Chapter Eighty-Nine: The Road of Development

A friend of the Heart of the Storm—how about going to Stormwind to become Anduin’s royal chef after Lordaeron falls?

Since Patrick had agreed, the practical arrangements could be handled separately. His father’s capable aide, Melaris, would help the family manage everything properly. With the secret accord with Terenas in hand, the Carbong family could once again gain strength within the Silvermoon Council.

As for the possibility that those standing councillors would quietly meddle in military procurement, Patrick had already considered it. The likelihood was high. Once the Carbong family began to grow at a rapid pace, the council’s restraints and methods would inevitably follow.

In the past, the main source of the Carbong family’s income had been the kingdom’s military purchases. No matter whether it was potions, enchantments, or anything else, they only had to keep making them, so long as the quality was acceptable. In the end, everything would be sold to the state, so there was no need to worry about demand.

If one had no desire to develop oneself or one’s family, then one would be no different from those pleasure-loving elves, needing to think of nothing beyond eating, drinking, and amusement each day. It was obvious, then, that at least half the elves in Silvermoon were longing to strive upward; they simply lacked resources and support, and in the end could only sink into the vast sea of people.

Now, Terenas’s proposal had undoubtedly given Patrick a wholly new path of development. He could begin accumulating gold and supplies without relying on the kingdom’s own internal channels, obtaining food, medicine, and production materials from humans. In the years ahead, there would be many hard battles to fight, and there would be no shortage of places to use them.

But Patrick specifically instructed Melaris that magical materials must not be delivered as finished goods. Quel'Thalas was a kingdom of magic; even the weapons of ordinary soldiers were standard armor and arms, all enchanted by mages. Some elves, after receiving their weapons and armor, would further augment them with their own magical knowledge—inscriptions, mana sigils, and other spell-enhancing effects. Everything from processing to crafting was done by themselves, without government expense. In Quel'Thalas, which elf could not casually cast a few minor spells?

If this were Lordaeron, could the same be done? Human soldiers indeed wore full armor, even heavy helms upon their heads, but if all of it were to be enchanted, would Lordaeron have enough mages? Did King Terenas have that much money? Were the necessary materials to be seized by force?

So long as trade with Lordaeron began, Patrick would develop the land around the Forest of Life and the Sun Sanctum bit by bit, steadily accumulating his own original capital. As for Silvermoon City, he did not yet want to involve himself there, because once one stepped into the vortex of politics, one could no longer keep oneself pure and detached. He would also have to contend with the schemes and intrigues of the council’s five standing heavyweights, and in that case Patrick would be unable to spare attention for other matters.

He thought of the Song Dynasty from his previous life: damn it, even when the Jin and Mongols were already at the gates of the imperial capital, those ministers still had to wage their factional struggles first. If that did not lead to collapse, what would? As a noble of Quel'Thalas, and moreover an honorary noble ennobled by the kingdom with his own fief, Patrick would never allow factional strife among the officials appointed within his own domain.

Now the objective was perfectly clear. The most important things were his own strength and the accumulation of a family foundation. As for the struggle with the council, that could be set aside for the time being. After all, Ner'zhul would teach those standing councillors a simple truth: backwardness invites beating.

As for Lordaeron’s crown-prince ceremony, Patrick would merely play the mascot, like the other ambassadors. The newly born Arthas, under everyone’s gaze, received Archbishop Alonsus’s blessing, and then Terenas announced Arthas Menethil as heir to the throne.

A sky full of blossoms drifted down, adorning the entire royal city of Lordaeron. Bells rang and echoed, proclaiming this sacred moment: the kingdom now had a successor. Below, the people of Lordaeron cheered, softly chanting the name Arthas Menethil.

The old king wore a face blooming with smiles. When he looked at Patrick, his expression grew even more radiant. Terenas felt that if the Menethil family could maintain long-term cooperation with Patrick in the future, then—judging by the three- to four-thousand-year lifespan of the elves—he could protect the entire Menethil line for dozens of generations. For humans, that was nothing short of eternal guardianship.

After the ceremony came the carnival beloved by ordinary people. Countless commoners and soldiers below drank freely, or sang and danced in celebration of the newborn prince. Peaceful yet fervent, splendid but not noisy.

The king’s ministers and Melaris finalized a preliminary plan. As for the detailed cooperation arrangements, those would wait until Patrick returned to Quel'Thalas, after which the Carbong family would send representatives to negotiate in detail.

Everyone returned to Silvermoon City. The old steward went straight back to the family estate to discuss the specifics of cooperation with Lordaeron with Father Old Phil. Patrick believed his father would also seize this heaven-sent opportunity with both hands. Itonis and Quel'rintis likewise returned to the Sun Sanctum. Once back, Patrick would begin laying out his own arrangements.

Patrick went to see the king and briefly reported on the embassy mission. The specific contents could be elaborated in a formal report later. He also learned that the king had sent additional aides to Dalaran to assist Prince Kael'thas, led by Luminas Sunmark and Astalor, both of whom he had once met in passing.

“Lord Patrick, did the embassy go smoothly?”

King Anasterian still wore that standard, polished smile.

“Broadly speaking, it was much the same as before. Not much changed,” Patrick replied vaguely as well. Excluding the private discussion between Terenas and himself, there truly had been nothing special—just a formality.

“The renovation plan you submitted last time for the Tower of Sunlight has been approved,” His Majesty said abruptly, still smiling in that same immaculate way.

“Thank you, Your Majesty. The Sun Sanctum has served on the front lines for thousands of years and is due for a major restoration,” Patrick answered directly, knowing the kingdom wanted to see his intentions and therefore speaking plainly.

Upon returning to the Sun Sanctum, he found it growing ever more prosperous, the flow of people increasing day by day. Arthas had already been born; it was time for the lives of the high elves to begin shining anew.

On the balcony of the mage tower, Quel'rintis and the others stood behind Patrick. Together they looked down at the endless stream of elves below: merchants hawking their wares, friends conversing with one another, and idle rangers basking in the sun and savoring the tranquility. It was bustling, crowded, and lively.

“Quel'rintis, how many years have you been at the Sun Sanctum?”

“Chief Patrick, nearly eighty years.”

Quel'rintis’s answer left Patrick momentarily speechless. Those people in the council really were ruthless—he had been here for eighty years and still had not been promoted.

Patrick looked down at the lively marketplace. By now, the entire Sun Sanctum had developed into a small town. “There aren’t many places this prosperous, are there?”

“Yes. It was your arrival that made the Sun Sanctum prosperous and lively,” Quel'rintis said respectfully, uncertain what Patrick had in mind.

“I want to turn this place into a proper town, so the city hall will need a chief administrative officer who knows the area inside and out. Would you be willing to take the post?” Patrick stated his idea.

“This... this... I would be willing. Very willing.” Quel'rintis nearly thought he had heard wrong, but Patrick’s certain gaze told him he had not. A chief administrative officer was something unimaginable to Quel'rintis. Which great family in Silvermoon was not governed by favoritism, keeping all power and resources tightly within their own bloodline? Patrick was the first person like this that Quel'rintis had ever encountered.

At once, a great stir rose in the hearts of the other key members of the Tower of Sunlight. Councilman Patrick was not the kind of Silvermoon noble who appointed only his own kin. Each of them had a chance to rise.

“The first staff of the city hall must be chosen with care. Of course, I will also assign a few aides to you. The remaining posts can be determined by you yourselves. You will be responsible for the entire Sun Sanctum’s taxation, land planning, coordination, and so on.”

“Also, as chief administrative officer of the city hall, you will serve as a standing member of the Tower of Sunlight’s decision council and assist me in drafting future development plans.”

“I obey your command.”

Quel'rintis was indeed talented. This was exactly the kind of person Patrick needed. If he were to let some half-baked family hireling handle the post, within half a year the entire Sun Sanctum would become lifeless and stagnant, and that was absolutely not what Patrick wanted.