Sometimes it seems that reality is purposefully trying to ruin my life. That some forces are laughing at me, turning victory into something debatable, ambiguous. I have no proof, only a persistent feeling of a regular setup. That the better everything goes, the harder it will be later.
For example, how it turned out now. All business is done, the festival is prepared, negotiations held, agreements confirmed. Just sit there, sipping juice in the shadow of a statue, and think your own thoughts.
I don't want to get into adult conversations anyway. I was essentially invited just to show off my new status. I showed up, they confirmed it, and then what? Well, that's it, do whatever you want. Especially since the conversations there… aren't about business, at least what I can hear. Over there they're discussing heroic deeds, engaging in dick-measuring. Those officers over there have spread out maps at a special table. The ladies on the left are discussing the male part of the festival, and the question of "whether scars adorn a man."
A separate group is discussing the Teacher, who lost his magnificent hairstyle in the battle with the Demon and is now walking around with a short one. Another group is just enjoying life, but I don't know them and have nothing to gain there. Bo-ring…
The Teacher is fine here; he walks around and talks to everyone, but I have absolutely nothing to do. I simply don't know what to talk to them all about. I can't exactly do technical drawing at a reception. I don't think that's a good idea. So I'm left sitting in proud solitude, listening and thinking. About my loudest "not-quite-success."
On one hand, project "immortals" is a complete, undeniable success. Take the developments of the "contact pair," stretch them onto a full-fledged golem. Settle a soul into the golem to solve their main problem—golems are stupid and predictable. A golem acts strictly according to a template and is completely devoid of creativity and any non-standard behavior. That's good in some situations, but not when half the locals can smash through plate armor on raw physical strength, neutralizing the difference in stats with skills. And here, a steel golem is no longer a panacea. A creative approach is needed; the enemy must be fatally surprised, not just hit with raw stats. A sentient soul can give the golem everything it needs.
The result is a death machine where weapons for all occasions can be found. And with the experience gained in the new body, you get an ultimate fighter at any combat range. And literally a machine; there's no organics there. But there are plenty of weapons. Blades for close combat, both on the arms and on the wings. The wings allow you to glide, if not exactly fly, using gravity nullification.
A grenade launcher, a submachine gun, a power hammer. The only thing is there's nothing to shoot down a dragon with, but rockets can be installed in the weapon drums mounted in the arms to solve this problem. And if you try really hard, even a compact version of the Death Lazor. A universal soldier as it is. If not for…
Only one problem remains: the immortals don't want to be death machines. After the first wave of squeals and delights, each of the killer dolls found a hundred reasons not to sign up as killers. The human, or rather elven factor, which I can do little about. Sucks. Except Silanira wants to help, but even she is torn between feelings of fear and duty.
I can understand them; death was a difficult experience for each of the four. Silanira herself, at the peak of her emotions, can let out a weak but real Banshee scream, and that's an indicator. The thought of returning to the battlefield, of experiencing that horror again, terrifies them. The thought that they might again endure the very experience the trolls provided for them. Despite the fact that the immortals are generally not against working off their new bodies, even if they have to work for five hundred and ten years. I had to find more peaceful occupations for them.
My brother went, voluntarily at that, to guard my new village. That is, a guard who became a weapon-laden cyborg preferred… to continue being a guard! How can one be so un-ambitious? Fine, I understand: you don't want to live your life in a dungeon, you want to live as fully as possible, interacting with other sentient beings and not worrying. But he himself suggested just making him a guard! Because he knows how to do it, because he stood at his post for almost three decades. With his capabilities, when he has me, has Mother with her connections. He has a drone body with a HEAP OF WEAPONS. He preferred to stand guard in a tower! Ho-o-ow??
I nodded to the Theramore officers passing by my spot, sipping juice in the shadow of decorative armor. And cursed mentally.
How can one have so little ambition? And not just my brother. The problem is he's not the only one. All four immortals are more or less fine with working it off, but aren't ready to, as they say, stick their necks out. So it turns out I don't have four Adam Smashers, but a watchman and three bureaucrats. With the bodies of killer cyborgs. I have no words.
So it turns out to be a victory, a success. And yet... No, I need bureaucrats too; I have a severe shortage of reliable personnel. So they'll get positions, each according to their abilities and needs. But why do they need such upgraded bodies in that situation, can anyone tell me? I'll have to do something about patient selection next time.
A bell chimed. It was the local head servant, the seneschal, drawing attention to himself.
"A moment of attention, ladies and gentlemen," he requested, "high guests are arriving at the festivities."
Jaina, like all of us, looked at the man with curiosity. Heh, servant costumes are fairly international. Among Humans, Dwarves. Among Gnomes, society doesn't provide for servants in principle; costumes for them are largely decorative elements that even a robot can be dressed in. Most likely it will be a robot. And among Elves, with the nobility's love for hedonism, there is no strict dress code for servants. They might dress them in a bunny suit, or a semi-transparent light dress, or anything the master's imagination can conjure for a specific event.
Venidan told me. After the drawings, I managed to coax some theoretical information out of her about what her friend was taught. Just theory, nothing like that. What can I say? That's where all that nobility belongs. These guys, if not Slaaneshites, are trying very hard. According to rumors—I haven't seen it personally, but I generally believe Veni.
In our case, the speaker is dressed classically—in a black and white suit. Jaina clarified in a serious tone:
"We aren't expecting anyone at the moment. Who has arrived?"
An important question; it's not customary to attend such events without an invitation. Another serious nuance—there aren't that many important sentient beings in Theramore, and almost all of them are here. This makes the question even more interesting.
The seneschal replied with a bow and announced:
"A delegation on behalf of His Majesty King Varian Wrynn, ruler of the glorious Kingdom of Stormwind. My lady, I have been informed: their ship has recently arrived. Upon learning of the festivities, they immediately expressed a desire to attend."
The Wizard frowned. I can understand her; these characters are clearly not on the schedule. And even the fact that they found out and expressed a desire doesn't change anything globally.
There aren't many exceptions where you can just barge in without an invitation. Two main ones—after a long journey, you decided to pay respects to the ruler of these lands, as they say, right away. And even then, it's better to coordinate such an event to avoid misunderstandings.
Or if the visitor is higher in status than the host of the evening. And everything happening is a demonstration to the host, like "know your place." In any case, not the best way to get acquainted. And everyone present understands this: the guests are being rude from the doorstep. I wonder why? Varian is a tough ruler, of course, but he's certainly not an idiot. Or is his opposition acting up? Possibly, not enough information.
At that moment, they entered the hall, the uninvited guests. The High Elves stand out the most. Tall, beautiful, just like me. In blue and gold robes characteristic of Silvermoon, with expensive jewelry made of various materials. In the colors of Mana and wealth. Arrogant, strutting as if they'd swallowed a skewer. Although the crests on their clothes are no longer from Silvermoon, but from Stormwind. Must be humiliating.
The newcomers scanned the hall, apparently noting several points of interest, but overall, judging by their faces, remained unimpressed. Meanwhile, the Elves stepped aside, letting the ambassadors of the human kingdom, the Humans themselves, into the hall.
Varian Wrynn's subordinates look even slightly less impressive than ours from Theramore. The men wear gray or blue vests and long leather gloves, with a white shirt underneath. Leather pants, high boots that look heavy even to the eye. Or something resembling Mage robes. All with the crests of Stormwind or their houses.
The women wear closed, high-necked, solid-colored dresses. The cut and colors vary, but the overall design is quite conservative—minimal neckline, the fabric completely hides the legs and almost touches the floor. I would even say not conservative, but ascetic, in a sense. I'm not saying it's bad, just comparing it to my own Suramar Cloak—it's like night and day.
And the appearance of the newcomers! Never mind the women, but the procession is led by a creature that from a distance could be mistaken for a humanoid pig, fat enough that the lard almost bulges from under his clothes. Man, you are one ugly uncle. As if expecting this, the pig-like man stepped forward and spoke to the entire hall:
"Greetings to the inhabitants of the city of Theramore. I heard much has happened here. Ha! No need to worry! Now the army and fleet of Stormwind will protect you."
A murmur of indignation rippled through the hall. On the theme of: where were you when our lands, old and new, were being trampled and burned by Demons and Undead. Sudden protectors, when everything's already been dealt with—sounds like a bad joke.
"Arrived just in time," the Magister said quietly, stopping nearby, "and delightfully arrogant. They could only ruin relations with the locals more by directly declaring the city an autonomy within the Kingdom of Stormwind."
As I already mentioned, the Teacher is present at this event. The Magister is a powerful Mage and an important pillar of this city. I heard he did a fine job annihilating a Pit Lord during the attack on Theramore, and that was without my gloves. And overall, the Teacher is one of the strongest Mages in the city, and since Lady Jaina is in charge—it's quite easy for a strong Mage to get settled. Especially for him, capable of teaching novices. Me, for example.
"Do you think it's all part of a plan, Teacher?" I asked quietly, certain he would hear.
The Magister huffed, examining the newcomers. At the sight of Leskovar, he showed a barely perceptible disgust for the man.
"I would be surprised if it were just a coincidence. Everything is falling into place too well for them. If your guests appear at exactly the right moment, they were definitely watching the clock, apprentice. And they wouldn't be pushing such speeches. Someone very much doesn't want us to 'reach an agreement.' And they sent someone who, in principle, won't listen to any reasonable arguments."
Aha. While the Teacher and I were having a nice chat, the entrants were announced. Someone from the human families of Leskovar, Vanist. Elves from the Sunwind family and the Stargazers. Not the most noble families, and not their senior members. But for a delegation, I suppose, they're quite sufficient. Especially if they're only needed to pick a fight with Theramore.
I whispered to the Mage:
"The Barrens are under the control of the Black Dragonflight. This whole shop is to deprive the King of control. And allies. The second part is my conclusion, Teacher."
The Magister looked at the Baron once more.
"I see," he nodded, peering at the arrivals, "then you can consider this a lesson in how not to conduct negotiations. Watch and learn. And amuse yourself somehow. Someone your age with your looks, sitting at a reception in solitude… it's depressing. I'll have to teach you how to relax."
I just rolled my eyes.
"Understood, Teacher. Watch and learn."
Finally, the Mage stepped away. Meanwhile, the delegation was presented to Jaina. Even if I can't determine how their conversation is going, the guests have definitely captured the general attention. Judging by the reaction, both sides are not happy with each other, but Jaina clearly doesn't want to shove a backside full of icicles into them. For now, at least. Baron Leskovar stands out very much with his somewhat pig-like, coarse face.
I'm even curious who helped these citizens show up so "on time," hm?
While I was looking at the Humans, a pair of Elves, a man and a woman, approached the Teacher. You could practically see the sparks flying between them, they were so glad to see each other.
"Aldanos, Dawnwalker," the elf spoke, "Anar'ala belore, what an unexpected and undoubtedly pleasant meeting. I see you've found a suitable place to live. Quite remote."
The Teacher nodded, sipping from his glass. As far as I understood…
Oh! I see… Thank you, Lady Velieris, after all those "etiquette" lessons—a cake is on me. He didn't offer, he drank before answering. He didn't tell them to get lost, but he won't drink with them; he's fine as he is.
"Anu belore dela'na, Tarama Stargazer. You have, after all, decided to honor this humble city with your presence. Commendable. It is young, but proud. It has shown that it is ready to fight for its future."
Ooh… How he just doused them in filth. Arrogant cowards ran here to test the waters! Velieris, make it two! Two cakes! But his companion, in a magnificent dress with a plunging neckline, spoiled everything. She smiled cloyingly and lamented:
"Always on the front lines, far from home, as befits a loyal supporter of Alleria Windrunner. As I recall, many were surprised that you didn't keep up with her…"
I don't know what the Teacher thought, but it seems to me this lady is hinting that he's a passive coward. No points! Minus a cake! And the Mage replied:
"Alas, some things are decided by circumstances. Obligations imposed upon us… I came here for them…"
Now that, I understood. Powerful move. He left his people for… Wait! It turns out… For me?! Uh… Good thing they don't understand the context. And those two—they literally soaked it in; duty didn't call them here. Then, losing his composure, the man clarified:
"And why are you not with your people?"
"My duty, as a Magister, lies in the knowledge of the new…" he began easily, again carelessly sipping from his glass. "In teaching the new generation, along the path of magical and martial discovery…" Aldanos demonstratively placed the wine he was drinking on the table. "And also in battles on the front lines…" He flicked the glass, producing a sharp but melodic sound, putting a period on this dialogue. "The threats of the Undead and Demons have not vanished; I do what I must."
Ooh, how he crushed their idle curiosity! Nevertheless, the elf, it's obvious to me now, overacting slightly, sighed:
"That is terrible, Magister. How sad that someone like you must embark on such risky journeys for the safety of our lands."
Aha. The very ones that are now a magical anomaly zone, yes. And which I, the apprentice of this very Aldanos, arranged, which both sides know perfectly well. Damn, it's still funny to listen to them trade barbs. I'll have to learn that too.
"Friend!" the Teacher called out to a nearby servant. "Bring me some white; this no longer pleases me…"
Hahaha! Fine, plus one cake for Velieris. I get it! There, that's him putting them down now. They approached him. He was sipping some wine. His favorite! Red! And now he wants white! Right in the middle of the conversation! From a friend! From the servants! Hahaha! And he even refused to drink with them!
I flinched when a young elf sat down on the sofa next to me. He looked about sixteen in human years, meaning he must be around forty-something. Blond, confident, dressed in a fairly expensive black robe with gold embroidery on the sleeves and chest. His skin is almost white; I'm just a creature of the night compared to him. He clearly has experience with these kinds of sudden sit-downs, as the wine in his hands barely twitched and didn't spill at all. Even though he wasn't even looking at the glasses.
I sighed. And what am I supposed to do with you? No, of course, there's a desire to brush him off, but… boring. Boring, boring, boring. So I'll give you a chance. Maybe you can manage to entertain me. But first, I'll show some character.
"Could you please stop blocking my view of a quite engaging spectacle."
The elf followed my gaze and noticed how the Teacher was grinding the pair into the humus. After which he clarified:
"Do you know this Magister?"
I wanted to blurt out that he's my Teacher, but… he doesn't know. Let's see where this leads. I'll be the mysterious stranger.
"Magister Aldanos Dawnwalker is strong. Many victories were achieved under his leadership. And by his power—a Demon commander was destroyed," here I decided to raise an eyebrow inquiringly, "only I don't recall agreeing to an interrogation."
The elf turned away in confusion, then lowered his eyes to the two glasses in both hands and feigned surprise. Almost naturally. I can see you just didn't think you'd get an answer like that, and now you're just picking a sufficiently polite response.
"I beg your forgiveness," the whelp composed himself and sighed dreamily, clearly mounting his favorite hobby horse. "Your appearance enchanted me. I so yearned to drown in those exquisite sapphire eyes that I was impatient. Please—" he gallantly held out one of the glasses to me. "Dilute your displeasure with wine. And meanwhile, allow me to make amends for the misunderstanding. It pains me to see a diamond like you languishing without a setting, like an unfinished masterpiece." The guy smiled cloyingly and indicated himself with a nod. "I would be happy to fulfill that role."
He talks smooth, the scoundrel. But how he spun it, heh, both praised me and didn't forget himself. No, of course, after the Void, my eyes really do look like magically treated sapphires—blue and glowing. And sitting here is rather boring. So I took the glass. And, with a careless tilt of my head, accepted his advance. Fine. Entertain me.
"I certainly like that idea. These receptions… are somewhat boring. And mandatory to attend. But your company worthily alleviates this inconvenience."
The elf smiled and leaned closer, gesturing with his glass as if to say, "Let's drink." Of course, before drinking, I checked the wine with an appraisal spell. You never know. Finally, we took a sip. A pleasant fruity taste, like juice. Clearly expensive. The Magister used to pour something similar, though it's not like I have extensive experience in sampling elven wines.
"I see that the vicissitudes of fate and the battleground have honed you at a sharp angle." The guy seemed genuinely amused by my check. "Well, I understand. You must be bored among the smooth pebbles of the beau monde." He smiled quite sincerely, saluting me with his glass. "And I must ask for forgiveness again. The idea of precious lace is clearly not close to your heart. For a stone such as you, a guard of a mighty blade is more fitting—one tempered in the crucible of fiery passions."
As he said this, he lightly brushed a pocket in which something clearly clinked and gave a muffled gurgle. And something tells me, considering we are already drinking anything but water, that it's far from a healing potion in there. As luck would have it, Alchemy is exactly where I'm weak. So I can't even guess what's in there. And yet... I'm truly curious where all this will lead. So we took another sip, and I replied:
"You are absolutely right. Good company makes everything better, whether it's a battle or leisure. After all, the harder the trial, the greater the chance of survival if you share it... with comrades."
This topic clearly interested the guy. He moved a little closer, placing his hand on the back of the sofa. He didn't embrace me, but he was close enough. I'm not going to indulge in such nonsense, though I'm in no hurry to push him away. We drank again. The elf said:
"I agree, everything requires labor. Even the finest ore, only after passing through fire and the pain of reforging, is reborn as an exquisite dagger."
You certainly have a lot of craft analogies. But at least he's not referencing jewelry anymore. He adapted, the parasite. Though I won't deny, it's pleasant to listen to. And, so as not to spoil the game, I need to settle the matter of my name. Something tells me that Davilinia is not quite what he wants to hear from me. Pondering my answer, I looked at the wine, at how it shimmered in the glass, ignoring the pleasant warmth spreading through my body.
"This city has gathered many masters. Seamstresses, enchanters, jewelers. It's not Dalaran, of course, but there are prospects."
The guy snorted at that.
"But there are none worthy of you, am I right? The heat of death and the crucible of battle, which temper steel, creating art in blood and flame. And here I am, admiring a creation of the elements."
Um, okay, let's assume so. We're drifting off into a completely different direction.
"By the way, speaking of which. We haven't been introduced."
My opponent flinched almost physically. Well, yes, by all the rules, he's seriously in the wrong right now. Any dialogue should begin with an introduction. Simply so there's no misunderstanding due to the different social standing of the speakers. And yes, a man approaching a girl introduces himself first.
"Indeed, what was I thinking..." he shook his head dejectedly, "Veridiel Stargazer, at your service. Third son of House Stargazer. Assistant to the ambassador of the Kingdom of Stormwind." Then he looked up at me. A pale youth with a burning gaze... "And again, I ask you to forgive my rudeness," the elf justified himself fervently, and seemingly quite sincerely, "I was simply struck by your extraordinary beauty. It's a miracle to encounter such an exquisite diamond so far from home. You were born to be a precious stone. Does what I said amuse you?"
How he weaves his words—he even slipped back into his favorite analogies. However, he apologized. And overall, the guy is funny. But damn, his epithets, my profession... what a coincidence.
"Just an interesting coincidence," I bowed slightly; technically he is higher than me in status, as I have no title, "Daina Star-Walker. Surveyor for the Lady of Theramore, Landlord of these lands, though not the largest."
The elf almost smirked but managed to keep his face straight. Not completely, though; it was clear the alcohol was starting to affect him too.
"It seems the stars favor us, Daina. You will allow it, won't you?" Why not, I nodded, granting permission, "and the night favors us. It is long, dark, and hides many secrets."
On one hand, yes, but on the other...
"I prefer not to act blindly. For now, we are not well enough acquainted. But I don't mind fixing that."
There's nothing much to do anyway. I can't leave, so I might as well sit and listen. Or talk to Veridiel. Especially since the elf himself insists.
"Entertaining a bored girl is the duty of a real man. Shall we dance?"
I looked at this "real man" with suspicion. Sorry, but you don't measure up to the Magister. I don't think you've ever even been on a battlefield. Although, in theory, you could have been. During the flight from Silvermoon. And even then, it's not a fact.
I don't know what he thought, but he apparently guessed something.
"I understand, compared to you, a mighty sorceress, I am but a humble assistant to the ambassador. But I can do what many others cannot."
Pff, well go on, surprise me. Because I'm not sure what that could be.
"And what is that?"
The elf took a sip and pointed his glass at me, clearly pleased with himself.
"Appreciate your stunning, I dare say unique, beauty. I confess, as soon as I walked in here, I immediately noticed a lonely flower growing among the grass. You are beautiful, Daina. You are lovely, with a skin tone worthy of the mysterious twilight. Eyes like two beautiful sapphires, beckoning from the darkness," the guy freed his other hand and ran it through my hair, all the way to the glowing tips, "and this magic effect, it's not a simple illusion, I'm sure of it. It's absolutely magnificent!"
I slapped his fingers. Hey, no touching! And I decided to finish him with one word.
"Succubus."
Upon hearing this, the elf fell into a three-second stupor.
"I'm sorry, what?"
Damn, he's so funny when he's thrown off balance. I took another sip and explained.
"Succubus. A temptress demon belonging to the Sayaad race. I'm sure they can certainly appreciate beauty."
Veridiel fell silent in shock. I, meanwhile, enjoyed the wine and the effect I had produced. His previously almost expressionless face betrayed a complex range of emotions. Surprise, joy turning into delight. And a flush—something tells me from very specific thoughts. Amusing.
"Daina, you," he almost whispered, stuttering slightly, "have dealt with these creatures? You're not joking, are you?"
I even swelled a little with pride. In the end, I have the right to brag a little, don't I? So, grabbing a new glass, I took another sip and, just like him, whispered as I leaned closer.
"Battle mage, remember? I fought demons on the front lines. Succubi too, killed a couple. I am in this hall and in this robe by right, Veridiel. By the right of the victor."
The last part was said louder and with a hint: I'm not joking right now. The elf immediately countered:
"Dear Daina, I never even thought to doubt your skills," yeah, right, "I am simply amazed by how many stunning qualities are woven into a single elf. A striking appearance that has no rivals among the Highborne. I have seen many noble elven women, but never one like you. Combat skills and experience, and not with a simple enemy, but with demons. You are like a box full of precious stones hidden among ruins. I am absolutely convinced that our meeting was foretold by the Stars themselves!"
He's flattering me, the rascal. But he flatters well; I like it. And overall, he's not bad. I think I'm satisfied enough to continue the acquaintance. Great wine, a charming guy. Of course, I'm not planning anything like *that*, but I definitely prefer talking to him over being bored alone.
"Well, Veridiel, you are very persuasive. I believe you. In the end, your company is doing a wonderful job of brightening this tedious evening. As for dancing... alas, my skills are not perfect."
The guy beamed at these words. And the fact that I said almost directly that I'm a mediocre dancer didn't bother him. Afterward, he escorted me to the center of the hall.
Here I had to recall all the skills of all my teachers, including Veni. Yes, there were few lessons, and I can see in his eyes that the guy evaluates my efforts modestly, but he continues to smile confidently and lead. All I need is not to trample his feet and move more or less... smoothly. The alcohol is affecting my coordination a bit.
And yet, my stamina is non-existent... Plus the fact that I have to spend a lot of focus on coordination. By the way, the teacher, that parasite, dancing with some unfamiliar elven woman, nodded confidently, as if to say everything is fine. Maybe it's fine for him, but it's exhausting for me. Apparently, Veridiel noticed this, because during another pirouette, he whispered very hotly in my ear:
"Sweet Daina, are you tired?"
It's not that I'm tired, I just don't really want to continue. How should I answer you?
"Perhaps, yes, it has tired me a bit. I'm used to magic, not footwork in battle and dance. But if you wish, we can continue our acquaintance. For your company is pleasant to me."
I have no doubt that's exactly what you expected to hear. So I was quickly escorted back to the sofa, provided with a new glass and a platter of snacks. And the fact that we are sitting practically in an embrace doesn't bother me at all. We are elves, not humans. They have conservatism all over the place; elves are beautiful, flexible, vibrant. Not all of them, but the higher you go on the social ladder, the better this vibrancy is broadcasted. Humans simply wouldn't understand; they are too... limited.
A perfect example is the robes of our sorceresses, again. A cleavage and bare legs are the norm. I, of course, prefer more closed outfits. Maybe because of my human past, maybe to hide the anomalies of my appearance. But even I cannot deny—the formal robe suits me. Being the center of attention is surprisingly pleasant. As is receiving compliments from the elf sitting opposite, clearly pleased with himself. I'm almost certain we are being watched with envy, and that feeling warms me just as much as the wine.
Veridiel, hearing my position, nodded with a satisfied smile:
"What you said is more beautiful than music. And since we are sick of this place, how about continuing our acquaintance in a more... private setting, Dahlia?"
Ri-i-ight. I looked at the guy very seriously, clearly sizing him up to strike for the kill. An icy wave would be overkill, but I could put you in polymorph without any trouble.
"Just nothing vulgar!" I know I broke character, but such thoughts don't cross my mind, "don't get me wrong, but here... there are too many who wouldn't understand."
And I myself am not striving for it; I'm fine as I am. Whatever he might think of himself, for me this situation is just an amusing diversion on a boring evening, nothing more. Veridiel nodded as if he had expected such a thing.
"How could you even think that, Dahlia. I never had such a thought!" yeah, right, "I only suggested what was said. To continue our acquaintance in a more private setting. And so that your honor does not suffer, we can meet on the castle tower, where among the battlements we shall be alone with you under the moon. No one will interfere."
Ah, if that's the case... Well, I can. He doesn't realize it, but I'm more than sure the teacher will keep an eye on me using ravens. And he won't allow anything like that. And since that's the case—let's enjoy ourselves. We drank a little more before I decided to cool off in the fresh air. It's getting a bit hot in here.
"Agreed, let's take a walk," I tried to stand up, but my legs refused to hold me and for some reason got tangled, "Oops!"
The elf smiled broadly.
"My fault again. Forgive me, lady, I didn't notice how tired you were. Allow me to help you."
Is that so? It seems I have too little experience with drinking. I tried to get up, unsuccessfully. It looks like I'll have to accept help.
"I think if you want to talk, you'll have to be my transport today."
The elf laughed outright.
"If the lady so desires! Does the lady desire?"
She does. The long-eared one picked me up in his arms and carried me, which made me a little embarrassed. And even more so from the attention of those around us. Good thing Mom can't see... where is she, by the way? Doesn't seem to be here.
Eh, but when you're carried like this—it's nice. And the guy smells good, like fruit and some strange scents. But, overall, I relaxed and decided to enjoy the process. Well, as for people watching—we aren't doing anything wrong and don't intend to. And anyway—envy in silence.
I must confess, the coordination of my carrier is to be envied. While there are no problems with physical strength—I'm light, and he's a mage, he can help himself with telekinesis. That's not the point. The point is that while I had my arms around the guy's neck, practically dangling my legs, he lugged me up the stairs. And stairs in a medieval tower are stone slabs, high, about twenty centimeters tall. Tripping is easier than anything.
And so it wouldn't be boring, I told him about battles on the way. Well, not all of them, but the ones where I had to do some particularly cool spellcasting. Against Nerubians, against Ghouls, Undead. And Veridiel turned out to be a wonderful listener. Although for the most part he just didn't interrupt and nodded, even that was enough. After all, usually I was either scolded or punished for such things. Not carried in someone's arms and admired.
The tower of the Theramore fortress met us with a pleasant night chill and fresh air. After the stuffy rooms below—it was just right. However, I don't want to get down from his arms at all, so I won't. In the center, a lone brazier burns, lighting the night darkness; there is no guard.
"It's nice here."
Veridiel, seeing that I wasn't planning to leave his arms, walked over to some crates.
"Sit here, okay? I'll be right back. I'll bring us a bit more to drink, some snacks, and we'll talk if you want."
"I do," I answered faster than I thought.
Given that I really don't mind chatting. Damn, a real date. Not that I really wanted one, but when you have it, why not, actually? No reason for concern. A few floors down, a bunch of people are having fun, and on a battlement sits a completely non-suspicious raven. So while the guy is running around, I'll have someone to talk to.
"Then I'll be right back. Please, don't be bored, okay?" I nodded and the guy ran off.
I carefully climbed down from the crate, walked to the edge of the tower, and leaned against one of the battlements, next to the raven. The view of the city from here is indeed excellent. The moon, the boxes of houses with hydroponic greenhouses, the towers of the elves, and the squat buildings of the dwarves. In the darkness, the colors aren't as clear, but the moonlight makes the glass of the greenhouses shimmer curiously. Combined with the light from the windows, it looks very good. Below, people are walking around, making it quite noisy. They are celebrating. And further out, the outer walls of the city are visible, looming over the buildings. A great view.
The air is fresh, so I really started to feel better. The raven took a couple of hops down from its perch and stopped nearby, peering into my face. I asked, trying to keep my voice down:
"Is something wrong, Teacher? Did I make a mistake? We weren't doing anything like that, I said 'no' right away."
The mage croaked, letting out a laugh, and then quietly, but already in Thalassian, replied:
"No, everything is fine, I'm certainly not against you having fun. Believe me, even your mother isn't against it. Yes, she saw everything."
I flinched, sensing trouble. The raven, seeing this, laughed croakingly again.
"Calm down and don't think about it. We all grow up. And those who have gone through what you have seen grow up much faster. I'll keep an eye out, just in case."
I nodded, suppressing the urge to pet the raven in gratitude. The Teacher wouldn't understand, no.
"Thank you, Teacher. Anything else?"
The raven hummed.
"I am concerned about the whole circus put on by this delegation. Not just what you heard; they are behaving strikingly rudely. I don't know if it was King Varian Wrynn's initiative or not, but the delegates he sent are simply asking for trouble. They were looking for you, apprentice."
I looked at the raven in surprise. What do I have to do with this at all?
"Looking for me?"
The raven croaked, glancing behind my back to see if anyone was coming. I turned around; no one. The Teacher continued:
"They assumed that since I am here, you must be too. Only they know more than they should. If they just arrived, how do they know about the mana trade? They assumed there is a Source of Magic in the city. And that since you had the audacity to blow up Silvermoon, you could blow it up too. They are banking on your danger to important people. Naive, but they are trying."
I snorted. Blow up Theramore? I'm not Garrosh, and the reactor isn't a bomb... Well... More precisely, it *is* a bomb, yes. But they don't call this nuclear fusion "controlled" for nothing. It simply doesn't allow for the possibility of detonating a sufficient charge to damage the city. At most, the reactor itself would be destroyed, and maybe part of the underground complex. The main part of the excess power would be dissipated by the catchers anyway, even in passive mode. Damn... Dilettantes, that's what they are.
"Nonsense. My reactor doesn't work like that. Well, I mean, in theory it's possible, that's true. But the pulse power isn't enough to trigger a reaction in a 'pellet' that's too large. The fuel would simply destabilize, implosion wouldn't happen, and most of it would burn up uselessly rather than reacting properly."
The raven laughed croakingly. Alas, it's impossible to tell what the Teacher is thinking through his familiar.
"I know that. You know that, and your squad knows that. Lady Jaina knows that. Other people only know the official version. And the thought that a bomb might be planted under Theramore scares them. As does the presence of a dangerous, uncontrolled mage."
Wonderful. And these are the people we saved, right? Damn, against the backdrop of these clowns, even Veridiel looks good. Or is this... part of their plan? Stupid? Or not? Great, thank you, Teacher, now I suspect the guy I agreed to go on a date with, just fantastic.
"And Lady Jaina, Teacher? What did she do?"
Apparently, the Magister understood something, because he hurried to reassure me.
"We'll cover for you, she and I," the raven assured, "in the end, it is Jaina who is the Lady of Theramore, and she makes the decisions, no matter what anyone else thinks of themselves. She knows the truth, she trusts you. And she won't abandon you, don't even doubt that," the Teacher quickly changed the subject after this speech, "By the way, what do you think of that young man?"
And what do I think of him? He's funny, I like what he says, I like his attitude. Of course, now I suspect I'm being seduced, thanks, Teacher, but overall—so far Veridiel hasn't done anything bad.
"He's curious, Teacher. And it seems I interest him from that point of view. A battle mage, and one who looks so unusual. But he speaks beautifully, I like it."
The Teacher laughed.
"So that means you like him? Are you going to continue the acquaintance?"
The question embarrassed me. Seriously.
"Isn't it a bit early to think about that? You don't think he... And anyway, Teacher, we agreed that today is nothing like that!"
And even if a raven can't convey emotions, I can see the skepticism even so. I'm sure of it.
"Intent on continuing?" the raven laughed croakingly, "I don't doubt it. Many noticed your unusual appearance. This youth simply managed to get there before everyone else. But I'll help with him if you want. After all, you are drunk; it's hard to make a conscious choice in such conditions."
The answer was a nod, and the raven took flight abruptly, disappearing into the night. The passage to the tower opened, letting in a servant with a tray and the guy. Seeing that I was still here, just having moved a bit to the side and even standing almost straight, the elf broke into a smile.
"I found everything!" he announced, "I hope you weren't too bored?"
No, of course not. I'm even curious where what's happening will lead us. If you think about it... a castle tower and without guards. That's suspicious.
***
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