Chapter Thirty-Six: The Arcane Academy

Patrick had every reason to believe that King Anasterian would help him achieve his goals.

He took out the letter of recommendation previously given by Dath’visser. “With this letter from Dath’visser, I can enter the Royal Arcane Academy to pursue my studies.”

Old Phil took the letter, examining it carefully. “This bears Dath’visser’s magical seal. Why didn’t you enter the Royal Arcane Academy sooner?”

“What standing does an ordinary apprentice have in the Arcane Academy?” Patrick replied. “If I join now, as an intermediate arcanist, at the very least I won’t be looked down upon. Demonstrating one’s abilities is also a means of self-protection.”

Had Patrick joined the Royal Arcane Academy at the outset, following a master within its halls, he might have gained some resources or even a share of the Sunwell’s energy by relying on the favor of the masters. Yet, his position within the academy would always be inferior—something Patrick could not accept.

Moreover, should Patrick one day become a master himself, he would have to contend with his former mentors and the powerful clans behind them. With the paths to advancement all but blocked, he would have little choice but to align himself with the great clans of the Council—just as many high elves had left Quel’Thalas behind to establish themselves in Dalaran.

The high elves, blessed with a unique affinity for the arcane as well as remarkable beauty and grace, found it easy to win the favor of humans in Dalaran. Their long lifespans meant that, even investing twice, five times, or ten times as long as humans, they could still rise to prominence and secure a place in society.

Now, Patrick was joining the Royal Arcane Academy as a six-ring mage, while also overseeing the operation of the Mage Tower in the Ghostlands. The Academy would likely grant him the title of lecturer—an honorary position. Though this would mark him as a royalist, setting him apart from the Council, he would gain the protection of King Anasterian. Patrick had never intended to leave the Sun Sanctuary and return to Silvermoon City, after all.

King Anasterian had long used royal authority to balance the power of the Council. Patrick believed he had leverage—after all, the royalists had yet to extend their reach into the Ghostlands. The region remained under the authority of the Rangers, led by the Windrunner clan. By joining the Royal Arcane Academy, Patrick was, in effect, becoming a royalist himself, aiding King Anasterian in consolidating control over the Ghostlands.

Old Phil nodded in satisfaction, though he could not hide a trace of regret. “Still, it’s hard to let go of life in Silvermoon City.”

Life in Silvermoon was indeed enviable. Bathed in the radiance of the Sunwell, perpetually immersed in high magic, blessed with favorable weather and eternal spring, the city concentrated all the resources of Quel’Thalas.

Yet, Old Phil knew there was nothing to be done. Silvermoon City appeared harmonious, its elves living in abundance and ease, rarely troubled by cares. But beneath this surface, scheming and intrigue had never ceased. Over six millennia, those ancient clans who once crossed the Endless Sea had gradually come to control every aspect of the kingdom—politics and daily life alike.

The next day, Patrick made his way to the Royal Arcane Academy. Situated to the left of the Spire of the Sunstriders, it was a towering, magnificent mage tower with graceful white walls, a golden dome, and intricate red patterns. Its design was the epitome of high elven aesthetics—a marvelous sight, rising among a cluster of mage towers and linked to the Spire of the Sunseekers at its rear.

The tower’s contours were elegant and dignified. Atop the golden dome gleamed a massive gemstone, catching the sunlight in dazzling golden rays. Eight smaller spires encircled the main tower, each connected to the central spire by ridged rooftops. The nine-tiered tower was adorned with exquisite reliefs, its eaves curving outward into unique, ornate angles. With its many corners, ridges, and eaves, the mage tower rose tier upon tier, harmonizing with the surrounding towers and mirroring the Spire of the Sunstriders to the right—a vision of grandeur and beauty.

The Spire of the Sunseekers and the Spire of the Sunstriders were the crowning achievements of Quel’Thalas, unmatched in all the arcane accomplishments of Azeroth.

Outside the tower, crowds bustled to and fro. White stone tiles led straight to the main entrance, flanked by flowerbeds and benches. The branches of golden magic trees, their leaves vibrant and lush from the Sunwell’s blessing, whispered in the gentle breeze.

After crossing the Endless Sea, the high elves had used water from the Well of Eternity to create the Sunwell, birthing a new civilization. Through six thousand years of accumulation and refinement, the high elves’ pursuit of art and arcane mastery had reached an entirely new level.

Handing the envelope to the guard at the entrance, Patrick requested an audience with Master Salewell, allowing the guard to announce his arrival. First impressions were important, and etiquette was essential.

Before long, a young elf emerged—clearly a mage apprentice. “Master Salewell invites you inside. He is in the main hall. Please follow me.”

Patrick followed the apprentice through several crimson doors into the main hall of the mage tower, where Master Salewell sat reviewing documents.

“Master Salewell,” Patrick greeted him, making his presence known.

“I’ve heard of you for some time—the young man of the Caberon family. You did well in the Forest of Life, eliminating a great number of trolls in one stroke,” Salewell said, not looking up, seemingly troubled by some other matter.

“You flatter me. I merely did what many elves have long wished to do—nothing remarkable.”

“Oh? What brings you to me today?” Master Salewell set aside his papers and looked up at Patrick.

“I wish to become a member of the Royal Arcane Academy.”

“According to Dath’visser’s letter, you are a talented mage—diligent, focused, and possessed of qualities rare among our kind. In this short time, you’ve already become a six-ring mage. Truly impressive.”

“I have simply devoted more time to the arcane than most. To master new arcane knowledge is every mage’s dream.”

“I will forward your information to His Majesty, King Anasterian. Not long ago, you were appointed chief mage of the Sun Sanctuary—the affairs of the Ghostlands may keep you busy. Still, His Majesty may well give you a satisfactory answer,” said Salewell after a moment’s thought.