Tiragarde Sound, Sentinel Hill.
The fortifications of the fortress, built on a small island located between the Drustvar and Tiragarde Sound archipelagos but administratively attached to the latter, shuddered from two consecutive explosions. Before the dust raised by the fall of two meteors right onto the clusters of sea monsters could settle, a young Mage guy, who appeared inside the fortress clutching an equally young Gnome girl, began insistently demanding that the first soldiers he encountered, stunned by the explosions, take him to the person in charge. Mages were not such unique beings that a private, even in a backwater fortress like this, couldn't identify them, and so within a couple of minutes, a pair of soldiers escorted the arrived reinforcements to the officers' quarters.
"Commander Hallowell," introduced himself a red-haired brute (and no other physique was found among the military) and quickly bombarded him with questions: "Who are you? What were those explosions? Has the evacuation started? Or has headquarters changed plans and we're going on the attack?"
"I don't know anything about a change of plans. I'm Lin, an apprentice of Antonidas from the Kirin Tor, and I'm here to reinforce your positions. And yes, the explosions are my work; things are looking pretty bad in your neighborhood."
"I see..." the garrison commander mused, then looked doubtfully at Trixie, who was hiding behind Lin's back; she was uncomfortable with the presence of a large number of armed giants. The officer was of a high enough rank and well-trained enough to know who Antonidas was, but that didn't extend to knowledge of Gnomes, and so, although his attitude toward the unfamiliar youth changed to a more respectful one, the next question itself turned out to be offensive to the Mage's companion:
"I know about the reinforcements from Dalaran, but why did you bring a child with you?"
"Hey, I'm not a child!" Trixie emerged from behind his back and hid no longer, staring gloomily at the nasty "adult."
"She's not a child," Lin confirmed readily, making a mental note that his colleagues from the Order had arrived in the capital. "This is a Master Engineer from Ironforge and my... assistant."
Hallowell didn't notice the short hesitation because he was intensely racking his brains in an attempt to remember everything he knew about Ironforge. Catching onto a vague memory of some shorties, the Commander nodded.
"I see, my apologies. The evacuation to Boralus is supposed to start in half an hour; we need to hold out until the portal opens. Can you protect the perimeter?"
"I think I can. As I understand the situation, you haven't been attacked yet, just blocked."
"Yes, that's correct, but the enemy's numbers are increasing, the surroundings are being systematically ravaged—everything points to an imminent attack."
"We'll definitely hold for half an hour," the Mage assured him of his own competence. "Besides, the enemy has no Mages—that makes things much easier. If it continues like this, there won't be any problems as long as I have Mana—and I have... a lot of it."
To the man, these words seemed excessively vain, but at the same time, he hoped that not everything was empty boasting, for they don't take just anyone as an apprentice to the biggest bigwig in the magical city-state... right? Unless, of course, the guy lied, but then it wouldn't be clear at all what he was doing here and how he managed to appear so spectacularly, and most importantly—effectively: Hallowell had personally watched the two fiery stars fall from the sky through the window. Only half an hour ago, the garrison commander had been cursing fate, his superiors, and then everyone he could remember for the fact that the garrison troop strength was a couple of orders of magnitude smaller than desired, and it didn't include even fifty Water Mages from the Stormsong temple. Now, however, he was ready to pray to a single Mage of the Kirin Tor...
"Then I won't delay you," Hallowell understood that the faster the guy got to work, the better the chances for their collective survival.
"Let me know if anything changes... By the way, are there many civilians in the fortress? I saw refugees on the way."
"A few people managed to escape from Fallhaven—it's a miracle they managed to cross the bridge before it was captured. Another fifty or so came from Tiragarde Sound. And there were a few dozen in the fortress itself—our families and staff. In total, I think there will be about a hundred and fifty."
Hallowell didn't know what prompted the question, but sincerely hoped it concerned the evacuation and not an assessment of the weight of the future cargo that would fall on the Mage's conscience when they were cornered here and had to bolt without looking back, leaving behind the commoners and dying soldiers... The man shook his head, driving away the all-too-vivid images of possible defeat.
Alas, it couldn't be said that Admiral Proudmoore's subordinate had guessed entirely wrong with his assumptions...
"The problem is," Lin felt it necessary to warn the worried officer, "that I arrived here straight from Dalaran, and I won't be able to build a portal to Boralus in a short time since I've never been there. I could make a teleport to Dalaran, but for more than a couple of people to pass through it, I'd have to start working on it now—instead of the defense. So my question is—were you definitely promised an evacuation?"
"Yes, as definite as one can be in wartime. Right now, as I understand it, your comrades are busy saving Freehold..." Hallowell said in a sinking voice, darkening visibly.
"Alright, I don't think there will be any problems," the Mage treated the situation somewhat lightheartedly, in the Commander's view. "We're off."
To which Hallowell could only nod and return to studying the map of the fortress fortifications, surrounded by assistants who had remained silent throughout the conversation.
Leaving the headquarters building, Lin headed for the nearest stairs to the wall. Trixie didn't fall behind him by a single step.
"If everything doesn't go according to plan, you'll abandon them, right?"
"We'll abandon them," Lin clarified. "Or do you think it's better for everyone to die together than for at least someone to be saved?"
"No," the Gnome sighed sadly, but at the same time feeling warmth spread inside from that inclusive "we."
"This is war, and by definition, it doesn't happen without casualties, especially when the sides are so... uncompromisingly set," he continued to comfort the girl.
"I know," Trixie sighed again. "Our home city, Gnomeregan, was lost because of war and betrayal."
"Apparently, I know too little about Gnomes. What is Gnomeregan? As far as I know, you live in Ironforge. And who were you fighting?" Lin became interested, for in the historical treatises where the little engineers were mentioned, there was nothing about this.
"Gnomeregan is..."
While they walked along the fort's fortifications and the guy was busy with his sorcerous things, Trixie told him about her abandoned homeland, the war with the Troggs, and Thermaplugg's betrayal.
"I don't understand," Lin admitted, while tracing glowing runes with his finger on the wall of one of the corner towers. "Why didn't you ask the Elves or Humans for help if your allies, the Dwarves, didn't want to help you?"
"Because they don't care about us!" suddenly, as if at the flip of a switch, the Gnome became embittered. "They only need our knowledge and skills!"
"Nobody works for free and a simple thank you," he shrugged, seeing nothing unusual in such a situation. "But since you couldn't solve the problem on your own, you can't do without outside help, but you'll have to sacrifice something for it. It's profitable for the Dwarves to keep you in the semi-subordinate position you found yourselves in when they took you in."
"They are our allies!" the girl protested.
"That's true," he agreed. "And they are also very greedy. And if they help you now as allies, for free, then later you'll say 'thank you' and return to Gnomeregan, and they, having spent strength on its liberation, will be left without the engineering services they've already gotten used to."
"Why without engineers?!" the indignation intensified. "We would never break our agreements!!!"
"Let me clarify—without cheap engineering services," Lin continued to calmly explain the nuances of politics explained to him by Jaina. "Surely you do many things for them for free or for a pittance, purely out of gratitude for being allowed to live in Ironforge. And I wouldn't be surprised if the Dwarves have an insane discount on your services, just 'neighborly.' It only took me one visit to realize that not everything is right in Ironforge. Charging gold for entry into the city? Only Dwarves could have come up with that."
Behind the guy, who hadn't stopped drawing Elven squiggles, came the sound of a sniffle. Lin looked away from sketching the base for the future dome of magic defense and saw a sulking Trixie, ready to burst into tears.
"Don't be upset," he asked her. "Better think about how the situation can be used to break or change the agreement with the Bronzebeards. I suggest you turn to the Elves. I was visiting them recently and was pleasantly surprised by how they have everything set up. You could even move to them—Azshara will be glad for such talents. Besides, Quel'Thalas is the most protected place in all of Azeroth, which is especially relevant nowadays."
Trixie let out a first uncertain snort, and then she said:
"You talk as if you're not a Human, but an Elf, or at least an Elven spy and provocateur."
"Yeah, and I hide my ears behind my hair."
"You can't hide ears like those."
"I'm still little, they just haven't grown yet," seeing that the Gnome had changed her mind about being offended, he returned to the interrupted work. "But seriously, if you want to maintain independence so much, you could hire us, the Dalaranese, for example, by signing a one-time contract. What are these Troggs to us? We'll liberate your Gnomeregan in a couple of days."
"There's radiation there, it's very dangerous in itself, and that's why the Troggs mutated. And that traitor built a bunch of robots and filled all the passages with them."
"Then all the more reason to think about moving," Lin brought up the topic again. "A home is wonderful, of course. Но it's better to live in a new one than to die in the old one."
"Why die? We're not going to throw our lives away for nothing without a chance of victory."
"Because even if you get it back somehow, you still won't be able to hold it, since you couldn't even fight off the Troggs."
"Hey, there were unreal numbers of them! And that bastard Thermaplugg!.."
"Do you think that can be compared to a Legion of Demons led by a fallen Titan? Or with the hordes of those brutes behind the wall under the leadership of an Old God? If only it were that simple..."
"Ha! You talk as if you've seen it yourself!" the girl didn't believe him.
"I would wish for you never to see the difference, but I'm afraid we live in difficult times, and perhaps you'll soon understand it yourself."
She fell silent, thinking about something. And she was silent for—unprecedented!—ten minutes, only to then ask one question.
"So you really can help?"
"Even if Dalaran refuses for some reason, Quel'Thalas will definitely be interested, even if only in the form of a one-time deal. I won't remind you of my advice regarding moving under Azshara's wing, or you'll think I'm a disguised Elf again."
"And yet you did remind me," the girl grumbled, but without much dissatisfaction: for water, as they say, wears away the stone.
"Well, what can you do—that's just how we Elven spies are, we have to earn our crust of bread too."
"Uh-huh, you'd better demand rubies instead of food; I'll trade them to you later for such a roasted cave rat—you'll bite your fingers off!"
"A cave rat?" Lin asked doubtfully, just in case he'd misheard.
"Yep! We have specimens running around that they hunt in whole groups."
"How about I treat you to a cake instead? There's a place in Dalaran that sells all kinds. Delicate whipped cream from the freshest cow's milk with crunchy baked whipped egg whites with sugar..."
"Do you work there part-time or something?" Trixie asked, swallowing loudly.
"No, I just liked the taste and got interested in the recipe—in case I ever want it and there's no pastry shop nearby," Lin was glad he had managed to switch from Gnomeregan's problems to other topics. "By the way, are you hungry?"
"No, what we managed to scavenge in the abandoned village, I'm still digesting... Will you be much longer?" she suddenly asked.
"About five minutes, I think, one tower left. Why?"
"I think there's going to be an attack."
Lin turned his head and looked where his companion was staring curiously. The fortress was on a hill, mostly with steep slopes; below, on the coastal strip, the surf roared. And there, familiar monsters were running out of the water. Lin glanced toward the silent cannons, then turned his gaze to the ugly spawn of N'Zoth, back to the cannons, and finally, he got what he was waiting for. The roar of artillery pieces rang out, and those following the first wave of attackers were swept away by grapeshot, knocked back into the seawater. At those who made it under the cover of the shore and were stubbornly trying to climb the steep slope, they began to discharge small arms.
"It's fine, we'll make it," the Mage stated and returned to his sorcery, but his movements became noticeably faster: after all, the fortress wasn't protected by natural barriers on all sides; in some places, the slopes were gentle, and that was exactly where the gates stood in the fortress walls, with roads leading to them.
Lin had been overoptimistic about one tower and five minutes—only after he and Trixie had run around the inner courtyard for another ten minutes did the young Mage finally stop in the center of the fortress, threw up his glowing hands, and shouted the activation key. The blue energy that tore from his palms quickly reached a certain point in the air, where it bloomed like a flower with wide petals rapidly merging with each other, which rushed toward the fortress walls, thereby forming a protective dome...
However, all these movements turned out to be irrelevant: no Mages appeared on the enemy side, and the number of monsters was small, and after five minutes of standing on the wall, the long-awaited portal opened in the middle of the square. From the huge spatial window, which didn't give those present a chance to see what was happening on the other side, a Mage immediately stepped out, showing maximum paranoia as befitted the situation. The man in a robe with the Kirin Tor symbol ornament was surrounded by active defense. He held a staff glowing blue in his hands, and a shimmer from cast spells was visible around the man. Glancing around quickly, focusing on the magical dome and seeing no immediate danger, he shouted:
"Commander, over here!"
After which the Mage stepped aside and was able to take time for a more detailed inspection. Naturally, the pair descending from the fortress wall, consisting of a youth in a similar robe and a Gnome girl, immediately caught his attention. An apprentice of Antonidas was not a person who could go unrecognized in such a situation, as the newcomer demonstrated.
"Lin?" the Mage was slightly surprised, but being unaware of the incident from twenty-four hours ago, he didn't ask what winds had brought the promising young Mage here, and in the company of a Gnome too; instead, he asked, poking his staff's head upward: "Your work?"
"Yes, Vremiar. Long time no see."
"And how's the situation here?"
"All sorts of small fry were crawling in, not even any Mages—the soldiers handled it themselves," Lin waved a hand toward the wall he'd just left. "But overall—the monsters are destroying everything on the coast."
Exchanging a few more words and cursing the culprit of the attack by tradition, namely N'Zoth, the apprentice of the head of the Kirin Tor moved on to questioning:
"Is the portal from Boralus? Is Antonidas there? Is the city under siege?" he grouped all the news he could gather from the conversations and the situation as a whole.
But Lin didn't get to torment his fellow order member for long—the garrison commander arrived. However, the answers to the remaining questions were supposed to be found on the other side of the portal…
------------------//------------------
Boralus.
The start of the battle for the capital of Kul Tiras turned out to be not so much spectacular as it was effective. In a matter of seconds, the water around the group of islands where the city stood froze into ice thirty paces from the shore, including the entire depth down to the bottom. The forward detachments of sea creatures hiding near the walls were destroyed by a single cohesive strike from a couple of dozen mages, one of whom held the highest rank in magical disciplines.
From the perspective of the magical projections through which the defense commanders observed the start of the operation to break the blockade of Boralus, the sight appeared remarkably mundane. So what if the coastal waters changed color and the waves ceased their run—now, if a storm had broken out, so beloved by the mages of Kul Tiras, or if the enemy had been engulfed by a firestorm… then, yes, there would have been something to see, but as it was—it was too modest for the famous Kirin Tor order.
The princess, who hadn't been allowed to go and fight, had little to do except be nervous and worry. She had even been removed from supporting the projections. Her father, along with the organized staff, generated ideas and orders, sending messengers and straining mages to transmit messages to one detachment or another. Modera, together with the remaining members of the order, formed their own interest group and also discussed tactics, but from the standpoint of the vector of applying magical forces.
Jaina, having failed to find a task for herself, walked over to the open window so as not to get underfoot. Through the pale pink, barely visible film of the magical dome protecting the headquarters from possible enemy attacks, flashes of combat spells could be seen and the roar of cannons could be heard. After watching the reflections of the growing battle for a while, she forced herself to switch from sad thoughts to theoretical calculations on how to hit the enemy with something lethal right from here, while simultaneously considering the possibility of using Spell Shields for targeting. She lasted about five minutes before her thoughts returned to the war, her parents, and Lin.
This time, the topic proved more than fruitful. Staring out the window with an unseeing gaze, Jaina became so immersed in herself that the conversations and heated arguments arising at the slightest change in the operational situation became a blurred, barely distinguishable noise sounding somewhere in the background. The princess didn't even notice that half an hour had passed…
Silence helped her escape the melancholy—at some point, Jaina realized that the nagging noise had subsided and human voices had vanished from it, leaving only the sound effects of spells muffled by distance and the voice of the garrison cannons. The girl turned around and saw with surprise that in the room, which had been crowded just a short while ago, only a few people remained: herself, three observer mages, and five staff officers, but neither her father, nor Modera, nor their entourage were in sight. Which, in Jaina's view, was suspicious.
"Where is everyone?" she asked her colleagues, who were intently studying the panoramas of the battle raging around the city.
"Scattered," the nearest observer mage replied. "Some were assigned to defense sectors, some were sent to the reserve, others—with orders to the mainland. Modera, when she found out your partner had emerged from one of the evacuation portals, ran to meet him. The King went with her for some reason, and his entourage followed. You, by the way, were left in charge."
Jaina immediately realized who he was talking about. The girl opened her mouth but couldn't utter a word. To the joy and relief of Lin's sudden return was added a strong anxiety at the news of her boyfriend's imminent introduction to her father. Jaina knew her parent's character perfectly well, and therefore immediately understood that without her presence, the meeting could end badly. She was already ready to bolt toward the portal platforms—the only places where the anti-portal barrier, set personally by the elven ambassador, did not operate, and which were well-guarded in case of enemy sabotage. It was lucky the words of her second colleague stopped her, for to her shame, Jaina had forgotten to clarify which of the three portal platforms everyone had gone to. At that moment, she hadn't even thought about the fact that there was actually a war going on and someone had to watch over everything here…
"Look over there, they should already be on site," the man in robes said, without taking his eyes off the screen showing a section of the wall swarming with monsters that, for some reason, hadn't been destroyed yet. He waved his hand to the side, toward another projection.
Jaina, realizing she likely wouldn't make it to the scene in time, rushed to the indicated screen. All that awaited her was an excellent view of the portal from which soldiers were running out, and the backs of her father's crowding entourage. The view was terrible. Without a second thought, the girl seized control of the spell, poured in more Mana, thereby expanding the projection window, and changed the position of the "All-Seeing Eye" to get a better angle and zoom in, only to immediately realize her fears were justified—she was too late.
Now, four people became the main actors of the magical broadcast. Lin, who stood there listening to the royal grievances with an unperturbed look. Her father, pressing in on her boyfriend. Modera, who remained silent and didn't interfere but was close enough to let everyone know she was directly involved in the situation. The fourth was a female Gnome hiding behind Lin from the Admiral's wrath. The individuals accompanying the Archmage and the King stood frozen at a respectful distance. After a fleeting check that Lin was alright, Jaina first focused her attention, strangely enough, not on the quarrel between two close people, but specifically on the person with two bedraggled pigtails so brazenly pressing against her boyfriend! What normal girl would react calmly to such a sight?
However, a girl obsessed with magic could not, by definition, be normal, and so, curbing her ill-timed flash of jealousy and trying to ignore the supposed rival, Jaina concentrated on the details and immediately realized the conversation was about her—she had seen her father pronounce her name so many times that she couldn't mistake that movement of his lips for anything else. Alas, the reconnaissance spell she occasionally perfected had not yet reached a level where sound was transmitted along with the image, though this fact didn't stop the Archmage's apprentice from grasping the essence of the conversation thanks to the fierce gesturing of one of the parties in the conflict. It was obvious that Daelin Proudmoore did not intend to give his daughter's hand to some youngster until real deeds stood behind his reputation, even if he were thrice the apprentice of an old friend and a promising mage squared…
Everything had a beginning and an end, and the argument between the father-in-law and the prospective son-in-law couldn't last forever either—the latter ran out of patience, and he, apparently, also switched to raised tones. The man loomed over the "greenhorn," as he was surely calling the young mage now, but the boy didn't think of yielding, standing in the pose of a man confident in his strength. "He just needs a staff—and he'd be the spitting image of an Archmage," the girl mused, gazing at her chosen one and teacher…
"Just like two roosters," a comment suddenly came from behind Jaina, who was closely following the development of events.
The princess flinched slightly and, jerking her head, glanced at another spectator, managing not to lose sight of the family showdown. Peripheral vision was enough to match the blurry figure with a vaguely familiar voice and recognize the stranger as Anasterian—the ambassador of Quel'Thalas and concurrently one of the supreme leaders of the Kirin Tor.
"I envy them, for their goal is such a beautiful girl as you," the ancient Archmage continued meanwhile, tossing out a routine compliment. "But it seems to me that discussions of this sort are inappropriate at the current moment, don't you think, Lady Jaina?"
"Lady Jaina" strongly suspected the elf was hardly aware of the full background of the situation, but in any case, she had to say something, if only out of politeness.
"Yes, Revered Councilor. And I would have been glad to be there to stop the senseless conflict."
"If you think your presence would help reconcile them, you are mistaken—rather the opposite. Believe my experience, they will become friends much faster if they measure their... greatness against each other, or simply and unassumingly punch each other in the face a couple of times."
While Jaina was thinking of how to politely explain that "they aren't like that," events meanwhile developed exactly according to Anasterian's scenario. Daelin, insistently explaining something, gestured at everything around them as if saying: "Look! This is all mine!" To which Lin only contemptuously curled his lips, which looked not very impressive coming from a young guy, and then demonstratively slowly raised his right hand and snapped his fingers. And no one except the observant Jaina noticed that his other hand was hidden in the bag slung over his shoulder. But a couple of seconds later, seeing no effect from the simple snap, the King asked something, mimicking the smirk of the pretender to his daughter's hand. Lin merely pointed a finger upward, and when the people caught in the image craned their heads, most of their mouths fell open, including the King's and Antonidas's assistant. The Gnome, as the princess noted, did not look surprised, though she watched the sky with interest.
With a light pass of her hand, Jaina changed the viewing angle, though she already roughly guessed what they saw there—Lin hadn't hidden from her the preparations being made for a big mess, which included various "consumables" generously infused with the power of the elven Well. The sun had long passed its zenith, so the people staring at the sky were able to see without hindrance five slanted red streaks hurtling toward the ground like lines drawn by the hands of gods. The observers from the headquarters were not hindered at all from viewing the heavenly messengers in all their glory.
"Artifactоrics?" the ambassador asked semi-affirmatively, having guessed the source of the demonstrated power. "Not bad. Only I wonder where such knowledge comes from at such a young age? And as far as I remember Antonidas's stories, little Lin cannot boast a large reserve—he would have had to charge them himself for slightly less than an eternity."
There was an undisguised question in Anasterian's words, and his return to the headquarters was too sudden, and therefore suspicious.
"Naturally, I help Lin in his endeavors. And filling a couple of artifacts with Mana is not the hardest thing," the girl did not intend to reveal secrets, especially someone else's—since Azshara hadn't told her henchman anything, it wasn't appropriate for her either.
"I see..." Anasterian said vaguely, lost in thought, watching as the meteors reached the ground behind the walls and sent pillars of dust or water and steam, flames, and the remains of monsters into the sky, but his interlocutor wasn't particularly interested in this sight, and she switched back to the family story, ready to become a drama at any moment.
The elf sensed a catch but couldn't understand from which side to approach the mystery of Antonidas's young apprentice. Where did he get the knowledge and skills? Where does he get the Mana to realize his inventions? And most importantly—why did the Queen ask to look after him? What could connect a human youth and an ancient elf? Unanswered questions began to sour his mood: he didn't like working in the dark…
Even if Jaina had looked away from the displayed picture, she wouldn't have been able to tell from the ambassador's calm face whether he believed what she said or not. At that moment, the girl was most concerned with the continuation of the conversation between her boyfriend and her father, who continued to be under the impression.
"You can go to the square," Anasterian suddenly suggested. "I'll keep an eye on everything here."
Reflections didn't take too much time.
"Thank you, Councilor!"
The future Archmage walked quickly toward the exit, and the elf took the vacated spot at the screen. Suddenly, the ears of the representative of Quel'Thalas caught something strange—the sound of the princess's footsteps cut off too abruptly, and the creak of the doors did not follow. Anasterian looked after her and found that she had frozen mid-step a few meters from the exit. A paralysis of unknown origin held Jaina for a few seconds, and the girl, coming to life, reached the door in two leaps, but barely touching the handle, she froze again, only this time literally for a moment, and then turned around and blurred in the residual effect of a short Teleport, appearing next to him. For the elf, it was generally obvious that the stupor was caused not by magic, but by a state of enlightenment, the expression of which was clearly frozen on the face of the returning mage. However, he was much more interested in the talents Jaina demonstrated…
The princess, without saying a word, jumped to the magical screen still showing the portal square, stared at the image, and then her body jerked and… she vanished again in a similar fashion.
The scene of the square, meanwhile, was joined by the missing girl, but few on the square itself paid any attention to it. Everyone except the elf froze in amazement. Not that Anasterian wasn't surprised, but his self-control was definitely sufficient, and he kept his face. Such jumps were the norm for his kin or experienced mages among the locals, but to see such filigree execution from a young representative of a young race, and moreover under the conditions of counteracting anti-portal charms—that was unexpected, especially considering that by all appearances, she was jumping such a long distance for the first time, and to a place out of direct line of sight.
"Is she definitely a human?"
But the thought-question remained unanswered…
------------------//------------------
Boralus, same time.
While most of those present on the platform with the evacuation portals stared at the consequences of the fall of five fiery stones rising above the city walls, Lin was the first to continue the stalled argument about who was worthy of what.
"Maybe I don't have a whole kingdom, but I don't need such an ephemeral thing as power. Do you still consider me a greenhorn?"
"A greenhorn?" Daelin asked, slowly shifting his gaze to the boy. "No, but a conceited upstart—definitely."
"You can't get anywhere these days without arrogance," the boy sighed like an old man, which allowed the tension to ease somewhat.
"True enough," the King said in a low voice, as if reluctantly agreeing with his opponent.
"Do you still consider me," Lin repeated, continuing to press his father-in-law, "unworthy of your daughter, old man?"
The King felt a new wave of irritation rising in his chest, and he had only just begun to calm down after the demonstration of power by the newfound suitor! When the report came from the mages about the appearance of Antonidas's second apprentice from the portal leading to Sentinel Hill, the father of the universal favorite rushed to "get acquainted," since the situation on the walls remained unchanged and the defense could be left to competent subordinates. And what did he see? Some incredibly pompous-looking youth to whom he wouldn't entrust a single serious matter! This upstart had been bold and impolite throughout the conversation (Daelin somehow didn't recall the parable of the mote in another's eye and the beam in his own), and only the presence of Modera's assistant prevented him from dealing with her insolent colleague…
"Do you think if you've learned a couple of tricks and have a pretty face—that's enough to match her?"
"I think she's capable of deciding that herself."
"If you think Jaina will choose your side over mine, you are gravely mistaken!"
"I won't be the one to put her before such a choice… but will you?"
For a while, there was another pause in the conversation.
The introduction to his daughter's chosen one was entering a new spiral of bickering, though at least the silent Modera, having understood which way the wind was blowing from the very start of the meeting, had set up a one-way barrier against eavesdropping so that family squabbles wouldn't become public property. However, the quarrel could not continue for a more than "objective" reason—the sought-after object of the dispute appeared on the scene. Jaina, taking advantage of the absence of anti-portal charms in this location, which made her work half as easy since they were still present at the entry point, materialized five paces from the four and at the same distance from the entourage surrounding them. A moment was spent restoring her orientation in space, and in two steps she was in her boyfriend's arms. And it cannot be said that this last act was the result of an unconscious impulse, not at all—the young princess simply decided to directly declare her choice of life partner.
"Lin!"
"Hey, honey! I'm just getting acquainted with your dad here…"
"Father?" the girl turned to the King.
Daelin stood with pursed lips and an unreadable expression on his face, but then he overcame himself and forced out:
"It's fine, Jaina. You have a very talented young man. Now is not the time, but I am convinced that we still have much to... discuss with him," and then, without waiting for an answer, the man turned abruptly and, stepping out from under the effect of the charms, loudly ordered the crowding entourage: "We're returning!"
"I have many questions," Modera stated, effectively finding her voice for the first time during the meeting, not counting the initial greeting. "I think Antonidas will have something to ask as well."
"Can't it wait until the end of the battle?" In a normal case, Jaina wouldn't have risked objecting to one of the order's council, but the joy of her boyfriend's return made its own adjustments.
"And not find out how Lin got here, and what's happening behind the portal?" The assistant to the head of the Kirin Tor shifted her gaze from the cause of the gathering to the girl and continued. "And also why you, young lady, are here and not at the headquarters you were assigned to watch over? Do you think the answers to these questions will become more relevant after the attack is repelled?"
Antonidas's apprentices exchanged a silent look. Modera, taking the lack of objection as consent, proceeded with the questioning and began by inquiring about the identity of the Gnome hiding behind the young mage—after all, before discussing possible secrets, one had to ensure that all present were entitled to hear them. By the way, the question of identifying the Midget also very much concerned the second girl present…
***
Read the story months ahead of the public release — early chapters are available on my Patreon: patreon.com/Granulan