Once the decision to seek help from Pandaria was finalized, only one question remained: who should be sent?
Andreas was unfamiliar with the current composition of the Resistance high command. As Jarod and the others discussed candidates for the mission, he refrained from interjecting into the conversation.
As a Druid from a commoner background, Fandral was equally disinterested in these political matters. While the big shots present were busy recommending their respective confidants, Andreas quietly slipped over to Fandral's side.
"Fandral, I need a favor."
"Hmm?" Fandral looked down in confusion at Andreas, who was half a head shorter than him. "What is it? As long as it's within my power, just ask."
At this point in time, Fandral had not yet experienced the agonizing loss of his son; in fact, his wife was still only by his side as his... ahem.
In short, the current Fandral possessed none of the arrogance and irritability of Andreas' memories. Perhaps because they were fellow Druids and had interacted frequently while studying under the same mentor in the past, he treated Andreas with great warmth and enthusiasm.
"As you know, I suffered a head injury during that near-death mission and lost my memories."
"While some physical instincts remain, I only know basic spells like Moonfire and Wrath. Could you..."
"Oh, oh! I get it!" Fandral didn't wait for Andreas to finish, striking his palm in realization. "You want to relearn Druidic magic? No problem!"
"Shh! Lower your voice." The man's booming voice had attracted the attention of some leaders at the conference table, forcing Andreas to remind him to keep it down.
"That's the gist of it. Do you have a copy of a Druidic spell manual?"
Fandral nodded with a hint of pride. "You wouldn't believe it, but I actually do."
Fishing a piece of dark brown bark out of the spatial satchel at his waist, Fandral readily handed it to Andreas.
"Before he left, the Archdruid entrusted me with the heavy responsibility of teaching the second-generation Druids. To make it easier for those rookies to intuitively understand Druidic doctrine and spells, I prepared a set of manuals to instruct them."
"Take it. This is one of the copies I kept. With your talent and the residual muscle memory in your body, you should be able to master them again very quickly."
"Uh... thanks." Andreas accepted the textbook with a conflicted expression. Why is it bark... isn't paper okay?
The standard of living in the Night Elf Empire was quite advanced, and paper had long been invented and manufactured. Andreas couldn't understand what philosophy led Fandral to record text on bark for circulation.
Regardless, obtaining the teaching outline for Druidic spells was undoubtedly a good thing for Andreas, who could currently only use a few mutated minor spells. At the very least, he wouldn't have to figure things out as he went during the next battle.
...
After two days of "discussion," the core members of the envoy group to Pandaria were essentially decided.
Vorta Moon-Scar, who had brief contact with the Pandaren before, was appointed as the head of the mission. The Sisterhood of Elune and the Druid sect each dispatched a deputy to accompany him, with all three parties arranging a small number of elite members for escort along the way.
"Shandris?" Hearing the list announced by Maiev, Andreas interrupted her with a hint of agitation.
"Please wait! Why Shandris? She is only a novice priestess of the Sisterhood; she's far from being considered an elite, right?"
For a moment, Andreas even suspected that Maiev, as the temporary leader of the Sisterhood, was settling a personal score—after all, Shandris' mentor was Tyrande, who was currently trapped in the palace.
Maiev didn't mind Andreas' discourtesy. While interacting with Shandris at the Vault of the Arch, she had already learned of their relationship.
"This was Shandris' own request." Maiev handed a list to Andreas. Behind the names of Shandris and three others, the word "Volunteer" was clearly written.
"This..." Andreas still found it hard to believe. Shandris' mentor, Tyrande, was currently imprisoned in the palace; logically, she shouldn't be leaving Zin-Azshari at such a critical juncture.
Hastily bidding farewell to Jarod and the others, Andreas followed closely behind to the tent where Shandris stayed with other members of the Sisterhood.
As it happened, Shandris was the only one in the tent at the time. Through the pulled-back curtain, he could see her packing her belongings.
"Shandris!"
Hearing Andreas' slightly anxious call, Shandris paused her movements, then sighed softly and turned around.
"You—" Before Andreas could ask, Shandris spoke first. "I know why you're here. I wasn't hinted at or coerced by anyone. Going to Pandaria is entirely voluntary."
Andreas was still very confused, but Shandris' expression was resolute, showing no signs of joking.
"Don't you want to rescue your mentor personally? Why choose to go all the way to Pandaria at a time like this?"
Shandris' hands, hanging at her sides, clenched for a fleeting second. Andreas saw the muscles in her face tighten momentarily.
But then, Shandris sighed helplessly. "If I said I didn't want to, I'd be lying."
"But I know my own strength. If you and the Archdruid went soft-hearted and placed me in the strike team, I would definitely be a drag on you all in such a vital covert operation."
"At that time, not only would I fail to rescue my mentor, but I might even alert the enemy, causing the Burning Legion and the Highborne to increase their vigilance. That is something I absolutely cannot accept."
Andreas opened his mouth to speak, but seeing Shandris' stubborn look, he eventually gave a bitter smile and gave up trying to persuade her.
"...I can't guarantee 100% that I can rescue Tyrande, but I will definitely do my best. Be careful on your journey to Pandaria as well; this trip... is destined to be anything but peaceful."
Bypassing the demon-infested Zin-Azshari wasn't difficult; the Resistance's Highborne mages could teleport the envoy group directly to the southern frontier fortresses of the Night Elf Empire.
However, on the way to Pandaria, the group would inevitably pass through the Trolls' holy land—the mountain of Zandalar.
Forced by Azshara's irresistible power into signing a humiliating treaty, the Zandalari Trolls had always harbored a deep-seated hatred for the Night Elves.
If any Night Elf left their territory and entered Zandalari-controlled space, anyone with half a brain would know that those self-proclaimed Troll sages wouldn't pass up the opportunity. They would surely attack the envoy group to vent the fury they had suppressed for countless years.
"Hmph." Shandris brushed back her shoulder-length hair with confidence. "With Lord Vorta Moon-Scar personally leading the team, it won't be that easy for the Zandalari to track our movements unless they deploy their Loa gods in massive numbers."
Andreas chuckled and patted Shandris on the head. "Don't underestimate the Trolls. Arcane power isn't omnipotent; Troll voodoo magic has its own unique strengths. Don't end up failing because you looked down on your opponent."
"I know, I know!" Shandris crossly batted away Andreas' hand. "Even though you don't have your old memories, you still like to pat my head just like before. I guess some physical instincts really do remain."
She lightly punched Andreas in the chest and lifted her chin with a touch of pride.
"Don't waste your time worrying about me; focus your energy on completing the oracle the Goddess gave you."
"This journey to Pandaria is also a process of self-improvement and training for me. When I return next time, I'll definitely make you see me in a new light. Just you wait."
"And..." A flicker of reluctance and worry flashed in Shandris' eyes. "I'm entrusting Mentor Tyrande to you. Please, you must rescue her."