Is'Ney-Azshari, royal palace.
"...You screwed up, couldn't even handle such a simple assignment, and now you come to me?!"
The effect of the raised eyebrow on the face of the young elf in white robes was amplified by the sight of the throne on which she sat, as well as the sight of the magic-filled trinkets she wore: a diadem with a pulsing opal and an amulet in the form of a golden disk on a chain.
"What assignment?" a tall male elf responded gloomily, whose leafy robes, horns, and the greenery of his thick hair identified him as a Druid.
"Well, really... I assigned you not to die. Wasn't it you, Malfurion Stormrage, bristling your beard threateningly, who swore that you would not allow history to repeat itself? Congratulations! You didn't allow it; you did much worse—you gave the Enemy the Source."
"We were lured into a trap by Malygos. Cenarius sacrificed..."
"Those who wish to be deceived—are deceived. Haven't you heard that saying? You found someone to trust—the clever-assed lizards who were always looking out for themselves. And don't even start about Cenarius... You can remind him of his sacrifice when you meet in person."
"He is dead."
"If only your words reached N'Zoth's ears, but something tells me your dearly beloved goat won't get off that easily... Well, why are you silent, priestess? Have the prayers run out? Or... did Elune prove unable to grant your requests?"
Tyrande Whisperwind had been waiting for this arrogant old woman to pay attention to her, but it still happened unexpectedly and at the same time in a perfectly expected provocative manner.
"We came to ask for help, not to listen to insults."
"Insults? You are mistaken, girl. It is enough to look at your situation as a whole to understand that you traitors have humiliated yourselves more than I could ever devise," said the seemingly benignly inclined Azshara, and then suddenly switched sharply to another topic, her expression not changing in the least. "What kind of help are you asking for? Military? Asylum? What specifically do you want? Enough of this 'world under threat' and 'simple elves are suffering' from you."
"By liberating Nordrassil, we won't have to flee."
Millennia of experience told the queen that there was a note of uncertainty in Malfurion Stormrage's speech, which Azshara logically linked to their lack of faith in her ability to deal with N'Zoth because of their own recent loss. A pause ensued.
"Do you think that if this overgrown weed represented a significant threat to me and my people, I wouldn't have dug it out by the roots long ago? Even if it would have required some effort. So—now, when he is trying to take back his energy from Azeroth, the situation from my point of view has not changed. Но I will, being kind and listening to the concerns of even traitors like you, destroy your cursed piece of wood, and in return, you will swear an oath of loyalty to me. A magical one. How do you like my offer?" the girl on the throne smiled sincerely and even somewhat infectiously.
The spouses grew even gloomier, and it was impossible to say which news was worse: Azshara's readiness to destroy the Great Tree or the taking of a slave oath.
"Nordrassil does not need to be destroyed..."
"We will not become your slaves!"
The queen, without ceasing to smile (such a reaction from the petitioners was obvious to her), chose Tyrande Whisperwind's remark specifically for her answer.
"Then you will become slaves of N'Zoth. And instead of serving your Queen, as was originally intended—you will be at the beck and call of The Void along with your goat-mentor."
"If you help cleanse the Tree..."
"Why should I?" the benign intonations in the girl's voice, ringing like a stream, took on bored notes. "Perhaps it is actually feasible to perform, but I don't see a single reason why I should even consider such a possibility. No Source—no problem. Why look far: recently you yourselves held to this postulate and even made it a reality."
"I... We were wrong."
"I don't need your repentance. It's of no use now. The Well of Eternity is no more, and the enemies have only increased. And I have no desire to babysit you."
"But the destruction of the second Source will lead to..."
"A Source—perhaps," she seemed to take hidden pleasure in interrupting her opponents' speeches. "But a rotten piece of wood—definitely not. So what is your answer?"
------------------//------------------
"One is as thick as a plank, for all that he's a Druid, and the second is a fool of an Elune-worshiper with a completely broken sense of self-preservation..." Azshara said aloud, being absorbed in self-admiration in the mirror that occupied a good half of one of the walls of her luxurious chambers.
Despite the failed negotiations, the ruler of the elves looked calm. It seemed that Azshara was not at all concerned by the refusal of her former subjects, who did not want to return under her wing.
"Eh, as much as I would like to deal with the Aspects' defiled handiwork myself, something troubles me... some vague premonition of danger. Intuition insistently suggests that it is better for me not to leave Quel'Thalas for long. And yet, before the visit of those two traitors, nothing of the sort was felt. What was so significant about what they reported? Or is it about them?" she mentally replayed the entire meeting in her head for the umpteenth time, but found nothing strange. "Hmm, I don't understand... and it's irritating!"
Reacting to the stirred emotions, the mirror reflected a golden glow in her amber eyes. The girl froze for a second, closing her eyelids, and when the mirror showed her in all her glory again, the "shards" of amber already embodied serenity itself.
"And yet, it would be more correct to deal with the threat as soon as possible. But whom to send? Who can handle the mission or at least not croak, or worse—be taken prisoner? I don't exactly want to replenish the ranks of N'Zoth's henchmen with my own hands. Kael'thas Sunstrider, perhaps? No, he is too overconfident. Sepethrea? Not strong enough. Solarian? Inexperienced..."
Azshara sank into thought, but then, at some point, when all more or less suitable candidates were exhausted, her facial features sharpened predatorily from a flood of memories carrying a taste of nostalgia.
"Cursed Illidan Stormrage! In ten thousand years, no operative of his level has appeared. What would it have cost him not to croak so prematurely?! Though, perhaps, had he survived, I would have killed that mad adventurer myself for all his antics... And they called me insane?"
The strongest Mage of Azeroth had to curb a surge of emotions once again. But in that moment while the ancient elf dealt with the sudden feeling of longing for the past, an epiphany suddenly visited her.
"Illidan Stormrage! And it's true: that empty-headed priestess never once mentioned her former suitor during the entire conversation! Before this, at every meeting, accusations about his death poured from her, but now... That's it!"
By and large, Azshara didn't give a damn about the feelings of a girl who once naively strained in vain attempts to surpass her beauty, and she cared twice as little about why the green-haired peasant didn't raise the cherished topic this time. However, the fact that the death of Illidan Stormrage—the elf who strove to surpass her in magical disciplines—remained unconfirmed to this day was something she had somehow forgotten over the long years. "Well, it's no wonder—ten thousand have passed, after all... I remember, at first, I even thought he would somehow manage to survive. But now I must proceed from the worst—he suffered the same fate as the moon-son who loves to rake the coals with others' hooves. This could be dangerous. Sargeras's tattoos turned out to be remarkably effective."
Another period of reflection followed, but of a more strategic nature.
"It is decided. I need to strengthen the defenses as much as possible, and then personally pay a visit to Kalimdor. And I should inform the Kaldorei to get away from Mount Hyjal if they value their lives. Though, in light of recent events, one might doubt their love for life. But in any case, I wouldn't want to encounter a bunch of traitors fallen to the side of The Void upon arrival for the showdown with N'Zoth..."
***
Dalaran, two months later.
"If you think about it even a little, it becomes obvious that 'invisible flows of Mana, permeating all that exists' is complete nonsense. It's not even remotely logical."
"Lin, you read 'Reflections on the Nature of Being' yourself. It's the most probable hypothesis about the distribution of Mana in space."
"If that were truly the case, then there would be only one single Source of Magic in the world, the flows of which would entangle everything around."
"The author was hinting at exactly such a Source, which rumors say is in Quel'Thalas."
"Then what about our sources? Every Mage's core constantly generates Mana and discards the excess. They must get the energy from somewhere? Jaina, you don't think our cores are connected to the elven Source of Magic? The elves are just dreaming of how to bestow favors upon other races," Lin, sitting with a book in his hands in the shade of the spreading crown of one of the academy's tree giants, smiled, remembering Azshara's reaction to the attempts of various individuals to latch onto her Source of Magic.
"Hardly..." the girl accompanying him during the break between classes smiled back. "But how then does it turn out that Mana is contained in the air, earth, water, and everything else?"
"And fire," prompted the young reader, who had taken up the task of enlightening his colleague regarding the theoretical achievements of elven science. Even if they were ten thousand years old, they still outstripped the fledgling human race's own research in fundamental knowledge; their wise, immortal neighbors were in no hurry to bring enlightenment to their "allies."
"What does fire have to do with it? Although... wait a minute! Are you trying to say that..."
"Yes, you almost answered your own question—Mana is contained in water, air, earth, and fire because they are Elemental elements and, if one can put it that way, possess their own sources. But it's not so simple with these 'sources.' Tell me, where and why do you think more Mana will be contained: in a lake or in a river?"
"It depends on the river and the lake, but if we take into account your words about sources, then wherever there is more water."
"Partly true..." the "Teacher" reluctantly agreed. "A poor example. Let's try another—sand and earth, in equal volumes. Or this—the air in a room with a draft, and the air in a room of the same size but without drafts. So, where is there more Mana?"
Jaina thought for a moment, and then began to reason aloud:
"About the earth, it's hard to say—I've never been to a desert. Water... in water, to be honest, I haven't seen any differences, though I've been to large rivers, and lakes, and the sea—as long as there's a lot of water. But as for the air, definitely, the stronger the wind, the easier it is to take Mana from the surrounding air, which means there's more of it there. And what does that lead to?" she asked herself and immediately suggested with a note of uncertainty in her voice, which began to vanish as she followed the logical chain of conclusions: "Air Mana arises from the movement of air? So, because of the wind. Then, if we proceed from the context of the question and base it on the characteristics of the elements that define them, it turns out that there is more Mana in earth than in sand, in standing water than in flowing water, as it strives for Balance, and in fire..."
The girl fell into thought, but when after a couple of seconds Lin was already about to intervene, she perked up and finished:
"And with fire, it's simple: the stronger it is, the more Mana there is."
"Excellent!" Lin praised her. "Teaching you, Jaina, is a pleasure: you catch everything on the fly. Yes, indeed, as long as there is fury in fire, steadfastness in earth, inconstancy in air, and tranquility in water, we Mages can easily extract energy from them. Watch."
The teenager poked his finger into the ground, then placed his palm down and froze for a second, after which, with a wave of his hand, he invited the girl to investigate the designated area herself. Intrigued, Jaina, already anticipating the result, touched the ground and then, with minimal effort, plunged her hand inside as if into water. The spot seemed to have been waiting for just that; it subsided, crumbling into light dust, exposing the roots of the plants and the tree that sheltered them.
"I simply took almost all the Mana. That is, I deprived the earth of its foundation—that which supported its very essence."
"So, there's even more Mana in stones..." the girl raised her palm and watched with fascination as the dust seeped between her slender fingers, falling in gray streams back to the ground.
"Correct. By the way, about water. Movement affects it much less than air. Practically imperceptibly, but there is an influence nonetheless, and as you correctly said, there will always be slightly less Mana in flowing water than in standing water. Here it is very similar to fire, being its antagonist for a reason—the more water, the more Mana. And the common misconception that you can collect more energy during a storm is explained precisely by the air—yes, you can collect more Mana, but not of the water element. However, everything changes when water turns into ice... What follows from all this?" the boy suddenly asked.
"That it's better to take Mana not from everything indiscriminately, but from the source richest in it? And also to use spells of the school that the environment itself favors?"
"That's true—Humans are used to pulling Mana from everything indiscriminately rather than from convenient sources. But it also means that when using Mana of a specific element in a spell of the same type, you don't need to put in extra effort to spend time and part of the Mana on converting it into the desired spectrum. Watch," he repeated. "This is a stone spike spell based on air Mana, and this one is based on earth Mana."
"I don't see the difference," Jaina stated skeptically, after evaluating the identical casting speed and examining the two resulting stone shards.
"There isn't one only because this is the simplest spell, and I have a lot of experience and control. But if you knew how to control exactly which element to take energy from, you would feel the difference yourself when trying to cast the spell."
"Hey, I know perfectly well that it's much easier to cast water spells near water!"
"I don't doubt it, but now you know why that happens. Almost every one of your spells has a rune for converting energy into the desired spectrum. Moreover, as a rule, a universal rune is used. Yes, it allows you to get the desired output by feeding in energy of almost any type, but at the same time, depending on the spectrum, it has low efficiency due to large losses during conversion. I don't deny that sometimes such a tool is necessary and you can't do without it—for example, when you're trying to light a fire in the ice—but you shouldn't take it to the point of absurdity either! You say that near water, casting spells of the water school is easier? But why, in that case, do you need such a conversion there, since you already have Mana of the right type on hand? And I'll tell you—because for the most part, Human Mages don't know how to separate external Mana by type and isolate the necessary spectrum when absorbing it. For example, near a lake, by uncontrollably gathering Mana from the surrounding space, you've accumulated fifty percent water Mana, and twenty-five each of earth and air, so it becomes much easier for you to form the spell, and it will turn out noticeably stronger with the same volume of energy invested in it than if the ratio were not in favor of the water element, since the percentage of loss during conversion is smaller. But think about what would happen if you fed exactly the latter into a universal Mana-to-water-Mana converter?"
"The conversion would go easier, but still with losses. And overall, it's impractical and redundant since the right spectrum is already available."
"Logical, isn't it? All that's left is to teach you this method, and then the skill will be honed with experience."
"When you've laid it all out, it really did become simple and clear, but why isn't there even a hint of this in the books? Though I can guess..."
"Yes—standard politics. It's not in the elves' interest to have an overly strong and independent ally nearby. But I'm sure most of your senior Mages know and understand how to handle the elements correctly."
" 'Your,' huh?" the student, who was gradually becoming a Friend, teased, casting another unreadable glance at her tree-mate.
Lin winced almost imperceptibly.
"I can show you my ears again. By 'yours,' I meant the aristocratic Mages; I'm just a country boy myself..." he sighed sadly, as if to say that no matter how much he regretted it, reality could not be changed.
"Sure, sure..." Jaina even laughed: she didn't believe her companion on this matter for a single copper coin anymore.
"I think if you don't go telling everyone left and right, you won't have any problems," he shifted the conversation about his relationship with the elves to a more relevant topic.
"I think even if I gave a lecture in the main hall, nothing would happen to me for it," the girl replied, copying his instructive tone, being a princess and therefore knowing what she was talking about.
"Except for the fact that the elves will take notice of you," he felt it necessary to warn his student of such a development. "What will pop into their heads, I don't know. Although I'm interested in politics, I don't possess the necessary information in sufficient volume."
Only someone deaf or stupid could fail to hear the request in those last words. And since a princess and a gold-medallion-holding student could not be a fool...
"They already take notice of me, as they do of you—we are students of Antonidas himself, after all. And as for politics, I'll enlighten you."
"Thanks, and now, before we try to isolate a specific spectrum of absorbed Mana, answer a question. How many types of energy do you think exist in total? For example, what type of Mana is contained in a tree?.."
***
Somewhere on the road between Lordaeron and Stratholme.
"Arthas, you haven't been yourself since the talk with your father. What happened?" at some point, the mentor got tired of glancing at the thoughtfully bewildered face of his ward and waiting for the Prince to ripen and tell everything himself, so he asked directly.
"Father said that Proudmoore broke off our engagement with Jaina, and now I am free to choose a life partner to my liking, but he strongly requested that I not forget the duty of a future king to his kingdom."
"And that's why he sent you on an inspection to Stratholme," the man, already starting to go gray, smiled understandingly into his beard. "Where one can certainly find some elf who might fall for your pretty face. And that is already a good match, even for a Prince."
"Uther!" the muscular young blonde, nearly sixteen years old, protested. "To hell with those elven girls! I like Jaina!"
"Many of the capital's aristocrats would disagree with you," the Paladin chuckled in response. "Stratholme is currently full of high-born youth because the city is located practically on the border with Quel'Thalas, which has plenty of curious neighbors wishing to see the life of 'short-eared humans.'"
"Regardless," the Prince frowned. "I don't care what other aristocrats want."
"You might not care, but Daelin Proudmoore obviously thinks otherwise. That rogue immediately sensed which way the wind was blowing after the lecture given by the elves at the meeting of the heads of human states. So now there is no particular benefit for him in strengthening ties with Lordaeron through marriage. I wouldn't be surprised if advice similar to yours was given to Jaina as well. Well, you should know about such nuances of politics yourself..." here he noticed a flash of surprise on his ward's face. And although the latter tried to hide it, it was too late. "What exactly are those courtly sycophants teaching you in the classes you run off to from my training sessions?.."
The further the head of the Order of the Silver Hand spoke, the more suspicion filled his voice regarding the real reason for the Prince's absences.
"Well... yes, of course, I guessed that! And anyway, Father didn't forbid me from talking to Jaina..."
"Hmm," Uther measured the youth with a searching gaze that promised to return to the topic of skipped training sessions, which the Prince had tried to avoid, but for now, the Paladin did not pursue the retreating opponent. "Since you miss her so much—on the way back, we will certainly stop by Dalaran... Unless, of course, by then some pretty elf has stolen your heart, or a particularly shrewd noblewoman has dragged you into bed, deciding that a Prince in the role of a husband would look no worse than an elf."
"Uther! You trained me yourself. You don't think your student is so easily led astray? I love Jaina!"
"Well, well," the man grunted noncommittally: even if such a fiery statement came from a pure heart, being spoken by a young youth whose blood, due to his age, seethed with the desire to show off in front of girls—and not just show off... in short, the Paladin and simply an experienced, mature man had no trust in his student's words.
"You'll see, we will be together!"
Uther sighed heavily; he didn't want to continue the conversation in this vein, but as a mentor, he had no choice, and he himself was not one of those people who retreat from the truth just because someone might not like it.
"Then, Arthas, the main thing is that Jaina thinks exactly the same way."
The Prince was expectedly offended by the suspicion regarding the sincerity of the relationship between the representatives of the two royal families, but he immediately exclaimed passionately:
"Even if her feelings for me have cooled, I will make her fall in love with me again!"
"That's the spirit, the Paladin way!" pulling the reins, Uther made his horse step closer to his protégé and slapped him on the shoulder, his gauntlet clanging loudly against the spaulder for the whole area to hear. "The main thing is not to lose your way, and the Holy Light will always help you master the road! Speaking of the Holy Light... I can't wait for you to demonstrate your progress in mastering the Wrath of the Heavens. And I hope it will be significant."
The mentor also knew how to switch to another topic when necessary, and now the Prince, his face contorted into a decidedly unhappy grimace, was plagued by thoughts that were by no means of a romantic nature... Uther categorically approved of the principle "Business before pleasure" and had sacredly followed it himself for the last twenty years.
***
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