Chapter 119: History—The Beginning (II)

Although traveling a long distance atop a land strider, Aurelia’s eyes sparkled brilliantly.

“I wonder if he’ll be pleasantly surprised?” But then she thought, “I don’t know if his creation is complete yet.”

Longing makes one gaze into the distance; memories only enhance the beauty.

Patrick had just finished crafting the levitation magic array. He was utterly exhausted, nearly collapsing from the relentless drain on his spirit—such continuous mental exertion would leave any mage drained and weary.

The array was complete, needing only to be integrated with the platinum disk to activate the levitation function.

At this point, Patrick had no energy left to think about anything else; his body seemed to have lost all strength, his mind hazy and drowsy. Eventually, fatigue overwhelmed him, and he slipped into sleep.

Suddenly, Patrick sensed someone had arrived at the Chief Mage’s chamber—surely Aurelia. Only she bore his spiritual mark, allowing her to bypass the Mage Tower's defensive wards and enter freely.

Outside the tower, the elves paused their tasks, having felt a powerful arcane surge earlier. After a brief moment, they resumed their work, assuming their lord was engaged in major arcane research. Within the Sun Temple, every elf held the highest reverence for their supreme leader, Councilor Patrick Kaboron. As for the native inhabitants here, they held even greater gratitude for him.

Since Patrick took residence at the Sun Temple, the place had flourished like never before. Even non-mages could find respectable jobs here. Some elves, once only adept with numbers and reports, were noticed by Chief Information Officer Yanida and recruited to serve in the administrative building outside the Tower of Sunlight. This greatly bolstered the confidence of the ordinary local elves.

“I’m not a spellcaster, and I have little talent, but I can draft design plans. Why shouldn’t I seek work at the Sun Temple with my skills?”

“I’m just a humble blacksmith. Because my forging skills are solid, Candiris chose me to manage Lord Patrick’s arms manufacturing line. Is there anything better in Quel’Thalas?”

“If ordinary elves can do it, why can’t I? I want to serve my lord and realize my own worth.”

Such thoughts were common among the elves, heralding ever greater prosperity for the Sun Temple.

With his last bit of energy spent, Patrick fell asleep, replenishing his drained spirit.

Upon waking, he saw Aurelia quietly reading on the adjacent lounge chair—the sensation during sleep had been real.

“You’re awake?” Aurelia closed her book and approached.

Patrick rose, unsure how long he had slept. His clothes were still intact but wrinkled; his hair was tousled like a bird’s nest, his face covered in stubble—looking every bit the seasoned old mage.

Aurelia brought over a stack of clean clothes and placed them by the bed. “These are your changes of clothes. Go freshen up in the bath first.”

After washing, Patrick finally regained a refreshed feeling, the discomfort from days of crafting magical items fading away.

Aurelia had prepared lunch: fried meat patties, barley porridge, and a glass of milk. As Patrick ate, the elf gently adjusted the collar of his new clothes.

They were so close that Patrick’s slender eyebrows nearly brushed Aurelia’s forehead.

The atmosphere was warm. When they finished eating, Patrick asked, “When did you arrive?”

“About three days ago. I finished handling all my official duties and came right over. Recently, troll activity has diminished significantly. The matters in Eversong Woods have been handed over to Hawksbill. It’s rare to have some time off.”

“News came in these days: the Storm Kingdom is at war with a type of green-skinned creature. Early on, humans used their knowledge of the terrain to repel them successfully. But then, an endless stream of these green-skinned beings emerged from the Black Marsh, forcing the Storm Kingdom into successive retreats, now holding only the pass at Deadwind Gorge.”

“Archbishop Alonsus Faol of Lordaeron has led priests to aid the villagers attacked by these beasts. Stormwind City itself is on full war alert.”

Patrick, appearing indifferent, asked, “How strong are these green-skinned beasts in battle?” High elves generally paid little heed to human affairs, and few elves took the happenings in Stormwind seriously.

“According to human reports, the battles in the Black Marsh have been a stalemate at best, and that only when humans had strong conditions in their favor. These green-skinned creatures possess great strength—several human soldiers are required to match a single one.”

Patrick was somewhat surprised. He had long been curious about the strength displayed by orcs during their initial invasion.

“You’re saying their strength surpasses humans significantly? Otherwise, the Storm Kingdom wouldn’t have had to fall back to Deadwind Gorge and surrender the Black Marsh so easily.”

Previously, descriptions of orc power were mere fragments in texts. But in reality, one needed a systematic, credible assessment to believe such claims.

Aurelia, meanwhile, paid little attention to human matters, tidying Patrick’s clothes and accessories while sharing recent news from Silvermoon City.

Patrick returned to his office to handle official duties accumulated over the past days, while Aurelia resumed reading on the lounge chair.

“It’s almost time for Anduin Lothar, Khadgar, and Garona Half-Orc to raid Karazhan,” Patrick thought.

According to Aurelia, the orcs had already begun their advance on the Storm Kingdom; time was growing short.

These days, there was little political business, mostly thanks to the council’s decision-making mechanism, where each department submitted reports that were synthesized into final resolutions.

Patrick’s main focus was reviewing the council’s reports. The affairs of Quel’Thalas were governed by the Silvermoon Council’s members, with major policies requiring collective deliberation among the councilors.

During the time spent creating the magic ring, Patrick felt the “shackles” on him growing increasingly cracked and unstable. Eventually, the cracks settled, likely caused by Gul’dan’s use of fel and shadow power to stabilize and permanently maintain the Dark Portal.

The Dark Portal had fractured Azeroth’s world order, like a wound in the planet that allowed external forces to invade freely.

Of course, the portal’s existence made it relatively easier for internal Azeroth factions to rise. Before the portal, any individual’s power ascent required recognition by the world’s rules. Even the Star Mage Medivh or the Guardian Aegwynn, with power rivaling demigods, were not truly demigods recognized by the world’s order.

The Tirisfal Council forcibly granted all their power to one person to secretly cleanse demons entering Azeroth—the Guardian. Such power, forcibly bestowed rather than self-realized, was unstable at its foundation, only capable of demigod-level destructive strength.