Chapter Thirty-Seven: The King

Seluval's response was ambiguous, making it difficult to discern his true attitude. However, by leaving the decision in the hands of His Majesty the King, it seemed he had grasped Patrick’s real intentions and thus refrained from giving a direct answer, instead deferring to King Anasterian’s judgment.

As Patrick departed, Seluval watched his figure recede, set down the scroll in his hand, and murmured, “An interesting little fellow. It seems I have underestimated him somewhat.”

Rising to his feet, Seluval instructed, “Come with me to pay respects to His Majesty the King.”

At the Sunstrider Court.

Seluval, accompanied by several attendants, entered the royal court.

“Advisor Seluval,” the Spellbreaker guard at the court stopped him, for an audience with the King required a security check.

The Spellbreaker activated an arcane array—a flash of blue light passed over them, arcane energies dispersed, and Seluval proceeded into the Sunstrider Court.

The floor of the royal court was inlaid with the finest white feldspar and dolomite, bordered by thorium, with patterns of yellow and red jasper forming a phoenix with outstretched wings—lifelike, vivid, and almost leaping off the ground. Between each slab of white feldspar and dolomite, flawless zircon gems were set, glittering and resplendent in a dazzling display of luxury.

The dome above was gilded with gold, the surroundings lit by crystal lamps, walls of white jade, and curtains of pearls—every detail proclaimed the extravagant life of the elven king. The arcane lights shone upon the golden dome, casting an intoxicating radiance upon the elves. Beautiful handmaidens, responsible for the inner affairs of the court, stood on either side, leaning gracefully against white jade columns adorned with bas-reliefs. Their figures were slender and alluring, shoulders and backs bare, their skin fair and delicate, exuding an irresistible allure.

Though Seluval, as the King’s advisor, was no stranger to the Sunstrider Spire, each visit nearly left him intoxicated by the dazzling splendor within.

He entered the Sunstrider Gardens, where the main crosspaths were similarly paved with white feldspar and dolomite tiles. Exotic flowers and plants, both for display and alchemical use, flourished on every side, swaying in the breeze, with a riot of colors and fluttering leaves, their fragrance filling the air—this was King Anasterian’s private garden.

The main tower was His Majesty Anasterian’s mage tower; beside it stood the secondary tower belonging to Prince Kael’thas, which lacked the arcane glow, as the prince had long resided in Dalaran.

Seluval made his way to the King’s mage tower, entering the chamber where the King often convened private meetings.

“Good day, Your Majesty,” Seluval said, bowing deeply.

“Lord Seluval, we were just about to summon you,” King Anasterian replied, raising an eyebrow and gesturing for Seluval to sit.

Seluval was not alone in the room; the leader of the Firebrand Special Forces, Vireless Darkshadow, was also present.

“Your Majesty, the young scion of the Cabron family, Patrick Cabron, just came to see me. He hopes to serve in the Royal Academy of Arcane Arts, and he carries a letter of recommendation from Archmage Daswither.”

“Lord Seluval, Vireless and I were just speaking of him. It seems he’s already begun to act—a clever young man indeed.”

“Your Majesty is keeping an eye on him as well?” Seluval was curious; few elves ever drew the King’s personal attention.

“Indeed. His performance in the battle of the Forest of Life was remarkable. I reviewed the reports thoroughly—Marshal Aurelia Windrunner spoke very highly of him. He did splendidly, driving the trolls out of the Forest of Life and eliminating the threat to the Eastern Sanctuary,” King Anasterian said, never one to stint on praise. Yet both royal advisors felt he was unusually effusive in his commendation of Patrick.

“Yes, after the Troll Wars, Quel’Thalas has been sorely lacking in capable elves. That young man is indeed exceptional,” Vireless echoed, following the King’s lead.

“Patrick has just visited the Arcane Academy, hoping to become a member. What are Your Majesty’s thoughts on this?” Seluval inquired, seeking the King’s opinion.

“The Council overstepped this time, assigning him to the Sun Sanctuary. His request to join the Academy is only natural,” the King replied, not giving a direct answer.

“Your Majesty, from what I have observed, Patrick seems disinclined to pursue advancement in Silvermoon. He and Aurelia have even cultivated a plot of farmland in the Forest of Life for growing herbs. It appears he has his own plans,” Seluval shared his thoughts.

“Oh? No desire to return to Silvermoon for advancement? A most unusual young man,” Vireless Darkshadow interjected. “It seems he has already perceived the Council’s maneuvers. The Council’s methods of swallowing up minor clans have not changed in centuries, but this time they have underestimated the Cabron family.”

As the spymaster of Quel’Thalas, none knew better than Vireless the true nature of the great clans and nobles, nor the countless unsavory dealings they kept hidden. The Council had always used the same tactics—absorbing or marginalizing emerging clans to maintain their own power.

For centuries, elves had been ensnared by the opulence of Silvermoon, unable to extricate themselves. How many could resist the corrosive allure of such decadent living? Most elves sought the favor of the high clans, using inherited arcane knowledge and tomes to quickly elevate their own ranks. The consequence was complicity with the great clans—or outright assimilation.

The few elves who resisted temptation and studied diligently found themselves, upon reaching maturity, unwilling to be absorbed by the Council. Thus, they would be dispatched to distant outposts, their progress in the arcane arts slowed to a crawl, their advancement all but halted, continually marginalized by the Council. It was for this reason that so many high elves later appeared in Dalaran, and why the Alliance’s Seventh Legion boasted countless elven mages and priests—no doubt for similar reasons.

Anasterian said, “Let us observe the Cabron boy for a time. Recognize his contributions in the battle of the Forest of Life and grant him the title of Baron, with authority over the supply of arcane energy in the Ghostlands. What do you think of this reward?”

Seluval responded, “He has already taken up residence in the Sun Sanctuary; this is perfect. We can better understand his character and abilities before making further plans.”

“I concur.”

The internal politics of Quel’Thalas required even the King to tread carefully. The Council’s members were not to be taken lightly, and should the royal family overstep, the Council would grow suspicious. It was best for both sides to keep to their own spheres.

The royals typically observed and collected information on an elf’s character and habits from the shadows, and only after everything was clear would they subtly draw others into the royalist camp. Of course, if an elf already belonged to the Council, the royalists would not interfere—the royal family had always abided by this unspoken boundary, never crossing the line.

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I am currently away on business; after returning to the hotel each evening, I have little time to write. Thank you all, dear readers, for your understanding.