The silence began to drag on, and it seemed I would have to take the initiative again. Especially since the situation had turned out somewhat awkward, and it was because of me. More precisely, because of what I said… But no, I don't feel guilty. Should have shaken those assets less. I was treacherously provoked!
Jaina truly possesses a very revered figure, and the difference in proportions between an elf and a human (or a human of Earth and Azeroth) makes the situation even worse. And it's all natural—genetics, good nutrition, and self-care. Yes, she is human; even under the conditions of magic thirst, I will live longer than she will. Elves have their advantages, including in appearance. But a human, combining a good figure and magical talent, can display "that very" magic—a unique combination of different elements of attractiveness unavailable to elves.
Did that mean I had the right to so brazenly admire a girl I didn't know? A noblewoman, no less? Obviously not. Of course, training under a Magister and having magical talent—and not just that—somewhat leveled our status, but it could still create difficulties in the future. And we still had to work together; I needed to get to Dalaran. So, making my eyes as large and sad as possible, I began to whine:
"Please forgive me! I..." And then, eyes to the floor and a modest shuffle of the foot... "I shouldn't have said that." Then, dejectedly bowing my head and shoulders. "P-p-please forgi-i-ive me, Lady Jaina..."
The Wizard raised her eyes from the tome she was pointedly pretending to read and nodded in agreement:
"You shouldn't have," she looked at me, sighed, and smiled, "I'd give that an eight out of ten for acting. I almost believed you were actually ashamed. Sit down," and after a moment's thought, she added, glancing over herself, "Is it really that impressive? Usually, elves express themselves somewhat more, hm, ornately. And much more modestly."
I nodded, of course. Maybe if I answered honestly, I'd either look like a child or she'd understand. In any case, I'd try.
"And how! I, well, I'm not used to humans yet. And from my perspective, everything about you is so bi-i-ig. I feel like a Gnome," I said guiltily, still sporting the eyes of the cat from Shrek.
This clearly amused the Wizard.
"Well, you'll still grow. So, you are Davilinia? How old are you now, fifty?"
"Correct, I am Davilinia, DaVi to my friends. Twenty-something, you guessed wrong, hee-hee. Only I won't grow that much anyway, alas. As for my reactions—I'm a simple village girl. What's there to be surprised about?"
Jaina pointed to the second chair, inviting me to sit opposite her. Which I did, barely peeking over the table due to my height. Well, yes, the table was designed for humans. Fine, I can fly, so there! The Wizard was clearly surprised.
"A village girl? I've heard that among elves, Magisters often settle away from everyone else, in towers. But I've never seen it. I thought you were from Silvermoon, or somewhere nearby."
I realized this was a soft interrogation; the Wizard was clearly trying to find out exactly what the Prince had pawned off on her instead of himself before leaving. But I didn't mind. I knew quite a lot about her; she was seeing me for the first time. Interest was logical; I would have been much more surprised if she had no questions. So I explained happily:
"Correct, Lady Proudmoore. Some senior mages live completely autonomously, having automated their towers with magic. Others keep servants and ordinary residents around the tower who fear Trolls or the occasional Outlaw; anything can happen. These residents provide the Magister with a comfortable existence and company against loneliness. I was gifted with a staggering talent for magic technology and learning speed, so the Magister values me. Being a personal apprentice is Revered."
"And the Paladins don't value it much," Jaina noted pointedly.
Everything was clear. Someone had already snitched. I'd think about how "fun" it was for her to exist as a sheep. By the way, it's a quite popular punishment among mages, and they transform people not just into sheep, but into all sorts of critters. The experience, frankly speaking, is specific. I suffered enough when I practiced polymorph with my mom, and that was a short-lived version of the spell.
"In my defense, I'll say they have no proof. And if I hadn't hurried, I would have been late to Stratholme. And there would have been many more corpses. So yes, I had to make an emergency escape, but in the end, the result is better than it could have been."
It seemed the inquiry was gradually becoming an interrogation, which I didn't much like. Well, yes, among humans, Paladins are more influential than among us. Among us, the Magister sent me off to who-knows-where practically from under arrest, and the Holy ones just sucked it up. And apparently, they even left the village with nothing. I wasn't quite sure what specific magical punishments the Teacher would rain down on them, but he'd rain something down for sure, just out of boredom and spite. Jaina continued to study me, lost in thought.
"I see," the Wizard said, "Are you a prophet? Did you see the future?"
I shook my head, simply casting levitation on myself so I wouldn't have to peek from under the table. I was almost certain this was a hint at Medivh, whom Jaina had already seen. And no, I didn't intend to interfere with the canon in this case—quite the opposite. Jaina is one of the three leaders whose troops stopped Archimonde at Mount Hyjal "in the ancient lands of Kalimdor." Obviously, I fully support this movement. It will strip those snobby fur-fags of their immortality (which is approved from all points of view) and also stop a powerful Demon. Jaina will become the leader of an entire city, and Thrall will build Orgrimmar.
In short, this is a very important point in history that I want to happen exactly as it is. Which means Jaina needs to be talked into heading there as soon as possible. Just as it was in the original version of the story. I don't intend to take Medivh's laurels, and I can act a bit harshly so that we part ways without visible consequences. Or not, if I can manage to persuade her just like that.
"No, not a prophet. But during one incident, I saw a possible dark future and decided to try and fix something. And as you can see, I even succeeded. You know, you could have done it yourself. If you had stayed with Arthas and suggested another solution."
"He wasn't going to abandon his decision. And he did what he thought was right. I... understand why he did it, but I'm not ready to watch it. I don't think you'll understand."
Nice emotional play. Sorry, I don't buy it.
"No, I understand, Lady Jaina. The nuance is that understanding doesn't mean agreement. I definitely have something to say. Something to disagree with, no matter how experienced you are."
Jaina measured me with a look; the atmosphere cooled slightly, since we both favor cryomancy.
"Well, speak. What do you know about Arthas that allows you to convince him with a few phrases and without resorting to magic? How did you succeed where Lord Uther or I failed?"
Well, a little theatricality wouldn't hurt, right?
"I wanted to save those people, Jaina Proudmoore. Not to pose before His Highness, not to prove something, but simply to save people. And I didn't make it an either-or bet. Yes, it's hard for me to accept the slaughter the Prince committed, that's true. I'll be remembering what happened here for a long time, luckily my partner brews good sedatives. It's useful to have an Alchemist on the team. But unlike you, I decided to save these people, ignoring the position of those around me, just to achieve a result. At least someone, even at such a price. I did what I had to, and now the people are alive."
Of course, I didn't say "unlike you," but the Wizard isn't a fool; she understood perfectly. And yes, I know full well I'm being disingenuous. That I used meta-knowledge. No, I'm not ashamed, because these people are actually alive. And if I had acted like you, Jaina, they would have died.
There, look how you flinched. Good. Angry? That's right. I'm angry too. I had to suffer quite a bit to make it in time and plug all the holes you, you cow, left behind.
"You think we won? You call this a victory?"
I floated up, flying to the window and looking through it at the bustling soldiers. This is Azeroth; "won" here is a concept lasting six months at best, then some other nastiness crawls out. Either Old Gods, or the Lich King, or an alternate Draenor opens a portal to us. Oh, right, Deathwing. Damn dragons, may they all be struck by syphilis. How are we supposed to kill you all? So no, not a victory, not even close.
"We didn't win. Scholomance isn't destroyed, even if the Undead didn't achieve their goal," and I didn't mean the desecration of Stratholme, but Arthas, "This isn't a victory, Lady Jaina, alas. We bought a little time at the cost of significant losses, at best. Mal'Ganis is alive, and there's no reason to think he's the only one wandering around. There's an entire Army of Undead in Northrend and other hemorrhoids. This isn't a victory, Lady Jaina. But that doesn't mean we should stop. In the end, each of us has our role."
And yours specifically is to get the hell to Kalimdor. And I will gain experience from the powers that be until the Undead and the Burning Legion crawl out and kill them all. Ideally, I'd like to be in Dalaran when the Undead invade it and clean out the local Library a bit.
There's also the problem with the Lich King. I have a theory that the next LK will be Muradin. He and his Dwarves went there specifically for Frostmourne. And if Arthas isn't there, there will be no one to save the Dwarves. True, I have no idea how the Lich's Armor will fit not a two-meter-tall blonde of true Aryan appearance, but a Dwarf... But it's an artifact; maybe the Armor can shrink.
And I still have questions about how to deal with the thirst for Magic. There's the option of repeating Illidan Stormrage's feat and pouring myself some water from the elven Well, if possible. And if not, I can condense magic from other places: from natural phenomena and elemental planes. Of course, the Elementals will be sharply against it, but if I'm careful, I can risk it. Well, if not, then not. But the issue must be resolved anyway; the clock is ticking in months, three to six, I think. A race against time. Again.
Jaina, meanwhile, was frankly lost in thought. It seemed my monologues really did remind her of what the Prophet aka Medivh had said. Considering I was trying to imitate him, that was good.
"You decided to fight by running away from home, ignoring the legal demands of the Church, abandoning your family and teacher? You know, that doesn't sound like a rational, adult act."
I snorted.
"They are legal for you; the elves have a magocracy and the legislative base is somewhat different. They didn't do anything to the Magister. And yes, I love my parents, and at the very least I intend to get them out. I'm actually curious what that hussy did, besides complaining about my escape. As for my parents and teacher—we communicate; they watch over me and help with advice. And I intend to evacuate them when the situation worsens. I will return, as I promised."
To Stormwind or toward Kalimdor. Ideally, I'd still drop them off in Jaina's city—what was it called, I don't remember. Stormwind is still a Systems Alliance city, and I'd have to firmly tie myself to that faction, considering how often The Horde and Systems Alliance bickered. Jaina at least tried to pretend she was neutral for appearance's sake until Garrosh happened.
The Wizard grimaced with displeasure; she clearly didn't like what was said.
"She helped rescue survivors from the Undead, and when it was all over, Dartaola and Lord Uther came here. So show some respect; they also made their contribution to saving people. And when they had time, the Elf told us about the accusation against your teacher and the escape with the kidnapping of an Order recruit."
I won't say it was unexpected, but...
"That story ended well. Despite the 'kidnapping'—though she climbed into my ship herself—the Paladins couldn't prove anything and left. It's good that Lord Uther didn't detain me. That could have created a lot of unnecessary problems."
One of which would be an emergency escape from human Paladins as well. I'm actually curious why the Bronze ones didn't pull something like that. Could they have feared I would lead the Paladins to Scholomance, for example? I could have, yes. Jaina snorted.
"That doesn't mean he agrees with what happened. All of this is too serious. And..."
She trailed off, looking at my slightly mocking expression.
"Should I say it, or did you guess yourself what I think of those councils, Lady Jaina? If there were no problems, I wouldn't have even left my home village. Unfortunately, there's no time for games; it's time to act."
Jaina sighed.
"Just don't push your luck too hard, okay? The situation is already complicated. None of us wants to put someone your age in the path of the Undead, and I agree with that; you're still too young for such trials. At your age, I was studying and running for treats to the 'secret shop of infernal sweets.' By the way, when we're in the city, remind me to show you; you'll appreciate it. Seriously, I value your contribution; I just don't think this war is your place."
Yes, yes, yes. If you guys didn't screw up so much, I'd happily live in my village in Quel'Thalas, study, and not fear the sudden arrival of an Army of Undead. But generally, yes, I really want to poke around Dalaran. I wonder how much my desires will match my opportunities.
True, I need to do something about money. I essentially have no budget, simply because there's nowhere to get gold; in the village, barter or small coins mostly decide things. In short, I'll have to work as a mercenary or something. I don't doubt I can find plenty of useful knowledge and materials there, like magic crystals for turrets. Which means the problem will be specifically payment. A huge problem.
Then we finally moved on to discussing technical matters. We discussed Mal'Ganis and the plan of action. I didn't spoil much, but I told her what we were able to find out about him and what I had mentioned earlier. Jaina easily agreed to ask her teachers.
"I'll get us into Dalaran; that's not difficult," Jaina suggested, "The plague situation is more than serious, and the Archmage, my teacher, must find out about it as soon as possible. I can introduce you as a promising Wizard and my assistant. But my condition is—while we are in Dalaran, you obey me. I will recommend you to my teacher and help you get into the Library under my responsibility. I wouldn't do this in another situation; I don't really know you. But for Arthas's sake and to deal with the plague..."
I understaaaand.
"Fine. As long as you don't order anything vulgar, I'll obey."
"That's not the point," Jaina began, but I cut her off.
"I get it all, relax, please. I might be from the village, but etiquette and the basics of reputation were beaten into me regardless. I promise not to set you up—too much. After all, I've never been to a big city, especially a city of mages."
Jaina, completely relaxing, giggled.
"I understand. I remember how I first arrived in Dalaran and managed to get lost there," so the discussion of plans smoothly flowed into stories about the past.
I told her about my first mine trial, the Trolls, and the Magister. Jaina shared stories from the life of a magic student.
Actually, these stories are quite familiar. Students crave thrills, try to conjure alcohol and magical vision to see through clothes. Whether they are mages or ordinary people—it doesn't matter at all.
We agreed to fly, predictably, on the Pepelats as soon as we packed our things. I needed to pick up the golems, reattach the Workshop, and find Venidan, who was wandering around somewhere. And Jaina needed to pack her things, though she didn't have many—just one traveling bag. We agreed to meet at the Pepelats, which I, having picked up the block with the golems, moved closer to the tavern.
The soldiers actively took notice of the flying ship. Moreover, a group of Dwarves came from somewhere, and we held a debate on the topic of magic technology and what's better: bullets or magical projectiles. Magic is more universal, but kinetics—that's inertia and momentum. We settled on cannons. In the end, I was invited to Ironforge as a "normal elf" and promised to be treated to beer. Me? I'm all for it.
The Prince left almost immediately, without waiting for anyone or warning anyone, without saying goodbye to anyone. His relationship with Jaina remains strained, and he wouldn't talk to Uther, pointedly ignoring the Paladin. The Prince hadn't abandoned the idea of thumping the Nathrezim and hadn't forgotten that Jaina, like Uther, chose to stand aside at the most critical moment. I'm not getting into that; it's not my business.
In short, the conflict is not resolved, and the only thing saving us is that we are actually working in the same direction, for a common goal. The desired consequences are somewhat different, but those are details. And yes, I'm ignoring Uther too, but for a different reason. That reason is named Dartaola, and she doesn't want to let us go so easily. Luckily, she can't fly, and on the morning of the fourth day after the "Purge," we started toward Dalaran. Without extra Paladins on the hull, I checked.
The Wizard showed the liveliest interest in the Pepelats, though she admitted it wasn't her thing. Jaina walked around the entire ship, looked into every room, and gave her verdict:
"It looks like Dwarven work, but it looks good, even better than I expected. You have talent. Although it's a bit cramped here, I'm really impressed. I think the Teacher will appreciate it too."
It's not that I have narrow doors. It's that someone is too curvy. Everywhere—I damn well didn't expect someone else's breast and butt size to become such a problem for me. Seriously, Jaina, I just didn't think I'd need more space. Good thing she didn't complain about the modest conditions; she said she was used to being "on the march." But her criticism still stung me slightly. True, it was hard to argue with her verdict—I was in a hurry during assembly, interested in the quickest readiness, not comfort. So I just said so and promised to remodel when I had the chance.
Overall, the flight went normally; the map of this part of the continent was undamaged, and we were able to plot a normal course to Dalaran. No one tried to eat us or shoot us down; in general, everything went well. In half a day, we covered more than half the distance before stopping for a rest.
The headache came in the evening when we started looking for a place for the night's stay. I can set the autopilot, and by morning we'd arrive even at low speed, but I don't trust the Bronze ones and other Trolls. And I don't want to wake up because some local Goblins' rocket launcher glitched, and a full salvo flew right into the Pepelats. Or the autopilot failed, and we flew off to who-knows-where, and at full speed too. I think such a thing is impossible, but what if! These bronze dragons embody Murphy's Law: if something can go wrong, it will. Better to act for sure.
That it was the right choice became clear when I stopped the ship in the air, after which I heard a demanding knock on the windshield. We all turned toward the noise, and there, on the outside of the Pepelats, sat a raven. It sat, watched, then knocked, and watched again. A frankly bored Venidan asked:
"Another of the Magister's familiars? Only there's no cargo visible; what's it doing?"
I looked closer. The raven was larger and behaved intelligently. There were strings, and many, many of them—it was practically dizzying. It seemed I wouldn't be able to get out of this conversation. This definitely wasn't the Magister's raven, especially since his familiar was sitting right here.
"That is not my raven," the Magister himself reported, "Are you expecting someone, apprentice?"
I sighed; the stranger knocked on the glass once more, clearly not intending to fly away. Fine. It's easier to talk to everyone once, and then think about what, where, and how.
"No, it's another guest, I suppose. He might have come, or he might not have. Well, fine, we'll talk, and I think you all should hear this. Veni, call Jaina; I'll let him in. No point in making a person of such stature wait."
The Magister was clearly intrigued, so his familiar perched on my shoulder again when I opened the hatch to the outside. The one located in the technical compartment that only opens from the inside, just in case.
The raven calmly hopped into the hatch opened for it, showing not even a hint of fear, as if it were coming home. By this time, Jaina and Venidan had returned to the bridge. And before they could say anything, the raven was enveloped in a dark mist, began to grow and lengthen, taking the form of a human. The Prophet was completely indistinguishable from the game prototype; his beard was clearly well-groomed and trimmed, and a hood of a brown cloak decorated with feathers and gold embossing was thrown over his head. And in the hands of the Guardian of Tirisfal was a long wooden staff, at the top of which was carved a raven sitting on a sphere. Well, hello, Medivh, the dead Guardian of Tirisfal. I won't say I'm glad to see you, but I understand this had to happen. He was radiating magic, of course—my respect. Another extra-class player I plan to join in the future. Luckily, this time he didn't fly here for me.
"You..." Jaina breathed out.
The Magister looked at me through the raven, and I sighed.
"Allow me to introduce the Prophet. He knows exactly what will happen but tells no one. Just like who he is and where he crawled out from. But that's not my secret, sorry, Teacher."
Medivh looked us over and simply nodded at my comment. The others sat in some shock from the sensation of this man's power. Maybe he's in no hurry to introduce himself, though Antonidas in theory should have recognized him at least by his power level; mages of THAT level are rare. But the feeling of power gave the mage away completely. He turned to me.
"Exactly so, young Elf. The Darkness is approaching; it is tightening its deathly fingers on these lands. You managed to buy time, that is true. But this is not a victory, only a respite. Soon you will realize that the problems have not disappeared, but it may already be too late. The only chance is to head west, to the lands of Kalimdor. Only there can you fight the Darkness and defeat it. This concerns everyone present here; you are young, strong, and promising. And you can save this land from the Darkness."
And he still wonders why no one wants to listen to him. He could hardly be more vague in delivering information—maximum fluff, minimum info. It's one thing for Thrall; he's used to Ancestor Spirits and other elementals loving to speak in riddles. Or Jaina, sensing the aura of power around this man. But Arthas? He's a pragmatist, and an abstract "Darkness is approaching" doesn't work on him. On Antonidas, by the way, it didn't work either. Even though the mages of Kirin Tor are capable of lifting Dalaran into the air even now. Or even easier—the Scourge will kill many mages during the attack in the future, including Antonidas himself. But no-o-o, we will speak in riddles. Let everyone think you're a nutcase. What stupidity.
"I might point out, young Elf, that I am not a point of interest for the Bronze Dragonflight," Medivh reminded me, clearly poking into my head.
I wasn't particularly upset.
"I'm at least alive, Prophet. That's not the point."
The Magister noted our bickering and clearly decided to return to it later.
"Questions will arise one way or another," the Magister noted through the familiar, "You are poor at hiding your power; even I feel the waves of powerful magic emanating from you. I assume everyone felt this power, mages or rogues. And yet, as much as you said, it was just as vague. Darkness is a very broad concept, as my apprentice says. And it would be good to know exactly what awaits us."
And yes, the Magister knows what awaits us; I told him. He just wants to get confirmation from the mouth of someone of Medivh's level. And me? I'm all for it. The Prophet (better call him that for now) sighed.
"I'm afraid that is a story for another time. Right now, I am here to convince you to head west, to the ancient lands of Kalimdor. These lands will fall; it is inevitable. Delay could cost us everything; Azeroth will fall. There you will find knowledge and allies you never dreamed of."
I yawned, which was noticed by the Magister, who had been glancing at me this whole time. Well, what? One of Medivh's main problems is that he constantly speaks allegorically, in riddles. That hasn't changed. Had he said: we will be attacked by Undead controlled by Demons. The Kingdoms are frankly not ready to fight even against the Undead, let alone an army of Demons of the Burning Legion. Abandon these kingdoms to be torn apart, retreat, and already there... Fine, I understood why he doesn't want to talk about it.
Let's see what the others think. Venidan is frowning; she already knows this story from me. What the Magister thinks is impossible to tell; he's remotely controlling the familiar, and the raven shows no emotion unless the Teacher wants it. Jaina is in thought. She looked at the Prophet, at us, and asked:
"What do you think? Perhaps we should listen to him?"
The Magister decided to take the initiative.
"I suppose the esteemed Prophet may be right. Even if I am not present here in person, the Undead activity looks very coordinated. And the fact that it is controlled by a Demon is quite depressing. The picture is turning out to be quite unpleasant."
I had already introduced Jaina to the Magister as soon as she arrived on the ship. Но apparently she only remembered Mal'Ganis now. And she immediately asked:
"Forgive me, Magister, but what do you know about the Twisting Nether and Demons?"
The Teacher understood her correctly.
"If you, Lady Jaina, are referring to the question my apprentice asked earlier, then yes. Demons, in the event of the death of their physical shell, can recover in their magical plane and return to the real world. Unfortunately, I don't know much and cannot give exact timeframes. After all, it was quite a long time ago."
The Prophet, who had taken a stool, also nodded.
"I can also confirm this information. Which makes the young Prince's expedition to Northrend not only useless but potentially harmful. Instead of an expedition there, you should focus on evacuation and leave the continent. You must act as soon as possible, Lady Proudmoore. You won't have time to gather information and apply it; we have too little time. Alas."
Jaina looked at us, receiving nods.
"I... I'm not sure. I can use my father's influence, get ships. But what about Arthas? He expects us to help him."
My turn to intervene.
"I can pass information to him. I still need to evacuate my family. And the Pepelats requires modernization and knowledge I don't have, but which I can get here in the Eastern Kingdoms. You are the daughter of the Admiral of Kul Tiras, Jaina. You can lead people, find ships. What Arthas won't do—simply won't want to—and what I won't be able to do. Forgive me, but that is your duty and your path. Not mine."
The Prophet had been silently and intently staring into my eyes this whole time.
"You don't intend to leave. The Darkness will spare no one, do not forget. Your power, your potential is great, but against the armies of Darkness, it is not enough."
I nodded.
"No, Prophet, I won't manage. But my role in all this is different. Jaina really can arrange all this, lead the fight against the Darkness. I, however, am a penniless Wizard without the necessary skills and connections. I need to evacuate my family and gain magical knowledge, power. Right now, in battle, I am, alas, completely useless. This machine, my equipment, requires refinement. I don't intend to stay here waiting for death, but the burden of a leader doesn't hang on me either. I can afford to linger for a couple of months."
The Magister reminded:
"Scholomance. The place where the Cult of the Damned trains its sorcerers. Its destruction will seriously complicate the Undead's ability to build an army. Perhaps we will buy a little more time. If the King of Humans sees the danger, he can mobilize troops. This is an opportunity to buy more time."
Then I added:
"I can get knowledge from the mages of Dalaran. Of course, I still need to solve the financial problems..."
Jaina easily agreed.
"Fine. I will report to my teacher, get you in, and depart. Unfortunately, preparing an expedition won't be fast. Weeks, months. I don't have the influence my father has, alas."
Suits me. I nodded.
"The sooner we start, the sooner we sail. Well, you have more experience in sea expeditions anyway than, I think, anyone present. So just keep me posted, okay?"
Medivh listened, listened, and then asked:
"Are you ready to swear an oath to direct the knowledge you gain to the fight against the Darkness?"
I froze, trying to figure out what he was suddenly getting at.
"I intend to do so. Not to die, but to gather knowledge, complicate the Undead's unlife, and retreat toward Kalimdor. To win and not to die. And to give them all what for, Comrade Guardian."
Medivh looked at us. Then at Jaina.
"Young Wizard, are you ready to do the same? Are you ready to head to Kalimdor to save your people and repel the Darkness?"
Jaina looked at Medivh, at me, and at the Magister, at the unusually silent Venidan, who clearly wasn't meddling in what she didn't understand, and nodded.
"I am ready. Though I'm not sure I'll succeed. It is... what we must do."
This answer satisfied the Prophet. He turned back to me.
"Then, young Elf, I can help you find the necessary knowledge. Of course, you will have to pass the trials of the tower yourself. But if you are true to your word, if you achieve success, it will allow you to achieve what you desire without spending years trying to gain the attention of Archmages. Time which you simply do not have."
The raven hopped onto the table; judging by his silence, the Magister hadn't guessed yet.
"What are you talking about?"
The Prophet gave a wry smile.
"Of course, I am talking about Karazhan. The Tower of the Guardian of Tirisfal. I can show the way to it, but thereafter you will have to pass through it yourselves. Though the Guardian died in the First War, many magical devices still function, including defensive ones. And they will actively oppose intrusion. But if you achieve success, the greatest secrets of magic will be revealed to you. For my part, I expect an oath from you to direct this knowledge toward the well-being of Azeroth and all who inhabit it. That which the Guardian failed to do."
I immediately clarified:
"All sentient beings? I don't plan on saving Murlocs, following a 'thou shalt not kill' rule toward Murlocs, Quilboars, or Kobolds."
"Of course, we are talking about the common good, not a rule to kill no one," the mage agreed, "Your decision?"
Well, how should I put it... First, Karazhan was one of the first targets mentioned by the entity. Second, Medivh isn't lying at all. After the mage's death in the First War, his tower turned into a completely autonomous fortress inhabited by golems, which no one has plundered to this day only because Medivh was a mage of exceptional power.
So exceptional that his death caused such a magical discharge that warlocks' brains were baked, and Gul'dan fell into a coma. And the territory around the tower is no longer inhabited by anyone; everything died. That is, the power, autonomy, and danger of the local magic are at an exceptional level.
And something tells me Medivh won't be lowering the power of the defense system. It's a trial: if you're capable and cunning enough, you'll pass and get access to knowledge worthy of Archmages. Don't succeed? Then you're too weak, then you're not that important.
"We agree," the Magister reported, "we will pass the trial. Right, apprentice?"
And the crow looked at me in such a way that the answer "no" was not implied. Not at all. It seems someone else also realized who and what is being offered to us. And wants to lay their greedy hands on it. You are my great Sith Lord; I hope I won't have to apply the "rule of two" on you. And yes, they are still waiting for my answer.
"I will do it, Prophet. I will pass your Jedi Trials," I said, then turned to the Magister, "Teacher, if you decide to go, take my parents. I believe it would be better for them to go to Kalimdor with Lady Jaina."
Medivh smirked, satisfied.
"You shall take the oath later. I am glad we could reach an agreement. I have made many mistakes and I hope this decision is not another one of them."
The plan was approved. Now we fly to Dalaran, drop off Jaina, she requisitions ships and gathers people. The Magister opens a portal to us, brings my parents while they are sleeping, loads them onto the ship, and they sail away with Jaina. During this time, we get information about the demons from the locals, "row" to Karazhan, go through it, and look for information there as well. Perhaps during the time Medivh was under control, some useful notes were made; he wasn't under the control of Sargeras for nothing, maybe he wrote something useful. Also, I need to build a device that will condense Mana to avoid the thirst. It will likely be easiest to find the necessary materials in Karazhan. And most importantly, I won't have to pay triple for them. What's next?
We load The Library and row toward the capital of Lordaeron. We demolish Scholomance, after which we return to Dalaran, I modernize the Pepelats as much as I can in the time allotted, and we fly toward Kalimdor to meet the demons and Archimonde. I hope by that time Thrall and Jaina will have reached an agreement, otherwise the situation will be very, very bad. Night elves would rather see a high elf in a coffin, and the feeling is mutual. Trolls and orcs too, for that matter. And then there will be Mount Hyjal.
Of the things I personally want to finish by Mount Hyjal, there are three: a mana collector to bypass the magic thirst; more powerful Arms and Defense for the Pepelats, as it won't survive a full-scale battle; and new equipment for myself. And I have no idea what we might manage to get in Karazhan. But I really want to find out. We are going to rob the tower of an ancient mage! I can't wait to try.
Jaina agreed to go to Kalimdor, and I am interested in making sure she doesn't change her mind. I cannot stop her from reporting to Antonidas, but there is a non-zero chance that upon receiving such "cheerful" information, the Archmage will fly on the wings of shock first to the Council of Six and then to the King of Lordaeron, Terenas Menethil, to delight him with the stunning news. The King will be "thrilled," I'm sure. Especially when, instead of Uther's grumbling, he is first confronted by his son and then by the mages.
Of course, all of that will come later. First, there was the dawn. We stood on the roof of the Pepelats, the same group, windswept from all sides. I held out my gloved hand, forming a magic circle. Time for the oath. Medivh wants to ensure his legacy isn't used the same way he once used it himself? I understand and fully support such an approach. Ultimately, that is exactly what I intend to do.
The circle flared, forming a seal; strings wrapped around my head and hand, weightlessly binding everything spoken:
In the name of the Solar Circle and the Primal Holy, I, Davilinia the Universal, child of the dawn, offer myself and my word.
I swear: I shall hide no shadow of doubt, nor shall I thirst for excess power like Medivh, whose ambitions turned the light into The Darkness.
I shall not touch forbidden scrolls without holy need, nor shall I open the doors of ruinous greed in my heart.
My faith is in creation, my path is in the pursuit of Holy and Prophet of Truth.
Let every step of Karazhan meet me for the sake of truth, but not power.
And if in the treacherous halls I vainly hoot over a "glitch" in ancient runes,
Or suddenly decide to simply "exploit" hidden passages—let the sun instantly lose its way in the clouds!
No "debuff" of guile shall make me press "Ctrl+F" in forbidden scrolls, and even if I accidentally open the "developer console"—I shall obediently cover it with my palm and press "Esc."
Should I break my word—let the solar edge blur, and all light turn to darkness.
Let my promise be unbreakable until the last ray of dawn enters eternity.
The Prophet nodded, pleased.
"So be it. Though I did not understand everything spoken, The Force sees all, and it was said rightly. I shall return in seven days, at dawn. And we shall set out for Karazhan. Be ready; this trial will not be easy."
Having said this, the mage turned into a crow and flew away. And we headed to the cabin. Time for magic!
***
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