintaining an anti-travel ward because¡­ My memory¡­ hadn¡¯t been interrupted this time. They¡¯d tried to abscond with the dragon and failed, so now they were preventing others from trying the same? No-


    ¡°What point would there be?¡± Richard sounded bitter now, even as the mages pretended to be aloof from the conversation, did he know they were Dalaran¡¯s prison guards? Did anyone? ¡°Their highest council can¡¯t tell a real man from a lizard. If they galvanized Lordaeron to madness they¡¯ll just blame the dragons again, all the while ignoring what it says of their own gross incompetence. If I could banish them I would have, their claims of neutrality are as hollow as the place where Alterac Keep once stood.¡±


    Dalaran. And the dragons. They were at odds now, either over custody of me, or because either or both of them tried to take off with Emerentius and they couldn¡¯t. Or both. Because¡­


    ¡°You could,¡± Uther¡¯s tone was more level now, though no less clear. ¡°You only need-¡°


    The Light¡­


    ¡°No.¡±


    The Light was active in Emerentius, he was healing himself.


    ¡°You will have to, Duke, lest General Hath remain at loose ends.¡±


    Emerentius was healing himself, and everything in the same space including the Arcane. Which prevented any changes against the purpose of natural order. Prevented arcane spells.


    ¡°Too late for that now,¡± Richard said darkly. ¡°He¡¯s taken matters into his own hands. He is escorting the host of King Liam Trollbane of Strom. Here.¡±


    Even for Emerentius it should be impossible, nobody knew I¡¯d made that discovery¡­ Unless the dragon hadn¡¯t been as comatose as he seemed when I dragged myself down here to do this very thing. Heal the Arcane all around me so that nothing could warp it, especially arcane magic. To prevent his abduction. For barely a minute, before I finally fell against him and didn¡¯t come up again.


    Until now.


    ¡°You heard that, you lot?!¡± Came the voice of Mercad Occitanier from almost right next to me, Richard¡¯s second-in-command. ¡°Make sure your masters over in Dalaran hear about this right fast, so the Menethils know they won¡¯t be the only kids with swords on the playground.¡±


    Either these men were casting blame blindly for Lordaeron¡¯s uncannily effective espionage, or Dalaran¡¯s vaunted neutrality had collapsed in the face of a nuclear bomb as easily as everything else.


    Except Geirrvif, it seemed. The valkyrie was still with me, in the spirit world.


    ¡°Emerentius,¡± I spoke. ¡°Get to safety.¡±


    With a wing buffet so strong the air flattened me, the black dragon blasted upwards and was shooting away at full Light-assisted acceleration before the mages even realized he¡¯d left their spell¡¯s confines. Also before any dragons could realize he¡¯d been awake well before me, it was just a wild guess but-


    With colored flashes and the sounds of organ chimes, two dragons erupted from the forest somewhere to our right in a futile attempt to pursue. One was Rheastrasza, both of them were red, and they continued flying away even after it became clear they were never going to catch up to Emerentius, who¡¯d already disappeared into the distance.


    I fell on my back and didn¡¯t hurry to get back up. I waited until the forcefield came down.


    Mercad crouched next to me, hard eyes aimed at the foreigners with sword drawn like a barrier between them and us. ¡°Your family¡¯s with My Lord Duke¡¯s wife and sister.¡± Richard must have told him how to handle me during a crisis. I perceived the pattern of a sound trapping spell too, centered on a charm along his wrist. Discreet as well. ¡°They¡¯re same as you left them, but down in Hillsbrad instead of Stormsong Valley. Kul Tiras forfeited any direct stake in this by leaving early, but My Lord still decided his demesne was safer until this mess of diplomatic incidents is over with.¡±


    My sight was all a blur, but I somehow managed to grip his pauldron well enough to haul myself back to a sitting position. I felt the Arcane around me and my mood hardened. The anti-teleportation magic was still in place. It wasn¡¯t just my dragon that the wardens of Dalaran were keeping in place, just as I thought.


    ¡°Richard,¡± I grunted. ¡°Where¡¯s Antonidas?¡±


    The duke stopped just short of hugging me, gave the mages around us a vicious glare, then got down to one knee to take over from Mercad in keeping me upright. ¡°He was called to give account of events in Dalaran. He never came back.¡±


    So either he washed his hands of us, or had been detained somehow himself. No bet on which, if it was to disavow me Antonidas would have done so in person. ¡°What of Kairozdormu?¡±


    ¡°He was taken away by a couple other bronze dragons, one was even bigger than him. They didn¡¯t speak to us, just did something so we couldn¡¯t interfere. One moment I was listening to a report from one of my men, next thing I knew there were three of them disappearing like ghosts in the daylight.¡±


    ¡°Narett?¡±


    ¡°Up in the city. People stopped coming for healing when you ¨C when they realized that you were actively harming yourself to keep going. I was able to run proper triage after that, let only the ones with damage no one else could solve through. Narett¡¯s helping the clerics see to what minor injuries remain.¡±


    Still? Over a week later? ¡°¡­ The rest? The ones who got out? Gilneas?¡±


    Richard grimaced. ¡°My very few surviving peers agreed to go home and rally their banners, though it didn¡¯t take much persuasion since they¡¯re convinced a civil war is imminent, once the heirs of the Sellouts take their parents¡¯ seats.¡± I could almost hear the capital letter. ¡°Antonidas teleported them, and the foreign dignitaries as well before he took his final leave. Only Mara Fordragon chose to stay, at least until the Archbishop passes this way on the way back to Lordaeron. She¡¯s working with the other clerics too.¡±


    Who was left? ¡°Ravenholdt?¡±


    ¡°Somewhere or other,¡± Richard looked away with a scowl. ¡°¡¯Securing the new board¡¯ he said before he pulled his vanishing act without any further explanation. No doubt it¡¯s his way of expressing disapproval, he wanted to send his assassins after the remaining holdouts that weren¡¯t present at the party, few as they are. I said no, obviously.¡±


    Other than branch house members, the only heirs not present at the occasion were the scions younger than twelve. ¡°Did he mean the heirs themselves, or their regents?¡±


    ¡°He didn¡¯t say.¡±


    I weakly waved for him to help me up, which he did reluctantly. I had to take a few moments to make sure I wouldn¡¯t fall back down. ¡°Was there a service for the dead?¡±


    ¡°It took the priests days to finish reading all the names,¡± Uther replied this time, in a voice just barely warmer than ice. ¡°But the funeral itself was necessarily short, seeing as you left no bodies in the wake of whatever you did.¡±


    He stood looming over the two of us, with only Mercad taller than him now. Outside the range of the latter¡¯s anti-eavesdropping charm. ¡°You have misgivings.¡±


    ¡°For months I stood by your side as a walking, tacit endorsement on the part of the Church, only to now learn that the entire time you had been planning regicide and mass slaughter. Yes, I have misgivings. I am only still here because I do not trust you to follow through on your promise to his Holiness to confess your sins.¡±


    Richard glared up at the older man but didn¡¯t say anything. Clearly, this was not the first time this topic erupted between them two.


    I didn¡¯t say anything either. After all, what Uther said was all true. By the time the Archbishop visited me, I had already committed to causing the deaths most of the Alterac aristocracy, even if this wasn¡¯t how I thought it would go. I¡¯d expected for most of the cancer to kill itself through in-fighting, just in time for Richard to sweep into the city and take care of the rest however he saw fit. Public trials, knowing him. That dragons got involved didn¡¯t change that, it only changed the number of people I personally killed by the end. Added some two and a half dozen children to the list of dead too.


    I felt a pang of heart-deep ache, and a feeling as if I was being showered in swashing, sizzling oil, but that was from the spirit-sacrificing spells more than my decisions. My actions only left me with a dull, fatalistic feeling.


    The black dragons could not be allowed to escape. They would have roused Deathwing the Destroyer, the Corrupted Aspect of Earth whose opening action in another future would be a cataclysm that shattered the entire world in omnicidal fire and earthquakes. Granted, his actions during the First War were admittedly more restrained, if you could even use that term for enslaving the entire red dragonflight to serve as attack beasts and mounts for the orcs. But now, here, I¡¯d categorically proven that his fall to evil and madness had been a tragic failure, not unavoidable fate.


    If he woke up and found out about Emerentius, Alterac would burn in volcanic flame, and the ensuing global cooling from the ash blocking the sun would finish what was left. At minimum.


    ¡°My Lord?¡± Richard called when I stood there too long. ¡°Can you walk?¡±


    The mages around us were discreetly moving as if to ¡®accompany¡¯ us into the city, up until Mercad turned on them with a vicious glare and the threat of calling his soldiers down on them right there if they overstepped themselves on foreign soil one more time.


    I patted Richard on the shoulder and pulled myself free from his grip. ¡°I¡¯ll do better when I¡¯ve eaten something other than magic eater fish.¡±


    My joke didn¡¯t fall flat, but only because it didn¡¯t fall at all. The moment I wasn¡¯t in physical contact with anyone, the world turned slow, and grey, then completely colorless to an uncanny degree that my mind would have struggled to process if not for the memory of being dead for so long, where sight didn¡¯t use light at all. I saw now the same way, and through the Light and the Arcane too, as¡­ everything stopped.


    In front of me, through a vortex shining the color of golden sand, came a person. He had extremely long brown hair, gleaming blue eyes, and the tallest and most muscular body I¡¯d ever seen on a high elf, dressed in bronze armor over grey-blue robes.


    ¡°I am told we do not require introduction,¡± said the Leader of the Bronze Dragonflight, the Aspect of Time. ¡°But I am also told that you value polite comportment. I am called Nozdormu, and I am precisely who you have already deduced. Greetings. I am pleased to finally make acquaintance in person.¡±


    I stared. For longer than it ever took me to return a greeting. ¡°Hello.¡± I was almost at a loss for words. ¡°Are you here to eliminate me?¡± I was at my weakest by far, if any time was good-


    ¡°I bring information, clarification, confirmation, and a question of my own that will determine how you and I proceed.¡±


    The Light was with me, as bright and mighty as ever, but suddenly it couldn¡¯t fill the deep pit in my gut. ¡°What inf-¡° something occurred to me, as suddenly as it was belated. ¡°Where¡­ when are you talking with me from?¡±


    ¡°Here and now, I am here in full. But if you wanted to know when and whence leads the portal behind me, the answer is the Caverns of Time, precisely ten years from now.¡±The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Ten years. Year 592. Year 1 of the New Calendar. The year when the Dark Portal was to open, if nothing changed, letting the orcish horde spill into the world. If everything I already did isn¡¯t enough of a change. ¡°Do I get a say in whatever script you have for this conversation?¡±


    ¡°You already have, you are on the other side of the portal right now.¡±


    It felt like all my tension wanted to rip its way out of me like a chest-burster. ¡°Which doesn¡¯t necessarily mean I¡¯m there by choice, or conscious.¡± Or alive, even. ¡°I¡¯d have to take you at your word.¡± I was in no shape to soulgaze anyone right not, even if he let me.


    ¡°I was assured that would not be the case.¡±


    From the portal came a glowing star, which shot right into me with no impulse from me to avoid because I felt no threat, and no woe. It was¡­ me. A piece of spirit. My spirit. It entered me and dispersed through me, filling the open wounds in my flesh and not flesh, soothing all my weakness and my pain.


    There was the promise of accomplishment there, blended with an echo of sorrow, the feeling of power far greater than what I¡¯d managed up to now, and no memory of future deeds save one: myself breaking part of myself off and throwing it through the portal just now. ¡°Ah¡­¡± I almost collapsed all over again from the sudden relief. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ some proof.¡±


    ¡°I agree.¡± Nozdormu hadn¡¯t known what form the proof would take either, it seemed, and the Light did not warn me of lies in his words. Not the Shadow either, I could¡­


    The Light wasn¡¯t fainter, but it was thinner because my spirit was thinner after all I¡¯d done. I could perceive what moved in the Void better than before. Nothing of what I¡¯d seen in Fahrad was present here. ¡°So, what? You¡¯re just here to¡­ provide exposition?¡±


    ¡°In a manner of speaking.¡±


    ¡°And the fact that this will once again make me seem more omniscient than I actually am is just pure coincidence?¡±


    ¡°What you do with your knowledge is, as always, your decision, but no. It does not run contrary to the needs of time to service your mystique.¡±


    How did he say that with a straight face? ¡°Alright. What-¡± asking about information was my first instinct, especially since nothing came to mind of what I could require clarification on¡­ but that just meant I¡¯d missed something important, didn¡¯t it? ¡°Let¡¯s start with this then: what clarification?¡±


    ¡°Kairozdormu was only wrong about the when, not if,¡± Nozdormu said. ¡°It is possible to reset the world the way he told you. It just hasn¡¯t happened now.¡± Nozdormu gave me a meaningful look. ¡°Yet.¡±


    ¡­ Holy- ¡°Are you¡­ asking for my permission? Or my help?¡±


    ¡°I have the latter, it is the former that I am not sure about.¡±


    The former- permission? He wants my permission? Since when do the Bronze dragons need anyone¡¯s permission for anything?


    No, no distractions. Don¡¯t interrupt someone doing you a favor unasked. ¡°Reset the world.¡± Just how many blind spots did those strangely prophetic games back on Terra have? ¡°Is it really possible?¡±


    I knew the games went all-in on the alternate timeline multiverse nonsense, but if that was really possible¡­ then there was literally no reason why the Bronze had to aid and abet bad events. Unless you¡¯re literally evil, you¡¯re only restricted to bad choices when the power is contested, and it certainly wasn¡¯t the Infinites actively forcing history to turn Alexstrasza into a sex slave for the orcs-


    ¡°It has already been done,¡± Nozdormu derailed my inner tangent. ¡°More than once.¡±


    What? Making Alextrasza ¨C no, wait, we weren¡¯t talking about that, we were actually talking¡­ about¡­


    My mouth fell open.


    Reset.


    Rest the world. ¡°Holy shit.¡± What? ¡°When? How?¡± Was Kairozdormu right and that was involved in me showing up here? But I saw no such thing, nor was there anything ¨C no external force acted on me, nothing drew me or pulled me or-


    ¡°The War of the Ancients was not a mere one-off mortal conflict,¡± explained the Aspect of Time. ¡°It was a grind that unfolded over a span of time many times longer than the history you know. Sometimes it lasted decades. Sometimes years. Sometimes days. Always we lost. And always, the five Dragonflights would come together before the Keepers in the Halls of Origination at the heart of Uldum, to pour our combined might into the Dragon Soul and join it to the power of the world itself tapped by those places.¡±


    I stood in astonishment at the things I was hearing.


    ¡°It was a mighty stalemate. A galactic-wide stream of demonic invaders matched against effectively infinite reserves, on a battlefield that always, actively favored us in all ways. All the while, we never lost tactical and strategic parity. Though none besides me and a few others recalled past times, our heroes were always returned, and Ysera¡¯s dreams and portents did well enough to make up for their lost memories and backsliding experience. Even without this, there is a limit to any skill. Sargeras and his lieutenants could hardly draw any further benefit from experience, after a while. Mastering a skill doesn¡¯t take more than a few years, in the end. That is why mortals can contend with immortals at all.¡±


    I didn¡¯t say anything.


    ¡°When Sargeras turned from tactical warfare to bedroom diplomacy, it wasn¡¯t because the Well of Eternity was the greatest weakness on our front, it was the only weakness left. Even then, it could only be breached from this side, not his. That was why he lowered himself to seducing a mortal queen.¡±


    I still didn¡¯t say anything.


    ¡°Contrary to your worries, demons do not respawn in the Twisting Nether, never mind instantly. Most of them were mortal first, after all. Only very few life forms native to that dimension can reconstitute that way, like the Nathrezim, and even they do not recover the power they gained after their original birth, or even their bodies ¨C it takes much to grow from an imp to a demon lord. But we developed ways to prevent even that by the fiftieth iteration of the War of the Ancients. If any such creatures survive from those times, I will be surprised.¡±


    I still didn¡¯t say anything. It was hard enough just to take all of that in.


    ¡°Unfortunately, betrayal ultimately did come, and from no vector we had suspected. Though time was rewound for all life on Azeroth, the Re-Temporization for the earth itself was barely better than crust deep. The corruption of the Old Gods continued seeping out of their prisons, compounding all the while and accelerating Neltharion¡¯s corruption faster and faster every cycle. Even so, when the Aspect of the Earth said to create the Dragon Soul early and use it on offense, his reasoning was sound ¨C if we were to reverse the process and turn the power of the Titan Facilities through it outward, Sargeras himself could have been slain.¡±


    ¡°¡­ How many times? How many times did this happen?¡±


    ¡°Six hundred and sixty-six.¡±


    I¡¯m not even shocked anymore. ¡°Is this why the Pantheon gave Azeorth so many things? The Halls, the Forges, Titans by the dozen, even a bunch of them with the potential to become their heirs¡­¡±


    ¡°They never shared their designs to that extent, at least with us dragons, but I believe so.¡±


    Odyn never even hinted at any of this, in any of our conversations. ¡°Did the Keepers remember?¡±


    ¡°Freya certainly, for a time in the beginning, she was intrinsically connected to all life she personally nurtured, before the toll became too maddening and she severed it,¡± said Nozdormu. ¡°Odyn perhaps, to whatever extent his other eye saw events from the other side, though he keeps to himself on most things relative to us dragons. Helya I do not know, though I would not be surprised if the recurring deaths of so many contributed to her fall to madness. Some days, I myself am surprised I haven¡¯t done the same, then I wonder if I did and I just don¡¯t realize it.¡± Nozdormu¡¯s stoic manner slipped momentarily, to something softer as he beheld me. ¡°Somewhat less, now.¡±


    Nozdormu fell quiet.


    I stood there, ruminating over everything I¡¯d learned.


    It took some time, and I still had questions, though the one that yelled loudest in my head was one that that conflicted me the most. ¡°Do you¡­ mean to undo the Sundering?¡±


    All the land on Azeroth was a single continent, before they had to blow up the Well of Eternity along with Sargeras. That was how the War of the Ancients finally ended for good.


    ¡°If only. Alas, Re-Temporization has far narrower limits to its potential span. A few decades is all that we could manage then. Even if the breaking of the world hadn¡¯t ripped or displaced a majority of the ley lines the Titan facilities relied on, the World Soul itself can hardly spare so much power now.¡±


    ¡°¡­ Assuming it goes along with it, right?¡± I ventured a guess, which wasn¡¯t immediately denied. The Titan facilities weren¡¯t just prisons for the old mollusks, they were also designed as means to nurture the titan of Azeroth and shape it. Its form. Its consciousness.


    Automatically assuming the worst without a previously observed pattern was for cowards, so I didn¡¯t think it was a case of trying to indoctrinate or brainwash a baby. Besides, it¡¯s not like planets would have the same life cycle as humans. That said, if the Sundering wasn¡¯t enough of a wake-up call for the World Soul, what would be? ¡°Is the Titan awake?¡±


    ¡°Not that anyone has noticed.¡±


    I stand corrected. ¡°Alright, then¡­ why tell me all this?¡±


    ¡°Because, in theory, if we were to initiate the process again, it should be possible to reach far enough to include the last few months of your life as of this moment.¡±


    My head felt light. The last few months.


    Altarac Castle, everyone who¡¯d just died, all the meetings that went wrong, everything I¡¯d had to decide while still blind to the future because of a betrayed spirit pact, my little brothers¡­


    I ran a shaky hand over my face. ¡°Might that be really Sargeras beneath your face, offering me the devil¡¯s deal?¡±


    ¡°It is not.¡±


    My laughter sounded hollow in my ears. I¡¯d never felt so feeble. ¡°No, Nozdormu. Let the World Soul be.¡±


    ¡°¡­ Not even a moment¡¯s consideration?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how far you can travel and affect time without the powers bound in the Dragon Soul,¡± I said, feeling wrung out. ¡°But by your own words, to offer this at all you must either have it, or a sane Aspect of the Earth, or both. Both mean that, just ten years in the future, Deathwing is no more.¡±


    Nozdormu didn¡¯t deny it.


    ¡°Did the Cataclysm happen?¡±


    ¡°No.


    ¡°Then why are you here at all? You said future me is right there with you. Why not ask him?¡±


    Did I go bad, or-?


    ¡°Because age does not necessarily bring wisdom if trauma is plentiful enough, even after it heals.¡±


    I felt a wave of dread, and even then it was overshadowed by all-new outrage. ¡°Are you¡­ being deliberately obtuse right now, or just circumspect?¡±


    ¡°The latter.¡±


    So I was expected to take him at his word where it counted, of course he¡¯d lie in the same breath as he all but stated someone I loved was going to die. Or more.


    No.


    No.


    I felt a bitter pang of resentment. Who did this creature think he was, to test me? Never mind like this? How dare he? ¡°Get out of my sight.¡±


    ¡°Pardon?¡±


    ¡°When I asked Kairozdormu why he did all he did, his answer was that you told him he had to convince me to convince you.¡¯¡± I glared at the dragon¡¯s face, so perfect and so fake. ¡°If not for the meddling of one of yours, none of this would have happened. You sent him here. And now, even though you knowingly and deliberately caused all my problems, you have the gall to come here and offer to make them go away like it¡¯s some kind of divine grace! As if ¨C as if it¡¯s my character test?!¡±


    Nozdormu¡¯s expression closed off. ¡°It seems I misjudged the situation.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I said bitterly. ¡°You judged it perfectly. The moment I¡¯m at my weakest, my most depressed, never has my judgment been more malleable than right now, right here, you could not possibly have chosen a better time to bring me low, whether with violence or false hopes. Congratulations, you¡¯ve succeeded.¡±


    Nozdormu sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. ¡°This was not my intention.¡±


    I clenched my fists. I¡¯m supposed to be allied with this person in the future? How?


    The dragon sighed. ¡°My current self has Kairozdormu. He will recover.¡±


    Light forbid he leave without getting the last word.


    ¡°He is on your side now, as it happens, though my current self will not know that for certain for some time. I will talk to myself so that he does not err the way I just did.¡±


    Please don¡¯t.


    ¡°More relevant to your present, your deployment of Khaz''Goroth¡¯s Breach was seen from all over the northern continent. Strom¡¯s response was predictable, but the reason House Menethil is coming in force is because of Dalaran. They saw you replicate the feat that ended the Troll Wars and reacted rashly. They cannot currently abide the thought of anyone being in possession of that secret besides them. The greedy want it, the neutral want the knowledge you possess, the good don¡¯t trust anyone but themselves with the power you displayed, and the Council of Five, currently, will not take no for an answer.¡±


    Of course they won¡¯t, their prison guards were all around me right now.


    ¡°They were swift in denouncing the ¡®unspeakable crime against mankind¡¯ that was perpetrated here. In absence of the Archbishop¡¯s moderating influence, King Terenas was swayed by their argument, and the urging of Prince Thoras Trollbane who currently enjoys his hospitality.¡±


    All the justice in the world couldn¡¯t stand up to a single snub.


    ¡°Krasus is no longer available as a moderating influence in the Council, and the red are now conflicted at best towards you, with him gone. The one you saw flying away with Rheastrasza, without a word to you or even showing his face despite watching you for days on end, was Tyranastrasz. It was a snub, and it was deliberate. The Green are unavailable as you know.¡±


    I was being baited, but I didn¡¯t care anymore. ¡°What about the Blue?¡±


    ¡°Their situation rests on a future development which your future self insists is best left free of prophecy¡¯s taint.¡±


    ¡°Well, if it¡¯s me saying it, I suppose I have to agree.¡±


    ¡°I disagree.¡±


    ¡°¡­ Does current you feel that way?¡±


    ¡°More so,¡± Nozdormu said cautiously. ¡°I ¨C he ¨C is so wary of Infinite trickery that he suspects even himself. He believes these spots of hope are merely building up to something worse. The developments that will categorically prove I am no longer destined to become Murozond will take some several years yet.¡±


    A tense quiet fell between us then. I thought he would say something about the Archbishop, it was the only thing he¡¯d left out at this point. But he didn¡¯t, and I didn¡¯t ask. I didn¡¯t care why. All I wanted was for him to go away.


    ¡°The answer to the question you told Kairozdormu to ask me is yes.¡±


    ¡­ Excuse him?


    ¡°And my addendum is this: there is no limit on time frame, at either end. You are free to see to your aims when and how you wish, no matter the world.¡±


    The Dark Portal. It could be used to reach times before and after. From any time before and after. I didn¡¯t know if I wanted to thank or throttle him. ¡°It didn¡¯t occur to you to open with that?¡±


    ¡°It did,¡± Nozdormu admitted. ¡°Clearly, I made the wrong decision.¡±


    I didn¡¯t dignify that with a response, my mood was beyond salvaging now.


    ¡°Do you wish me to tell you who will perish among those you hold close? And how?¡± The dragon had the nerve to outright ask.


    Somehow, I don¡¯t know how, I held myself from punching him in the face. ¡°Did you discuss this with future me?¡±


    ¡°Yes. He said not to tell you.¡±


    ¡°How does that even work? Unless you don¡¯t expect to be able to change the past anymore?¡±


    ¡°I have deliberately avoided observing this conversation, from all points in my time. There is no path it cannot take.¡±


    Nozdormu, Leader of the Bronze Dragonflight, the Aspect of Time, had just told me that he¡¯d made all the wrong decisions the moment he chose not to use his powers. And he didn¡¯t even realize it. Much how the current him didn¡¯t have all his powers. And would continue to not have them for ten more years.


    Good god.


    Maybe I¡¯m overreacting, I thought despairingly. Just like I told him, I¡¯m in the worst emotional place I¡¯ve ever been. Nozdormu probably came here in good faith and it¡¯s me that¡¯s screwing it all up.


    I didn¡¯t know what it said about my life that I actually wanted that to be true. I pressed my hands against my eyes and tried to think logically. Try to ¨C there had to be some wisdom about this in my memory somewhere.


    You can form objective opinions based on the measurable elements of a situation, I recalled the recording of a wise man¡¯s words, long long ago. Or a subjective opinion based on how you feel about it. But those are two completely different conversations.


    Unfortunately, Nozdormu gave me neither the time nor peace and quiet to figure out which kind of situation this was. ¡°Perhaps it would have been best after all, if I did not come.¡±


    ¡°Look, just¡­ do what future me says to do.¡±


    ¡°¡­ As you wish,¡± Nozdormu finally backed away. ¡°May the mystery be one less burden to bear.¡±


    One less ¨C there¡¯s literally no world where unsolved mysteries make things easier!


    ¡°The Archbishop will arrive in Alterac in but few more days,¡± the dragon said in closing, because of course he couldn¡¯t suffer any event to be completely free of his meddling, I had to be wrong about this too. ¡°But I see you would rather hear about that from the man himself.¡±


    Nozdormu finally departed.


    The portal closed behind him with the feel of a time loop firmly locked in place.


    ¡°Well, Lad?¡± Uther asked when time resumed its flow. ¡°Can you walk, or do you need us to carry you? I have my horse over there, if you need it.¡±


    I blinked and met the eyes of this person who loathed what I had done, even more so because of all my secrecy, my deception of the best people around me in service of conspiracy to mass slaughter. But he was still offering to make my burdens lighter. Unlike every last lizard. ¡°You¡¯re a good man.¡±


    Uther turned visibly uncomfortable. ¡°If only you¡¯d matched action to those words before now.¡± He turned away to get his horse before I could come up with a reply to that rebuke of my character. Or, well, what I did relative to his character. And didn¡¯t do. Didn¡¯t let him in on my plans. Because I wanted his hands to remain clean, like I did Richard.


    ¡°He has no business judging you,¡± Richard rumbled nearby. ¡°He is not from here, doesn¡¯t know what it¡¯s like to live under such an evil king, he¡¯ll never understand.¡±


    ¡°He understands, he just doesn¡¯t accept because compromise with objective evil is objective defeat. Now he won¡¯t have to do that,¡± I said ruefully. ¡°His standards for good can stay intact. Stay the right ones, mighty and high as everyone¡¯s should be.¡±


    I¡¯d managed to live up to those words with Fahrad.


    Not now.


    Richard¡¯s lips twisted in a sneer, but there was more introspection than resentment in his eyes now.


    I was introspective too, but about something completely different. Namely, the one root cause behind all that had happened this year that reached even deeper into the foundation of this frustrating world. Now, with the dust finally settled, I had arrived to a conclusion.


    The Old Gods were not quite as insidious as they thought themselves. They¡¯d never come up with a story where a weasel and a swine manipulate a child into eating bugs and singing ¡®everything is fine¡¯ as he abandons his heritage for a life of aimless vagrancy, for example. They¡¯d certainly never think of making an entire generation of people, young and old alike, hail it as a masterpiece of culture.


    Of course, if they did ever think about it they¡¯d probably succeed, which was why getting a hold of a proper human mind made them so dangerous.


    Unfortunately, my troubles didn¡¯t end where their influence did. Aiden Perenolde hadn¡¯t been some misled youth or mind-bound thrall, he was an evil swine whose minions happened to include an ancient black dragon masquerading as a professional murderer. That made him my problem, which eventually ended up making a bunch more dragons into my problem, and the mollusks puppetting the whole lot of them.


    People back in my last life used to quote ¡®blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.¡¯ It completely escaped them that the inheriting was only going to happened after the Earth had been nuked into a flat wasteland. Which itself was well after the Rapture took all the worthy believers away to God¡¯s side. Supposedly. It wasn¡¯t a promise of heaven, but of hell.


    It also escaped them that the original saying referred to being as meek as a warhorse, which meant that you were expected to bravely charge in battle when called on by a worthy lord.


    How fortunate that I had a worthy lord right next to me.


    ¡°Richard.¡±


    ¡°I am here.¡±


    ¡°Men, dragons, those are just two of three evils that meddled in this mess.¡±


    ¡°They are? What is the third?¡±


    ¡°The monsters in our strangest nightmares.¡±


    Anyone else would have thought I was being deliberately vague, but not Richard. He¡¯d been there for my talks with Antonidas, and even without them¡­


    He asked no questions that would give the mages around us anything more to work with. He was a discerning sort, my Paladin. ¡°What will you do?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Everything you won¡¯t be able to do while tied up with ruling the country from here out.¡± I ignored the flash of alarm from the man who¡¯d been certain and hopeful that I would become King myself.


    Back when I¡¯d first remembered in this life, I¡¯d made plans. Plans I¡¯d set aside after getting tied up with events here in Alterac, because a pair of bronze dragons didn¡¯t think I was being brazen enough.


    Now, those plans had just moved back to the foreground.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to retaliate.¡±


    <hr>


    Book One End

 The King Is Dead

    Book II: The Harrowing


    Chapter II.1 (23) ¨C The King Is Dead


    (I)


    ¡°-. February 2, Year 581 of the King¡¯s Calendar .-¡°


    Lordaeron¡¯s border was closer to Alterac City, so their army should have arrived first. They didn¡¯t, because they were constantly harassed by foul weather thanks to my nine, no longer so little spirits. They were really blatant about it too, spreading ice ahead of their path, slowing the march, frosting wheels and hinges, pulling water from every stream and lake to make clouds, even blowing all that rain parallel with the ground to make it spew into every tent they could find.


    The only thing that didn¡¯t get harassed was their supply train. Roilbroth had shown up in the aftermath of the detonation and didn¡¯t want to miss out on any further excitement. He was the main reason I let the others loose on the army to begin with. Even as the elements turned the march into literal hell, the broth elemental made sure the supplies stayed intact, and even that they always had warm meals to eat.


    It wouldn¡¯t do for them to begin starving. I wasn¡¯t exactly worried about pillaging, since they had abundant supplies. Terenas seemed to have brought a great surplus specifically in case they needed to render aid, which earned him some benefit of the doubt. Still, I was taking no chances. The route he¡¯d taken was the most populated road between the Lordaeron border and Alterac City. Also, Terenas Menethil wasn¡¯t the old and wise king he would be later in life. He had neither the popularity nor force of personality he¡¯d build up over the next forty years.


    Possibly this was due to the lack of children. An unstable dynasty made for some strong unrest. His current wife was rumored to be barren. Explained why he wouldn¡¯t have an heir until much later in life.


    Not that the cleric auxiliaries would have approved of pillaging either, they were already attributing their misfortunes to Tyr¡¯s disapproval of their unlawful violation of sovereignty. They didn¡¯t buy Dalaran¡¯s fearmongering about me either, because the Light gave them the opposite of bad feelings about the so-called Enhaloing, whenever they prayed. Same with the enmity of nature that I¡¯d unleashed on them, which was further emphasized by the discriminatory nature of Roilbroth¡¯s mercy.


    Unfortunately, the leverage of the clerics was very limited because the whole reason they were there was to provide relief to Alterac City. They couldn¡¯t in good conscience abandon the army if, say, a group of soldiers proved too weak to the urges of flesh and raped a woman or three on the way. It hadn¡¯t happened, but there was always that handful of bad men.


    Most ironic of all, there was tension in the ranks ever since the clerics bound one of my spirits in an attempt to converse ¨C the Church had such knowledge, apparently.


    I already knew that the people of Arathor¡¯s time hadn¡¯t just abandoned their prior traditions and knowledge wholesale, and this confirmed it. The rites of communion with the elements, or at least of binding them to a form for verbal communication ¨C and restriction ¨C had been picked up by the Church after the genocide of the druids by the Zandalari trolls. In bits of pieces which they didn¡¯t actually use, but they had it.


    Not under lock and key either. Nobody had expected this sort of trouble when they marched, but the knowledge was present regardless. Some of the clerics had just looked into it out of their own curiosity, even if it wasn¡¯t part of their standard education or training. The Church seemed to have few restrictions on what a cleric was allowed to research on his own time, after anointing, and the older materials were regularly transcribed. It spoke well of its authenticity as an institution.


    Alas for the Clerics of Lordaeron, forcing one of my elementals back into his misty form didn¡¯t do anything to the others. This allowed them to daisy-chain their perception and connect me to the trapped one. Their combined range was hundreds of kilometers greater than what I¡¯d managed with Richard, that first time. For this reason, the only thing the clerics got when forcing Foamgust to corporealize was a soulgaze with me.


    None of them went mad, but the emotional shock certainly made it seem that way for the first day or two. In response to this, King Terenas ordered that the ritual array ¨C and the trapped Foamgust ¨C be handed over to the Dalaran delegation attached to the army. The King had denied them outright advisory role, but keeping them at arm¡¯s length made it easy for them to sneak in additional conspirators disguised as camp attaches.


    When the heavy harassment by the elementals made them give themselves away through defensive spells, they managed to persuade the king to let them stay in exchange for protecting the army from further mystical torments. Terenas, being a good king, prioritized his men¡¯s wellbeing at his own honor¡¯s expense.


    Dalaran may not be serving any demons or void gods, but they had deviousness all their own.


    I was amazed when the clerics didn¡¯t comply, and instead released Foamgust. They even denounced further action in a public enough manner than it became an issue of army morale. I was sure they¡¯d go the other way, half the clerics who I soulgazed experienced such a crisis of faith that they could barely call on the Light, a couple couldn¡¯t do it at all anymore.


    But while that was true, it was also true that those affected were too coherent, and their visions too consistent for any accusations of madness to stick. Also, the other half became suddenly wiser and much more powerful than before, so much that they more than made up for the diminishment of the others, on the whole.


    Terenas still let the mages attend to it in secret, but by now the nine were too incensed and alert. They made a mess of every attempt at creating a ritual circle, until the mages had to use direct sustained casting to keep all other entities from the ritual grounds while they set it up. This weakened the circle itself by diluting and polluting the affinity of the reagents used, such that the nine were able to resist the summoning.


    Not that they needed to exert themselves all that much, the rite was misaimed to begin with. Unlike the more holistic methods of the church ¨C and before them the shamans ¨C the arcane methods of the Dalaran mages were very rigorous and precise. Which meant that, when they designed a rite to corporealize spirits of air, it didn¡¯t have the leeway to latch onto anything similar. In this case, spirits that seemed to be of air but were actually water and flame.


    Perhaps it would have eventually occurred to the mages to come at the problem from a more lateral direction, assuming they remembered that mixed elemental life forms existed. Never mind consider the possibility of this being such a case. But the question was moot because they were finally here.


    Lordaeron¡¯s army had finally reached the edge of the plateau that Alterac City stood upon, just hours after Alterac¡¯s own army did. The latter was accompanied by some of the forces of King Liam Trollbane of Strom, who¡¯d negotiated a very uneasy armistice with General Hath while they were on Alterac soil.


    If General Hath wasn¡¯t so far removed from the trouble at court, if he didn¡¯t need to come see things for himself, if he wasn¡¯t so in tune with the mood of his men that he knew half his army would desert the moment news of events trickled downwards ¨C prompting the various nobles to take their levies and leave, now that they didn¡¯t have relatives held hostage at court anymore ¨C Hath wouldn¡¯t have consented at all.


    That was what the general told Richard, at least, when the two met.


    I wasn¡¯t there for any of it, and I didn¡¯t much spy on things either. I¡¯d done my part running interference, or at least asking the nine to run interference in my stead. Now that the invaders were all here, Richard was doing his level best to deal with them without smiting the foreign kings where they stood.


    Apparently, while Terenas Menethil tried to be even-handed, Liam Trollbane thought lowly enough for both of them of treating with a mere duke. I wasn¡¯t clear on how much of the latter was actually Menethil pretending to indulge his fellow king, or Prince Thoras with whom he was on warm terms after having him as a guest for so long, but it wasn¡¯t the best look regardless.


    Strategically, General Hath¡¯s actions were the most apt. It was true that he¡¯d brought Strom¡¯s forces close enough to potentially make common cause with Lordaeron against Alterac, if Menethil decided to besiege the city for example. But Hath couldn¡¯t have anticipated their coming at the time. More importantly, he had only allowed King Liam in with a single cohort, which were just enough men to cover his retreat if it came to a fight with the full legion Hath had taken along with him.


    Hath had also made clever use of the landscape to disguise the ever-growing size of his ¡®advance scout¡¯ parties, the deeper they traveled into the heartland. This way, he effectively encircled the Strom army on the last stretch to the capital. Because of this, the Strom cohort was completely surrounded now, not quite cut off from retreat but certainly isolated from any potential reinforcements.


    Perhaps most clever of all, Hath brought with him many of the captains that had only obeyed the crown due to hostages, either their own or other officers they were loyal to. This prompted them to form all-new bonds of mutual loyalty, as always happens when suddenly faced with an external existential threat.


    I didn¡¯t really understand why Liam Trollbane would put himself at such risk. With anyone other than General Hath, the King of Strom might well qualify as a self-made hostage. But after what Nozdormu told me, I had strong suspicions. It wasn¡¯t impossible Liam was as bold as his son was supposed to grow into, or maybe he thought of General Hath¡¯s honor just that highly. But I was more inclined to believe that Dalaran played a hand there too. It would be enough to just help him communicate with Terenas. Perhaps Dalaran mages were even on hand to teleport Liam and his forces away.


    Alternatively, Prince Thoras or his minder had some device that served similar purpose, letting him talk to his father across borders. It would make sense for Dalaran to sell communication devices like the one Antonidas had used to put me in contact with the Council of Six. Maybe King Trollbane had more than one, allowing him to also coordinate with the bulk of his army that was left behind. It didn¡¯t seem to be the case, I didn¡¯t have all the spirits on harassment, one of them was doing scouting for me. The Strom army was staying put on its side of the border.


    I didn¡¯t directly involve myself in any of this. Richard was torn between feeling honored to be given complete power ¨C as if it were mine to grant or withdraw ¨C and feeling like he shouldn¡¯t have it. I hadn¡¯t had to outright talk Richard down from declaring me king against my will, but at this rate I might have to.


    In his defense, it made fair enough sense ¨C out of all surviving noble houses, he actually had the weakest blood connection to the late royal house. Richard also remained convinced Alterac would be best off in my hands, and I agreed.


    Conversely, Valea Twinblades had already secured enough peer support that Richard was king in all but name, despite him not being available for a marriage alliance on account of being already wed. She, alongside Marquess Balinda Stonehearth and Baron Valimar Mordis, had even managed to rally support and troops quickly enough prevent the civil war that the heirs and regents of the newly dead had almost started. Certainly a lot of old scores were being settled, entire lines ended or attainted, but I had no problem with that when they were so thoroughly deserved.


    More so, the three conspirators would back Richard even if he put all power in my hands. I had a reputation now, as savior, avenger, dragonslayer, inventor, miracle worker, prophet, you name it. Even legitimacy wasn¡¯t really an issue in the face of maximum popularity. With Richard and Twinblades¡¯ coalition backing me, I could seize power quite comfortably.


    But that was only on the domestic front.


    As Liam Trollbane and Terenas Menethil both showed, neither Strom nor Lordaeron would accept that outcome.


    What did Dalaran tell these people, I wonder.


    Perhaps too much. Perhaps not enough. Perhaps neither, and the two were just doing what warrior-class aristocrats were raised to do ¨C challenge and fight the biggest threat to their nations. I had no claim, I was too dangerous, Dalaran had made sure the level of threat I posed could not be obfuscated, and I had flaunted the world order itself by annihilating the nobility and royalty of my country as a mere commoner. Such a precedent could not be borne by monarchs, even the best of them.


    Kings didn¡¯t mean what they used to. They certainly didn¡¯t mean what they meant on Earth in the Middle Ages. The medieval king was the vessel of law and tradition, and so he had power insofar as he upheld those laws and traditions. The medieval king, therefore, often ruled on the side of the realm¡¯s estates other than the nobility. That was why there were many good kings over the course of history, but never good politicians.


    The humans of Azeroth didn¡¯t have those sorts of kings anymore, barring maybe Stormwind. Instead, Perenolde, Menethil, Trollbane, even Greymane were closer to post-Enlightenment absolutist monarchs like Napoleon and the Hapsburg Empire.


    Neither Terenas nor Liam had actually given any ultimatum yet, but Trollbane, at least, was quickly building up to it. He¡¯d only held back on that for so long because Terenas persuaded him they should see me in person first, lest Richard make it impossible if they become too combative.


    I told Richard to follow his best judgment in all things, including relative to me. I was more concerned with a couple of more important matters, which for once I would not be able to fulfil on my own. It was time to bring in the other people with a stake in those matters. Or, in the case of certain angels and their godly patrons, an axe to grind.


    Though perhaps hammer and anvil would work better.


    ¡°Val¡¯kyr,¡± I called one day, while lightforging the rose stumps in Master Kelsier¡¯s garden. By dint of familiarity ¨C and my protective ward ¨C I was being hosted by the same person on whose behalf everything happened. ¡°What¡¯s Odyn doing?¡±


    ~My Lord still broods.~ Geirrvif answered. She was still with me, even now.


    ¡°Broods, or wallows?¡±


    No reply that time.


    What did he wallow in? Weariness, depression? Despair? ¡°Can you carry a message for me?¡±


    ~I can relay any words spoken.~


    ¡°Ask him if he¡¯s retrieved Tyr¡¯s body yet.¡±


    Her shock startled me.


    ~¡­ The Golden One ¨C you know where He lies?~


    ¡­ I didn¡¯t want to make assumptions, but if Odyn hadn¡¯t even shared that with anyone, he must be doing worse than I feared. ¡°I do know, and so should your king.¡± My memories had been completely exposed when I made the snap decision to link spirits with Odyn back during the snowstorm. ¡°Please convey my question.¡±


    The Valkyrie made no secret of her astonishment, but she took me at my word and flew away at the speed of thought until I could not spot her even in the spirit world, where I could see a much farther than my normal eyes.


    She didn¡¯t come back that day, or the days after. It was enough for me to get worried. Given the circumspect glances my host sent me at mealtimes, I was being quite obvious about it too. Or maybe it was just my general mood at what shape my plans were taking. Retaliation against the gods of evil was all well and good, but the preparations leading up to it were going to be murder.


    Those preparations got several times more complex when a certain someone came knocking on Kelsier¡¯s gate, with guest in tow.


    ¡°Jorach.¡± I addressed the master of assassins who¡¯d just been admitted through my wards. As had the other one. ¡°Who¡¯s this with you?¡±


    ¡°My name¡¯s Aedelas Blackmoore, your worship,¡± the thirteen-year-old spoke for himself, bold as brass as he pulled free of the man¡¯s grip and stepped forward to bend the knee in front of me. He wore red and gold livery with the crest of a black falcon on the tabard. ¡°I beg you, let me make my case.¡±Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    What case? For what?


    Aedelas Blackmoore¡­


    That name belonged to the man who would become the master of Thrall, the false orc messiah, and eventually the overseer of all the orc internment camps after the second war. A nasty piece of work, doubly so when he was perpetually drunk. But also competent enough while sober that he defeated the Horde and conscripted the survivors, thus making a combined army strong enough to make himself King of Lordaeron, after killing all three of King Terenas Menethil, Uther the Lightbringer, and Anduin Lothar.


    Supposedly.


    In an alternate timeline.


    Though with what I knew now, that was probably less of an alternate timeline and more a former timeline, which had been undone through the Re-Temporization that Nozdormu described.


    I looked at the assassin master. ¡°How¡¯d you find him?¡±


    ¡°He found us,¡± Ravenholdt replied. ¡°Or, rather, he found Ravenholdt Manor. His family was in possession of that information, contrary to our beliefs to the contrary.¡±


    Was that because they thought they¡¯d stayed secret, or had purged such information in the past? How many murders were involved? Of high-profile nobles, even? ¡°And?¡±


    ¡°And my new second-in-command approved of the boy¡¯s nerve enough to send him my way, after he made his case. He could be taught to become one of us, but ever since the Fowl War we prefer to avoid direct entanglements with nobility above a certain rank. Also, he lacks the proper disposition.¡±


    The boy had a murderous glare now.


    ¡°You have something to say, kid?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re on my land,¡± the boy glared at the Old Fowl. ¡°They¡¯ve been conducting their business from our land since time immemorial. It¡¯s an insult and offense-¡°


    ¡°Ravenholdt manor has been on that land since before House Blackmoore was ennobled.¡±


    ¡°-and if not for the Crown¡¯s own patronage, any one of their individual acts would see them drawn and quartered.¡±


    ¡°Is that what you came to tell me?¡±


    ¡°No, sir.¡±


    Good, because that wasn¡¯t in my hands anymore, it was all up to Richard Lionheart now. ¡°Go on, then. Make your case, whatever it is.¡±


    ¡°My father, Count Aedelyn Blackmoore, was executed for trading the knowledge of your black powder to Gilneas.¡±


    So. My actions had apparently changed those circumstances too. Even as far back as that.


    ¡°It did not matter to the late king that it was not a state secret at the time, or that he¡¯d allowed my father even greater leeway before, in his service as General. I do not know if my father did it on purpose, or if his communications with the Crown were sabotaged. Perhaps he kept it to himself because he knew it would be leaked or interfered with.¡±


    All of which could and did happen on the regular at the Alterac court.


    ¡°What I do know is that Gilneas are the only nation to successfully dismantle the monopoly of the Alchemists. For this reason, they are the only place where people with necessary skills were already available, never mind in numbers high enough to meet shipment quotas of strategic relevance. Something that Strom would have taken advantage of if my father¡¯s envoys didn¡¯t get there first, thus tying up Gilneas¡¯s entire export capacity of the substance.¡±


    Well damn.


    ¡°For this critical strategic victory that my father did not even try to obfuscate, something impossible regardless on such a scale, the King summoned him to court, whereupon my father learned he¡¯d already been found guilty in absentia of selling state secrets, supposedly in a trial of his peers. He was executed for treason that very day.¡±


    Aedelyn Blackmoore was executed for selling state secrets in the version of things without me too. Were the circumstances so twisted then as well? ¡°Kid, look at me.¡±


    The boy bravely raised his face and met my eyes.


    Some people might say I¡¯ve been cavalier with using the soulgaze, and some people would be wrong. All the same, it wasn¡¯t something you used as a hammer, especially on boys that were still developing their personalities. That said, it didn¡¯t take a soulgaze to see if someone was lying. The Light Reveals smaller things too.


    Why this wasn¡¯t used everywhere in that future I remembered, I could only attribute to the Light¡¯s powers actually being much rarer, and harder to fine tune in this manner than portrayed. ¡°Why are you telling me this?¡±


    ¡°Because you gave him justice, and to our house and me. I didn¡¯t think it was possible, but you did it. I¡¯d sworn to avenge him, no matter what it took, no matter on who, no matter that there was no way I could¡¯ve, I -¡° the angry boy took a deep breath and forced the next part through clenched teeth. ¡°I even resent you for stealing the chance away from me.¡±


    The adult Blackmoore would lose his chance at revenge and seek refuge in the bottle, but the thirteen-year-old in front of me right now had more discernment than Aiden Perenolde and all his court combined. ¡°But?¡±


    ¡°But the clerics always say vengeance is only for those too weak or lazy to pursue real justice. I didn¡¯t believe them before, but I do now.¡± The boy looked at me with earnest, clear eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t have any reward to offer, I¡¯m not of age and the man assigned as my regent was chosen specifically to beggar my house and my lands by the time I¡¯m grown. I can¡¯t stay in Durnholde Keep just to stew and watch it all unfold, I¡¯ll go mad or worse. I¡¯ll end up in a bad place no matter what. Please, Lord, let me serve as your squire instead!¡±


    Well now.


    How could I in good conscience say no?


    ¡°-. February 12, Year 581 of the King¡¯s Calendar .-¡°


    Prosaic as it might seem, everything I¡¯d gone through had only made me appreciate Azeroth all the more. This world was raw, honest, and its men undomesticated. It wasn¡¯t an easy place to live in, but it incentivized good. It certainly wasn¡¯t the sort of place where you went to jail for defending yourself from a home invader, for example. Even at his worst Perenolde didn¡¯t do that. He had to either work with deniable assets or invent false accusations wholesale. Even then, most people didn¡¯t buy it.


    Someone once said that history is an eternal struggle between warriors, merchants, bureaucrats and priests, and they were right. My own addendum to that was that any one of them could send the world to hell, but the world only lost its capacity to get itself out of hell when bureaucrats held power. Because while the other three could fill the role of a bureaucrat ¨C and each other too ¨C bureaucrats were always just bureaucrats. For this reason, they used and abused everything around them so they could remain bureaucrats, including the people and country.


    The purpose of the civil service is to serve the purpose of the civil service.


    On Azeroth, the class of the ruling elite was the warrior, which was objectively the best ruling elite there could be. Merchants exploited you, bureaucrats abused you, priests talked down to you, and all of them had trouble relating outside their spheres. Warriors were unique in that they struggled, often right alongside the commoners they ruled. They shed blood, sweat and tears like the common man to earn their place, so they were the only ruling class that could actually relate to the suffering of their citizens. Conversely, the common people saw them struggling, even dying in battle for them and their country, and so they felt that the warrior king¡¯s position and power in society was earned.


    Unfortunately, in this case it was that same brave, bold and earnest nature of warrior-kings that had been turned against them, by the most borderline but also most dangerous kind of bureaucrat there was ¨C the magical one.


    And so, it fell to the priests to bring some sanity into this newest mess.


    Alonsus Faol arrived on a deceptively sunny winter day. He wasted no time on pleasantries, ignored both kings¡¯ invitations to accept their hospitality ¨C never mind that they had no hospitality to give on foreign soil ¨C requested with Richard to see me immediately, and only slowed his pace once, to tell Uther to keep his report to himself for a little longer and instead help keep any Dalaran mages from our business.


    Something had changed about the Archbishop, something so deep and fundamental as to alarm me. I first thought it was his choice to inscribe staves on his own bones. It was something I¡¯d decided against for myself so far, because my life kept landing me in situations where I couldn¡¯t afford any amount of power being permanently tied up. They also could have become ruinously crippling after the dragon, never mind what happened in Alterac Castle, since the cost of their upkeep would have exceeded what spiritual power I still had.


    Not a good thing when I was rendered unable to even think about turning them off, never mind succeed when I was in so much weakness and such pain. I¡¯d have had to erase them just before going into battle, or in the middle of battle when I couldn¡¯t afford the time or loss of focus, which defeated their purpose. The defensive ones were redundant for me anyway, since I had a protective forcefield over my skin at all times.


    I did miss out on a lot of utility. Hopefully now I¡¯ll have enough time to grow enough not to need to cripple myself again. I probably wouldn¡¯t become a sky-hopping martial artist any time soon, but grand dreams were always useful to have.


    Alonsus hadn¡¯t come out unscathed either, from whatever happened. His spirit and his Light were both dimmer than before. I wanted to hope my very vague fears weren¡¯t true, what Reflection I could do in my weakened state only gave me more hope for the future than before, not less. But he wasn¡¯t well, he¡¯d come with just Turalyon accompanying him, and when he requested to talk to me in the absolute most possible secrecy, spirits and wards and all, I almost didn¡¯t need to guess.


    Alonsus Faol told me what happened in Stormwind.


    It was a long time before I was able to find any words to say.


    Llane Wrynn dead, his wife dead, Varian Wrynn would never be conceived. Because he would never be conceived neither would Anduin. Maybe the same souls would be born to different parents, but if something like Fate existed, never mind in such strength as to force agents into being regardless of causality, it wouldn¡¯t have suffered my own birth and actions. Either way, they wouldn¡¯t be the same people. Probably wouldn¡¯t even have the same names.


    The ensuing talk took the whole night. By the time we were spent, I had reached a sad and difficult conclusion. Barring a properly premeditated and controlled exposure of Sargeras without collateral damage, this outcome was better than almost any alternative, save the one where everyone miraculously survived against all odds.


    Sargeras had been exposed ten whole years before he could build the Dark Portal, years before Medivh would even get the idea that other worlds might be inhabited, never mind contact them. Even aside from that, he was now a lone rogue magician, however powerful, instead of having the entire kingdom of Stormwind to pull the strings of.


    Conversely, Medivh himself seemed to not be completely gone, given the way that disaster concluded. He would at least suspect the gravity of what was truly wrong with him, if he hadn¡¯t figured it out already. Hopefully Magna Aegwynn wouldn¡¯t make things worse on that front.


    When I told Alonsus this, he didn¡¯t disagree. He met the final confirmation that I knew the future with grim acceptance. Even after learning some of how detailed my knowledge of the future was, he was only struck speechless for a short while.


    I was very worried about him, and I told him so. In response, he asked to soulgaze me again.


    It was the second time someone came out of it stronger than he went in.


    ¡°I understand now why you were so circumspect last time,¡± he told me with a raw tone of voice. ¡°Why you would have so little mercy to spare to the human evil occurring here. You fought it instead of enduring it for so-called peace, and even when it proved so much more than you were prepared to face, you didn¡¯t fail. Unlike me.¡±


    ¡°It was hardly failure.¡±


    ¡°Had I used Medivh¡¯s power for some manner of attack, or perhaps to bolster him with the Light, the demon wouldn¡¯t have had anyone to eradicate the second time. All those people could have been revived after he fled.¡±


    That I couldn¡¯t deny. He was the one who¡¯d been there, he knew his hindsight best.


    I could¡¯ve still apologized, but it would¡¯ve been a lie. Sometimes the best-case scenario is the least of bad options, and this was such a time. ¡°What will you do now?¡±


    ¡°What could I possibly do?¡± The look he gave me then- ¡°When my Prophet sees more worth in me than all but the most sublime truths of the Light itself, when he values my life above entire dynasties, what else can I do but pledge fealty?¡±


    His words resonated within me so strongly that I was completely lost for words. After how Uther reacted, I¡¯d braced myself for more of the same, but¡­


    Eventually, I cleared my throat. ¡°Unto death, then?¡±


    ¡°And beyond and further. Unto oblivion. Nothing less will be enough to see such a foe slain.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t disagree with that either.


    ¡°Death is just a new start in the end, isn¡¯t it? The living proof of that is before me right now.¡± Where always before had been kindness and attentive regard, Alonsus Faol¡¯s eyes now conveyed holy fervor. ¡°The End is the Beginning.¡±


    It was, though this was no comfort to those who had died.


    Not for the one man who survived everything and everyone he loved either.


    I felt for Anduin Lothar, but from what Alonsus told me, Stormwind was already much better off with him king, even if it didn¡¯t feel that way. Lothar was more popular than the late king and queen, he had the support of all the realm¡¯s estates, he was in full knowledge of who his enemy was, and he was also the leader of the Brotherhood of the Horse. That brotherhood of knights had practically the entirety of Stormwind¡¯s cavalry under its management, and was the main reason why Stormwind¡¯s military would be able to hold off the entire horde for five years all on its own, during the First War.


    With him on the throne, maybe the High Elves would give more than a token gesture of help too, when Stormwind called on the ancient debt they owed House Arathi.


    In comparison, the Alliance of Lordaeron only barely beat the horde in the Second War, despite having the militaries of four different nations to draw on, on top of Stormwind¡¯s remnants. At least until Alterac betrayed them to the orcs.


    Any argument about the orcs adding trolls or goblins or what have you to their forces was easily countered by the sheer number of people they lost up to that point. The horde replaced some of its lost troops, but it never reached the size of the complete orc population of Draenor that it was at the start. Even after that, it had to use dark magic to rapidly age infants to fighting age, and those were poor shock troops indeed.


    If the Alliance hadn¡¯t made the internment camps, the orcs probably would¡¯ve died off within a couple of generations, because of having used up most of their children as expendables.


    I thought of all these things, and more, while Alonsus touched base with Uther and got his side of the story.


    Only up until the Enhaloing, though, as the flash of light seen across multiple countries was now being called.


    The rest, as I¡¯d promised, was all up to me.


    Uther miraculously didn¡¯t consider me a liar, but it still took a soulgaze with the Archbishop, and finally one of his own with me, to make him relent on wanting the whole thing to happen under Judgment Unmerciful.


    ¡°You don¡¯t deserve the light,¡± Uther rasped after it was done, and he had to sit down. ¡°But I don¡¯t either. I suppose no one does. It¡¯s grace, pure and simple, and we¡¯re all unworthy. But the Light loves us anyway, and it seems to trust you even after all you¡¯ve done. Because of all you¡¯ve done. How terrible can that one demon be, for the Light to come to us even when none of us have earned it?¡±


    More dangerous than the whole world, and he was just the leader of a myriad legions of fel monsters devouring all life across the cosmos.


    Uther still believed I could have handled things better, and he was mollified when I agreed. But he no longer felt he was in a position to judge me, and was as surprised as he was touched when I didn¡¯t agree.


    Fortunately, we were still able to avoid Uther having to compromise on his morals. The Church, it turned out, had more than that one type of Judgment rite.


    ¡°Behold, the Light shines bright and clear, ready to receive thy confession. Wherefore, be not ashamed, neither afraid, and conceal nothing from It. But speak, doubting nothing, all things which thou hast done, and so shalt thou find yourself within the Light¡¯s Grace once again. Lo, its Holy Radiance is upon us and I am but a witness, bearing testimony before the Eternal Fire of all things which thou doest say to me. But if thou shouldst try and conceal any iniquity, thou shalt have the greater sin. Take heed, therefore, lest, having stood within the Most Wholesome Radiance, thou depart unhealed.¡±


    I gave my confession in the middle of the public square at midday, seated face to face with the Archbishop high up on the public platform. Not the one where criminals were put in stocks and gibbets, the other one where the mayor or king would normally hold speeches. As the Rite of Judgment Most Merciful ignited, the Light shone down on both of us like radiant columns of diaphanous gold reaching high.


    The recitation had some elements I didn¡¯t expect, elements that were definitely new. The Eternal Fire that begot the Light plainly didn¡¯t exist as a religious concept before my coming, never mind be invoked during liturgy. At some point since I hosted him on the mountain, the Archbishop had updated church canon.


    It was the first time since the healing that I¡¯d been out in public. It was also the first time the two kings finally came within my line of sight, and I theirs. Thoras, too, was there, looking half-way between conflicted and vindicated.


    I ignored all of them. Had they come in good faith it would be different, but they chose to come as invaders. Without the basic courtesy of declaring war first. For the untenable position it put Richard in, and the other people of this country in their darkest hour, I had no goodwill left to give.


    I gave Alonsus all my attention. I was thorough. I held back only my insights about the old mollusks, since they were a matter of planetary security best discussed privately, if at all. The Rite did not disapprove.


    But I didn¡¯t lie, and I held nothing back of the rest, no matter how much the foreigners disbelieved me, or Dalaran might have hoped I didn¡¯t share with the common man. The whole time, Turalyon was sat behind and to the right of the Archbishop, judiciously writing down every word I said, at my request.


    I knew what word of mouth could do, and I especially knew what propaganda could do. I was taking no chances.


    I¡¯d half expected the Dalaran mages to try and interrupt when I started talking about dragons and their allegiance, maybe prevent my voice from being heard by everyone. Perhaps they wanted to see what I would say of Krasus? It certainly put the Magocracy in a better light than they deserved after this stunt.


    Their magic wouldn¡¯t have been enough regardless, my spirit helpers could reproduce my voice to the farthest of reaches, make me heard loud and clear to all but the completely deaf regardless of spells. Which wouldn¡¯t last past the first casting anyway. Both Uther and Richard¡¯s men were on standby to stop playing along with the mages¡¯ pretenses of being just regular army staff.


    The mages decided to hold onto their deniability though, despite that it had stopped being plausible a long time ago.


    When I reached the end of my story and didn¡¯t explain the exact mechanics of ¡®Khaz''goroth¡¯s Breach¡¯, the foreigners didn¡¯t seem to know if they should approve of my discretion or gape in disbelief at me so brazenly admitting to my crime.


    The Kings only snapped out of their shared stupor when Alonsus stood up and held out a hand to hover over my head.


    ¡°O Holy Light, the salvation of Thy children, gracious, bountiful and long-suffering, Who bequeath us life and the free will to do and to sin, yet still desirest not the death of a sinner but rather that he should turn away from his wickedness and live. Show Thy mercy now upon Thy child, and grant unto him the strength and the will to surpass any and all transgression, whether voluntary or involuntary. Reconcile and unite him unto the Flame Eternal, through the Holy Light from whence all things become in all humility and majesty, now and ever and unto ages of ages. So I have witnessed.¡±


    With that, it was over and I was more than ready to go back to Orsur¡¯s house and rest.


    The two kings were appalled. Even with minimal backup in the middle of an enemy city thoroughly secured by Richard against the undeclared siege outside, they undoubtedly would¡¯ve had me seized if I hadn¡¯t chosen my path to be in the completely opposite direction. I was escorted by Richard¡¯s most loyal men at that. Around us, the people of Alterac also crowded together to deny the foreigners any chance of getting to me.


    Terenas Menethil, Liam Trollbane and their respective hangers-on had to settle for cutting in the Archbishop¡¯s own path. They demanded answers and reckoning and justifications, what on earth was His Holiness thinking, just letting me go after I¡¯d gone and confessed to everything?


    ¡°Take care what you say, your majesties,¡± Alonsus rebuked them both. Thanks to the little ones, I could hear their confrontation as though I were right there. ¡°I am a priest, not a judge, and certainly not an executioner. Though if I were either of those things, I would abide no less than equal treatment under law for all. Think about that, before you accidentally give the church the powers it enjoyed before Emperor Sigmund. Had he not separated the canons of lay and church jurisprudence, it would be you I¡¯d be judging right now. Though since we¡¯re here¡­¡±


    I made it out of the square just as Alonsus began soulgazing the Dalaran emissaries, but Phaseshift let me see and listen in regardless.


    Alonsus didn¡¯t find any demons, which was good. But the experience seemed to be very distressing to the mages, which was bad. Either way, the fact he resorted to such a drastic measure, and in such a heavy-handed fashion too, told me more than I wanted to know about how much his experience down south had affected him.


    Best make sure I''m not as affected by my upcoming trial.

 The King Is Dead (II)

    Chapter II.1 (23) ¨C The King Is Dead


    (II)


    ¡°-.  .-¡°


    The relation between the monarchy and church was still undergoing a spectacular failure when I made it to Orsur¡¯s home and got an all-new surprise.


    It seems that the reason my Valkyrie hadn¡¯t come back was because her god wanted to give me his reaction in person.


    ¡°Is it true?!¡± Blindi all but screamed in my face, grabbing me tight by the lapels before I¡¯d even shut the gate behind me. ¡°You know where he is?!


    I couldn¡¯t help but feel bewildered. ¡°Yes? I thought you knew? I was in your head, you didn¡¯t let me go until you scoured my memories-¡±


    ¡°I scoured the memories you offered, I do not mind-rape, which includes not taking advantage when a good and earnest soul has a moment of weakness! Especially when the boldest and kindest of mortal children leaves himself completely exposed and defenseless to total obliteration!¡±


    I couldn¡¯t contain the sudden rush of fondness for the being in front of me.


    Blindi practically recoiled from my reaction, letting me go and lurching back. His face flashed from chagrin to apology and back almost too quick to catch, before his eyes seemed to sink into a wretched, terrible apathy. ¡°Whatever your own experience when you visited me in my Hall, it was just that ¨C yours, not mine. Now answer my question.¡±


    I sat with him on the bench where I practiced lightforging flowers. Then I told him all I recalled about Tyr¡¯s fate, and what might have occurred after. I told him about Tyr¡¯s fight with the C¡¯thrax and his death. I told him about the disk that supposedly held his memories. I told him about my issues with the story too, especially that Tyr supposedly coded the disk to not be accessible except by all five dragon aspects working together. From what I saw of those events, I thought Tyr was lying, or more likely the events were completely made up. Either way, there was likely more than just memories in that disc.


    ¡°More how?¡± Blindi demanded.


    ¡°I saw Tyr¡¯s entire body rebuilt anew, with only the driving will absent. It didn¡¯t make total sense to me. If it really was just memories, they could have been accessed somehow at that point or before, even just by hijacking the new body¡¯s brain or whatever the equivalent is, to retrieve whatever was useful of his knowledge. The Discs of Norgannon show that storage devices like those can be interfaced with by titan consoles. The process was a bit too neat too, and why would Tyr be the only one who has such a backup? A dedicated facility even, full of ancient Titansteel ingots forged by Aggramar himself, supposedly, and an automated machine that can just build new titan bodies from mere blueprints. I don¡¯t buy it.¡±


    ¡°And you shouldn¡¯t,¡± Blindi grunted, rubbing his face with both hands, eyes shut tight. ¡°Titansteel is special because you can¡¯t work it without direct animus infusion from someone with the necessary skill and power. Same goes for the more involved functions of our machinery. It¡¯s the same reason why one of us needs to actually interface with the Forge of Wills or Origination in order to get anything done with them. The War of the Ancients would have been a trifle if we could churn out whole armies with just the flip of a switch, never mind spare bodies for ourselves. Or clones! What else?¡±


    ¡°According to Nozdormu, the Infinite Dragonflight doesn¡¯t exist anymore so you don¡¯t have to worry about Chrono-Lord Deios or whoever else stealing the memory disk and tossing it through a time vortex. You¡¯ll have to take it to Uldorus in the dragon isles, though. To make the new body itself you¡¯ll need the Silver Scale, an ingot of pure silver shaped like a dragon scale. It should be in Valdrakken-¡±


    ¡°Sod the lizard den! I know where it is, but who cares? I make bodies for a living and Tyr is my twin brother! Who do you think his physician was during our eons-long war against the squids? The body he died in isn¡¯t even the one he started with! Where is he?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s at-¡° No. No, not here, not now, not like this. ¡°¡­ You¡¯ll have to come with me to find out.¡±


    Blindi¡¯s face snapped in my direction with an indignant glare, but it fizzled out as quickly as everything else. He pressed his fingers hard against his eyes and gave a hollow laugh. ¡°So that¡¯s how it is.¡±


    I had no idea what ¡®that¡¯ was, and I didn¡¯t bother to ask. ¡°You could, of course, look back to that day and scour the memories I didn¡¯t offer. Then you won¡¯t need me at all.¡±


    ¡°Fie on you, you don¡¯t need to taunt me, I know my own worst impulses just fine. You¡¯ll be glad to know I have no kindling for them either.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I denied him. ¡°I¡¯m not glad to hear that at all.¡±


    Blindi dropped his hand and curled his lip, clenching his fists on top of his knees. ¡°Where is the disc?¡±


    ¡°In Uldaman, in a secret wing.¡±


    ¡°And where is this place?¡±


    Now I was the one who couldn¡¯t help myself. ¡°You don¡¯t know that either?¡±


    ¡°The whole reason why C''Thraxxi are so dangerous is because their masters constantly interfere with attempts to divine their actions. No one knows what commands they will give. They have potent shadow magic of their own as well, those who can discover and track them even while traveling alone are precious few. Of my vakyries, only Eyir and a handful of her handmaidens can recognize their obfuscation fields, never mind see or travel through them safely. That¡¯s why I haven¡¯t been able to locate Tyr¡¯s resting place all this time. Archaedas is also more than competent at covering his tracks, including working without disturbing the surrounding area. I assume he built it underground?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I hesitated. ¡°Ironaya and Archaedas are in stasis there, as are the troggs. The latter¡¯s stasis system is failing, in the future that I saw the troggs awoke when the defenses were breached by dwarven and gnomish explorers. Then the things tunneled all the way into Gnomeragan and genocided the gnomes to less than a tenth of their total population. Be careful, whatever you do.¡±


    ¡°I should be careful? Have you looked at me lately? I can¡¯t go spelunking with this body!¡± Blindi sagged and looked morose and spent. ¡°Tell me the location.¡±


    For this I was more than willing to welcome help. ¡°It¡¯s-¡°


    ¡°Wait. No.¡± Odyn pinched his nose. ¡°On second thought, you¡¯re right. Don¡¯t tell me that either, yet. Truths spoken aloud have a tendency of becoming easier to find, no matter how good the security. I¡¯ll go there when you go there.¡±


    ¡°Alright.¡± I almost thought I was being given a quest, but the feeling was different. Like I was the one the questing hero was waiting on, not the other way around.


    Neither of us said anything for a while. The more time passed, the more sad and wizened the man next to me felt.


    ¡°Tyr¡¯s resting place is where I¡¯m going first.¡± It was the first time I¡¯d voiced my new plans aloud. ¡°Come with me.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t an offer or request I¡¯d make of anyone else, but I wasn¡¯t one to let depressed people wallow in despair. Especially when I was the one responsible.


    ¡°¡­ You¡¯re so much like him, you know?¡± Blindi finally said faintly, and I saw Odyn¡¯s outline interposed over him face for a moment. His molten beard had been completely shorn off. No, not just shorn, ripped out at the root. ¡°Or maybe it¡¯s just wishful thinking.¡±


    ¡°If you have energy enough for wishful thinking, you¡¯re already doing better than before. Imagine how much better it will be if you don¡¯t just vanish on me this time.¡±


    ¡°Enough. Drop the pretense, it ill suits you. You don¡¯t need to nag, I¡¯ll come along. I¡¯ll be nothing but a burden like this, but if that¡¯s what you want then I¡¯ll come.¡±


    ¡°Then I¡¯m glad.¡±


    ¡°You really are, aren¡¯t you.¡±


    Further conversation was halted by the gate suddenly being smashed open by a kick, then immediately slammed back closed by the man who stormed in like an angry hurricane.


    ¡°If I have to deal with those two treating me like their inferior in my own country one more time, I won¡¯t be responsible for the consequences!¡± Richard had at some point gone from quietly indignant to absolutely livid. His wrath stalled upon noticing our unexpected guest. He took a slow breath. ¡°Lord Odyn, greetings. Please forgive my display.¡±


    Blindi smiled crookedly. ¡°I¡¯m owed neither your deference nor decorum. I¡¯m only the town drunk.¡±


    ¡°I know well how much more than that you are, High One.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m also trespassing.¡±


    ¡°It shouldn¡¯t take a god to recognize that, or the rights and honors it loses you.¡± Richard looked at me. ¡°I¡¯ve run out of excuses to stall them, and I think the Dalaran attaches are just about ready to drop their incognito act and do something extreme. If we¡¯re going to somehow pre-empt them making even more of a mess, it has to be now.¡±


    ¡°I assume they want it as soon as possible?¡±


    ¡°Quite.¡±


    ¡°What are their terms?¡±


    ¡°A meeting on neutral ground. Enforced by Dalaran, because being the instigators of this entire farce doesn¡¯t seem to be enough for them. I am apparently too compromised and not of high enough rank for them to accept my guarantees, though they were careful not to say so where I could hear. I only heard it because your little spirits keep using me for mind-talk practice.¡±


    ¡°Oh is that all?¡±


    ¡°They want an anti-magic field. Also something they were careful not to let me hear until they drove me to wit¡¯s end.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± I exchanged a meaningful glance with Blindi, then looked at Richard seriously. ¡°Tell them I¡¯ll only agree if the Archbishop is there.¡±


    ¡°In addition to my guards, I hope.¡±


    ¡°No, keep them back with you, the plan goes forward as we discussed. Unless they want their neutral ground to be outside the city?¡±


    ¡°They had the audacity to claim that it shouldn¡¯t matter if it¡¯s outside the walls, since it¡¯s all Alterac soil and therefore still slanted in favor of us. Never mind that they¡¯re all but besieging the city.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s easy enough to solve ¨C we¡¯ll hold the talk where the castle used to be.¡±


    ¡°¡­ They have been making constant noise about that. It¡¯s ghoulish, but they¡¯ve earned worse. It pains me to give them what they want though.¡±


    ¡°Believe me, Richard,¡± I said grimly, ¡°I¡¯ll more than make up for it.¡±


    ¡°By thumbing their noses as you leave, yes. Don¡¯t remind me.¡± The break in conversation was heavy and disquieting. ¡°¡­ It should still be you.¡±


    I agreed. There was much I could give the country and the world if I became king. I¡¯d do better than Aiden Perenolde, at least. ¡°You¡¯ll do fine. I believe in you.¡±


    Richard wasn¡¯t able to muster any answer to that.


    ¡°Was Aedelas spirited away successfully?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Ravenholdt sent word back with Emerentius. A trusted man, if there is such a thing with his sort, will take him to the appointed place, though I can¡¯t fathom what you need to do so far east.¡±


    I watched the man, conflicted over letting him pick up the pieces. Again. I hadn¡¯t told him any of what I was planning this time either. ¡°If you ask it of me, I¡¯ll tell you everything I plan. You¡¯ve more than earned that much.¡±


    ¡°¡­ Will it put you at risk?¡±


    ¡°Maybe not me, but what I hope to do, yes, and the people I mean to do it for.¡±


    ¡°Truths spoken aloud become much easier to find,¡± Blindi murmured a repeat of his earlier words.


    ¡°Then no.¡± Richard smiled mirthlessly. ¡°I will endure, as before.¡±


    ¡°If more people had your grit, people like me would be unnecessary.¡± I rose to my feet. ¡°You go make the arrangements. I¡¯m off to make my goodbyes.¡± I looked at Blindi. ¡°Where do you want to meet?¡±


    ¡°Never mind that, Geirrvif will be back soon with a couple others, just send her with another message. Or she¡¯ll fly to me herself if you come upon a zone of shadow. She might be strong enough to endure it, but that depends on how much weaker it will be. If it is, such things can linger a long time, even if they seem dead.¡±


    ¡°It will be completely eradicated.¡±


    Blindi stared at me. Then he slowly nodded and left.


    I watched him go, then set about my last loose ends.


    Orsur was every bit as worried and outraged as Richard was, but there wasn¡¯t much he could do. Or time to do it, he easily could have been away from home. He was extremely busy overseeing the logistics of food relief and repairs, and otherwise helping the rest of our guildmates to keep the city running. Under the circumstances, the Wheel Everturning had somehow ended up being the ones everyone went to for questions and answers.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    I could only be relieved that the family from Tarren Mill were the only ones who pulled out, after everything was said and done.


    The meeting took place later that day, but only after more than expected resistance from the other side. They were concerned, justifiably in hindsight, that the place where the Enhaloing took place might serve me as some sort of place of power. That only made it more fit as a neutral ground though, considering what they had done to exert power. Not just on the way here, but now too.


    Which is to say, they didn¡¯t agree until Richard consented to let them thoroughly secure the site, which Richard grudgingly agreed only on the condition that they come at it from the opposite side of the plateau. Where the castle and attached mountain once stood, there was now only an empty, flat, unwalled wedge.


    There were barricades facing that side, but they were hasty, flimsy things, some homes even faced those ways with missing walls where the castle wall used to be. If this were an official siege, the army of Lordaeron could be said to have successfully breached the defenses and taken control of an entire capital district, as well as the center of the city. Conquering the rest of the place would be a matter of manpower from this point on, which they had more of than General Hath and Richard combined.


    Not counting the army left at the border, or the men being assembled by Twinblades and her allies. None of whom would make it in time.


    Regardless, it was done.


    There was hostility. There was posturing. There were valid concerns. If not for the Archbishop¡¯s moderating presence, I was sure they¡¯d have tried to put me in chains. Liam Trollbane took point and practically treated it like a trial, with himself, Terenas and Alonsus as tribunal.


    Their behavior wasn¡¯t ultimately unreasonable. All in all, it was set up like an international trial of peers, almost. What I imagined might have happened if someone other than me had slaughtered the Royal House of Alterac in a coup d¡¯etat, only to be subsequently defeated in war by the country¡¯s allied neighbours, at which point they¡¯d put the usurper up on trial and restore the rightful bloodline to the throne.


    Said bloodline would be Trollbane, since all the Perenoldes would be gone, leaving the way free for them to assert their claim and finally annex the whole country since Alterac was originally their homeland. But everyone was pretending that wasn¡¯t the case here, which was more than I expected. It was more than Richard got, even, in all this time of dealing with them.


    All I did was stand there. While Liam Trollbane read the list of accusations, I just stood there. While he made every reasonable denouncement in between demands for answers and guarantees, I just stood there. When the gathered crowd couldn¡¯t be kept away even by the now revealed mages, I continued to stand there. I didn¡¯t speak even when Thoras Trollbane requested to be recognized and asked me why I¡¯d snubbed him before, when he came to my mountain at great personal risk to offer help.


    He knew why I¡¯d done it. He came to my mountain as an infiltrator, and he stayed as an infiltrator even after the risk of discovery by Perenolde was no longer a concern. He¡¯d only thrown out that question in an attempt to provoke a reaction.


    All but Alonsus Faol did their best to never directly meet my eyes. Both Liam and Thoras slipped several times despite their best efforts, but I didn¡¯t take advantage.


    I did not treat under false pretenses then, and I wouldn¡¯t now.


    Finally, finally, Terenas Menethil stood up and bid Liam Trollbane to settle down so he could speak.


    ¡°Wayland Hywel.¡± He called me, and he did directly meet my eyes. ¡°Or do you prefer Ferdinand Rogasian? Is this why you have chosen to ignore King Trollbane, because he did not address you by your Nome de Plume?¡±


    ¡°Terenas Menethil.¡± Perhaps he was just playing his role in the good cop / bad cop routine, but I didn¡¯t begrudge him that because he¡¯d also spoken in good faith. It was surprising, but also the truth. Unfortunately, that didn¡¯t make up for the unlawful and combative approach of everything else he¡¯d done to come here, manipulated by Dalaran or not. ¡°As one who has seen your future and your death, I have an advice and a warning.¡±


    I didn¡¯t know who was more struck, him or the mob. ¡°¡­ That is not why we are here.¡±


    ¡°It is only here and now that I offer. Decide.¡±


    Liam Trollbane looked fit to explode at how brazenly I¡¯d upturned the conversation, but he didn¡¯t interfere.


    I idly looked over the gathered throng while I waited. Dalaran had gotten their wish for an anti-magic dome, but it made no difference. My power dwelt inside me, far deeper than such constraints could reach. Perhaps last year it might have managed, but my spirit was too dense and robust now. I couldn¡¯t push it out, but I didn¡¯t need to. I merely needed to infuse the Light in the space I occupied, and channel it into one lone command.


    Arcane, heal thyself.


    My spirit, weak or not, could be restricted but no longer suppressed.


    At length, Terenas made his choice. ¡°Speak, then.¡±


    ¡°When you finally have your heir six years from now, don¡¯t call him Arthas. Especially if ¡®the very forests of Lordaeron whisper the name.¡¯ The thing that dreams under those woods is nothing good.¡± I flexed my fingers, acting as if I didn¡¯t register the many reactions to those claims. ¡°It shouldn¡¯t be an issue shortly, but who knows what else might try to get in my way?¡±


    ¡°What do you-?¡°


    I shrunk to the size of a gnat mid-way through jumping directly up.


    I burst out the top of the anti-magic zone like a bullet and was gone with the wind before anyone could so much as flinch.


    ¡°-. Terenas Menethil .-¡°


    Dalaran was either mistaken or they lied.


    It was a realization that Terenas had felt inexorably settling over his shoulders since even before the confession, but now it was undeniable.


    Before he could decide how to deal with it, however, the King of Lordaeron became uncomfortably aware of a knife pressing against his back.


    ¡°What is this treachery?!¡± Liam erupted to Terenas¡¯ left, where he had a knife at his back and another at his neck. Looking around, Terenas saw that Thoras had his own assassin at his back, while the soldiers they¡¯d brough to secure the area were being rounded up by Richard Angevin¡¯s many more numerous men. They were dressed in commoner¡¯s clothes, and some in rags. He¡¯d mixed them in with the crowd.


    From up on his high platform, Terenas looked northward and saw some of his army charging forward to relieve them. He didn¡¯t know if he should let them or shout orders to stand down, to prevent the bloodbath that now seemed inevitable.


    He didn¡¯t know what he was about to say, even as he opened his mouth, when a gigantic dragon seemingly made of gold swooped down from the sky to cut their path.


    There was no roar.


    Instead, a great wall of Light appeared ahead of the charge, stopping it dead.


    All noise steadily ceased.


    ¡°Liam Trollbane.¡± The Duke of Hillsbrad said as he stepped in front of them. He gave the Archbishop a respectful nod, but when he turned to the two of them he looked almost ready to command murder. ¡°On account of the agreement you made with General Hath, and because you kept to its letter if not its spirit, you may take your men and leave Alterac. General Hath is disarming your force as we speak, after which he will escort you back to the border, whereupon your arms and freedom will be returned. Then we will have peace.¡±


    ¡°You do not have the-¡° Trollbane¡¯s words cut off when the knife pressed hard enough against his throat to almost draw blood.


    ¡°The alternative is that I take you hostage to guarantee your son¡¯s good behaviour. Then you can espouse on all your personal issues with me for the rest of your long and comfortable life.¡±


    ¡°You gave guarantees, Angevin!¡± Thoras Trollbane shouted from his spot below. ¡°How will the Light stay with you, if this is your honor?!¡±


    Richard ignored him, watching King Liam instead. ¡°You¡¯ve been remiss in your son¡¯s education. Otherwise he¡¯d know that honour is reserved for those who haven¡¯t been part of a secret foreign conspiracy to interfere in my country¡¯s succession, after sending your prince-son to sabotage the late royal house you¡¯re so keen on defending now, all the while agitating the border through feints and other tricksome operations. He also seems to think he¡¯s entitled to the protections of hospitality without it being accepted. Or offered.¡±


    Trollbane looked at Angevin with incandescent rage, but said nothing more.


    Angevin turned to him then. ¡°Terenas Menethil.¡±


    Despite everything, Terenas couldn¡¯t help but think that the duke looked so very young, but also brave and formidable. Everything Terenas dreamed to see an heir of his own. Dare he hope Rogasian¡¯s claims of being a Prophet were-?


    ¡°You saw fit to invade my country without bothering to declare war first. By your own country¡¯s laws, you are outside the bounds of all principles of civilized warfare. I could have you publicly tortured and executed without trial, along with all your men, and no lawful charge could be laid at my feet.¡±


    ¡°It was never an invasion, it was a relief mission, as I¡¯ve told you repeatedly,¡± Terenas repeated himself for what felt like the hundredth time. ¡°I was alerted to a major impending humanitarian crisis and responded as quickly as I could. The only reason I brought such a large armed force was in case I confirmed for myself that the situation here was truly untenable. I did not declare war for the same reason, I did not want to give legitimacy to what could well have been a mad usurper. If what happened here happened to my bloodline and country, I would hope Alterac would take the same steps on our behalf. As I¡¯ve also told you repeatedly.¡±


    ¡°On account of the manner in which you snuck in the Magocracy¡¯s snakes, I cannot take you at your word.¡±


    ¡°Take me at my actions then. Ask any of your people who we met on the way. My men aggrieved no one and captured no redoubts. Instead, we dispensed supplies and all other aid we could, which we brought in great surplus for precisely that purpose. No few of your own citizens even asked to join with us, even begged for asylum. Will you judge them liars as well? Traitors?¡±


    ¡°The saboteurs, you mean. The ones that should be just about finished incapacitating your officers.¡±


    Terenas couldn¡¯t understand what he¡¯d just heard. That ¨C surely, all those people ¨C they couldn¡¯t ¨C men, women, even a child or two, barely in their thirteenth or fourteenth year. He looked back to the forcefield, and the great encampment beyond. He could see the disorder and ¨C the charge! It had been too small, too few men now that he had time to think, barely organized-


    ¡°I¡¯m told it¡¯s a paralytic. A slow-acting substance, ingested, but does nothing on its own until enough accumulates in the body, and a reactive compound is then introduced by air. Wisely, your men didn¡¯t let the newcomers into any important places, but it only takes a handful contaminated ingredients per meal, and it¡¯s easy to dump thankless tasks on the newest wretches. Nobody likes to peel potatoes for hours on end, after all.¡±


    Terenas stared at the man. He couldn¡¯t process what he was hearing. Had he misjudged the man so completely? Was he a completely different creature than he thought, and he was only showing his true colors now? But he was supposed to have the Light, more so than almost any priest. ¡°You ¨C would use such foul means-¡°


    ¡°The principle of distinction only applies to declared war, and you broke it first with the mages regardless.¡±


    It does, Terenas thought with a sick feeling. From his perspective I did all he accuses me of.


    He¡¯d only agreed to it after great debate, and only because he¡¯d known for months that the kingslayer had been declared an outlaw by King Perenolde months prior, which excluded him from such considerations. But it would make no difference to bring that up now. It made barely any sense at the time too, but all the other options and possibilities made even less.


    Terenas looked around and saw that the mages of Dalaran who¡¯d misled him were in the very straits Angevin had just described. Terenas looked at the foodstuffs spread around the table and felt a knot form in his stomach. He flexed his toes and fingers. They didn¡¯t betray him, and his balance was fine, he didn¡¯t feel weak. Did that mean his security hadn¡¯t been breached? Or was he left out of the plot deliberately?


    ¡°Unlike King Trollbane, you will be my hostage for the next while. I can¡¯t expect that an army several times bigger than my own will just abandon the siege on my city and leave my country without some manner of guarantee. When all your men are back where they belong, and a week has passed for each of my countrymen they might rape, kill, leave destitute or otherwise harm on the way out, then and only then will you be delivered back to your people. I hope you understand.¡±


    Terenas Menethil didn¡¯t know who to curse first. Rogasian, Dalaran, Trollbane or himself.


    Angevin looked away from him then, clearly not needing his consent or cooperation. How like a king. ¡°I apologize for this unseemly outcome, your holiness.¡±


    ¡°Do not sell yourself short, this is nowhere near the disaster I left in Stormwind.¡± What was the Archbishop talking about? ¡°That said, I think it¡¯s best for all involved if I take my leave now. It is plain to me that I do not belong in or near any battle, averted or otherwise. I will content myself with preaching the words and deeds of those more worthy to be called heroes and saints than I.¡±


    The king watched the Archbishop leave. As did everyone else.


    Trollbane had some choice things to say about that too, but he could afford to since he hadn¡¯t disgraced himself half as much as Terenas apparently had.


    Terenas Menethil took a deep breath, released it, and decided he would not be made a fool twice. He surrendered his forces and himself into custody.


    Contrary to his expectations, Angevin didn¡¯t take charge of him himself. Instead, Terenas was remanded to the custody of Valea Twinblades, in her castle on the northern ramparts of the Alterac mountains.


    Some days later, plagued by doubts and shaken further by the news that had finally made it up from Stormwind, Terenas was looking out the window when a second Enhaloing occurred. Far to the west. And north.


    Somewhere in his own kingdom.


    It was insanity, but somehow not the greatest insanity because his captors didn¡¯t seem surprised, or even alarmed. What was wrong with them? These people? This country?


    Despite it all, Richard Angevin was as good as his word. He delivered Terenas back to his country and his freedom just as he promised, not a day sooner and not a day later.


    There, finally, Terenas Menethil learned what had occurred.


    Ferdinand Rogasian had traveled to the heart of Tirisfal Glades to blow up a lake.


    A lake that was apparently Tyr¡¯s grave.


    Tyr¡¯s grave was real. Tyr was real. Tyr, the mythical father and deliverer of mankind, had died in mortal combat with some manner of hellish creature, after which he¡¯d been buried by giants, in a tomb that later became a lake, as the crater left behind by the titanic struggle filled with water. A lake at the heart of Tirisfal Glades that no one had ever given enough of a glance to even mark on any of his maps. Tyr had died in Tirisfal Glades. Tirisfal. Tyr¡¯s Fall.


    The tomb was completely gone now. Not a trace of it remained, it was gone along with the entire lake. Only a new, deeper crater was left behind, caked in a thick layer of dust. With time, the new basin would fill up with water again, faster now since the edge cut through the greater bed of a nearby stream. Also not marked on any of his maps.


    Perhaps the most galling thing was that this had all been known all the while by the keepers of the tomb in question, who were apparently a secret order of knights that predated Lordaeron¡¯s entire history. They called themselves Tyr''s Guard. Had called themselves. They¡¯d been there, keeping watch over the tomb, since before Terenas¡¯ country had existed. Since before even the Empire of Arathor had existed, an unbroken charge taken up by mankind after the last giants died off. Vrykul, they were called. The giants from whom humanity descended, however that worked.


    It was a preposterous story, one Terenas could barely bring himself to believe. He wouldn¡¯t believe it, not when he had to take it at the word of just one single man, however old and wise-sounding and skilled in arms. The now former quartermaster of Tyr¡¯s Guard, happily free of his charge on account of his mission being done, Tyr¡¯s body having at long last been retrieved on dragonback to the resounding choir of holy angels.


    The monster had still been there as well, whatever it was, except not as dead as Tyr himself, thus went the story. So the Prophet used the legendary Strom''kar the Warbreaker ¨C Thoradin¡¯s long-lost sword ¨C to finish carving its foul head into pieces. Because Thoradin had also found the tomb in his time, and nearly set the monster loose before sacrificing himself to drive his sword into its brain. Where it had waited ever since.


    Then Rogasian chopped the rest of the thing to pieces, swam back out to shore, erected an impenetrable forcefield by walking around the lake twelve times, then promptly blew the whole thing up. Because ¡®it¡¯s the only way to be sure.¡¯ However he kept doing it.


    When Terenas finally made it back to Capital and laid down in his own bed for the first time in months, the same three thoughts kept chasing each other in his head.


    The first thought was that there was a boy out there, with impossible power and equally impossible nerve, charming dukes and peasants, slaying monsters and kings, and all but worshipped now by a peerless knightly order more ancient than the human race, who¡¯d sworn themselves as his retainers unto death.


    The second thought was that a peerless knightly order more ancient than the human race had been operating in Lordaeron for the entirety of the country¡¯s existence, and Terenas had never caught the slightest hint about it. It was impossible to imagine a more shameful failure of domestic governance. The next course was clear ¨C he¡¯ll have to set all foreign ambitions aside for the next decade or three, or however long it took until he actually had a handle on his own home country.


    His last thought before he blew out the candle was the most bloodcurdling. Of the five unbroken human dynasties that had existed until a bare two months ago, two were now dead. One to a demon, the other to the saint who¡¯d come down from heaven to contend with said demon. Or so the Archbishop consented to tell him under utmost secrecy, when Terenas went to confront him over publishing the Confession.


    It took hours for him to fall asleep, his wife¡¯s arms feeling like a dead weight over his neck.


    When you finally have your heir six years from now


    Six years. Six more years. Did that mean they just had to keep trying? Or was his wife barren and he¡¯d need to set her aside? Would they manage to conceive, only for miscarriage to end her life? Would he be made a widower, and not even be allowed to mourn in peace because the king must have an heir no matter what?


    Sleep only came to him near dawn, but it gave no rest.


    The fear and the dread stayed with him, even in his dreams.

 Recruiting Aviators in Three Easy Steps

    ¡°-. Falstad Wildhammer .-¡°


    It was the year 220 after the War of the Three Hammers, which meant the Wildhammer Clan would be holding their decennial carousal down in the Khaz Modan Highlands. There, on the day of the Summer Solstice, they¡¯d hold a memorial for their dead heroes on Thunderstrike Mountain, then cap off the rest of the month with a keg party in Kirthaven at the mountain¡¯s foot.


    It was also the third moon of the year, which meant that the troll raids were in full swing. March was the start of spring, but while this meant that you didn¡¯t freeze your balls off as easy as before, it also meant you still had months before you were able to produce more food the proper way. Since the one exception to this was livestock, those were naturally the things the trolls went after the most. And wild game, but they hated the dwarves too much to settle for that.


    In short, Falstad Wildhammer already had enough to worry about without the news of a human war band coming from the north.


    ¡°What do we know?¡±


    Snoring was his reply.


    Falstad clenched his fists around his gryphon¡¯s reins. ¡°Hestra, hop an¡¯ land again, make it loud this time.¡±


    His gryphon obeyed and even screeched for good measure. It didn¡¯t do jack shite. Under the judgmental stare of the other gryphon lounging nearby, the dwarf ¡®scout¡¯ just snorted and turned over in his sleep.


    Spirits, why do ye do this to me? Falstad took a slow calming breath, dismounted, ambled over without even trying to be quiet, crouched down, and lowered his mouth right next to the other dwarf¡¯s ear. ¡°SCHINDIGGER!¡±


    ¡°Wuzzat?


    He didnae even jump, pure unbelievable!


    ¡°Oh! Right! ¡®M ¡®wake ¨C ¡®m awake!¡±


    This is our finest gryphon rider. ¡°Report a¡¯fore I clout ye one!¡±


    Rhapsody Schindigger staggered unsteadily to his feet. ¡°Nothin¡¯ to it, sir, they¡¯s just been sittin¡¯ an¡¯ eatin''!¡±


    Falstad¡¯s hands twitched for his stormhammer. "There¡¯s nobody down there now, ye fool! They¡¯ve been gone fer ages, had to fly near ten more minutes to get here after I passed ¡®em!¡±


    The fool peered down over the ledge, because he apparently hadn¡¯t insulted Falstad enough and just had to add liar accusations on top, by the makers!


    ¡°If ye¡¯re done?¡±


    ¡°Hmm? Oh!¡± The dunce finally turned to salute. ¡°Sir aye sir, sir!¡±


    That¡¯s the strongest booze breath I¡¯ve felt all week!


    It was honestly impressive, but that just made it even more infuriating that the numpty didn¡¯t have the courtesy to get sloshed in his off-hours like the rest of ¡®em. At least Falstad would be able to participate in that competition, if he finally found the time again, instead of being stuck corralling fools like this! ¡°Right. Now give it another go, proper ken this time, eh?¡±


    ¡°What? Oh! Reporting! Aye sir, as you say sir, sorry sir! Nothin¡¯ tae report, sir! Reckon ah must''ve nodded off, won¡¯t happen again, nae chance!¡±


    ¡°Ye¡¯re right about that,¡± Falstad seethed. ¡°Get yerself back to Aerie Peak an¡¯ report to Gryphon Master Stoutarm that ye¡¯re on dung shovelin¡¯ duty fer the rest of the month!¡±


    ¡°What?! But sir ¨C!¡±


    Falstad clouted him to shut him up, shook his head with grit teeth, hopped back onto Hestra¡¯s saddle and took off before the fool could open his mouth again.


    When he caught up with the human interlopers, the distraction from what he¡¯d just endured was damn near a blessing.


    Hundred ¡®n four, Falstad counted from on high, not trying all that hard to go unseen. Old man, young lad, one of ¡®em slavish servant types humans like to keep ¨C ugh ¨C all at the beck and call of a right huge pretty boy with a beard ¨C ack, that¡¯ll never stop botherin¡¯ ¡®im now, he just knew it!


    Horses enough for all, but the old man wasn¡¯t riding, he was driving one of the wagons. Of which there were five, a number which could be small or big depending on what sort the rest of the men were. They were precisely one full hundred. Each of them with their own horse too, not counting the handful of spares pulling the other carts.


    Falstad followed them along the peaks up until noon, blending his mind with Hestra¡¯s to borrow her sight and her hearing whenever needed. Everything he heard and saw just reinforced his initial thoughts.


    These folk ain¡¯t here to sell no wine.


    Wine was Lordaeron¡¯s best export, but this was nae trade caravan. Least not just a trade caravan. These men weren¡¯t normal caravan guards neither, they were all kitted with plate and polearm, all on top of shield and sword. Sturdy oilskin cloaks, daggers, crossbows, white tabards bearing the crest of some clenched gauntlet done in gold or silver, some had pollaxes, others hammers so big they could play bounceball with any unfortunate dwarf that got anywhere close¡­


    They carried themselves all proper too, these weren¡¯t no dandies on their first ride in field kit. Not caravan guards and not bandits either, these were hardboiled knights.


    A diplomatic mission then?


    But the Clan had an understanding with the humans, one set down in stone and scroll on the same day that the Empire of Arathor let them settle the region. It had been held to even after the empire ended, by both Lordaeron to the north and Strom to the west. There was a neutral zone along the border, and any human party was to stop right inside and put up a peace flag to call one of their gryphon riders down. Send word ahead, as it were.


    You only didn¡¯t do that when it was something right urgent, but these folk didn¡¯t act like it. They traveled heavy, with purpose but not hurried, definitely not fleeing. Soldiers like these, they could lay camp at a moment¡¯s notice and break it just as fast. On a campaign Falstad would expect them to stop only after dark and move on with the first rays of dawn¡­ but instead they¡¯d loitered so long under Schindigger¡¯s nose that he passed out from boredom! And the booze, granted, but still.


    The band stopped at noon for supper too, which they definitely wouldn¡¯t have done if they were in a rush. Good eatin¡¯ too, they had dried rations but weren¡¯t shy of hunting, and in a neutral zone it wasn¡¯t even poaching. They also found water and foraged for seasonings like people who¡¯d done this all their lives, even though it was still winter. Spruce needles, juniper berries, birch bark, wild rose hips, they even tapped birch trees for sap. Their woodcraft was decent, as these things went. Even the shaman might not have anything to grumble about.


    And he didn¡¯t. Falstad, as usual, proved right correct when he finally met back with the greybeard in question, who¡¯d been using the highest peak other than Aerie Peak itself to spy on the humans from further south using the farsight of the spirits.


    ¡°What d¡¯ ye have fer me, Elder?¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t tell if the big lad is older or younger than he looks.¡± Coming from Gavan Grayfeather, that was quite the admission. ¡°But he¡¯s definitely in charge of the lot.¡±


    That fit Falstad¡¯s own reckoning mostly, but not all. ¡°What about the old man? Pretty boy seems to defer to ¡®im.¡±


    Grayfeather looked at him sharply. ¡°A light insult is still an insult, an¡¯ easily turns heavy when aimed wrong. I understand ye¡¯re forced to deal with many beardlings, Wing Commander, but I strongly advise against judgin¡¯ humans the same way. They may not live as long as us, but they mature just as fast and their elders don¡¯t coddle them half as long.¡±


    Flastad scrunched his nose. ¡°As ye say, Elder.¡±


    ¡°It needn¡¯t be as I say, ye¡¯ve ears and eyes, don¡¯t ye? I¡¯m sure ye¡¯ve seen the same things I have.¡±


    ¡°Fer barely two hours.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ve had two days and I tell ye it¡¯s only been more o¡¯ the same.¡±


    Falstad stood on the ledge, watching alongside the elder as the band approached at a steady trot. The humans were getting damn close to their actual border now. What they did at that point would determine if the Wildhammers went down to meet them as a host or a war host.


    For better or worse, they stopped short of the unmarked boundary, even though the border outpost itself was built two hundred meters further down. It was a walled compound that completely blocked the pass, with a thick iron portcullis and right in middle of a death zone where literally every rock, nook and cranny concealed a trap door or machicolation. The Wildhammers may prefer their gryphons and stormhammers, but that didn¡¯t mean they didn¡¯t have land forces. If anything, the ground pounders always felt like they had something to prove, which was why they dug entire defense complexes wherever they could. The above-ground bunkers were just there to make a statement, which came in handy in times like these.


    ¡®Course that¡¯s no guarantee either, we did tell the human bigshots we had killing fields the last time we matched maps, but that doesn¡¯t mean one of e¡¯m couldn¡¯t just suss it out. It was a stretch, but since nothing was impossible Falstad had to at least entertain the chance. This lot certainly looked down more often than they looked up.


    Their overlook was wooded, and hidden by the natural rockface too, so the two dwarves had pretty good camouflage to watch. As the humans spread out and made camp, Falstad took his time studying them, though he wasn¡¯t able to listen in this time, even with Hestra¡¯s ears.


    ~ Ut i skuma</a> ~


    Falstad looked at the shaman incredulously, they were trying to be stealthy-


    ~ Lokkar til meg ~ Kvite ramnen ~ Duld og dvelande~


    - but he was singing all of a sudden, low and steady like the ice of Khaz Moden in high winter, what words even were these ¨C wait, what¡¯s that-?


    ~ H?yr eg sp?r! ~ Lend meg ei fj?r ~ S? skal eg verkje ~ vingar kvite ~


    A white raven flew up from below ¨C the familiar! Grayfeather¡¯s familiar, he¡¯d been using it to spy, but ¨C it was singing too?!


    ~ Lat oss flyga ~ I vide vindar ~ I hugjen veida ~ Med songen seida ~


    The song, it came from below too!


    ~ H?yr eg sp?r! ~ Lend meg vidsyn ~ Lat meg skilje ~ Sj? i skodda ~


    The humans were singing it, the knights! ¡°Elder!¡± Falstad rushed to shake the older dwarf by the shoulders, but he was in some trance. The song chose that moment to change too, turning into some sort of great, wordless cry that rang below from dozens of human throats ¨C and the raven screamed it too, and the shaman! If not for the elevation and the healthy wind the humans would get wise to them for sure, but did they even need it? They were clearly behind this! ¡°Elder, snap out of it!¡±


    Grayfeather didn¡¯t, just kept singing.


    ¡°Shite!¡± It was like the greybeard was totally blootered all of a sudden, and on mushrooms instead of booze, what now? Should he slap him? Strike him? Should Falstad kill the raven before he fell to the enchantment too? The song sounded mighty fine even though he didn¡¯t understand a thing, curse it-!


    ~ Vil du meg fylgja ~ i all mi tid? ~ Vil du meg varda ~ i all mi tid? ~


    Just as he was about to smite the raven dead, the rumbling chant changed to the voice of a woman, and Falstad was struck motionless by the sudden vision of a great, shining dame with angel wings singing alongside the spirits themselves in the realm unseen.


    ~ Gygrefuggel ~ Gav meg vingar ~ Kvite korpa ~ Gav meg sjon ~ Galdrekr?ka ~ Gav meg songen ~ Kvite vingar ~ Fylgjer meg ~


    Falstad felt it when the song ended, in his soul and flesh both ¨C if it was a spell, what would it do? What had it done? He couldn¡¯t let it-!


    ¡°Scunnering planks!¡± Grayfeather erupted in an outburst, suddenly lucid again.


    ¡°Thank the makers!¡± Falstad hissed as lowly as he could, abruptly free of the ¨C spellbind, he didn¡¯t feel nothing like that but it had to be a spellbind, it had to be¡­ the song had finished, after ¨C what? Six, seven minutes? They weren¡¯t the longest seven minutes of Falstad¡¯s life, but they were up there! He dropped to a knee before the older dwarf. ¡°Elder, what happened?¡±


    ¡°Turnabout. I think.¡± The old dwarf almost didn¡¯t lift his arm the right way to catch his white raven, also normal again. ¡°Spyin¡¯ and snoopin¡¯ repaid with¡­ forced rule of shared customs. I think, Wing Commander, that we just experienced a very gentle message to and through the spirits to kindly sod off.¡±


    ¡°Say what?¡± Flastad blinked. ¡°How? By what? Who?¡± That ghostly woman? That glow ¨C not witchery? ¨C gold ¨C isn¡¯t that how humans describe their Light? But seizing minds! How insidious compared to what they claim of their holy miracle-~


    ¡°Other spirits it felt like,¡± Grayfeather upended Falstad¡¯s inner rant. ¡°But it were right odd, like ¨C like loudmouths broken off the whole with more power than sense, letting the proper spirits feel more than they ¨C than I was prepared for. The song was just¡­ the way back out. What do them manlings feed their spirits over there?¡±


    ¡°Feed?¡± Falstad was stumped. ¡°Ye mean spirits? Other spirits? Fragments?¡± Didn¡¯t the pieces go mad, if they broke loose? Turned into crazy elementals? ¡°I thought the humans had no shamans?¡±


    ¡°Well clearly that¡¯s old information, isn¡¯t it now?¡±


    The same couldn¡¯t be said about Falstad¡¯s vision of the, what? Angel woman? Which Grayfeather was very interested in hearing described in thorough detail when he learned of it.


    Falstad was ready to call either attack or retreat just for having to endure that, but¡­ it didn¡¯t seem as if the humans were on to them? Or they were pretending ignorance really well? Was it a courtesy, or another insult? Bah! A pox on all the elder races and their confounding ways, bah! Bah, he said!


    Falstad decided to call their bluff, if it was a bluff, and continued with his surveillance.


    He and Grayfeather were limited now, to what they could see or pick up on the wind, but Falstad still got a fair bit from just seeing the party at rest, especially with Hersa¡¯s help. Pretty boy was clearly in charge of things, even though he was younger than everyone except his young squire. His manservant was disturbingly meek, lot meeker than even the young squire lad. Falstad had seen this with highborn humans before, and even some of the traders they got, but it didn¡¯t stop there. The knights also deferred to him, and they weren¡¯t just humoring some highborn brat, they were completely genuine about it. Even seemed to be learning something from him.


    At the same time, the old whitebeard seemed to be the exception, but also kind of wasn¡¯t? He didn¡¯t seem to have any authority, or didn¡¯t go out of his way to exert any, but he also tended to get lost in his own head a lot. He was¡­ sad? No, it was more than that. There was something deeply bothering the whitebeard, though he pushed it aside with elderly grumbling and obviously fake bluster whenever he caught himself. Which he didn¡¯t always seem to manage without help.


    Hersa thought it was that thing that she saw in gryphons who lost their riders, and Falstad had to agree. He¡¯d seen the same in old longbeards that had to bury a young wing mate, or a relative. Old man was wallowing, and not the right way.


    Pretty boy must¡¯ve agreed, because he seemed to have made it his mission to always draw the old man out of those moods. Lad was very considerate of him actually, all the time. Must be right exhausting, but also the proper thing to do. An old relative? They didn¡¯t look anything alike, and the old man was small in comparison¡­


    The knights didn¡¯t act near as familiar with the whitebeard, but that didn¡¯t seem to be a slight either. If anything, they held him in some distant awe.


    Reverence for one and loyalty to the other, Falstad felt like that wasn¡¯t the best combination. He hadn¡¯t been born yet back then, but the War of The Three Hammers happened exactly because people¡¯s mutual respect didn¡¯t measure up to their loyalty, after the singular subject of that loyalty went and died. Positions here seemed to be reversed, or maybe he was misreading things and they weren¡¯t but-


    Why am I thinking about that war? That there¡¯s not a good omen!


    Omen went and turned even badder when noise interrupted them that wasn¡¯t coming from down below.


    Instead, a beardling huffed and puffed his way up the rock face behind them, never mind that this lookout was supposed to be the perfect spot because you couldn¡¯t get it the landbound way. Lad only had a couple of light picks too, and no spikes on his boot toes. This was a right masterful climber, Falstad admitted grudgingly, though the idea that trolls or whatever else might be capable of the same wasn¡¯t a pleasant reality check.


    ¡°What do ye want, laddy? Can''t ye see we¡¯ve got problems to take care of here? Who has time to stand around yapping with some little straggler? Bad enough there¡¯s trolls coming outta the woodwork, now it¡¯s humans too! Make it snappy.¡±


    ¡°Need ¨C ter ¨C warn!¡± The dwarf barely had breath to speak, flopping down on his face when he was finally back on level ground. ¡°Div¡¯nation ¨C not workin¡¯ right!¡±


    Eh?


    After waiting for the lad to catch his breath, Falstad really started seeing omens everywhere.


    ¡°Yer master can¡¯t scry anythin¡¯ about these humans?¡± the shaman finally asked the lad ¨C one Thadius Grimshade ¨C after he finally explained why he was there. ¡°Sounds like they¡¯ve had even less luck than me.¡±


    ¡°Not so, elder,¡± the lad rasped, completely oblivious to the gravel stuck in his rumpled beard. ¡°We don¡¯t even get starts or fits, that says loads. Means someone down there¡¯s real important.¡±


    Grayfeather seemed to get it. ¡°Because they¡¯re either protected, or they aren¡¯t.¡±


    Falstad didn¡¯t get it. ¡°An explanation would be nice.¡±


    ¡°If they¡¯re protected from divination, that means they have some rare and powerful magic. If they¡¯re not, that means they must¡¯ve done things that¡¯ve already had extremely wide impacts that haven¡¯t settled. Considering the massive uproar the elements had not so long ago¡­¡±


    ¡°Well ain¡¯t that a riot,¡± Falstad grunted, turning to the newcomer. ¡°Well lad, which is it?¡±


    ¡°Dunno sir, either? If they¡¯re a big shot it won¡¯ just be them that¡¯s hard to divine, it should be harder to divine everythin¡¯. Might be that¡¯s true, Explorer Talonaxe¡¯s been seeing me teacher lots more than usual, and the League¡¯s expedition into the Badlands was delayed every time. But I don¡¯t know anything about all that, sirs, I¡¯m just an apprentice.¡±


    ¡°So ye''re a glorified errand boy fer some old Explorers'' League geezers, eh? Well congratulations, ye get to do more of the same fer me! Since ye¡¯re so spry, why don¡¯t ye go to them elves in their lodge over yonder and ask them if they¡¯ve got the same problems? Shouldn¡¯t be more than a few days¡¯ hike, I used to do the same just fer fun back in my day, but don¡¯t ye dare come back before ye¡¯ve got an answer! Don¡¯t care how long it takes, if those old grumblers complain tell ¡®em to take it up with me. Now get a move on, and use this rope and harness to get down properly instead of those picks, where did ye even get them that they blunt so easy? If I catch ye climbing ravines without proper gear again I''m gonna put ye to some real work.¡±


    The high elves were the only other elder race that the Wildhammers trusted any, though they hadn¡¯t bled on the same ground either. Like the humans, they were perfectly content letting the dwarves do the bleeding as the buffer nation between them and the trolls. Falstad couldn¡¯t even grumble that much about it, both the elves and the men had told them upfront what they were getting into, when the Wildhammers came all the way north instead of staying in the Highlands with the rest of their kind.


    ¡°Poor lad,¡± the shaman muttered after the beardling had rappelled down enough that he wouldn¡¯t hear. ¡°You didnae need be so harsh.¡±


    ¡°Pfeh! Jalinde Summerdrake¡¯s a bleedin¡¯ heart an¡¯ then some, an earnest lad like that? She¡¯ll have ¡®im with his feet up an¡¯ eatin¡¯ cakes within ten minutes o¡¯ showin¡¯ up, and she¡¯ll keep at it however long it takes ¡®em to do tarot tests or whatnot. I give it at least a couple o¡¯ days, probably more. Elvish instincts, doncha know ¨C they live so long that everyone else vanishes in the blink of an eye. Some stay aloof so they don¡¯ have to deal with it, but the others?¡±


    ¡°They dote,¡± Grayfeather realized. ¡°You set him up for a vacation?


    ¡°The League¡¯s got plenty gryphons on call and they¡¯re all expertly trained, but they made that lad climb up here? I wouldn¡¯t risk this deathtrap. Someone has it out for that boy. I don¡¯t have time to look into it right now, but I will in a few days.¡±


    ¡°¡­ You¡¯ll make a fine High Thane one day.¡±


    ¡°Bite yer tongue, me cousin¡¯s perfectly fine and still plenty young too.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± thankfully, Gavan Grayfeather wasn¡¯t just humoring him. ¡°I assume you gave the lad your worst attitude so he wouldn¡¯t presume to come to you for rescue again?¡±


    ¡°A Wildhammer has to learn to take care of himself, he¡¯ll be fine without handouts.¡± Falstad grunted before mounting Hersa. ¡°Ye stayin¡¯ or comin¡¯?¡±Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Grayfeather looked down, coincidentally right as the big lad in charge happened to look in their direction from all the way down there. The greenery should still hide them, but neither of them were fine assuming it no more. ¡°Probably best I not linger here on my own,¡± the elder decided. ¡°Just in case that¡¯s not a coincidence.¡±


    Coincidence, right.


    The humans had finally put up the right flag, but Falstad only flew a wide, visible circle in the air above their camp before turning away and flying back to the Aviary, signaling all but one of the standby scout wings to follow him back home. He resisted the urge to do a final pass just to see the looks on their faces after the sudden flyover of a dozen gryphon riders. While it was nice that the manlings were finally acting proper, they also deserved to stew a little for the hassle they put him through.


    Also, they¡¯d stopped just short of getting on the bad side of the Wildhammer Redoubt, so Falstad couldn¡¯t treat them as trespassers. He¡¯d need to go through the fuss of assembling a diplomatic hodgepodge instead, now, ugh.


    The grass of the Hinterlands was already peeking out through the snow, vibrant and green even at that height in the Aeries mountains. Aerie Peak spanned almost the entire length of the chain. It was a majestic, sprawling city of wide paths and airy buildings with plenty of space between each other, helped along by the natural environment with many drops and rises, through which they¡¯d carved extensive tunnel networks as was proper. For the Wildhammers, who valued their independence and personal space above everything else save maybe the gryphons in some cases, it was almost a dream given life. It was ironic that they¡¯d only built it because they were kicked out of their prior homes (twice).


    It was doubly ironic that the place was on the very edge of the territory they ostensibly controlled, right at the crossroads of the only two entryways to the Hinterlands, from the North and West.


    ¡°A third possibility strikes me,¡± shaman Grayfeather told him as they dismounted at the aviary.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°Divination might not be a lost cause because of what those humans did, but what others are doing in response. If we¡¯re not the only ones trying to divine the actions of these people, we¡¯re each the others¡¯ interference. If that¡¯s the case, I have a feeling those men themselves know it too.¡±


    Of course they did.


    Falstad bid goodbye to the shaman and spent a little while playing with Hersa¡¯s baby, Swiftwing. It was a sad thing, but gryphons didn¡¯t live near as long as dwarves, so a good rider had to make sure not to ignore the hatchlings. Since Hersa was starting to show her years and her mate was dead, this one little tyke was her last clutch. Probably Falstad¡¯s next mount too, if nothing took Hersa before her time. She should live long enough to see him grown, at least.


    It was exhausting keeping up with such a lively creature, it didn¡¯t used to be but these days it was. But Falstad Wildhammer always did his duty.


    It was a bit of a walk to Wildhammer Keep from there, but the aviary was located in the very center of Aerie Peak for a reason. Falstad stopped at the graveyard to hang a new feather from the tree grown atop his family grave, but didn¡¯t linger. None of his immediate kin had died recently, thankfully.


    After that, it was straight in to meet the dwarf in charge.


    There, because Falstad¡¯s job apparently wasn¡¯t stressful enough already, High Thane Kurdran Wildhammer decided his cousin would be the perfect face for the meet-and-greet.


    ¡°I felt the uproar of the elements same as you, cousin. Of course the humans will also be in a tizzy no matter how spirit blind they are, whatever it was happened in their lands. I¡¯m just surprised the mess is spilling over from the north instead of west. If old Grayfeather say they¡¯ve got strange secrecy magic too, we need to get to the bottom of this.¡±


    Falstad¡¯s belief was once again vindicated, that the High Thane position existed just so the one stuck with it could take it out on the rest of ¡®em for forcing his arse into that chair. Which was fair enough, but what did Kurdran expect? Spend his life with his bum out the window while someone else did the paperwork? As if!


    Sometime later, Falstad was debating whether to put on his good clothes or just go as normal. Gryphons could carry a lot, but maneuvering in the air was a different matter, never mind fighting. Also, he¡¯d long since developed resistance to all but the most infernal chill thanks to his woad tattoos. A Wildhammer gryphon rider wasn¡¯t considered veteran until he could go about his duties in the skud. Few ever went that far, you had to keep some modesty reserved just for the missus at home, but still.


    With the leather-and-brass arm rings he wore on his upper arms, which teleported his stormhammer back into his hand after he tossed it at some beastie¡¯s head, Falstad didn¡¯t need anything else¡­


    But there was still more snow than not, outside, and at that height it would stay white for another couple of weeks before the springmelt set in. Then, too, the passes only got a direct view of the sun around noon, so they were particularly packed with white still. Also, when the spirits themselves got told off for spying and complied, you had to give some credit to those claims that your incoming guests were important.


    Time to chew the ice, I suppose.


    Falstad settled on a crocolisk leather tunic with straps and buckles of cobalt-alloyed nickel, turtle shell shoulder pauldrons bound with the same, his most comfortable boots ¨C made of chimera leather ¨C and his regular leggings which were made of wildvine-soaked grizzly boar hide with primal reinforcements. He had a fancy helmet, but he didn¡¯t want the hassle of wrestling his hair through it, and he¡¯d sweat like hells if he did ¨C that was why he wore most of his hair shaved except for the ponytail at the back.


    Thankfully, that was the most difficult part over with, since Kurdran had decided to assemble the diplomatic team himself. Technically, even alone Falstad was enough to fulfil diplomatic obligations, being Kurdran¡¯s heir presumptive and also one of the initial contenders for his seat, unfortunately. Falstad still didn¡¯t know who¡¯d put his name forward back then, but when he found out there would be hell to pay.


    When he returned to the aviary, Gavan Grayfeather turned out to have talked himself into the group, which Falstad had expected. He himself was no shaman or wise dwarf, which this whole thing seemed like as not to need.


    What he did not expect was to see Elder Mastran there too. That dwarf was a living cultural treasure, one of only two dwarves in the entire Wildhammer kindred old enough to have been alive for the War of the Three Hammers. Most elders didn¡¯t reach 250 years, but he was pushing 280 ¨C he hadn¡¯t just been alive for that war, he¡¯d fought in it from start to finish. And that wasn¡¯t even when he lost his eye, that came a lot later, practically his retirement story.


    Could still walk fine too, more or less. And boy, could that dwarf talk, not a day went by without him telling stories to the little ones around the Great Hearth. Falstad had been one of them himself, in his time.


    The day Mastran passed and they had to choose someone else to play Greatfather Winter during Winterveil would be a right sad day indeed.


    Hopefully it wouldn¡¯t be today that they found out the hard way that he wasn¡¯t fit to fly no more.


    ¡°Go easy on me, won¡¯t you lad?¡± The whitebeard said with a crooked smile. ¡°I can practically hear you trash-talking me in your head.¡±


    ¡°Not at all, Elder,¡± Falstad said with the straight face that all beardlings perfected before their twentieth year as a matter of self-preservation against promised mortification. ¡°Just wonderin¡¯ if we were waitin¡¯ on anyone else.¡±


    ¡°Nay, you will have to settle for us two I¡¯m afraid.¡±


    ¡°Right then. Let¡¯s be off.¡±


    Thankfully, Mastran proved stable enough in the saddle so Falstad wasn¡¯t doomed to become the dwarf most hated by the next generation on their return.


    Since the First Wing was for protecting the High Thane and his keep, Falstad took the Second Wing with him. Those six landed first, forming a semicircle right inside the kill zone. Falstad, Gavan and Mastran landed inside their perimeter right after that. They didn¡¯t dismount.


    A respectable distance away from the invisible border line, the big lad in charge got up from an armchair of all things. Then, accompanied by his manservant and squire and six of his own knights all on horses, he came over on foot and sweet buggering fuck he was big. Even up there on Hersa¡¯s saddle, Falstad had to look up at him and he wasn¡¯t even in the best hammerthrow distance yet, gods damn.


    Falstad didn¡¯t have the consolation of build this time either, braw was as wide as them dwarves at the shoulders, and waist too, had muscle on him for days even, this was ridiculous! He¡¯d heard the trader talk about them supposed sea-faring giants, but he thought they were a tall tale!


    Bloody elder races, we already know we¡¯re small and stunted, no need to rub it in!


    Maybe Falstad should be all gung-ho about the whole Explorer¡¯s League thing. Then maybe he¡¯d be there when they found their makers and asked them what the hell they were thinking making them so damn small! No, the fact that gnomes and gobbos existed didn¡¯t make it any better!


    ¡°Halt, humans!¡± barked Falstad when he was sure his hammer throw wouldn¡¯t miss. ¡°You encroach upon the lands of the Wildhammer Dwarves! State your business!¡±


    The big lad in charge obligingly stopped, made to speak, paused, then changed his mind with a twist of his lips that was damn right rascally. ¡°Commander, introduce me.¡±


    ¡°Dwarves of the Wildhammer kindred! You stand before his saintship, Ferdinand Wayland Hywel Rogasian, the bright and the holy, the brave and the merciful, maker and unmaker, redeemer and punisher, bane of tyrants, protector of the just, speaker to gods! Avenger of Tyr, friend to Odyn, herald of change who wields the Spark of Destruction by right of lore! Witness the slayer of thraxxi and black drakks, who descended into the last place the Ancient Watchers walked in step and put an end to Zakajz the Corruptor with the Sword of Kings! Be thou daunted, for you stand before the sworn foe of the Black Empire of Ny''alotha, whose foul masters wreaked the vile predations that laid low your fatherland! And lo, be thou blessed evermore, for you are in the presence of the Prophet of the Flame Imperishable, from whence springs eternal into the universe the Holy Light of Creation!¡±


    And in the pass of Aerie-Darrowmere, enfolding at once the most civilized of men and wildest of dwarves, there was total stunned silence.


    ¡­


    Holy moly!


    A cult!


    We gotta fly back, we need more hammers-!


    ¡°Did ye aye, now?¡± Elder Mastran said with all the composure that Falstad found himself having lost. ¡°Those¡¯re some right tall boasts, laddie, how many can ye actually prove?¡±


    ¡°I can heal your eye,¡± the big lad ¨C Ferdinand? Ferdinand claimed as if it was just some paltry no nothing, who was this galoot-?! ¡°Anything else would be rather damaging.¡±


    ¡°To who?!¡± Falstad barked, before clearing his throat in the face of the confused glances he got for his outburst over ¨C to be stunned stupid by soddin¡¯ words like in fairy tales, what the bloody sod was that speech?! ¡°Dangerous to who, ye or us?¡±


    ¡°The region.¡±


    Well boggin.


    ¡°And what would that there involve, ¡®xactly?¡± Mastran asked as if the promise of a literal miracle next to the threat of the end times didn¡¯t faze him none. ¡°Not scoops and knives, I hope?¡±


    ¡°My hand on your face for a couple of seconds.¡±


    He¡¯s off ''is head, if the humans¡¯ Light could do that we¡¯d know by now, and so quick, it couldnae be true!


    ¡°That¡¯s a wee much to ask between strangers,¡± Mastran said diplomatically, because everyone else on their side seemed too off their faces to join in. Fine for the other gryphon riders, they were just there to look dangerous, but what the heck was Grayfeather gawping at? ¡°Don¡¯t know what it¡¯s like with ye humans, but we prefer a wee adjustment period, as it were. We don¡¯t let just anyone into our personal space, saint or not.¡±


    ¡°Understandable.¡± Ferdinand held out a palm, on which his manservant promptly placed a silver tray he¡¯d drawn from ¨C somewhere, and a bunch of goblets around a bottle of- ¡°Shall we partake in guest rite, then? Neither of us holds claim on this ground, but it should be fine if we both offer, no? I¡¯m told Lordaeron wine is pretty good.¡±


    He¡¯s told-?


    ¡°Aged one hundred and two years, sir,¡± the Knight-Commander reported dutifully as if that wasn¡¯t a claim fit to knock a dwarf off his rocker- ¡°We never export anything older than twenty, though the king and queen sometimes send bottles as gifts.¡±


    He¡¯s right, Falstad thought testily. The only aged bottle we ever got was a gift at Kurdran¡¯s inauguration and the stingy cunt only let me have a sip, they know exactly how to yank a dwarf¡¯s beard, these ¨C these bawbags!


    Falstad abruptly realized everyone on his side was waiting on him. ¡°Grayfeather!¡±


    At his shout, the shaman snapped out of whatever it was.


    ¡°Ye fine, or do we need to go back?¡±


    ¡°What? Oh! No, no, don¡¯t mind me, I was just distracted for a little spell there.¡±


    That made Ferdinand smile for some reason and he did a wave-


    Vapour and steam whirled into view around his hand, hot and blurry and with two laughing eyes Falstad felt on his very soul when they passed over him ¨C a spirit! ¨C before the apparition dispersed with the most delicious smell of mama¡¯s soup.


    The hells?


    ¡°Roilbroth accepts your challenge,¡± the big lad told Grayfeather as if ¨C what challenge? When did they have an entire second conversation? ¡°Unless you¡¯d like to back out? He can be spiteful.¡±


    ¡°Such are spirits,¡± old Gavan said with that put-upon shamanic serenity that everyone who ever attended the solstice bash knew was completely fake. ¡°It guarantees nothing.¡±


    ¡°Of course you¡¯d say that, the contest is rigged your way because you¡¯re the only arbiter of your personal taste.¡±


    ¡°Well I never, to see the day Gavan Grayfeather gets called a liar! Rest assured that if he does treat me to the best food I ever tasted, I will readily say so.¡±


    Oh, is that what we¡¯re talking about now?


    ¡°That¡¯s a bit much to take on faith between strangers,¡± the lad said, turning Mastran¡¯s earlier words back on them, no lavvy heid this one, more¡¯s the pity. ¡°Well, that settles it! We¡¯ll have a party, right here, right now!¡±


    ¡°Eh!?¡± Falstad balked. ¡°How the heck didja get from one to the other?¡¯


    ¡°Well I¡¯d think it¡¯s rather obvious,¡± the lad said while opening the wine bottle and pouring some over a bowl of bread cubes, what was he thinking doing that with such a venerable beverage, such a waste! ¡°We need to build up to it, therefore, a party.¡±


    Falstad wondered when he¡¯d missed yet another part of the conversation. ¡°Build up to what?¡± No wait, they¡¯d been talking about trust-


    ¡°An offer you won¡¯t want to refuse.¡± The big lad picked up the bowl of winebread and came forward with the offering, stopping with the tip of his foot just outside the invisible border exactly. ¡°And the healing of course, I can¡¯t in good conscience pass through here and not do something about the elder¡¯s eye ¨C and your stress too of course, mister¡­?¡±


    Falstad, belatedly, realized that none of ¡®em had ever given their names even though the humans had. Well, this one had. ¡°These are elder Mastran Thundermantle and shaman Gavan Greyfeather, and I¡¯m Falstad Wildhammer, commander of the Second Wing.¡± It was the lesser of his titles, but it was safest that way. ¡°Ye can heal stress?¡±


    ¡°Your hormones are practically screaming their triumph into the void, it¡¯s a nasty sight.¡±


    Did this numpty bawbag just call him a¨C


    A whore! That moans! He¡¯ll kill¡¯im!


    ¡°Derived from the alteraci word ¡®hormon¡¯,¡± bawbag said with unrestrained fun at Falstad¡¯s expense. ¡°It means to set in motion.¡±


    That oversized whelp! Moppet! Jackanape! Bastard was poking fun of him on purpose and wasn¡¯t even pretending not to feel all gloating about getting one over him, the swash!


    Falstad Wildhammer sneered, then nudged Hersa forward, ripped a piece out of that moist bread and crushed it in his teeth while trying not to weep over his first taste of this great beverage being spoiled by grain, why were humans like this?


    Bummer, shoulda made him have some first, what if it¡¯s poisoned?


    Oh... Feh!


    No one was gonna claim Falstad Wildhammer was the only whopper around!


    <h3 style="text-align: center">¡°-.  .-¡°


    ¡°And then ¡®e says ¨C see, there¡¯s a human who walks into a tavern, an¡¯ there¡¯s an elf there ¨C an¡¯ ¨C an¡¯ she ¨C snrk ¨C she says ¨C eheh ¨C ahahahahahahahahaha!¡± Falstad slapped his knee laughing so hard he cried, that joke got better every time he thought about it!


    Och, to think he¡¯d been so worried over nothing! These manlings were great! Sure, they were clearly lying about everything, that speech had been way too rehearsed, and their names! All of ¡®em that he drank with used fake ones, and they didn¡¯t feel shame none over it! Magroth the Defender, Sage Truthbearer, Headsman Forlorn, Dagren Shadeslayer, Agamand the True, all of the rest with something just as put upon! Nobody gave sprogs such ridiculous names as these! All of ¡®em had a Sir in front of their names too, but not a one he asked said they¡¯d gotten the title from someone not part of their ¨C whatever it was! Gallow birds all of ¡®em, or soon to be gallow birds, or a cult, or ¨C or something!


    But they knew how to have fun, and most importantly they knew how dwarves had fun!


    ¡°An¡¯ then the look on ¡®is face!¡± Falstad was still roaring with laughter even hours later. ¡°Bastard got me demoted and thought I¡¯d be all broken up, tried to make it worse with bad jokes when I wasn¡¯t! I was dancing jigs in my head!¡± Hilarious, if only it had lasted! ¡°An¡¯ then he didn¡¯t last a moonturn in my place ¡®afore I had to step back up, the useless numpty! Thank the Makers for building that fool, what a blessing for the dwarfish race ¨C NOT! And the team he brought with ¡®im, where did he find ¡®em all?! Ye know how much harder it is for a whole bunch to be that unfailing bad than for ¡®em to occasionally be good just by accident? Even the math didn¡¯t add up! He single-handedly lowered my standards and my expectations, a bloody factory of sadness the whole lot of ¡®em!¡±


    ¡°Ah yes, the Peter principle,¡± Pretty Boy nodded understandingly as he filled Falstad¡¯s mug again, something ambery this time. ¡°Good to see you lot don¡¯t have to learn that lesson the hard way.¡±


    ¡°How ya figure?¡± Quaff quaff quaff, och this beer, not as fine as the wine but Makers-!


    ¡°Someone does well in their job, so they get promoted. They do well in that job, so they get promoted. They don''t do well in that job, so they stay there and do badly forever. Being a good fighter or a good builder doesn''t mean someone knows how to lead an army. Being able to do the job and bothering to do the job are very different things too. We humans call it ¡®promotion to your level of incompetence.¡¯¡±


    ¡°Hahaha, tha¡¯ss ezzactly right!¡± Falstad slammed the mug back down on the table and gave a hearty belch, mm-mm, what else they got? Ohhhh, firewater come to papa, from plums! ¡°Take it from me, lad: ye want a good leader, forget the fussy types! Ye want ¡®em blunt, ye want ¡®em mad as a hatter, and they gots to know what the hell they¡¯re doing which means they gots to put in the work!¡±


    ¡°Or the smart and lazy, right? Because they¡¯ll come up with ways to make everything more efficient.¡±


    ¡°Sod that coddly nonsense, when ye¡¯re in charge ye put up or shut up and get the fuck outta the way!¡±


    ¡°Like you?¡±


    ¡°Damn right!¡±


    ¡°I see now, I was worried for nothing.¡±


    ¡°Eh?¡±


    ¡°Well, maybe not nothing, just not the right thing I should¡¯ve been worried about-¡°


    ¡°Not yer riddles again, speak plain or get!¡±


    ¡°My mistake, I¡¯ll gladly talk all about your ¡®whore moans¡¯ again if that¡¯s what you want.¡±


    ¡°Hear that?!¡± Falstad hollered for all the dwarves and humans to hear, and the horses and gryphons too because why the hell not?!  ¡°He¡¯s one of ¡®em ¡®don¡¯t promote me too much¡¯ types, he just admitted it!¡±


    ¡°Well then, I suppose it¡¯s just as well I got here when I did,¡± pretty boy shook his head and tugged on that pansy arse beard of his as if it was worth the ¨C wait!


    Hold the horn! ¡°Wassat s¡¯pposed to mean?¡±


    ¡°Normality,¡± the big lad said slowly. ¡°Or do you expect me to believe you¡¯re drunk just from a few carafes?¡±


    ¡°Bite yer tongue!¡± Falstad balked on reflex, before what the human actually said caught up with him. ¡°Hey wait, no, say that again.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I think you heard me fine.¡±


    Looking around, Falstad saw that everyone was¡­ still fairly right merry, but everyone nearby who was from his side was tossing him glances now and then. Even the elders, both of whom were at the same table with them and looking right worried. ¡°What with those looks?¡± Falstad hadn¡¯t forgotten about them, no sir! ¡°Don¡¯t mind them longbeards, longshanks, they¡¯re nowhere as uptight as they put on! Why else would they host the decennial in Kirthaven, of all places?¡±


    ¡°Is that some holy place, or-¡°


    ¡°Some holy place he asks, it¡¯s the holy place, our spiritual core that is!¡±


    ¡°And you hold regular revels there?¡± Pretty Boy glanced at Grayfeather. ¡°How do the shamans not burst a blood vessel?¡±


    ¡°Hah!¡± Falstad laughed heartily. ¡°They¡¯re the ones who keep the beer an¡¯ mead flowin¡¯! How do ye think they get their apprentices? Lads and lasses drink an¡¯ drink an¡¯ go from bellow to mellow, an¡¯ then suddenly the hall¡¯s a frenzy with the rambles an¡¯ babbles of boys ¡®n girls on a mare¡¯s nest of a shared vision quest!¡±


    ¡°Can I assume that you¡¯ve partaken in this mead of poetry yourself.¡±


    ¡°An¡¯ I¡¯ll damn well enjoy it this year too!¡±


    ¡°You clearly need it,¡± Grayfeather muttered.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Falstad snapped. ¡°Say it to me face, if ye¡¯re brave enough!¡±


    The old shaman looked at him aghast. Next to him, Elder Mastran did too. Beyond them, the two gryphon riders that made sure to stay within shouting distance because they didn¡¯t forget their training balked at the display he put on too.


    Belatedly, it occurred to Falstad Wildhammer than he¡¯d just snapped at one of the two most venerable longbeards this side of the Thandol Span as if they were striplings on their first flight.


    Suddenly, everything that happened since about¡­ one hour into the bash began to squeeze Falstad¡¯s mind in a different shape. How ¨C long ago even was that ¨C when had the sun come down? ¡°¡­ What did ye do to me?¡±


    ¡°Only what I said and what you agreed to, I healed your stress,¡± the big lad was speaking all cautious too, now. ¡°I had no idea there was so much, or how long it must¡¯ve¡­¡±


    It certainly hadn¡¯t felt bad, when that gold light knocked all his screws loose.


    ¡°Lad,¡± Mastran said worriedly. He had both eyes working now, when did that happen? ¡°When¡¯s the last time you took any time off?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s this now?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t get literally high on feeling normal unless it¡¯s the farthest thing from normal,¡± Pretty Boy said bluntly. ¡°The wrong way.¡±


    Falstad blinked owlishly, feeling like his brain was wrapped in cotton that had been straining to hold it in until it suddenly deflated. His brain, not the straps. His body¡­ was all jittery too, the bloody ¡®ells, since when did he get the shakes?


    ¡°And there¡¯s the crash,¡± Pretty Boy murmured, before Falstad felt some invisible force abruptly hold him in place. ¡°Easy now, small friend, that¡¯s just to hold you upright. We don¡¯t want anyone to see you have a fit.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s it!¡± Pretty Boy¡¯s slavish manservant suddenly yelled from clear across the camp, standing up to loom over the rest of the riders. ¡°A drinking contest, you four against me, right here, right now!¡±


    Such a boast couldn¡¯t not cause the biggest ruckus. Soon enough, everyone was absorbed with the new development, which coincidentally ¨C feh! ¨C distracted them from Falstad¡¯s rapid loss of composure, what the fuck was happening-?


    ¡°Go on, you two!¡± Mastran shouted at the last two riders, the ones standing close just in case. ¡°You can¡¯t let such a challenge go unanswered! Or do you still need your elders to defend clan honor?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Elder!¡± ¡°No elder!¡±


    The embarrassment of stumbling over their replies made the last two scamper off in a rush, leaving Falstad to the mercy of¡­ the last people in the world that he wanted to see him have a fit of jimjams, what the hell was ¨C? It had to be something the humans did, not ¨C but then, would the Elders just play along with it? They weren¡¯t just playing along?


    Mercifully, Pretty Boy and the Elders got talking between themselves after that, waiting him out while he had his ¨C whatever it was in peace. The invisible force seemed to loosen from around him too, but it was only replaced by ¨C wind? Like the air formed an invisible cushion around him, safeguarding his dignity every time he would¡¯ve twitched. Or fallen out of his chair.


    Not one of them oversized mannish chairs either, sods had come prepared for that too.


    Makers¡¯ balls, Falstad thought, still muddle-headed. Maybe I do need some time off.


    Too much time later, the dwarf finally had control of both his wits and his body again. The merriment was in full swing everywhere around him, especially the right hollery drinking contest. Normally¡­ no, not normally. Now that he¡¯d been confronted over it, Falstad realized he¡¯d not joined in on¡­ anything of the sort for way too long. Used to be he¡¯d be the first to join in and the last to cheer on the way out, but not for months now. A whole year even, maybe, buggerin¡¯ bowfins, had it really been so long?


    The momentary impulse to fix that right this moment flittered across his brain, to jump up and off his chair and go to put his mug in the game.


    He couldn¡¯t find motivation for any of it. ¡°Ey you. Big boy,¡± he grunted. ¡°What do ye lot really want?¡±


    ¡°Okay, we¡¯re finally doing this I suppose,¡± Pretty Boy said with way too little worry. ¡°Was hoping we¡¯d at least-¡°


    ¡°Ye wanted to build up to it and we let ye, but I¡¯m this close to not appreciating it anymore. No more bender-wilders. Why are ye here?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to cleanse Grim Batol.¡±


    ¡­


    That ¨C


    ¡°Naturally, I assumed you¡¯d want to be there for it.¡±


    That ¨C was the most preposterous thing he¡¯d ever heard, that anyone in the entire Wildhammer kindred ever heard, wild, absurd, utterly mad, preposterous¨C !


    ¡°We¡¯ll be detouring by way of Uldaman first, since Odyn has some things to take care of there. It¡¯s not directly related, but I figure you¡¯ll want some observers for that too, seeing as it¡¯s where you dwarves all come from and all. The gnomes too.¡±


    Falstad looked up at the big man and stared blankly at him.


    The human-


    Ferdinand stared back. His gaze held inside a radiant golden glow that promised to destroy every certainty Falstad ever had, if he stared in those eyes too long.


    He looked away. Looked around, for the punchline to ¨C whatever joke this was. And when Grayfeather and Mastran didn¡¯t have one for him, being just as speechless at the sheer audacity of what the human had just claimed, Falstad looked farther to see who else he could tear a new one.


    He was about to decide who among the fake knights looked most stand-offish, when by chance he saw the old man he¡¯d wondered about all that morning and abruptly realized he¡¯d had his spirit bond with his gryphon ¨C his side of the spirit bond open all day. From the moment Pretty Boy healed him to right now when the old man looked back at hi-


    Falstad Wildhammer¡¯s mind was swept aside to the sound of trumpets and striking thunder, and his entire self was witnessed by a colossal being that looked down on him from a throne of iron through a meat shell that was empty empty empty empty EMPTY!


    Reality returned at the end of his fall to earth. The music was gone. The shouts were gone. The wine had stopped flowing, the beer had stopped pouring, the revelry ¨C had ceased the moment he fell out of his chair, stunned and breathless.


    The old man ¨C an empty husk! Mindless ¨C marionette puppetted in a perversion of the bond of the gryphon rider ¨C and he tapped it! Like a beardling trying to connect to his mount the first time, only to miss and hit everyone else, except this time it was ¨C what ¨C he¡¯d seen ¨C felt ¨C burden, judgment, woe unaccountable, great, massive, titanic! Borne alone, by a being of wrath and woe stoked over ages countless!


    Gavan and Mastran helped him up. Picked him off the ground, lifted him, held him upright because his legs wouldn¡¯t work. His breath ¨C fits and starts, like his thoughts, crushed flat by a mere glance from ¨C from ¨C


    ¡°Blindi,¡± the voice of- ¡°What did you do?¡±


    ¡°Nothing intentional,¡± the old man said¨C his voice ¨C the first time¨C ¡°But I think we found your next paladin.¡±


    Falstad looked wildly at the humans, and their leader who was so sure and tall and wanted ¨C but suddenly seemed just as small and insignificant as Falstad himself was.


    The thought brought anger, and the life back to his limbs, and his lungs, but when he dug for what scraps of courage he still thought he had, he didn¡¯t find it. ¡°Everyone back!¡± Falstad screamed hoarsely, not even knowing why. Falstad Wildhammer had never been the sort to flee from an enemy, but now, here, he found himself the sort to flee from friends. He backed away frantically, out of the elders¡¯ hold, away from ¨C from - ¡°Back to yer gryphons, we¡¯re leaving!¡±


    ¡°What-¡° ¡°The sod happ-¡° ¡°Who-¡°


    ¡°NOW! RIGHT NOW, BACK TO AERIE PEAK RIGHT NOW, NOW, GO, GO, GO!!¡±


    They obeyed him, even the elders did as he told them, screamed at them, they scampered back to their startled gryphons in abject confusion, away from the humans who watched them with caution and surprise, save the one ¨C and two! The first! And last!


    The dwarves flew away like death was stalking them, back to the Aviary, back to Aerie Peak where Falstad landed first, dismounted first, fled first, not overland but down, down and further down, into the deepest tunnels and beyond even them, to the passage that only the High Thane and his most trusted knew. The tunnel only made in case they had to run away, like Khardros Wildhammer had run away from ¨C


    Grim Batol! Grim Batol!


    Their lost home, their second lost home, the home who¡¯d held them just to fail them and good riddance, good bloody riddance, it was good riddance, wasn¡¯t it? With its grand vaults and majestic spires and the old guard who lost two wars in a row because they were too busy chasing useless dreams of being the new bluebloods. Bluebloods. Blue blood. Blue blood! The god on the throne bled blue blood!


    Blood instead of a beard, seeping from wounds open and fresh, bleeding, many, countless, pouring blood as blue as ink from countless breaks in jadestone skin! Blue blood! Bluebloods, is that where the word came from? Were the dwarves like that too? Did they bleed blue too, once? How? Why? When?


    Uldaman, where you come from-


    ¡°What the ¨C who ¨C Falstad! Makers¡¯ breath, is this where you¡¯ve been? I¡¯ve been turning Aerie Peak upside down looking for you, how did you get in here? Wait -¡± Kurdran stalled mid-run, rushing to close the secret wall that Falstad had left half-open in his mindless haste to ¨C to-


    ¡°Cousin!¡± the High Thane shook him by the shoulders, violently. ¡°Talk to me! What did those humans do?!¡±


    ¡°The Makers,¡± Falstad said woodenly, turning to meet his cousin¡¯s gaze with sightless eyes.  ¡°The Makers. They¡¯re real. And they¡¯re here.¡±

 The Prophet鈥檚 Hand (1)

    ¡°-. March 08, Year 581 of the King¡¯s Calendar .-¡°


    ¡°Before the shaping of the world, Azeroth was beset by great tentacled horrors from the Great Dark Beyond. These foul beings infested the planet and swarmed it with their unholy spawn, until the entire world was under the yoke of Ny''alotha, the Black Empire.¡±


    It turned out that the Wildhammer dwarves took consciousness-expanding potions on the regular once they came of age, and some of them gained or unlocked the ability to blend minds with other beings. Without losing consciousness.


    ¡°When the Titans came upon the world and saw it thus beset, they invested of themselves to create beings in their image, to save, succor and keep the world in their name. Thus came to be Azeroth¡¯s Keepers, whose names were Archaedas, Loken, Thorim, Freya, Mimiron, Hodir, Tyr, Ra, and Odyn.¡±


    It was a dangerous taboo to try and blend minds with other people, getting to the mind required a literal attack through a person¡¯s natural spiritual defenses.


    ¡°It was these nine Keepers who lead the titan-forged armies against the Black Empire, and later created most of their lesser brethren and shaped the world into the vibrant well of life it is today.¡±


    Even if you got through the spirit ¨C or were let through, which few besides trained shamans could do without lengthy preparation under the same substance imbibements ¨C you still faced the various dangers of matching ego against ego.


    ¡°After the great war that saw the titan-forged victorious, keepers Archaedas and Mimiron created two mighty machines, the Forge of Wills and the Forge of Origination. The former was then used to craft the next generation of beings, the first of which were made from the subterranean being matrix that the Seven-Fold Pantheon had refined over countless eons of ordering and seeding life across the cosmos.¡±


    Mind blending was also discouraged with base animals, especially vermin, since it disproportionately polluted the human mind with subsapient instincts.


    ¡°Alas, the Keepers were young as Titans went, and not tested in anything but battle. Their first efforts were far from perfect, resulting in the creation of savage creatures made of earth they called troggs. Faulty, misbegotten things, but the Keepers did not find it in their hearts to destroy them. Instead, they allowed one of their lesser brethren, Ironaya, to seal them away within a subterranean vault where they lie to this day.¡±


    Some dwarves, however, trained enough, or found a noble enough animal, to bind as a permanent symbiotic companion, thus hunters.


    ¡°The second design of the Keepers yielded beings far more acceptable to their eyes and the needs of the world. These were the craggy and kindhearted Earthen, whom the Keepers tasked with specific roles in ordering and protecting Azeroth, crafting mountains and carving out the deep places of the world.¡±


    Eventually, one of these exceptional dwarves took the risk of turning his mind blending ability towards the local chimeric monstrosities, and so began the age of gryphon riders.


    ¡°Alas, the Keepers were betrayed by one of their own, and the Forge of Wills was tainted with a curse by the greatest remaining tentacled ones. These are the Old Ones which the First Titans had merely imprisoned, after judging them too deeply embedded in the world to remove without destroying Azeroth wholesale.¡±


    Falstad Wildhammer was neither the best flyer nor the best hammer tosser of the bunch, but he might just be the most talented medium. Talented enough that he might have become a shaman instead if his lineage and interests had been at all different.


    ¡°The new titan-forged began to transmogrify into soft and mortal creatures of flesh and bone. Ever hardy, the Earthen strove on during these times, tunneling into the deep places throughout Azeroth to do their duties as ever. But this only spelled more woe, for the machinations of the Old Ones and the Titan traitor had enabled some of the troggs to break free. These the Earthen eventually found, whereupon they had to set their mission aside in order to battle them for supremacy within the depths of the planet.¡±


    Normally, Falstad Wildhammer was in full conscious control of his ability, but he was also something of a workaholic due to the constant pressure from the trolls, and his own work ethic. We also happened to catch him at the tail-end of the most stressful winter of his career so far.


    ¡°It was during this war for the deeps that another titan-forged race decided to reap their bloody legacy. Armed by the giants Ignis and Volkhan, the vrykul of clan Winterskorn assailed the Earthen when they were at their most committed and distracted. Thus were the Earthen almost wholesale slaughtered in their lairs.¡±


    When I healed all of Falstad Wildhammer¡¯s stress away and he became high on its absence ¨C not even endorphins, just the lack of stress hormones was enough ¨C his conscious suppression of his ability as a medium vanished along with all his other inhibitions.


    ¡°Of the Earthen that survived, many retreated to find the aid of Archaedas, Tyr, and Ironaya, who had evaded Loken''s treachery unlike most other keepers. Tyr led the bravest Earthen into their cavernous homes and drove out the Winterskorn, pushing them back and preventing their dominion over the Storm Peaks at the top of the world. The Winterskorn responded by enslaving the proto-drakes and shattering the Earthen''s advances. Eventually, Tyr had to call upon his dragon allies, who finally defeated the Winterskorn in the air, and then used their magics to send the vrykul into a timeless sleep.¡±


    One thing led to another, and when Falstad turned his full-bore attention on Blindi, he was about as exposed and actively reaching out to other minds as novices the day right after they first unlocked their power. On the opposite side, there was a brain-dead, soulless flesh puppet controlled through a possession method very much similar to the Wildhammer mindmeld.


    ¡°In the aftermath of the war, most of the surviving Earthen accompanied Tyr on his last mission to defy the mad Loken, whose own machinations had proceeded unchallenged while the Winterskorn war raged. Alongside friendly vrykul who had been afflicted with the Curse of Flesh, and a large deal of Mechagnomes, the Earthen followed Tyr in his retreat. As they fled south, they were beset by terrible Old One generals called C''thraxxi, sent by Loken to prevent the unraveling of his plans. Tyr stayed behind to fight them, and died slaying the one known as Zakazj, while the other, Kith''ix, fled into the northern mountains.¡±


    The end result was Falstad Wildhammer experiencing what it¡¯s like to be on the receiving end of possession, except instead of a beast or dwarf inside his head he got a Titan.


    ¡°The vrykul stayed behind around Tyr''s massive silver fist, renaming the land Tirisfal, but the Earthen and the Mechagnomes continued south with the remaining keepers Archaedas and Ironaya, who were tasked to finish Tyr¡¯s secret mission. They eventually stopped at the easternmost vault of the world, where the troggs had once been interred, and most still remained in stasis. There, they expanded the facility and became its caretakers.¡±


    After such an experience, it was understandable that one would panic and run everyone as fast as he could back home where it was so much more remote and defensible. I was braced for us to be turned away after that, if not detained or even attacked.


    ¡°There, finally, after all the hardship, when all could take stock of everything they had gone through and lost, the Earthen began to show signs of the Curse of Flesh just as the vrykul had. Thereupon, the bulk of their race requested to be put into slumber by Archaedas just like the troggs, until a cure could be found. All the while, the mechagnomes remained awake to watch over them alongside a small group of Earthen who chose to linger there as caretakers.¡±


    We weren¡¯t turned away or attacked. Instead, at around noon the day after, High Thane Kurdran Wildhammer himself came down on gryphon back accompanied by his own Wing of riders, and very stiffly offered the best Wildhammer hospitality to ¡®the venerable Maker and his attendants.¡¯


    ¡°But as one story pauses, another goes on. There were still those Earthen who stayed behind to fight the war in the deep, and more still in the north where Loken¡¯s betrayal had taken place. Some remain there to this day, while others were rallied by the night elves to resist the Burning Legion during the War of the Ancients 10,000 years ago. When the Well of Eternity exploded at the end of it and caused the continents to split, the still waking Earthen were deeply affected, feeling the pain of the earth as if it were their own. Thus, like their brethren centuries before, they, too, finally retreated to the places of their origin and went into long sleep.¡±


    Blindi was set to shoot Kurdran down right there and there, which was fair because if he wanted the hassle of questions and genuflections, he wouldn¡¯t have come incognito. But I spoke first and accepted both the best accommodations and the High Thane¡¯s invitation to dine and talk.


    ¡°The Mechagnomes were left as the final caretakers of the now all but defunct ancient places, and over time many began to leave or break down. Eventually, only one mechagnome was left, in the same secret place where the titan-forged races first began. Knowing her time was short, she used the last of her energy to activate the hibernation chambers so as to spare the Earthen from being forgotten forever in the vaults, perishing once this was completed. Thus, the stasis of the Earthen was ended. Thus, through a last act of self-sacrifice millennia after the great calamity, you awoke.¡±


    Blindi¡¯s stare on the back of my neck had felt incensed and betrayed, but it was also more healthy feeling than I¡¯d coaxed from him the whole time since leaving Alterac. For that alone I was willing to endure whatever retribution he might come up with, and I told him so later in private. I was still conflicted about how completely he deflated at that.


    ¡°You were different now. Your powers over stone and earth had waned, and your rocky hide had softened to smooth skin. You had forgotten everything, save what lingered in dreams. You called yourselves dwarves, not remembering it was but a derogatory term the night elves had called the Earthen before the War of the Ancients.¡±


    Now, a week later, as I sat by the Great Hearth inside Aerie Peak¡¯s central antre and watched Blindi entertain the dwarves with the story of their origins, I felt nothing but vindication. It was like seeing Greatfather Winter come again, just grumpier and without the red coat and gift bag. Dwarf fellows and dames, young and old, laymen and mystics, believers and skeptics, the cavern was packed full of listeners, not a few with parchment and quill out and writing every word being said. Equally full were the catwalks and causeways carved upwards and downwards all through the mountain. It felt as if every dwarf in Aerie Peak was there, and to a significant extent they were.


    ¡°Emerging from the vault, you found your way out of the titan city and eventually reached Dun Morogh, whose surface you conquered from the ice trolls, and whose underground you turned into the City of Ironforge. Through sentimentality borne on residual ties to your titan-forged heritage, you named your land Khaz Modan, or ¡®Mountain of Khaz¡¯, after the titan Khaz''goroth who crafted the bodies of the Keepers themselves, so long ago. And there, as your growing nation stretched beneath the mountains, you finally made contact with the descendants of the mechagnomes who hadn¡¯t perished, the gnomes. It was that natural kinship that allowed you to bond so easily, even aiding them with the construction of Gnomeregan city.¡±


    I had asked the spirits to carry Blindi¡¯s words as far away as possible, including to the many guards on duty and any others whose work couldn¡¯t be spared. From the psychic feedback, more or less everyone in their range should be hearing Blindi¡¯s story, even on the surface some way outside the mountain.


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°That is also why you crave knowledge and understanding of the past, why you set aside even the worst offenses if it will help advance the cause of your Explorer¡¯s League. Much as you differ in ways of living and philosophy, your souls recall a time before the transformation from stone to flesh. When a Mountain King takes the Stone Form, he is merely returning to his original state for a time.¡±


    I turned my attention back to my immediate surroundings when my new second-in-command sat down next to me. As opposed to Emerentius, who was more of a personal assistant at this point, and occasional hitman if I ever needed one. Treasure hunter too, after a fashion, a black dragon¡¯s ability to find and dig up precious resources was why we didn¡¯t need to worry about funds.


    Smelt them too.


    ¡°We were able to find the Farstrider Enclave and speak to the elves there,¡± said the leader of my Prophet¡¯s Guard, one Sir Magroth the Defender. Whose real name was Barron Garithos, Baron of Blackwood, the father of one Othmar Garithos who would end up leading the Lordaeron remnants against the Scourge in that other future, before being very fatally and uncharacteristically surprised by the Forsaken¡¯s sudden and inevitable betrayal. ¡°They¡¯d been forewarned of our visit and didn¡¯t even wait for us to ask for an observer to our expedition. Their leader said she¡¯d already contacted her superiors thanks to forewarning by the dwarf diviners. Seems the divination ¡®blackout¡¯ as you call it has a bunch of their best coming here, from all over the northern continent.¡±


    ¡°Do they know all of who I am and events back home?¡±


    ¡°I did not get that impression, but that says nothing of the incoming newcomers.¡±


    Best brace myself for that then. ¡°Anything else?¡±


    ¡°Some,¡± the man scratched his chin, which was every bit as square and voluminous as his son¡¯s would grow to be. ¡°We know why the elves didn¡¯t settle Tirisfal Glades like they originally wanted, when they came from the west. Dath''remar Sunstrider didn''t want to kill and conquer the humans who inhabited the region, for one, but their mystics also sensed something horrible and evil buried there, which was affecting them negatively.¡±


    So that¡¯s why they trudged on until the west- and northmost end of the continent on the opposite side of the landmass. Good for them, and Dath¡¯remar especially since basic human kindness was why the elves survived the subsequent attacks by the Amani trolls, and the horrible winter that followed. That still left the question of why nobody else tried to settle Tirisfal beyond the northmost outskirts, with how large the place is. You¡¯d think at least one major settlement would be established in the area during Lordaeron¡¯s heyday. A coastal settlement would have been useful, if nothing else.


    I¡¯d previously assumed the Tyr¡¯s Guard had discreetly thwarted all such initiatives. While they called themselves a knightly order, they were more of a secret conspiracy made up of people from all levels of Lordaeron society, including high nobility. But I¡¯d asked them and that wasn¡¯t the case, even though they admitted to having plans in place in case that changed.


    Might be it was just the world¡¯s low population density that made it unnecessary to expand into that region, so far. Would explain why the Frostwolf Clan of orcs was able to live in a random valley in the Alterac Mountains too, without anyone stumbling over them for decades. ¡°How are the men?¡±


    ¡°Morale is high. Sir Forlon says there are still some things to iron out in regards to squad and skill distribution, with how many we had to leave behind. But Shadeslayer says all the men approve of the decision to have at least one trusted friend or kin overseeing order and family affairs back home. Truthbearer has had to mediate some close calls due to culture shock, but nothing malicious on either side. As for Agamand, he says the men feel their choice to volunteer on this quest has already been fully vindicated.¡±


    In keeping with their secret society nature, everyone in Tyr¡¯s Guard ¨C mine now ¨C used false names when on order business, not just their supreme leader. Sir Sage Truthbearer, our Exemplar of Justice, was actually one Gregory Edmunson, a man who would have become a Paladin of the Silver Hand sometime in the far future. Sir Dagren Shadeslayer, meanwhile, the Exemplar of Sacrifice, was Captain Edward Kang of the Lordaeron Army Reserves.


    Sir Agamand the True was our Exemplar of Compassion and the only one who kept his true name, if switched around from Gregor Agamand. Even then he only risked it because it was a very common name in the lands serviced by the great Agamand mill network in northern Tirisfal. As for our Exemplar of Order, Sir Headsman Forlorn, he was actually a young farmer from the Whispering Gardens called Thomas Thomson. I had the itching feeling I was missing some mighty big information about him, but I didn¡¯t know what.


    I¡¯d have to Reflect on it one of these days, it was really bothering me. ¡°What of you, then?¡± I asked my Lord Commander. ¡°Do you have any misgivings?¡±


    ¡°The Light is with us,¡± Magroth rubbed his thumb over his meditative cincture and sighed. ¡°But I¡¯d still like to have more than one hundred men if we¡¯re going to storm a colossal underground fortress-city filled with corrupted dwarf-kin and giant nightmares of shadow and flame.¡±


    ¡°Good thing we¡¯re not going straight there then.¡±


    ¡°I hope we can eventually live up to your expectations,¡± the middle-aged man told me, misunderstanding my words because I hadn¡¯t told anyone what I really meant by that. Even Odyn. ¡°But though you went through the trouble of investing your very spirit into us, the Light does not favor us near as much as you, Lord. Or even your¡­ manservant.¡±


    In the original history, the Paladins of the Silver Hand were created by a bunch of priests working together to infuse individuals with as much Light as could possibly be mustered at once. It was the same lightforging ritual used to invest clerics themselves with the power, except taken to the highest possible power level.


    I had the raw power to match any group of clerics, but I didn¡¯t have all that much time to wait for my paladins to figure out the Light¡¯s uses the slow and steady way. So I did something similar to what I did in Alterac Castle, except not all at once. By breaking off tiny fragments of my spirit and giving one to each of them, my inherited insight should have given a head start on their experience gain, at least where Light powers were concerned.


    Unfortunately, I couldn¡¯t judge if that worked or not without something to compare it to. I didn¡¯t know how Uther and Turalyon compared to their future selves, Richard didn¡¯t count because he had a ridiculous Light affinity to begin with, and Emerentius was a dragon I literally rebuilt out of the stuff, so he wasn¡¯t a fair comparison to anyone.


    Another thing I¡¯d have to figure out as I go, nothing new there.


    Now to deal with something else that wasn¡¯t new. ¡°Thank you for your report, Commander. Now I do believe someone else will be needing your seat shortly.¡±


    ¡°Understood.¡± Magroth got up, saluted with a fist against his heart, and stepped away to join the four others of his men playing bodyguard.


    A couple of minutes later, two figures came out of the tunnel leading up to the top-most gate out of Aerie Peak. One was the very harassed and sour-faced dwarf Odyn had accidentally run off during our first meeting. The other was the human boy he just barely managed to drag along by the scruff, on account of him already being taller than the dwarf was. Aedelas Blackmoore, my squire. Who¡¯d spent the past few days showing me that he was already the most persistent and devious little shit that ever lived.


    Without me even having to ask him.


    ¡°You!¡± Falstad Wildhammer barked when he was finally close enough to literally throw Aedelas at me. ¡°Keep this brat under control or else!¡±


    I caught the unapologetically grinning boy around the back and settled him next to me. ¡°Or else what?¡±


    ¡°Or a gryphon¡¯ll mistake ¡®im fer game an¡¯ eat ¡®im! Bad enough ye¡¯ve had ¡®im literally stalkin¡¯ me this whole time ¨C as if! ¨C but now I canna even have peace in the gryphon pens?!¡±


    ¡°I swear on the Light I didn¡¯t tell him to do anything of the sort,¡± I said honestly, causing Falstad to angrily open his mouth- ¡°But if he hadn¡¯t shown this initiative, I probably would have sent him after you someway.¡±


    The dwarf snapped his mouth shut with incredulous disbelief. ¡°Madmen, the lot of ye.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m asking the spirits to keep our talk private.¡± Arrestor promptly did me that favor. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t want people to think I¡¯d ever accuse their future High Thane of cowardice.¡±


    ¡°Bite yer tongue unless I ¨C ye dare call me a coward?!¡± The future supreme leader of all Wildhammer dwarves everywhere gave me a look of flustered disbelief. ¡°I ain¡¯t been runnin¡¯ away none! I¡¯ve just been busy!¡± The dwarf cringed at his own outburst and looked around circumspectly. It only drew more of his people¡¯s attention, but they turned away at his glare. Alas for him, the same glare had no more effect on me than it had Aedelas, when he turned it on me.  ¡°Ack ¨C fie! Fie on ye! Bah! So I¡¯ve been hidin¡¯ from yer lot of crazies, so what?!¡±


    ¡°I apologize for the distress we inflicted on you.¡±


    My words took the dwarf aback, then promptly made him flush crimson in utter mortification. ¡°K-keep yer kid¡¯s gloves ter yerself! I¡¯m on ter ya, don¡¯t think I ain¡¯t!¡±


    Falstad Wildhammer, it seemed, was the sort whose accent got thicker the more flustered he became. ¡°You¡¯ll be accompanying us on our journey then?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be puttin¡¯ words in me mouth either! Or are ye tryin¡¯ ter provoke me? Ye wanna go?!¡±


    ¡°The matchup would hardly be fair, I¡¯ll just talk to your cousin about it.¡±


    ¡°Wuzzat s¡¯pposed ter mean?! Keep it up and I¡¯ll-¡±


    ¡°Ahem.¡±


    Falstad angrily whirled around to give the newcomer a what for, only to freeze when he found High Thane Kurdran Wildhammer behind him, looking mighty uptight.


    Falstad clamped his mouth shut and stiffly looked between him and me. When Kurdran only continued to stare at him in suppressed chastisement, Falstad turned to me with a pretense of calm only less credible than the first time he landed back at the neutral zone. ¡°I¡¯ll be going now.¡±


    He walked off.


    Kurdran didn¡¯t stop him. Neither did his warriors standing guard. The High Thane just watched his cousin leave, before turning to glance at one of his bodyguards. The greying dwarf in question performed some manner of spell that annulled Arrestor¡¯s privacy field. A shaman then.


    I didn¡¯t tell my spirit to restore the spell.


    Finally, Kurdran Wildhammer faced me with a face full of stilted chagrin ¡°I swear my cousin isn¡¯t usually like this.¡±


    ¡°Joining minds with a Titan is no trifle,¡± I said understandingly. ¡°I know from experience.¡±


    ¡°The Maker implied something of the sort too.¡±


    The way he said ¡®Maker¡¯ had none of the skepticism of the first time he greeted us. ¡°Finally a believer?¡±


    ¡°When all the shamans try a repeat of what my cousin did, only to come out even worse but still in unanimous agreement about what¡¯s on the other side of that whitebeard¡¯s eyes, there isn¡¯t much room left for doubt.¡± The High Thane¡¯s eyes were conflicted. ¡°Were you serious, what you told my cousin? Retaking Grim Batol¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°We tried that, I hope you know. Modgud¡¯s curse made fools of all of us.¡± It was impossible not to feel the attention of everyone in earshot. ¡°The only fools more pitiful than the ones not born at the time were the dead ones.¡±


    ¡°You will not succeed in warning me away.¡±


    The High Thane¡¯s next words were guarded. ¡°Even if we don¡¯t offer our help?¡±


    The Wildhammer dwarves kept surprising me with their complete lack of care for decorum. Or even operational security. I¡¯d have thought he¡¯d want to have this talk in whatever passed for his throne room, if not behind closed doors. I myself wouldn¡¯t have this talk out here in the public square if I were in his place.


    But I wasn¡¯t going to complain about stumbling upon a truly transparent society. Stuff like this was why I¡¯d intended to come east to begin with, before bronze dragons meddled in my life. ¡°I¡¯ll do it with or without you, but consider this: I have a plan to at least match any armed force you¡¯d be willing to devote to such a campaign, and I can secure that help without you too. Will you suffer for anyone other than the Wildhammer dwarfs to make the greatest contribution to this Reclamation?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re every bit as brazen as the Maker said you were.¡±


    ¡°Not your cousin?¡±


    ¡°Even he didn¡¯t complain about it as much as Him.¡±


    I could practically hear the capital letter. ¡°I¡¯ll say this ¨C your presence could much improve my chances to secure the help I have in mind, so long as my lead is followed on it.¡±


    ¡°You keep speaking of help but never say what it is.¡±


    ¡°That will have to remain a secret for now I¡¯m afraid.¡±


    ¡°Secrets upon secrets upon more secrets, even the Maker would¡¯ve stayed hidden from us if not for my cousin¡¯s lapse. Why are you even here if you won¡¯t share anything worthwhile? If it¡¯s just to talk down to us, you know where the exit is.¡±


    Contrasting their internal transparency, the dwarves were also far more reticent with outsiders than I had feared. Kurdran Wildhammer in particular was nowhere near as outward-looking as I recalled from the Tides of Darkness chronicles and the Outland Crusade, when he left his lands behind to play Alliance scout. What was in store for him as High Thane, that I¡¯d come and pre-empted? ¡°I though the true history of your people might be worth something.¡±


    ¡°And it is, but it was sheer dumb luck that the Maker was exposed enough to consent to revealing it, and there is little hope to be found in all he said.¡± The dwarf watched me dourly. ¡°He says he won¡¯t even travel with you past the Badlands. What can I get from that, besides that he shares none of your mad confidence? If even he won¡¯t commit whatever godly might he can call upon, why should we trust any hope at all?¡±


    Odyn¡¯s already given me angels and he has more important things to do, I thought but didn¡¯t say. Even though it was the truth. Instead, I waited for Kurdran to make a decision.


    Kurdran Wildhammer agonized over it for quite some time, all the way until Blindi finally got fed up with answering questions and got up from his seat of honor to find some privacy aboveground.


    We all watched quietly as Blindi grumbled his way out of the cavernous hall, trailed by a gaggle of tiny dwarf children and their parents out through the passage opposite the one Falstad and the High Thane himself had come through.


    Sometime after, when they all were gone from both sight and hearing, Kurdran Wildhammer gave a gusty sigh. ¡°I am sorry. It¡¯s far too much trust you¡¯re asking for, too suddenly, far too much between strangers, never mind from different kindreds as ours. The only thing that can kill our people more than this mad hope you want to give us is to carve its final epitaph with our own hands, in our own blood.¡±


    ¡°A trade then.¡± It wasn¡¯t like I expected this to be easy, and uplifting the dwarves along the way was part of the point too. ¡°Give me a month, and the cooperation of your best smiths and craftsmen, and I¡¯ll give you a wonder you¡¯ll be honor-bound to repay.¡±


    That, finally, seemed to be something the dwarf hadn¡¯t been prepared for.


    ¡°I¡¯d much rather have your friendship, but I agree that my secrecy is too unfair burden to demand that you alone should bear, so I¡¯ll settle for alliance based on equivalent exchange.¡±

 The Prophet鈥檚 Hand (II)

    <h2 style="text-align: center">¡°-. .-¡°</h2>


    Seeing me cut one of their best anvils with an entirely normal sword I had made myself under their watchful eyes ¨C notwithstanding the natural way the Arcane crystallized in masterworks ¨C was a very eye-opening experience for the dwarves Kurdran rounded up for me. With that feat to endear me to them ¨C and prove that I knew what I was talking about ¨C I was free to present the technological uplift package I¡¯d put together on the trip over.


    Unlike the humans back home, whose development path was just ripe to replicate the industrial revolution of my old planet, the dwarves had an entirely different focus, not the least because of their subterranean way of life. Chiefly, most of the rivers within easy reach were of lava instead of water. Also, they¡¯d fairly well developed their main settlements already, and tunnels dug in natural granite weren¡¯t the sort of thing you could just demolish to put something else in place.


    With the added issue of the trolls making any dams on the surface problematic, I was fine letting Alterac pioneer electrical engineering and let it spread naturally from there, over time.


    No, what the dwarves were really into, and would allow me to solve their biggest problem, was mechanical engineering. I had no doubt this would move to include advanced thermodynamics once the gnomes¡¯ expertise filtered up through the dwarves of Khaz Modan, so I didn¡¯t focus on that either. The dwarves would surely discover geothermal electricity on their own once the Alterac advancements filtered out, assuming the gnomes didn¡¯t already have it. Right now, though, it wasn¡¯t something I was willing to introduce before they had means to make replacement parts reliably.


    Instead, I decided to remove the bottleneck on the things most essential to dwarven industry and architecture: gears.


    And all manner of other components of course, but mostly gears.


    Currently, the dwarves used individual artisanship painstakingly gained over many years of diligent repetitive practice to make all their various mechanisms and parts. Even so, their buildings and facilities still fell short of the things they¡¯d done in Grim Batol, never mind the Great Forge in Ironforge with its massive ever-spinning gears that forever controlled the massive lava waterfall at the heart of the city.


    To say nothing of what it must have taken to craft the springs and other parts driving the things.


    I was fortunate here because my teachers in my last life had very deliberately used clockwork, and general applied mechanics and thermodynamics, as a way to demonstrate and explore material science applications. They did teach us all about electrical physics and chemistry applications too of course, but those fields tended to take on a life of their own that distracted too much from ours after a point. We did a lot of mechanical and architectural engineering instead, both in theory and practice.


    One thing I kept from it was that clockwork was a path to many wonders, but mass production took a fair few hurdles to overcome. Most important of those was being able to do consistent measurements, which relied on micrometer-level precision. For that, at the very least you needed good gage blocks. And to apply those consistently, you needed a practical metal lathe, and the creation of a practical milling machine.


    Even if you figured out all of those through trial and error, you could still miss the possibilities inherent in all those powder byproducts, like tungsten carbide tool tips. Case in point, the sum total of the dwarves¡¯ powdered metallurgy knowledge was apprentice jewelers using metal powders to make cheap practice baubles.


    Fortunately, the dwarves did know well enough about using cobalt to harden alloys, so when I introduced them to the wonders of tungsten carbide power, they were quite appropriately in awe. It wasn¡¯t every day that you discovered a metal with a melting point of 3,422¡ãC.


    The biggest sticking point was that I had to give them the means to do all this stuff without relying on Light divination for precision.


    This was something I considered very important, due to what I called ¡®art direction and common sense segregation.¡¯ Which is to say, while the rickety, constantly shaking planes and gyrocopters of the future were amusingly quirky from the other side of a computer screen, I dreaded the idea of anyone actually flying those hand-fitted deathtraps. No vehicle whose wheels were off-center was safe to hop into, never mind a flying craft with off-center or outright bent propeller axles. Don¡¯t even get me started on the hulls.


    They didn¡¯t even have screws, everything was bolted together! By hand! It was madness!


    That dreadful future could not come to pass.


    So what I did was import the Whitworth method wholesale, which essentially consisted of rubbing three flat rocks together in A/B:A/C:B/C sequence, and so on until they became perfectly flat surfaces. That is to say, within tens of thousandths of a centimeter perfect. All without any other measuring tools.


    How this worked was simple physics: rubbing two flat rocks together eventually got you two smooth surfaces, one of which will be concave and the other a perfectly matching convex. What the father of modern Terran metrology figured out was that adding a third surface made it so the only surface that could match all three curvatures (no matter the combination) was perfect flatness. Or near enough to perfect that the difference didn¡¯t matter.


    With this three-part stone block to use as a reference plane, I had essentially added three more zeroes to the measurement precision of Azeroth. The significance of this was not lost on the dwarves. Hopefully it wouldn¡¯t be lost on the folk back home in Alterac either, but at this point it was up to them to make the best of the written primers I¡¯d left behind.


    I then used this reference plane to apply this method to three stone blocks this time. I didn¡¯t get right angles immediately, but I did get flat surfaces, which allowed me to place two of them on the reference plane and rub the uneven sides together too. I still didn¡¯t get right angles, but the blocks did become coplanar, with the sum of their angles equaling 180 degrees. That was when I added the third block, which finally led to perfectly right angles for all of them, because no other angles could be perfectly complimentary at that point.


    After I applied the procedure to all sides of the blocks, I had three that were perfectly square.


    This, finally, gave me two reference planes that could be used perfectly parallel to each other, which let me compare the length and width of any two objects within a few tens of thousands of a centimeter. Just as importantly, I could measure the roundness of objects in the same manner, by measuring their width or thickness at different rotations, and seeing if the width ¡®changed¡¯ as they rotated or not.


    Most critically, having two reliable reference planes allowed me to create a standard unit of length that could be accurately measured and replicated.


    With the metric system now introduced to Azeroth, I used it to create the first set of consistently accurate rulers, calipers, gage blocks, and every other straight-edged utensil I and the dwarves could think of.


    Just like that, I¡¯d given the people of Azeroth the ability to reliably and accurately use the same unit of measurement. With this, it became possible not only to make accurately dimensioned parts, but also interchangeable parts.


    Just like that, I and my now very enthusiastic helpers had gone and unlocked mass production.


    I could have stopped there and everyone would have sung my praises. Now that it was possible to make accurately dimensioned parts for literally anything, artisans could hand fit the parts to the reference parts forever, and every part would turn out hand fitted to the same reference, making all parts replaceable.


    With all due respect to the respectable Eli Whitney, though, I wanted to go further. For one, even with the exhaustive testing by the dwarf masters, it had only been a week. For another, bonding was a mutual activity even when not dealing with what might just be the most endearing creatures on the planet.


    Truth be told, a month was a lot more than I needed. I¡¯d already given enough that the Wildhammer dwarves were honor-bound to become our eternal allies, and everyone knew it. The extra time was more to avoid hasty mistakes, and more importantly to give us time to bond with our stout little hosts until they couldn¡¯t bear to let us go alone into danger.


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Much less for their sake.


    They were endearingly earnest like that. I regretted not coming here sooner more and more every day.


    They were surprisingly humble too. I¡¯d thought they¡¯d harbor feelings of superiority to mankind, the scope of their architectural achievements would have justified it all on its own. I¡¯d braced myself to fight through the most obstinate resistance to new ideas, never mind human ones.


    I faced none of that. If anything, the dwarves did their best to hide an inferiority complex. Not just from being so much smaller than elves and humans, but also being so much younger as a civilization. Humans had been around for over fifteen thousand years at this point, and our great Empire was established almost three thousand years ago. It had also never fallen, instead allowing its component nations to peacefully outgrow it. Lordaeron alone was twice as big as the Empire of Arathor at its height, and Stormwind was even bigger than that.


    Technically our history went back much further, if you didn¡¯t distinguish between us and our vrykul ancestors, but that didn¡¯t count anymore than the Earthen did for the dwarves. We had both undergone species-wide amnesia, in that way.


    Elvish history, of course, stretched back much longer.


    Comparatively, the dwarves only woke up three hundred years into the Arathi Empire¡¯s zenith, and they¡¯d had to play catch-up ever since. They¡¯d definitely gotten a leg up on everyone else by now, when it came to digging and building, but that inbuilt talent didn¡¯t end up transferring into much else. Except gunpowder maybe, but how much of that was owed to the gnomes was unclear.


    In the end, though some of the reverence Blindi got definitely transferred to me too, it wasn¡¯t enough to explain how I wasn¡¯t faced with any skepticism or resentment, when I dared claim I had things to teach even the dwarves¡¯ best master craftsmen.


    For that alone I would have done the best I could by them, even if I hadn¡¯t decided to do so already.


    To make a long story slightly less long, I used the rest of my month to get the dwarves to the point where they could machine parts to the desired dimensions directly. For this, I drew on another great pioneer from Earth, one John Hall. The dwarves already had the lathe well mastered, and one enterprising master had even broken off from the rest of the group to make a new one fitted to the new precision standards. This let us work together to introduce the keystone to all modern crafting: the almighty milling machine.


    Our first working prototype was a spinning cutter that could drill holes and cut sideways into a work piece, as well as use a flat cutter to cut top surfaces flat. The machine had a clamp to hold the work fixed, while three screws ¨C one each for the x, y and z axes ¨C moved the work relative to the cutter. Again, the main gain from this was superlative precision compared to manual work.


    Our second try was a work table that could be angled along a number of different axes to cut at angles, and was also capable of being rotated around a point, which also rotated the item around that point while the cutter remained fixed. This allowed for curved surfaces to be cut into the item too.


    By making various jigs to move the work against the cutter, we were then able to rapidly produce clockwork gears one after another. We still didn¡¯t achieve perfect precision, certainly not consistently. The resulting parts weren¡¯t perfect because the machines weren¡¯t perfect, that was what happened with prototypes. But the cutting speed was incomparable. Also, once you had the part, you could just use a file in a jig to hand finish the parts to the final dimensions.


    I didn¡¯t need to explain how much more and faster work could be done by having multiple milling machines with jigs in a line. I didn¡¯t need to explain the assembly line concept either, the masters immediately began to speculate on the benefits of machines dedicated to specific tasks. After one machine did an operation with its jig, the work could be passed to the next where the next milling step was done, while the first could begin the same work on the next part immediately.


    There were still ways to go even further, but that required numerical control machines which were only invented in the twentieth century on Earth, and were beyond my specialty even if we could somehow skip on decades of engineering breakthroughs I didn¡¯t know enough about.


    The gnomes would have to figure that part out, when the time came. They¡¯d probably do it faster and easier than on Earth, if not because of their inborn affinity then due to the enchantment and magically durable metal alloys on this planet. The way the Arcane treated craft work like rituals had already made these first prototypes superior to what the humans of Earth had had to settle for at the same stage of development, even with identical design and materials.


    I¡¯d more than done my part laying the second half of the foundation for the industrial revolution, to go with the first half back home. We¡¯d done everything necessary to not only make the first machine tools, but also get around the substandard precision of said early machine tools.


    Needless to say, the dwarves were very happy to have a means to make endless amounts of perfectly identical shafts, wheels, pulleys and everything else they could think of. They were doubly impressed when I used it to demonstrate certain bronze alloys that self-lubricate, which allowed me to make precise shafts and bearings for all machine tools they could ever come up with in the future. I made particular spectacle out of the etching of the first screw, the utility of which was likewise grasped immediately. Many facepalms were had when a beardling doing food delivery commented on how it worked the same as fruit pressers.


    There was chagrin in their eyes too, by the time the third week drew to a close. Enough, almost, to overpower all their happiness and wonder combined. They may not have been designed to hold grudges for eternity like other dwarfs I knew of, but they certainly felt debts just as keenly. I hadn¡¯t done their feelings of inadequacy any favors, but I let it pass without comment and roped them into a slew of test projects instead.


    Conveniently, jigs could be used with their existing lathes the same way as milling machines, by moving the cutter on the lathe with a jig to perform repeated lathe operations on a part. So they already had everything needed to jury-rig equipment capable of performing milling and lathing steps immediately one after the other on a given item. With the reference planes and measuring tools I¡¯d given them, they would be able to quickly set up effective quality control too.


    To inaugurate our grand success, I became the first customer of the all-new dwarven machinists¡¯ guild and ordered some very specific and incomprehensible items the dwarves completely lacked the frame of reference to ever guess the purpose of.


    And while they were doing that ¨C and were forced to realize they would be much longer and complicated work than anything we¡¯d played with so far ¨C I went and put together proof of something they had completely overlooked from the very first day of our partnership.


    ¡°Wonder Maker, you¡¯ve done more than enough for us already,¡± the designated spokesman of the craft masters told me with uncomfortably honest self-deprecation when I asked for one last meeting in the craftsmans¡¯ hall. ¡°We¡¯re already arguing over who gets to first name their child after you, don¡¯t even get me started on the plans for your monument, the first statue is already going up.¡± That was news to me. ¡°The sun will wink out and the world will tun to dust before we repay everything you¡¯ve done for us, what more could you possibly think we¡¯re worth?¡±


    Learning about their Earthen past hadn¡¯t been all good in the end, now the dwarves felt inferior to their ancestors too. That I, a human, was the one who had to ¡®correct¡¯ their ¡®deficiency¡¯ only compounded that further. I was this close to start soulgazing the lot of them to show them just how thoroughly their feelings differed from mine, but that would just be adding trauma on top of everything, given my history using it.


    Paradoxically, the one who helped the least during the past month had been Blindi. He¡¯d dropped by on and off to ¡®advise¡¯ but only ended up going on completely random tangents every time. The one about how he used a mixture of cobalt and tungsten carbide to give Tyr claws that one time had been particularly out of left field. It should have been a decent way to distract the dwarves, at least from their self-flagellation. But the opposite always happened instead, so he eventually stopped coming. Which only made the dwarves feel like even bigger failures, if their divine creator couldn¡¯t stand to be in the same room with even their best and brightest.


    I don¡¯t know what would¡¯ve happened if I didn¡¯t have so many things to keep them busy with.


    It was good that I had Aedelas constantly shadowing me, at least when I didn¡¯t have him running errands. That way I¡¯d had him to teach and explain everything I was doing, instead of making these dwarves feel even more inadequate by having to talk down just to them. Literally.


    Having a fallback option that would eventually go back to Alterac was good too. Backup skills were only matched in importance by backup plans for the future.


    That said, a backup plan was only a backup plan if it wasn¡¯t the main plan.


    Taking the lid off the mould I¡¯d brought with me, I drew what I hoped would be the keystone to that main plan. An ingot of the same material I¡¯d used to make the proof-of-concept sword, and deposited it on the table.


    The blacksmiths stepped to the front of the group, bent over to peer at the ingot, and slowly turned from curious to shocked disbelief. Soon, they were passing the ingot from hand to hand, weighing it, hammering it, holding it over fire, and any number of other tests. All the while, they threw me increasingly furtive glances that were more awestruck and dreading than any other time during that whole month.


    I carefully didn¡¯t display my relief at finally confirming long-held assumptions. ¡°It¡¯s not the sort of thing you can rework after the first casting, so you¡¯ll have to skip past the ingot stage straight to the item you want. I don¡¯t know how the Dark Iron Dwarves can rework ingots, if that¡¯s really what they do, but I suspect Ragnaros the Firelord has a hand in it.¡± If you want slaves, it only makes sense to make them dependent on you. ¡°On the bright side, you also aren¡¯t locked into using only fire enchantments.¡±


    The dwarves looked at me with the open-mouthed amazement of a people who just realized they held in their hands something there would almost certainly be war over, if they ever let the knowledge leak.


    I¡¯d had the suspicion since the first time I showed it to the Wheel members back home, but now I finally had categorical confirmation.


    Mangalloy was, after all, the vaunted Dark Iron ore of Mount Blackrock.


    I graciously took my leave, sent Aedelas off to train with the knights for a while, and found my way up to the surface to bask in the morning.


    There was nothing like the smell of a broken monopoly to sweeten the dawn¡¯s air.

 The Prophet鈥檚 Hand (III)

    ¡°-.  .-¡°


    It wasn¡¯t even an hour before a runner showed up to tell me I was invited by the High Thane to ¡®discuss the conclusion of our wager.¡¯ It was unfortunate timing, I¡¯d just gotten a sense of poignant significance arriving on gryphon back up in the Aviary in the distance. I¡¯d also been feeling someone significant approaching by land too, for the past few days, and they weren¡¯t far behind either now. The feeling was not only equally intense but also stretched much further into the future than the first.


    With the divination blackout being what it was, that I could feel this much was significant, never mind so clearly.


    But it wasn¡¯t like I wanted to keep my august host waiting. The newcomers would just have to keep a while more.


    Unlike before, when the High Thane had kept all our interactions public, this time I was led to his private quarters at the very deepest core of Aerie Peak. Thankfully, the dwarves built their ceilings high in order to maximize air flow and cooling, so it didn¡¯t feel any more claustrophobic than everywhere else in the mountain I¡¯d been. Which was to say, not claustrophobic at all.


    Falstad Wildhammer was the only other dwarf there, and his normal grumpiness was weighed over by a sort of dread, not unlike I¡¯d seen people express when someone they loved was about to do something they disagreed with. Or wished they could disagree with. Or something they¡¯d already done that they wish they¡¯d been there to vehemently oppose when there was still time.


    Kurdran Wildhammer was with his side to me, eyes fixed on the lava flowing down through the hearth, where firewood would be anywhere else.


    I was invited to sit. The chair was brand new and sized specifically for my height. My guide left.


    The door had barely shut behind me when the High Thane spoke.


    ¡°If I don¡¯t put our full might behind you at this point, my people will literally riot.¡±


    That¡­ should have been very good to hear. ¡°You sound like someone signing their own execution order, if I gave offense-¡°


    ¡°Ha!¡± Kurdran barked a hollow laugh. ¡°The grace of the elder races is as daunting as ever. No, if anyone gave offense it¡¯s me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t understand.¡±


    ¡°¡¯It¡¯s far too much trust you¡¯re asking for¡¯ remember when I said that? As if! You think the Explorer¡¯s League is so packed with our most non-nonsense veterans just because? Even if we find our answers, there¡¯s never any guarantee we¡¯ll like them. So when the Makers themselves stroll right out of myth and promise to win our home back for us, how could we possibly stay out of it? Why would we even consider it? Only if they prove unworthy! Of our trust and our loyalty. Evil. Cruel. As the leader of my people, I had to find out somehow. I had to. It was my duty.¡±


    Oh.


    ¡°Or mine,¡± Falstad grunted from his corner, looking defeated. ¡°But what use am I, already disgraced? You had me dead to rights, Prophet, I saw the face of my Maker and fled, aye, like a coward. Who else can match my shame?¡±


    Oh¡­ ¡°Believe me when I say the both of you are severely overreacting.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t speak to me about overreacting!¡± Kurdran whirled on me angrily, his eyes glinting dreadfully in the lava light. ¡°I saw the greatest turning point in my people¡¯s history, and instead of bowing my head in welcome I presumed to test my Maker. I¡¯m grateful that he defers to you on matters of mercy, oh how I am, but surely even that has its limits? When even your leeway runs out¡­¡± Kurdran clenched his teeth, then slowly breathed out. His anger drained out of him to leave only a dreadful resolve in its place. ¡°Well. What will be will be. Whenever it suits you, feel free to tell the High One I¡¯m ready whenever he is.¡±


    I pinched my nose.


    Then I got up, went over and¨C ¡°THE DEVIL ARE YE-?!¡± ¨C hauled Kurdran Wildhammer under my arm like a flour sack before he even knew what was happening ¨C ¡°YE SCUNNER, PUT ¡®IM DOWN RIGHT BLOODY-UMF!¡± ¨C grabbed Falstad mid-jump too because he didn¡¯t lead with his hammer, overpowered their most outraged thrashing just because I could, and turned everything within my spirit¡¯s range to the size of a gnat mid-way through jumping straight forward.


    Phaseshift had us streaking through the secret passage and out from underground before the two had even finished hollering.


    When I returned to my height of choice at the summit of Aerie Peak¡¯s outmost ridge, our arrival startled Blindi out of some grim mood, and sent the latest, all-new dwarf that was bombarding him with questions chasing after his suddenly airborne hat.


    ¡°Oooh ¨C ye tadger-¡° ¡°Gunna ¨C hurl¡®n yer drawers I will-!¡°


    I sent the Light sweeping through my unwilling passengers, then gently set the two dwarves on the ground and left them behind before they tried to tear me another one. No use tempting fate lest I really start cooing and doting, at my height the dwarves barely reached my hip and had to look really far up to meet my eyes, they were to me like gnomes were to everyone else, it was adorable.


    ¡°Odyn.¡± My use of the Titan¡¯s real name was not missed by anyone. ¡°Our host here seems to think you¡¯ll do unspeakable things to him for his little white lie.¡±


    ¡°Eh?¡± Odyn lowered his pipe from his mouth with completely honest incomprehension. ¡°What lie?¡±


    ¡°The one where he falsely claimed he and his weren¡¯t going to help reclaim their own home, just to see if you got angry and revealed yourself to be an evil tyrant or the like.¡±


    Blindi jerked his head in total amazement, turning to look at the now frozen and stiffly standing dwarves. For a moment, he actually looked like he didn¡¯t understand anything.


    Then his face whitened with a fury so true and heartfelt that nothing other than his bombastic cheer at Winterveil compared.


    The old man shoves his pipe at me, stomped over to the two in a rage, ignored the way both of them forced themselves not to flinch or defend themselves, and sank to one knee in front of them to grab them each by the shoulder.


    Tight.


    ¡°Valor alongside beauty and probity!¡± Odyn vented at them, shaking them both. ¡°The purpose of life is for everyone to individually decide for themselves, but that one is and always has been ours. Whatever contrary nonsense you dreamed up in your head, banish it right now!¡±


    Kurdran and Falstad knocked into each other for balance and stared at their creator with wide eyes and mouths ajar.


    Odyn let the two of them go and brought his clenched fists up in a bid to calm himself. When he had himself under better control, he laid his hands on the dwarves a bit more gently. When he looked at Kurdran this time, it was the first time since Winterveil that I couldn¡¯t see the depression behind them. ¡°I am sorry I didn¡¯t notice before. I should have seen through it the moment it happened. If I had, I would have commended you for your noble bravery on the spot.¡±


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    The High Thane seemed all but overcome with emotion. ¡°I ¨C just did my duty.¡±


    ¡°And you did it ably, but there was never a need. The fact you did not know better is a tragedy! It cannot be borne, I won¡¯t allow it! You will tell me all about your people, and of yourself too, and together we¡¯ll find the deepest nooks of this shame you all insist on burdening yourselves with, and pull it out at the roots!¡±


    ¡°I ¨C can get our poets-?¡°


    ¡°No, brave one, I will hear it from you or not at all.¡± Odyn used the two to push himself back to his feet, but didn¡¯t let go. ¡°Kurdran the Brave, that¡¯s what you¡¯ll be known as from now on. Unlike your cousin here, for shame Wing Commander, running away from me like that, someone else might¡¯ve taken offense.¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t in my right mind,¡± Flastad grumbled, but let himself be nudged alongside his cousin back the way we¡¯d come. Of how grudging he¡¯d been about everything before, there was no trace.


    For whatever mad reason, the two dwarves still discreetly glanced back at me for reassurance before they stopped dragging their feet. I nodded confidently that it was alright. More than alright.


    I watched them leave.


    Then I turned to the last person remaining other than me, who I recognized as the significant arrival I¡¯d sensed earlier, and who was most certainly a dwarf not of the Wildhammer kind. ¡°I assume you had questions?¡±


    Brann Bronzebeard stared long after the departing trio, then looked up at me from under his wide-brimmed fedora with his mouth and beard stretched in a wide, wondering smile. ¡°I think you just answered all of¡¯em right mighty fine.¡±


    ¡°All of them? I find that hard to believe.¡±


    ¡°Well, maybe there¡¯s one.¡±


    ¡°Namely?¡±


    ¡°The heck did yer ma feed ya to get so big? We get Kul Tirans sometimes, but even they¡¯re not as big as you.¡±


    Wait till you see me when I¡¯m not shrunk down. I was fairly confident by this point that, stature-wise, I was in for the full vrykul experience. No point in exposing my trump cards if I don¡¯t have to, though. The Old Ones were always listening. ¡°I¡¯ll answer your question if you answer one of mine.¡±


    ¡°Hit me.¡±


    ¡°How long does someone need to be dead before it¡¯s considered archeology instead of grave robbing?¡±


    ¡°¡­As an archaeologist, I find this a very awkward question.¡±


    ¡°Answer the question, grave robber.¡±


    ¡°Och, when I said hit me I dinnae mean hit hit me! Next question.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t mind if I do.¡±


    Brann Bronzebeard wasn¡¯t lying when he said he didn¡¯t have questions for me, or at least he didn¡¯t have any left that he¡¯d prepared ahead. He seemed fairly conscientious about not overimposing on people, when he could afford the effort and time. But he was more than amenable to answering my own questions, while I wandered vaguely in the direction of the other major significance of nebulous origin that had finally arrived too.


    I didn¡¯t bother trying to be circumspect about what interested me, and Brann didn¡¯t much hold back on his answers either. I learned that Magni was already king, that none of the Bronzebeard brothers had fathered children yet, and that Ironforge didn¡¯t have gryphons of their own yet either. The dwarves back in Khaz Modan were currently fostering some of their children with the Wildhammers, in the hopes that some of them would become shamans, or at least psychically-awakened hunters ¨C the Ironforge dwarves didn¡¯t have either of their own right now, and neither dwarf clan had Light priests.


    There was the remote hope that some of the fosterlings would bond with gryphons while here, finally giving Khaz Modan a core population to raise their own, but they were trying not to get their hopes up.


    Conversely, the gnomes currently relied fully on fossil fuels for their various technologies and experiments. This fit my memories about oil platforms and tankers being strategic targets during the First and Second wars, in the future. It also made sense when you considered the trogg disaster ¨C if they¡¯d had more time to study atomic technology, the gnomes probably wouldn¡¯t have gone through with Thermaplugg¡¯s mad plan to flood the whole of Gnomeragan with nuclear fallout.


    Forget troggs mutating, the radiation itself would be practically impossible to scrub in any time frame shorter than at least a generation. The city was never going to be reclaimed like that.


    ¡°Tell me true,¡± Brann told me after my own questions wound down. ¡°Are you just here out of the goodness of your heart, or is this just one move in something bigger? It¡¯s one thing to go around being a do-gooder, but when the Makers themselves come down from heaven at the behest of a man that just done finished blowing up a mannish capital city...¡±


    So that was getting around even beyond human borders, or he¡¯d heard some of it on the way? I¡¯ll have to inquire about the Wildhammers¡¯ precise flight routes, assuming Brann didn¡¯t deliberately make detours. As you do if you want to call yourself an explorer.


    ¡°I won¡¯t judge,¡± Brann promised, ignorant of my thoughts. ¡°Just the little I¡¯ve heard today about what you did here is enough to see you honored back home too. But if even the Makers are coming out of history¡¯s deepest shadows to help you¡­¡±


    ¡°Ideally I¡¯ll be able to prevent what¡¯s coming completely, but that¡¯s still going to be a lot of hard and deadly work.¡± I considered telling him about Stormwind, but decided to wait and see how fast that news filtered up. It would be important knowledge for the future. ¡°And I might still fail in the end. We¡¯ll have to see.¡±


    ¡°We sure will.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t normally tolerant of people inviting themselves into my confidence, but for Brann Bronzebeard I was willing to make an exception. I¡¯d wanted the Explorer¡¯s League involved in any case. I wasn¡¯t going to complain about skipping all the steps in between that and befriending one of the most important figures of the next century.


    A figure which, as I learned when I finally reached the lodgings of the only arrivals more recent than Brann himself, was not the only major figure of the next century I would be dealing with for the foreseeable future.


    ¡°My sister missed you by half a day, oh Prophet.¡± Tall but not too tall, voluptuous curves that spoke of feminine wiles just as much as long nights stalking with knife and bow in hand, long pointed ears that perfectly complimented her face, eyes more gray than green or blue, waist-length blonde hair that flowed like water and was translucent in the light of the sun. ¡°Dare I ask what¡¯s so important here, that you would finally pause in your flight away from abandoned kin and country?¡±


    ¡°Sylvanas Windrunner.¡± Even by elven standards, this was a beauty rare enough to excuse any amount of vanity. Presumption was an entirely different thing though. ¡°I¡¯m happy to say that your choice of wording is a strong indicator that any assumptions you might have made about me are wrong.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll forgive me if I don¡¯t take your word for it,¡± said the Ranger-General of Silvermoon.


    Or future Ranger-General? I¡¯d have to inquire after her mother at some point. ¡°I might be persuaded to grant that forgiveness. It might take a while though, and you¡¯ll have to put in quite some work.¡±


    ¡°How fortuitous, then, that we¡¯ll be traveling so far afield together.¡±


    That, at least, was true. Getting the Farstriders to at least observe the all-new mission I¡¯d set for myself was why I¡¯d sent my Knight-Commander to the Quel''Danil Lodge to begin with. ¡°What do you know about dry ice?¡±


    ¡°¡­ I know only that you¡¯re making an obvious attempt to distract me, and that it sounds impossible. But I¡¯m sure you will prove me wrong. Some manner of arcane trick perhaps?¡±


    ¡°How would you like to watch me make it?¡± And methanol, a fume hood, hopefully a supercritical drying chamber and flow-cascade type reactor. If I could get the dwarves to the point where they could do all the work instead, all the better not just for me, but them too. I might have to wait until Uldaman for the last two, though. ¡°If not that, then a weapon or two that you will willingly reform your whole combat doctrine around.¡±


    ¡°Now that is a claim I simply must witness with my own eyes.¡±


    I¡¯ll certainly enjoy the face she¡¯ll make with my own eyes. The fact no one invented the Instant Legolas when it would have been useful was one of mankind¡¯s biggest forehead-slapping moments back on Earth, in my very humble opinion.


    Flechettes were even easier. Bag of holding plus infinite supply of them equals carpet bombing. The real breakthrough would depend on how big we could make the spatial bags, on the inside.


    Dare I hope to see Sylvanas Windrunner the Fair and Terrible hunched behind a loom like the most beautiful hag before we have to leave? She was certainly old enough for the part.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you just thought about, human, but I¡¯m sure I don¡¯t like it,¡± Sylvanas said as she subtly dismissed the other rangers standing by.


    ¡°Believe me, milady, I don¡¯t actually like to live dangerously,¡± even though at this point I¡¯m used to it. ¡°After you?¡±


    ¡°But then who will show me the way?¡±


    ¡°On second thought, you¡¯re perfectly right. We¡¯ll have to wait until you¡¯ve been properly settled by our wonderful hosts before revisiting the matter. Have a wonderful day, miss.¡±


    I turned my back on her and walked off without another word.


    The way she gaped at my audacity was a memory I¡¯d treasure for at least the next month or three.


    I¡¯d long since meandered my way out of sight amidst the various above-ground cantonments that Aerie Peak was dotted with everywhere, when Brann finally caught up to me again.


    ¡°You, my friend, are a madman.¡±


    A very happy madman who¡¯d expected to have to do a lot of thankless work before getting all these ducks in a row. Never mind to see my designs already bolstered by the mighty force known as synchronicity.


    Onyxia, Synestra, Zakajz the Corruptor. Alterac, Lordaeron, Gilneas. Tyr¡¯s Grave, Grim Batol, Blackrock Mountain by summer¡¯s end if I had my way. Emerentius, Sylvanas, and soon enough Dagran Thaurissan.


    Go ahead and stew in your temporary victory, you slimy squids.


    For every one of anything of mine you take, I¡¯ll take back three of yours.

 The World Traveler Is Not Weary (I)

    ¡°-. May 03, Year 581 of the King¡¯s Calendar .-¡°


    Desert nights were cold, even when we¡¯d barely entered the region earlier that day. It didn¡¯t bother me any, even without the spirits warming the air around me. Not the dwarves either. But it was kind of fun to see the elves on guard actively suppressing their shivers, on our first night camped in the Badlands.


    I was in charge of the overall operation ¨C I¡¯d single-handedly set everything and everyone in motion after all ¨C but three out of the other four highest-ranking people here were literal royalty. Highest royalty in the case of the Wildhammers, it wasn¡¯t just Falstad but Kurdran Wildhammer himself that chose to come on the expedition.


    ¡°No comfort enchantments?¡± I asked Sylvanas when she joined the rest of the expedition leaders for dinner that evening. ¡°I know there¡¯s a limit of one arcane attachment per equipment.¡± On top of the inherent properties emergent from material and construction process, which could come up to half a dozen in the extreme cases I recalled from the future. ¡°But I thought you¡¯d spare a bracer or pendant at least.¡±


    ¡°Comfort breeds complacency,¡± Sylvanas replied. ¡°Ranger equipment is as form fitting and breathable as possible for obvious reasons, but there is a difference between that and literal coddling.¡±


    Form fitting indeed, and not just fantasy art direction. Elven women were every bit as voluptuous as advertised. Also, the ranger armor actually did leave the midriff bare, though they had a very fine hose mesh there too, like the stockings back on earth. The priority seemed to be heat management rather than protection, which made sense in warm, damp forest environs where you were always crouched above or beyond a branch, which incidentally protected your center area just by being there. ¡°You¡¯re saving the best environmental protection equipment for active combat then? Best equipment in general, even.¡±


    ¡°With the exception of the outriders actually out on patrol, of course.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re using regular activity as training,¡± Kurdran Wildhammer said this time, since I got distracted by one of my various feelings that something had changed in the world.


    ¡°Quite so.¡±


    Flashes of lost opportunity were happening on and off, now that the divination blackout was beginning to settle, if not dissipate. Which I took to mean that I¡¯d missed a moment in time when it would have been possible to look into the future, but someone else hadn¡¯t. Glimpses of it, anyway.


    ¡°What if you don¡¯t get time to change?¡± Brann Bronzebeard asked Sylvanas this time.


    ¡°First and foremost, we are scouts. If something somehow sneaks past our perimeter to strike at our camp, we have already failed in our foremost specialty.¡±


    I shook off the feeling. ¡°And the ones competent enough to do so would be competent enough to get around or overcome your best protections anyway, if you¡¯d had time to put them on.¡± Or wear them all the time.


    ¡°Quite so.¡±


    Fair enough.


    ¡°That said, we are no more immune to the change in scenery than anyone,¡± Sylvanas admitted as she finished her skewer of boar with a bite of elvish waybread. ¡°We are best suited for the forest. In this barren flatland, though line of sight stretches much further, the lack of vegetation also reduces our stealth capabilities considerably, and makes our mark and messaging methods problematic.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t just use owl hoots to signal each other, eh?¡± Falstad grunted as he tossed another log into the fire. ¡°Would just call ¡¯em coyotes ¡®n buzzards down on ye, sure ¡®nough. Starvin¡¯ sods are always lookin¡¯ fer prey¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve dispatched some of my rangers to stalk local fauna to learn their calls and habits, but they will not master such tricks in a single night.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t range as far as you could up to now, is what you¡¯re saying,¡± I hummed.


    ¡°We could, but it would be much risk for little gain. That is¡­¡± Sylvana looked at me meaningfully. ¡°Unless the great Prophet has reconsidered the urgency of getting eyes in the Lethlor Ravine?¡±


    ¡°No. And if I did, the gryphon riders would probably do better there, both reaching in and getting out too, no offense.¡±


    ¡°None taken, insofar as matters are concerned aboveground. When an aerial view is no longer enough, however¡­¡±


    ¡°Believe me, Ranger-Captain, if ever we need to go spelunking into dragon¡¯s lairs, I¡¯ll be the first one in.¡±


    ¡°Hopefully first one out also,¡± Sylvanas said idly. ¡°Not that I¡¯d accuse anyone of willfully delaying and otherwise putting our forces at risk, but the tendency of Light wielders to martyr themselves is well known.¡±


    Claws out today? I could get behind hating escort missions but I¡¯d hardly be the one being escorted if-


    ¡°Speak fer yerself, elf,¡± Falstad grumbled on my behalf. ¡°I¡¯ll be plenty glad if big ole¡¯ Pretty Boy here brings up the rear, do ye not see the size of ¡®im? Much more filling bites, them drakk appetites are no joke.¡±


    Well gee.


    ¡°Oh we Elves know that quite well,¡± Sylvanas said airly. ¡°The fact there aren¡¯t any black dragons left anywhere in Quel¡¯Thalas certainly didn¡¯t come about peacefully.¡±


    That you know of.


    ¡°What about you?¡± I nudged Blindi with my shoulder when the others got deep enough in a talk between themselves. He was still as sourly quiet as ever, but I ¨C and the dwarves now, little by little ¨C made sure he always had a reason to snap out of it. ¡°Everyone else has a joke at my expense tonight, go on, let me have it.¡±


    ¡°Your request is hopeless,¡± the titan¡¯s avatar told me between beers. ¡°I¡¯ll always choose you over them.¡±


    That¡­ hit me right in the soul, but also worried me since it was closer to emotional dependence than love. From the corner of my eye, I saw Sylvanas¡¯ ear discreetly turn in our direction, so I silently bid Foamgust to contain our sounds. ¡°Got anything from Tyr¡¯s body yet?¡±


    ¡°Much of what I¡¯d dreaded, too little of what I¡¯d hoped. Zakajs didn¡¯t taint him quite enough that the body cannot serve a soul summoning anchor, but after so long of them laying on top of each other, it is enough that the precision is beyond my skill. Without calling on my other eye at least.¡± Blindi eyed me somberly. ¡°Looking through it got me nowhere, save grounds I¡¯d treaded in the past. When I outright channeled my power into it, I couldn¡¯t see anything but shadow. So I had Eyir conduct a sympathetic ritual instead, using myself as the anchor point. The spell pointed nowhere, but even the magic of the greatest prodigies eventually runs into reality¡¯s hard limits. Eyir and I discerned enough to know the interference came from this plane instead of the next.¡±


    Odyn had sacrificed his eye to the Loa Mueh''zala, to get a permanent view of the Afterlife. There weren¡¯t many candidates for who could have gotten it back, if it was back here. ¡°Helya has it after all?¡±


    ¡°Everything else you speculated about her holds true also. Her halls are right below mine you know, under the sea.¡±


    ¡°But then if you still see afterlife things through it ¨C is she a master of illusions too?¡±


    ¡°Not to that extent. I suspect she merely invoked the eye¡¯s past experiences in the Otherworld, and has it relive them over and over to fool me.¡±


    Like a camera put on loop.


    There truly was nothing new, no matter the sun. ¡°Well, if Tyr¡¯s body isn¡¯t enough to get a lock, maybe his brain scan will.¡±


    ¡°I can but trust your hope.¡±


    Because you have none of your own?


    I pat Blindi¡¯s shoulder a couple of times and rose from my seat to go do my rounds through the rest of camp. For better or worse, I¡¯d never been more than a military grunt in my prior life, and didn¡¯t get deployed on foreign soil either, so I didn¡¯t have meaningful experience with leading troops. Even as the one being led.


    But I¡¯d learned some while watching Richard, and getting Odyn to teach me what I lacked had gone a long way to keep him invested in events, and distracted from his depression.


    It had been a bit awkward at first, with the Widhammer dwarves, Ironforge dwarves, and Farstrider Elves all looking to their own chain of command first. Their own kind. They were also skittish of me after knowledge of Emerentius¡¯ true nature finally reached us through Brann. But no one had the authority ¨C or power ¨C to forbid me from going everywhere and talking to everyone, and I was a much more approachable target than the Titan avatar everyone was really interested in, so eventually I broke the ice. All of it, from every direction.


    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    After I checked in with Sir Magroth and our own men, I stopped near the quartermaster¡¯s tent and watched one of the smaller long-term dramas that I¡¯d averted with my contractually-mandated nosiness. There, near a glowstone set up as out of the way as possible while still being inside the camp, was Aedelas Blackmoore with his new friend, one Thadius Grimshade. Overcoming the tension between me and Falstad Wildhammer was actually a side benefit of looking into his situation.


    I¡¯d only had the vaguest notion of relevance about the young dwarf before Falstad decided to trust me with him. After later Reflection, I recalled that he was a Wildhammer diviner in the future, possibly the best of them. You needed to travel all the way to Nethergarde Keep to find him, in the Blasted Lands that right now were still part of the Swamp of Sorrows. This was because he¡¯d left Aerie Peak ¡®years ago¡¯ to ¡®pursue darker knowledge.¡¯


    With some very pointed questions to the older dwarves involved in the bullying, we found out the reason ¨C the current crop of diviners had foreseen that future, however vaguely. Aiming to prevent one of their future elites from going bad, they¡¯d gone for the ¡®pressure him to quit early¡¯ strategy. If he was of no consequence, it wouldn¡¯t matter if he turned bad. Apparently, I wasn¡¯t the only one who¡¯d successfully invalidated future visions before, so it wasn¡¯t necessarily a case of self-fulfilling prophecy.


    I still didn¡¯t approve though, and neither did Falstad who bluntly ordered them to lay off the lad before he had to get nasty. Half of them didn¡¯t even resent it much, some were even relieved. Telling them what I knew of Thadius¡¯ future mollified them even more.


    It was disheartening to see even here the seeds of a rot so similar to the one I¡¯d had to break my home country over, but at least they¡¯d all been reluctant.


    Thadius jumped to his feet when he saw me coming. ¡°Yer Saintship!¡±


    ¡°How are you two doing?¡±


    ¡°Terribly,¡± Aedelas grumbled, yanking the star-struck dwarf back down on the log with an eyeroll. ¡°I understand everything he¡¯s explaining to me, I just can¡¯t make any of it work.¡±


    ¡°Not much hope without the initiation rite,¡± Thadius mumbled, glancing between me and him timidly. ¡°I told ye, there¡¯s abouts ten people that dwarf history bothered recording that broke through into magic without the Mead. Elder Strazi isn¡¯t as uptight as everyone else, if ye just-¡°


    ¡°No,¡± Aedelas flatly shut down his new friend. ¡°Not doing it. Already told you why.¡±


    Aedelas Blackmoore was determined to make me soulgaze him, as nothing less would convince him that I considered him worthy enough for¡­ well, anything. He refused any other form of ¡®initiation¡¯ until I agreed to traumatize him, even if he had to wait until he¡¯s an adult. I¡¯d even offered to Lightforge him to skip all that drama, but he refused that too.


    He was a willful thing, my squire. ¡°Do you intend to keep trying anyway?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Obviously.¡±


    I shrugged. ¡°Just so long as it doesn¡¯t interfere with your training. I¡¯ll see you at morning exercises.¡±


    ¡°Why do you even do those anymore? You don¡¯t need them.¡±


    ¡°Because you need to see me willing to go through all the same trouble I¡¯m putting you through.¡±


    Aedelas reddened, though you could barely see it in the glowstone light. ¡°Whatever.¡±


    I continued my rounds, but there was no big problem that needed my immediate attention, so I ended up just exchanging pleasantries with whoever was still out and about, before I went to do some night-time farsight scrying for a few hours.


    The Badlands were a desert, but a rocky one. There were various rocks and ridges scattered about, including the rare incline that completely hid you from sight in every direction other than the climb up. The top of that ledge was where I headed now.


    ¡°Holy One,¡± the wrinkled, white-haired Strazi Redcloak greeted me when I joined him on the promontory. Besides Mastran, he was the only dwarf in the entire Wildhammer kindred old enough to have been alive during the War of the Three Hammers, almost three hundred years ago. ¡°Will you stay awhile with me tonight?¡±


    ¡°Thought I may as well.¡± I sat down cross-legged and began to look through my spirits¡¯ eyes. ¡°We were in friendly territory until now, I could get away with just scrying randomly during the day. Can¡¯t half-ass it anymore though.¡±


    ¡°Hmmm.¡±


    Without the slightest fluttering breeze, my sight flew off faster than the wind.


    The Badlands were a cracked desert of dry earth, scattered boulders, and winding canyons, but otherwise not as horrible as they would be in thirty years if the original history had its way. There were no ogres, for one, because they¡¯re a Draenor species just like the orcs. There was some Dark Iron dwarf presence in a cavern system to the far southern edge of the desert, which my spirits had scouted out some, but only enough to have minor eyes in the region just in case. Angor Fortress didn¡¯t exist.


    Similarly, neither Aerie Peak nor Ironforge had any more of a presence than that, in the Northern and Western mountains respectively, and even those not permanent.


    One reason for this was that Uldaman wasn¡¯t even a concept in dwarven minds before I came along. Without knowing about Uldaman, there was no swarm of Ironforge prospectors searching the Badlands for Titan artefacts. Instead, their efforts were concentrated in the archaeological dig site in Loch Modan to the North, which we passed by on the way over. Through the Explorer¡¯s League, that was as far as the Wildhammers had cast their eyes for the past couple of decades as well.


    According to Brann, it was an issue of infrastructure conflict as much as workload ¨C there was a possibility that the ancient structure might extend under the Loch. The dwarves were currently concentrating their prospecting and tunneling efforts to settle that question before anything else. If it came to a choice between stopping the dig or draining the Stonewrought Dam some, the Explorer¡¯s League could finally look elsewhere while King Magni Bronzebeard came to a decision.


    Draining the dam would mess up the Wetlands, since they were completely submerged before its construction, but the only permanent settlement there that wasn¡¯t some gnoll or other murlock camp was a dwarf fortress. Since Dun Algaz was far and high enough from the floor of the Wetlands themselves that it wouldn¡¯t be affected, the ¡®to open or not to open the floodgates¡¯ was something the dwarves could actually consider seriously, unlike in the future after the construction of Menethil Harbor.


    I personally didn¡¯t think the Ironband ruins in Loch Modan extended any further north or west. Based on my memories from the other life, it was more likely that Ironband¡¯s site was Uldaman¡¯s own north-most end.


    But who knew? The local earth spirits had been slow and uninterested in cooperation on the way here. The one here in the Badlands outright rebuffed my entreaties for whatever reason. Since black dragons like Emerentius needed a fair bit of time stationary to tune into large-scale geological footprints, I¡¯d had to ask him to go ahead alone and do just that, to see if he could speed up our timeline.


    A certain game¡¯s areas didn¡¯t scale up at all properly. It wasn¡¯t enough to know that Uldaman was somewhere to the right after you came down the Loch Modan pass. It could be anywhere from hours to days away, and maybe not even this far North. Worse, we could be right on top of the place and not know it, the caves full of troggs and Dark Irons were all artificially dug, and didn¡¯t exist yet.


    The last reason why dwarves had thus far steered clear of the Badlands, other than its general inhospitability, was the Lethlor Ravine. This region to the far east was heavily inhabited by black dragon spawn. Seeing as even black whelps were dangerous to adult humanoids, keeping away was certainly a wise choice. Doubly so since, again, there were no Ogres on Azeroth yet, which meant that their encampments from the second and third wars didn¡¯t exist here. That left those canyons and caverns free to be inhabited by native creatures, such as more adult members of the black dragonflight.


    ¡°I used to come this way to satisfy some of my dark urges,¡± Emerentius told me when I had Phaseshift manifest a mirage of me next to where he was nestled, in the largest cave to our west. He¡¯d liberated from the biggest pack of gnolls in the area, after culling all the others on the way, which should cut down on the raids on the neighboring dwarf realms for the next few years. ¡°I¡¯d ¡®visit¡¯ my kin every decade or two. It wasn¡¯t quite coming up on that time when you saved me, but it¡¯s been some fifteen years now.¡±


    Do you want me to cull them too, was the unspoken question hanging in the air.


    ¡°Let them be,¡± I spoke through the mirage. ¡°Unless they attack us.¡± Despite saying that, I wondered at the logistics of saving the Black Dragonflight one whelp at a time-


    ¡°Put it out of your mind,¡± Blindi told me through Arrestor, cutting into our conversation from where he¡¯d gone to brood alone on the far side of camp. I always kept at least one spirit suffused through my vicinity for just this kind of utility. And self-defense of course. ¡°While I myself am still stunned that you achieved this miracle to begin with, lightforging the black dragonflight one by one is a task even more impossible than clearing Alterac¡¯s taint by yourself.¡±


    ¡°The surface area hardly measures up,¡± I said just for the sake of it, since I already suspected what he¡¯d reply.


    ¡°But the active opposition more than makes up for it. You¡¯d need an army of priests at least on Angevin¡¯s level doing nothing else, and it would still take decades. Centuries, if they scatter and go into hiding.¡±


    Decades or centuries during which they wouldn¡¯t be doing more productive and varied things with far superior and grand long-term effects, since the black dragons would viciously resist and fight back the whole while.


    Reluctantly, I decided not for the first time against poking that particular hornet¡¯s nest. ¡°Not something we can risk anyway, with Deathwing still a hazard. It would be enough if just one escapes to kick the news up the chain.¡± I¡¯d nuked Alterac Castle specifically to prevent Onyxia or Syntharia from doing just that, I didn¡¯t need others to talk me out of ruining everything I¡¯d worked for. But the added confirmation was nice.


    I made my distant mirror image over in Emerentius¡¯ cave turn around to look in the direction of the unfamiliar Valkyrie keeping watch over my gold dragon. No doubt it was through her eyes that Blindi had known what we were talking about, never mind barge into our conversation at that precise moment. ¡°What is your name, fair lady?¡±


    ¡°I am Aerylia, Prophet.¡±


    ¡°Is this a permanent arrangement, or only while Emerentius is alone?¡±


    ¡°You could¡¯ve just asked me,¡± Blindi groused from his spot back in camp. ¡°Any time today.¡±


    ¡°And you could¡¯ve told me ahead of time too,¡± I sent through Arrestor, the eight spirits were getting quite good at conveying my tone.


    ¡°I would like an answer as well,¡± Emerentius said without opening his eyes, still focusing most of his attention on the geological scan. It would be faster if he were asleep, and most of the past few days he had been, but periodic wake-ups were the best security when he was otherwise alone and deefenseless. He¡¯d refused to entertain the idea of watchmen or guards, even though both lurdran and Sylvanas had offered.


    ¡°I am here less for him and more for you, Prophet,¡± Aerylia replied. ¡°Should the worst occur, you will be able to work through me remotely to restore him.¡±


    Seems I¡¯ll remain the only one capable of resurrecting people for a while yet. ¡°Well Emerentius, guess Odyn doesn¡¯t trust in you as much as I do, alas.¡±


    ¡°It is for the best,¡± the dragon told me, surprising all of us. ¡°I would be forced to refuse, or at least defer. It would be unsightly for someone like me to be granted such grace before my senior.¡±


    ¡°Oh fine,¡± Blindi harrumphed over in his corner, startling some curious dwarves into chickening out of their plan to approach him. ¡°I¡¯ll send one his way, not that he needs it when all he does is smite fools and sign papers. Make me waste my angels why don¡¯t you, it¡¯s not like he¡¯ll be charging head-first into hell like some people.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m coming back,¡± I spoke in both places. ¡°Keep up the good work, Emerentius.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d rather go without the company for once,¡± Blindi groused. ¡°Don¡¯t make me get a ladder.¡±


    I blinked awake a bit too soon for comfort. ¡°For what?¡±


    ¡°So you can get off my back.¡±


    Ack, that line! Where had he even heard it? It couldn¡¯t possibly have been in those memories of mine he made a point not to look through, it was too random to have been among them.


    Wasn¡¯t it?

 The World Traveler Is Not Weary (II)

    ¡°-. .-¡°


    I resettled inside my body with none of the grace I¡¯d left. Spirit-borne farsight wasn¡¯t quite astral projection, but the experience was largely similar save for the fact that your spirit just stays where it is, instead of leaving your body behind asleep and defenseless. Usually this meant your actions were harder to discern, especially just by looking at you, but this was an exception.


    Even so, the old dwarf next to me didn¡¯t react to my return, even though as a shaman he surely must have sensed something, never mind the abrupt conclusion to my trip. He just gazed over the landscape, a deep frown set in his face.


    I looked where he was looking. It wasn¡¯t a particularly pleasant view, deserts were all harsh and deathly, but it was different enough from everything on the way over as to be exotic. Nothing in particular justified looking at the landscape as if it personally offended him, though.


    Elder Strazi glanced at me. ¡°This view, it may look like the most remote and captivating nature to you. I assure you, there is nothing natural about it save the agonizing slowness with which life tries and fails to return. When Deathwing betrayed all in the War of the Ancients, the Dragon Soul¡¯s fury was as indiscriminate as it was concentrated on the ones he¡¯d come to hate the most.¡±


    ¡­ This was not a dwarf, was it?


    ¡°This place belonged to the Blue Flight. The ravine over yonder was called the Azure Creche. Back then, whelps were all spawned at the Broodlands in the Dragon Isles, under the protection of all the greatest elders from all five flights. But when they outgrew the nursery, each flight would claim their brood and take them away to their own homes and playgrounds. When a generation of blues had matured enough, Malygos and Syndragosa would come to the Lifeshrine, where I tended, to collect them and bring them here.¡±


    I turned my head to carefully keep the elderly dwarf in my sights, slowly unfolding my legs from beneath me.


    ¡°Back then, before the war, long before the Dragon Isles were sealed away from time and memory, Lethlor Ravine wasn¡¯t even a ravine. It was a tall, verdant plateau suffused with arcane energies beaming up into the sky through a hundred wellsprings tapped right into the Well of Eternity itself. When Deathwing turned on us at the height of the War¡­You can''t imagine how awful that time was, the fear that surrounded us. The Sundering, the Betrayal of the black dragonflight, The Dragon Wars¡­ You may call them something different, but I was there, and that''s what I call it. All the dragonflights versus the black dragonflight.¡±


    I leaned forward and propped myself upright with my hands against the rock beneath. On the other end of camp, Blindi was also sitting up in his chair, listening first through Arrestor, and then through Geirrvif above us.


    ¡°You would think it would be an easy fight, right? Four versus one after all, even with the Demon Soul. But the Blue Dragonflight was nearly completely eradicated in Neltharion''s initial strike. So three to one, still great odds. Until you realize what it was like. Only the combatants were there to be destroyed in that first, wretched salvo. The rest of the Blue, the young, the children, the babies, he came here and killed later, after he fled the field of battle in his madness. With one sweep of the Demon Soul, the Azure Creche became the Canyon of Death, but even that wasn¡¯t enough to finish the job properly. To finish the infanticide fell instead to his own children, after he left to hide in the Elemental Planes and writhe in the nightmare of his very existence.¡±


    A pox on dragons and their perfect shape changes that fool even me. ¡°And you fought back?¡±


    ¡°If you can even call it that. You only know Neltharion as Deathwing, and his brood as mad, evil beings. We knew them before they fell. This wasn''t some unknown menace, this wasn''t some great evil looming like the Legion was. These were our friends, our loved ones.¡±


    I remembered this story. ¡°I can only imagine how awful that must have been.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you can. Although¡­ If not you, then the ones you left behind in Alterac know what it¡¯s like. Unlike them, there was no savior come down from heaven to put end to the madness and restore good and love to all our lives, violently or otherwise.¡±


    It did always sound far-fetched, that one beam cannon from Deathwing would have eradicated all the blues with just a few eggs left behind, regardless of how strong. Surely not all living dragons were fighting the Burning Legion, what good would whelps have done on that battlefield? Even if each flight was grouped up in that magical matrix to enhance the Demon Soul¡¯s power, the point remained. Whelps would be so weak that they¡¯d just burn up from the strength of the magic running through the greater matrix, not contributing anything.


    No, it could only have been a deliberate, systematic genocide in the aftermath.


    ¡°It was awful, not knowing what was going on,¡± Strazi continued, and I knew what his real name was now. ¡°Thinking there was something you could do to snap them out of it. They were my friends... and they were killing not just my brothers and sisters, but the babes of almost everyone I¡¯d ever loved, ever known.¡±


    ¡°How close were you, back then? Between different flights¡­¡±


    ¡°I had many friends in the black dragonflight, some as close as clutch mates. Heh, growing up we used to play pranks on the elders. My best friend was of the black dragonflight, we intermingled a lot, back in those days... Not like now, where most flights keep to themselves. I remember one time we coated Alexstrasza''s tail in honey while she slept and ... ah.... what does it matter?¡±


    Of course it matters. ¡°Tell me about your friend.¡± And then I¡¯ll tell you something for a change.


    ¡°Isn''t it funny? I can''t remember her name. I can remember her face, I can remember how the light bounced off her beautiful scales, but I can''t remember her name. I can remember the horror when I came home to find her standing over the bodies of my family, practically her family. Even after that I wandered and hounded her in almost a daze, unable to believe reality until I caught up to her here, right at the tail-ends of the massacre.¡±


    He didn¡¯t say anything, for a time. ¡°And then?¡± I prompted.


    ¡°And then¡­ Next thing I remember is the gut-wrenching despair as I plunged my claw into her throat. I remember the hate in her eyes as the light went out in them... I always wondered, if I had been a better friend, could I have prevented it? Did she not feel like she could come to me as she felt the corruption starting? Eventually, I convinced myself the answer was no, just so I could forget.¡±


    This part I didn¡¯t remember.


    ¡°But then, just mere moons ago, I find out that¡¯s just me being once more a coward.¡± The disguised dragon turned wretchedly hollow eyes on me, a look I¡¯d seen far too much these past few months in someone else¡¯ face. ¡°Fahrad the Butcher was cleansed. A miracle, but who says a miracle must be a one off? Only cowards too afraid to face their own deception of themselves. You redeemed the irredeemable and bestowed on him might and glory so bright as to blind the rest of us. Does that not mean this was possible all along, since the start? Does this not mean there was, all along, something we could have done? I could have done?¡±


    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    ¡°Maybe,¡± I agreed, because it was the truth. ¡°But she didn''t come to you.¡± It was what he himself would have said in a different future.


    Strazi looked away. ¡°Maybe she felt she couldn''t talk to me about it.¡±


    ¡°Or maybe you¡¯re only at fault for your failings and not anyone else¡¯s,¡± I cut him off. ¡°Maybe instead of thinking you didn¡¯t do enough for her to be proud of you, maybe she was the one too ashamed to face you, if she ever had any moment of clarity.¡±


    The dwarf-shaped dragon looked on the verge of rage. Or tears. ¡°I suppose it doesn¡¯t matter, now.¡± He said with a thick, wavering voice. ¡°You can¡¯t know, and I suppose I can¡¯t either. I don¡¯t even know if all I remember is real, or just fantasies I dwelt on so much that I can¡¯t tell the difference. If I was a better friend... if I had told her... Oh Titans, if I had told her how I felt... Could it have gone differently?... I loved her... And I can''t remember her name.¡±


    ¡°Distyia.¡±


    Strazi¡¯s breath hitched, and he almost fell when he rounded on me, eyes glittering in the darkness.


    ¡°She kept a journal.¡± I closed my eyes with fingers pressed against my forehead. ¡°I see you, in the future. You¡¯re back in the dragon isles, reading it. Reading to someone about¡­ some event where you and her filled Malygos'' lair with baby hornswogs.¡±


    I heard Strazi slapping a hand over his own mouth. ¡°He hated that ¨C I ¨C I remember that¡­¡±


    ¡°There is a place, on those islands,¡± I said, not entirely pretending to be having a vision, I had to ride the Light deep, deep into my ancient memories to retrieve this. ¡°A great citadel made of obsidian. Inside, in the chamber¡­ to the left of the entrance. There is a bookshelf. On that bookshelf there is a journal, partially destroyed. That¡¯s the one.¡±


    I opened my eyes.


    Beside me, the dwarf who was really a dragon was covering his mouth and shedding tears.


    ¡°Ten thousand years is a long time,¡± I murmured. ¡°I won¡¯t apologize for not being around back then. But I am sorry.¡±


    The dragon¡¯s breath rattled with the effort of keeping his composure, but his tears only fell stronger for the effort. ¡°Prophets,¡± the ancient said haltingly. Sobbed, almost, as he backed away from me and looked aside to escape my eyes. ¡°So true. So merciless. Never the same way, even after ten thousand years. I ¨C I can barely believe it''s been that long since we left our home¡­¡±


    ¡°Why did you?¡±


    The dragon laughed wetly. ¡°To safeguard you mortals, we thought. We didn¡¯t even do that in the end. We certainly aren¡¯t doing it now.¡±


    I almost asked why he didn¡¯t reveal himself or do something, or where he and his were when Grim Batol fell, but I didn¡¯t get so far by being cruel.


    ¡°I can almost hear the question you¡¯re holding back,¡± Strazi rasped, backing away from me, towards the edge. ¡°I don¡¯t have a good answer for it. Maybe that itself is all the answer any of us need.¡±


    Without another word, the dwarf jumped off the edge.


    I stood up. I¡¯d felt no urgency or alarm, and I knew why.


    From beyond the edge, a great flash of light preceded the ascend of an ancient red dragon, almost larger than Emerentius was at his worst.


    The air roared against his wings, and the ground shook as he latched onto the perch around me, his great forelimbs on each side of me while his great head lowered to pin me with one eye. Dragon faces weren¡¯t as expressive as human ones, but it didn¡¯t need to be in this case. I thought he¡¯d say something, some parting words, but he didn¡¯t. Even as the whole camp roused from their sleep in a panic and began to converge on us with hands full of weapons and faces full of shock, he watched me. Waiting for something.


    Maybe I can make Distyia proud of me, I recalled him say in that sad, twisted future. It was the one and only thing from that conversation he hadn¡¯t told me some manner of variation of now, here. Maybe it was pithy or presumptuous of me to say so, but¡­ ¡°Don¡¯t live your life for someone else.¡±


    ¡°¡­ I will speak well of you to the others.¡± Veritistrasz of the Red Dragonflight rose high on his long legs and spread his wings. ¡°As for your Emerentius, I will tell my Queen that the name Deserving One was ably granted.¡±


    The dragon jumped, and with three strong beats of his great wings he was already outside the range of longbow and musket.


    Arrestor protected me from the wing buffet, but not the others who¡¯d finally come to back me up against what they thought was an enemy. When they realized there was no danger, confusion set in, and dismay and betrayal when the wider implications began to percolate through everyone¡¯s heads.


    Mine too.


    Perhaps I¡¯ve overcompensated, I thought grimly. Instead of using the soulgaze too much, maybe I¡¯m using it too little.


    ¡°Elder Strazi!¡± Falstad blurted, stomping over to me in a fit. ¡°He was a dragon?! Since when? Was ¡®e always a dragon, or did ¡®e replace ¨C did we lose an elder at some point and didn¡¯t notice?! He an¡¯ Mastran ¨C the only two old enough to have been there fer everythin¡¯, is he a dragon too?!¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯d have known when I healed him if that was the case.¡± However perfect a dragon¡¯s shape change was, when it was so close, so deep, the Light would have reflected off his spirit¡¯s true shape when I restored his eye. I think I¡¯ll make Light health checkups mandatory. ¡°How much older than Mastran was he, by your reckoning?¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t know,¡± Kurdran said this time, exchanging a lost look with his cousin. ¡°Some records and properties were destroyed or left behind when we lost the fight for Ironforge, we even lost entire bloodlines. Those two aren¡¯t the only ones of that time that had to start from scratch, just the ones who lived the longest.¡±


    ¡°Red dragons are benevolent,¡± I told them before anyone could start spiraling. ¡°All but the black ones are. Some take the shape of mortal people and live among them, as them even, for entire lifetimes. Black dragons might kill someone to steal their identity, but not the others.¡±


    ¡°How can you be sure?¡±


    ¡°If you don¡¯t believe him, believe me,¡± Blindi called loudly from behind them, having waited for the stampede before approaching himself. He looked a strange mix of conflicted and vindicated at the same time, but didn¡¯t lie any more than he ever did before. ¡°You can call them indulgent, lazy, uninterested, with an overinflated sense of their own importance, even incompetent. But not malicious. Other than the blacks, at least, with the one exception.¡±


    Kurdran didn¡¯t seem to know if he should swear or curse. ¡°With all respect, High One, that doesn¡¯t sound like any caretaker I¡¯d ever trust ¨C with anything!¡±


    ¡°Hah!¡± Blindi scoffed. ¡°I told my Father the same thing, but the Pantheon made their decision.¡±


    The dwarves trailed off uncomfortably.


    ¡°Maybe it¡¯s time you all learned about the real shaping of the world,¡± Blindi said reluctantly. ¡°Unless you¡¯d rather all get back to sleep?¡±


    His question set off a flood of denials and entreaties, each more earnest than the last.


    I made sure my appreciation was clear on my face when Blindi caught my eye on the way back to camp, accompanied by all the dwarves, elves, and most of my knights too after signaled them on it. It was an obvious distraction, what he¡¯d offered to do, but a welcome one.


    I myself kept watch the rest of the night, not in the mood to sleep any more than everyone else. It would be a tired day tomorrow, but we could afford to stay in one place for a little while if we had to. It all came down to how much longer it took Emerentius to do his scan of the local geology.


    There was a possibility that someone or something might have spotted the large red dragon flying away, so I used farsight to scan the region on and off again through the night. Lethlor Ravine, and the Dusbowl and Dustwind Gulch too.


    I reached into my pocket and fingered the transmission stone, wondering if I should bite the bullet and contact Richard to catch up. I didn¡¯t want to demand answers or give orders, I just wanted the briefest word that things were well.


    As always before, I decided against it. I told him I¡¯d wait for him to do it first, so that¡¯s what I¡¯d do. As annoying as the divination blackout was, it wasn¡¯t so complete anymore that I wouldn¡¯t sense something if he or my family were at any risk back home.


    I made an aborted try at a connection, just to confirm the pair was still functional. There was still the possibility that his stone could be lost or misplaced, but it hadn¡¯t been long enough for me to assume the worst yet.


    After Uldaman, I told myself. If there¡¯s no sign before then, I¡¯ll see what I can do from my end.