Coast of Lake Lordamere.
The further the baggage train moved from the sea, the smaller the pines and firs became, and the more welcoming the gloomy forest grew, until, finally, the giant thicket turned into a light woodland where the trees barely reached two spans in girth. Having passed through Silverpine Forest, the recruiters hit the shoreline of the largest lake on the continent, on the shores of which both the capital of Lordaeron and the famous city of mages were built. The train, which had passed through Lordaeron along almost the entire coast of the Great Sea, had gathered a rich haul and turned into a veritable caravan. The recruiters even had to buy additional carts and extra provisions: they clearly hadn't counted on fifty mouths.
Then followed a three-day trek along the lakeshore to the alma mater of all Human wizards. This part of the route passed without any demonstrative performances. Although the villages on the shores of Lordamere were no less numerous than in Lin's homeland, they were located too close not so much to Dalaran as to Lordaeron—the eponymous capital of the kingdom—and so it was not surprising that the surroundings had already been combed through with a fine-tooth comb in search of militia, and more than once. In any case, in each of the settlements through which their path lay, the wagon train was met with sullen glares, and a distinct animosity hung in the air toward the colleagues of the recruiter-mage, who—whether with sweet promises of a full life and appeals to duty, or with threats—had lured nearly half of their kin into the service of the King of Lordaeron, Terenas Menethil.
Delighting the eyes of yesterday's plowmen and fishermen with a sudden appearance at the walls of Dalaran did not work. The abode of mages did not pop out from behind a hill or a turn; instead, it slowly and painstakingly revealed the details of its appearance as they approached it along the shoreline, which was free of obstacles for the greedy gazes of the newcomers. Lin, in contrast to most of his future colleagues, watched the gilded spires of the city rising on the horizon, covered in a pinkish haze, calmly, albeit with a faint trace of interest. After all, against the magnificence of the harmonious architectural style of Zin-Azshari, the towers of Dalaran, stuck here and there haphazardly, did not measure up in the slightest.
At the same time, the happiest person at the sight of the city-state was the head of the wagon train—the very same magician, as Lin continued to call him in his mind. The relief that he would soon part with the company of uneducated villagers and plunge headlong into the benefits of civilization manifested more and more clearly on the man's tired face as they neared the journey's end.
"We've arrived!" the mage said with joy, as the wagon train stopped near some barracks, having crossed the city limits and turned off the main road.
At that point, the massive, gold-shining gates leading directly into Dalaran itself were still at least a verst away. However, the realization came that in the "shining" city, there was no need for yesterday's ditch-diggers and fishermen, so the surprise at the stop quickly faded and was replaced by the awareness that the training program of the future "school" was unlikely to satisfy the demands of a reborn elf, as it was intended for "larvae of sorcerers," as the recruiter called his charges under his breath. This meant that further stay in the company of his fellow travelers was devoid of any sense—after all, there was still the famous academy. The very one the mage had rambled about for half the journey, being, by his own words, its graduate. Incidentally, as the boy now recalled, in those conversations there hadn't been a single direct word stating they would be studying in such an "outstanding" educational institution on par with the gifted representatives of the high aristocracy of the Human kingdoms, but hints of this had been poured into the hanging ears of the wagon passengers by the bucketload.
"Thanks for the ride, but I think I'll be going," Lin thought. While everyone was staring in unison at the home of the future "great" mages, he slipped off the cart and, grabbing his bag which had grown thin during the journey, quietly disappeared into the nearest alleyway. "I'll figure it out myself somehow—after all, I am effectively a realized mage, even if a weak one. They shouldn't kick someone like that out the door, considering all those rumors about the catastrophic shortage of personnel."
Thinking along these lines, he headed at a leisurely pace toward the paved road they had turned off five minutes ago. He wasn't a criminal to run headlong, and he himself disliked haste—he wasn't some youth to go racing everywhere for no reason.
As he approached the gates, it became obvious that the masters of the city did not wish to see unwashed beggars and other rabble on their clean streets. The walls were surrounded by a dome of a pale pink magical barrier, which encompassed the entire city except for the gates. But this loophole in the city's defense was guarded by a decent-looking decade of guards led by a pair of mages, who vigilantly checked everyone passing through. From a distance, the criteria for granting entry permission weren't clear, but some people were let through without any questions, others were required to show some kind of passes made in the form of medallions, which were then practically tested by tooth, and others were simply asked a couple of questions... and everyone without exception was checked with some kind of rod. Into Dalaran, as it turned out, they didn't let just anyone, and several guests had to leave empty-handed.
Perhaps, if the times were more peaceful, his confident stride coupled with an open gaze, despite his more than modest appearance, would have helped him pass the guards... But the Second War had only recently died down, and Councilor Anasterian—the one who was the only elf on the Council of Six—had strongly recommended exercising vigilance and had sanctioned periodic unscheduled checks.
"Who are you? Show your pass!" the question followed as soon as the boy passed the short queue.
"Applying to the academy," Lin replied shortly, and as proof of his words, he created an illusion of one of the icons engraved above the gates over his open palm.
At that moment, he did not yet know that the eye emitting rays was the symbol of the Kirin Tor.
"Hmm..." the young mage on duty pondered for literally a second, casting an evaluative glance over the boy. "You'll have to wait until someone from the Academy comes for you. I can't let you through alone. Ullis! Contact the reception, have them send a detail to escort the candidate."
"Alright," his shift partner agreed compliantly, dressed in a similar purple robe, and disappeared into the guardhouse.
Lin simply nodded and stepped aside, falling under the curious and envious gazes of some of the guests. As it turned out, an established procedure already existed for his situation. However, if one thought about it, the locals arriving in the city with the desire to enter the most enviable of available institutions on the continent had to get in somehow... Not everyone had invitation passes, after all.
Guessing that no one was going to strain themselves for his sake, Lin decided not to waste time and immersed himself in an exercise. A common city bird began to flutter around him, appearing to be an illusion from the outside, but in reality representing a full-fledged clump of mana materialized by his will. The young mage concentrated and began to detail the appearance of the bird. The appearance of the flying teaching aid began to take on details, making it indistinguishable from its living brethren hopping on the roofs of the shacks nearby. Quickly finishing with the first "pet," he started on the next. Gradually, the created flock of birds began to turn...
He was so immersed in the training that while a single drop of sweat rolled down his face—caused by anything but the midday heat—he didn't even notice as several carriages entered Dalaran with a brief stop at the gates. The children of aristocrats were returning home from the holidays.
"Hey, kid! They've come for you."
The controlled birds, as if frightened, scattered in all directions, only to vanish from sight and crumble into quickly dissolving particles of mana in space. Lin turned around. A pair of slovenly-looking young men, who turned out to be his guides, did not inspire confidence. Their irritated glares, which they cast at the thin boy, did not hide in the slightest the animosity they felt for being saddled with an unscheduled walk in the midday heat.
"Walk ahead," came a short command from the newcomers.
Judging by the mood of the guides, they didn't want to talk. But Lin didn't care about them at all: since they were being run around on petty errands, they were unlikely to amount to much as mages. And other personalities were of no interest to him. None at all.
While the pair watched the newcomer and directed him on the path to the academy, Lin viewed the magical component of the city of mages with a certain degree of curiosity. And even if the vision of mana flows remained in a past life, his ordinary sight was enough. Magic was present in literally everything. Starting from the self-cleaning sidewalks and ending with illusions demonstrating the shops' assortments in front of their entrances. The former elf could not help but admit that in terms of the variety of charms used, Dalaran surpassed the destroyed elven capital... True, some solutions remained quite controversial in the eyes of a mage with centuries of experience. Especially in terms of practicality. In any case, the charms coloring the passing birds in random colors of the rainbow were questionable, and the attempt to realize their practical value thoroughly muddled his thoughts. Unless mind-boggling was the goal of that spell. "Cenarius, at the sight of such mockery of birds, would surely have chewed his own beard in indignation. But Azshara, on the contrary, would have called the creator of the spell an idiot aimlessly squandering their time." Suppressing a bout of misplaced nostalgia, Lin returned to viewing the sights, but he was in no hurry to show boisterous admiration, contrary to the expectations of the pair controlling him. At least something in this world remained unchanged, for according to the version of his old acquaintances, Illidan did nothing but fail to meet someone's expectations...
Another street, paved with polished cobbles of red granite, twisted slightly between the city buildings and, following some incomprehensible design of the architects, became narrower and narrower until it finally led to a square, a significant part of which was encircled by an ornate fence. The hospitably wide-open gates put on public display a complex of multi-story buildings, towers, and training grounds connected by paths, walkways, and in some places, covered passages. The guards standing at the entrance did not hinder the evaluation of the sights in the slightest.
"Not bad," Lin commented on the result of comparing the sight that opened up with the aforementioned barracks, and naturally, the comparison was not in favor of the latter.
"Go left, midget," a new command to correct the route was heard.
The indicated side path led straight to the nearest structure, which turned out to be a modest-looking two-story house.
"You lot are slower than death, you slackers!" a silver-haired man sitting in the hall behind a surprisingly modest desk seemed, at first glance, no less dissatisfied with the situation than his messengers, who had begun to slowly retreat as soon as they crossed the threshold. "Hey! Where do you think you're going?! Who's going to take him back if he fails the entrance test?"
And then, without bothering with pauses, the greeter addressed the young "talent," carefully studying his unpretentious appearance:
"Well now, young man, what have you brought to our Academy? The guards spoke quite favorably of your skills."
It immediately created the impression that if not for that review, no one would have even talked to him.
The symbol of the Kirin Tor once again hovered over the boy's open palm, this time to be thoroughly studied and recognized as fit after only half a minute of intense scrutiny and manipulations with mana. True, in Lin's opinion, there was nothing much to look at there—a simple illusion, child's play compared to his current level of control—but he saw no point in demonstrating his true capabilities, for they don't say for nothing: if you can count to ten, stop at five.
"Excellent, excellent! A solid seven on the Quintessa scale... Self-taught?"
"Not entirely. A wandering mage taught me a couple of tricks..."
"Indeed... Excellent spell control at such a young age! Well then—I suppose a place in our Academy is guaranteed for you. But if you show something else interesting now... I'm sure many would want to take you as a personal apprentice."
The elderly mage's intonation changed subtly toward the end, and Lin, obeying a premonition, shook his head, as if to say that he had shown everything he could.
"A pity..."
"Intrigues here too... And all I need is access to the library and a few years of a quiet life."
Meanwhile, the mage grew sharply bored and did not hide the disappointment in his voice, like a merchant who was shown a gold coin and then deceived by the shine of silver—not despised copper, perhaps, but far from the coveted gold.
"Since you are so... independent," that was how he characterized the future academy student's low-born origin, "Here, take the standard contract: five years of training for twenty-five years of service for the benefit of Dalaran." A small sheet of parchment appeared on the desk, containing only a few lines. "Read carefully—when you take the magical oath, a clearly expressed desire to follow the terms of the agreement must be formed in your mind... You do know how to read?"
"Yes."
The details of admission to training and other nuances of his future academic life—such as the schedule, housing, material support—remained unvoiced. The mage clearly had no desire to exert himself for a ragged boy—by the looks of him, a farmhand from yesterday.
He didn't have to read deeply: the orderly rows of words consisted of calligraphic letters that ran easily under the reader's gaze. The Academy undertook to teach everything each specific individual's abilities were sufficient for. Support was given higher the higher the student's performance indicators were, but a certain minimum was given to everyone. In return, a quarter-century of work was required, and the future sphere of activity in the field of glorifying one's home city could differ greatly from the specialty the student chose. Simply put, everyone was called to war if the occasion arose.
Since magical oaths didn't particularly frighten Illidan, they were of no concern to Lin either, so he quickly agreed to everything without a second thought, which only unintentionally reinforced his image as a runaway from the countryside who had just fulfilled his most cherished dream.
"I agree. What do I need to do?"
"Great!" the enthusiasm shown in words diverged sharply from the contempt that appeared on his face: how he had sold himself into slavery for a pittance. "Place your right hand on the orb and say: 'I swear to abide by the terms of the contract concluded between me and the Academy.'"
A faintly glowing artifact appeared on the desk. Lin mentally shrugged and performed the required actions. Taking the oath took a couple of seconds. His hand was slightly pricked with pain, and a not-so-hidden foreign element settled in his aura.
"Welcome," the mage smirked unpleasantly after waving a rod near the boy's head for verification, and, putting the contract and artifacts back into the desk, handed the admitted student some small object, then addressed the fidgeting guides. "I'll put him in the fifteenth group. Explain the ropes to him and escort him to the dormitory."
"Funny, they didn't even ask for a name..." Lin thought, looking at the simple copper medallion with the number fifteen on one side and the symbol of the Kirin Tor on the other.
***
The upperclassmen on duty, who were harnessed to give the tour, treated their junior colleague with more friendliness than they had the unknown boy and shared generously the description of the Dalaran Academy of Magic and the specifics of its training.
As it turned out, the academy consisted of five large buildings and a bunch of different small structures. One building was for teaching, the second combined the administration, the canteen, the aforementioned library, research laboratories, and much more that the students didn't know about but didn't forget to tirelessly fantasize about. Well, and the other three buildings were allocated for dormitories: the vast majority of students were aristocrats or children of mages in some unknown generation, and the pride of their ancestors gave them no choice but to dwell in luxurious chambers with servants and other pleasant bonuses of the upper class. A pair of palaces that looked luxurious even from the outside were allocated for this purpose. Obviously, the third building—a three-story and unremarkable structure tucked away on the outskirts of the complex—was now Lin's home for the next five years.
"...and the class schedule hangs in the hall, but it changes quite often and it's better to check periodically."
"Can the library be visited without restrictions?" Lin clarified, having patiently waited for the end of the overview lecture, as well as the unwritten rules of conduct from the category of "don't be rude to teachers" and "don't be an eyesore to the aristocrats."
"Of course," the guy even seemed surprised by such interest, probably subconsciously expecting the question "When will I be taught to throw fireballs?". "True, books are forbidden to be taken out of the library. At least until you prove yourself and get a silver medallion—" the guy slapped his chest, where a silver circle with an imprint of the number three hung on a chain. "Alright, we've told you about the academy, settled you in the dormitory, you've got your uniform... what else?" the narrator turned to his silent companion, who had said only a few sentences during the entire time together, but he only shrugged. "Then that's it, see ya... Oh, right, the most important thing—'coppers' are forbidden from leaving the academy grounds."
Nodding in farewell, the upperclassmen, who remained nameless, went on to continue their duty for the benefit of their home academy. Lin, however, calmly turned around and headed toward the library—he decided to finally get acquainted with the place where he planned to spend most of his time. And on the way, he could check the schedule...
***
"Runi, I can't understand how on this diagram, by inputting water and fire, we get air at the output... There are no intricate or unknown nodes for transformations here... individually everything is simple and clear, but how it works together, for the life of me, I don't understand... Runi, maybe you'll take a look? Runi?" receiving no answer for a long time to her mumbling, the pensive girl suspected something was wrong and took her eyes off the textbook to look at one of her neighbors at the library table. "Hey, stop staring at the guys! I have the problem of the century here!"
"What problems, Aime?! And forget the guys! Look at what that boy is doing!" her friend whispered to her.
Suppressing a martyr's sigh, the girl with silver hair turned her gaze to the object of her friends' study, which they were staring at quite openly. The consciousness captured by solving the problem was suddenly reached by the whispers coming from behind their table.
"...and he's just a 'copper'."
"If he's not faking it, he won't be walking around with a copper one for long."
"He's new. Why wasn't he given a 'silver' one right away?"
"What makes you think he's new?"
"Ha!" a blonde with an impressive chest, the size of which took on a whole different meaning given the extra button undone on her blouse and her removed mantle, exclaimed slightly louder than usual. "Did you forget?! Why, I know everyone in the Academy by name!"
"Laina, you probably meant to say you know all the guys?" her neighbor suggested with clearly discernible ironic notes in her voice—a slender girl sitting on the edge, the only one who didn't even have a stray scrap of paper on the table in front of her, but instead, over neatly arranged women's accessories for doing makeup, a film of a conjured mirror hovered, trembling, and the young sorceress managed to both correct her makeup and look at the source of the discussion at the same time.
"No, she meant to say she knows all the handsome guys with influential parents behind them and at least a silver rank," added the last of the four—the very same Runi—a brown-eyed girl with a magnificent thick mane of black hair.
"Hey!.."
The newcomer, meanwhile, paying no attention to the whispers surrounding him, was engaged in an unprecedented task: reading and writing at the same time. And it wasn't just that, but the first task involved three books at once, the pages of which turned on their own, obeying the beginning mage. Two textbooks were being studied at different speeds, which was immediately striking due to the non-synchronicity of the paper sheets' movements. The third was a reference book, which periodically rustled its pages quickly in different directions, providing the reader with information about various terms. Aime even lost the thread of the conversation again while she stared stunned at this marvelous composition of a newcomer, three books, a quill, and apparently a personal diary.
"...and anyway, he's not my type," that same busty Laina turned up her nose. "A grumpy midget."
"Yes, yes, of course, that's exactly what it's about, and not that he's apparently from the countryside," Runisa—Runi to her friends—responded bitingly.
The curly-haired fashionista momentarily looked away from the mirror, casting a full glance at the guy, and immediately declared with the air of an expert:
"Actually, he's thirteen or fourteen at most, but I wouldn't be surprised if he's even younger."
"Then he'll still grow," Runi also stated confidently.
"Yeah, and then it'll turn out he's someone's illegitimate child and our little Laina will melt under his stern masculine gaze," Aime finally came to life, taking her eyes off the unusual visitor to the library.
The picking apart of the newcomer's bones began to smoothly transition into ordinary girl talk...
***
***
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