Chapter Forty-One: The Title of Nobility

Patrick felt himself gradually adapting to life in Quel’Thalas, relishing the luxurious existence of the high elves and experiencing a way of life entirely different from Earth. He felt as if he had finally found something real—no longer a mere bystander, no longer trapped in the sensation of dreaming, but truly integrated into this world.

Because of this sense of belonging, he found himself caring deeply. His parents, his brothers, his kin, and perhaps Aurelia as well—they were always by his side, their sorrows were his sorrows, and their happiness was his own.

...

“Big sister.” Patrick had barely walked in when Sylvanas dropped her playful demeanor and stared seriously at Aurelia.

“Yes, little sister?”

“Do you really care so much about Patrick Cabrolon?”

“He’s a partner of the family. The herbal plantation his family manages and oversees will be an important economic venture.” Aurelia turned her head, avoiding Sylvanas’ gaze as she sipped her tea.

“It’s more than just a partnership, isn’t it? You’re never this invested in an ordinary elf.” Sylvanas clearly didn’t believe her, pouting. “Didn’t you also instruct a few rangers to keep an eye on Patrick’s life at the Sun Sanctuary?”

“He is different from other mages. Since arriving at the Sun Sanctuary months ago, he’s devoted himself solely to studying the arcane. The off-duty rangers often host parties and have invited him countless times, but he’s never attended, always buried in the library at the Spire of Daylight.”

Aurelia showed no surprise at this news. “Back at the Eastern Sanctuary, aside from meetings, he spent all his time in the library researching arcane magic. When he reads, he’s so absorbed it’s as if his mind is entirely immersed in the tome of the arcane.”

Sylvanas couldn’t help but laugh. “And you still claim it’s just a simple partnership? You’re watching him so closely, noticing every little detail.”

Aurelia fell silent.

...

Patrick returned to his study and received a letter from the Royal Arcane Academy. The academy had dispatched an arcanist to the Spire of Daylight to announce a royal commendation—a reward for Patrick Cabrolon’s outstanding performance in the recent battle.

According to the letter, the academy’s envoy was due to arrive at any moment. Patrick recalled his last visit to the Royal Arcane Academy, where he met with Selervol to express his ambitions, though Selervol had not given a direct response.

“It seems the royalists have finally reached a decision regarding me,” Patrick mused. “I just wonder what the royal family has in store. The reliability of the parliamentary faction is questionable, and the royalists’ overtures must be scrutinized again and again.”

Politics, after all, was the most complex of disciplines—a vital social phenomenon born when intelligent life reached a certain stage of development. In Quel’Thalas, politics was fundamentally about class relations; in the class society of Silvermoon City, class was the defining feature of politics.

If he wanted to thrive between the parliament and the royalists, he would have to tread carefully.

Lost in thought, Patrick was interrupted by a telepathic message from Quelrintis: the envoy from the Arcane Academy, Thalysta, had arrived at the Spire of Daylight, and Arcanist Yanida was receiving her in the main hall.

Thalysta—an old acquaintance, in fact. In the era of the Wrath of the Lich King, she was a boss in the Nexus dungeon, a tri-specialized archmage, master of arcane, frost, and fire.

“Ambassador Thalysta, Chief Patrick is currently discussing battle strategies against the trolls with Marshal Aurelia and General Sylvanas,” Yanida politely explained, hoping to forestall any dissatisfaction from the Academy’s envoy.

Thalysta understood the necessity for the ranger units to tighten defenses at this time of year. Troll activity always increased before winter as they gathered supplies, and the ranger units faced immense pressure on the front lines.

Though the magical shield of Eversong Forest blocked much of the frigid air from the north, the temperature would still drop after winter set in, causing reduced crop yields.

Thalysta made no protest, only replying courteously, “Very well. The front-line situation takes precedence. Could you arrange for my attendants to rest? I’ll wait here for Chief Patrick myself.”

“Of course. Please, this way.” Yanida led Thalysta’s attendants to the second floor of the mage tower.

Having received the message from Quelrintis, Patrick teleported to the first-floor hall to welcome the academy’s ambassador.

A surge of arcane energy marked his arrival at the teleportation array.

“Ambassador Thalysta?” Patrick saw the academy envoy waiting patiently.

“Chief Patrick.” Thalysta regarded Patrick—his arcane power ran smoothly, his spirit vibrant and full. He was a steady, reliable arcanist.

“You’ve come a long way, Ambassador. Let us speak in my office,” Patrick said, gesturing politely.

Thalysta followed Patrick as they teleported to the fifth floor, where they found Aurelia and Sylvanas present.

“Marshal Aurelia and General Sylvanas are here as well. That shouldn’t be a problem, I trust?” Patrick inquired.

“No issue at all. This is a royal commendation for you, Chief Patrick.” Thalysta produced an envelope bearing the Silvermoon City fire phoenix seal from her magical satchel and handed it to Patrick.

The commendation was simply worded and direct:

“In the year 6895 of Quel’Thalas, Marshal Aurelia led the ranger corps, together with Arcanist Patrick, deep into the Forest of Life to thwart the trolls’ sinister plan to attack the Farstrider Enclave. Later, they once again ventured into the Forest of Life and destroyed the troll stronghold of Zeb’Watha. In recognition of Arcanist Patrick’s contributions to elven society, he is hereby awarded the title of Baron and the Golden Dragonhawk Medal.”

The royalists had not yet given him their unequivocal support; they remained in a phase of cautious testing. The barony, for Patrick, meant little.

Elves were famously proud. For centuries, the Kingdom of Quel’Thalas had been virtually invincible, and the strength of individual elves was formidable—so much so that this pride was etched into their very souls. Elves interacting with one another cared little for noble rank. Although high elves acknowledged their various noble houses and clans, deep down they believed that greatness was not predetermined by birth, and every man must prove himself.

The Sunstrider clan owed its royal status entirely to Lord Dath’Remar, who obtained a vial of the Well of Eternity’s water from Illidan. That single vial allowed the high elves to create the Sunwell and established the arcane foundation for the entire kingdom.

Thus, the Sunstriders became the royal family of Quel’Thalas.

Every elven commoner considered themselves chosen by fate, and no one would ever stoop or fawn over someone just because of a title. In elven society, there were plenty whose parents were ordinary, yet they themselves became high-ranking spellcasters. This was the nature of the high elf race—especially in their dealings with humans, where their arrogance was unmistakable, the very embodiment of looking down their noses at others.