Paval Reethe, Jaina's personal guard, also froze for a moment.
Miss Jaina's Frostbolt—wasn't she pretty good at throwing it?
She had even practiced the whole day yesterday…
Frostbolt…
Allen lowered his gaze, quietly centering himself.
He didn't know this spell at all.
He hadn't even touched the most basic frost magic.
So he immediately cut ties with this inferior, low-level spell and spoke with a straight face: "I don't know Frostbolt."
Jaina was stunned at first, then immediately felt a wave of regret.
That was a mistake. It must be that my question was too low-level.
As a Grand Mage serving as Royal Legal Advisor, he certainly wouldn't want to discuss such a basic spell with me, right?
She quickly changed direction.
"Then, Master… what about Blizzard? Every time I use Blizzard, I get exhausted very quickly."
Allen wondered if something was wrong with her. I just said I don't know Frostbolt, and you're asking me about Blizzard?
"Uh, actually, I don't have much research into frost spells."
Jaina's cold little face nodded, but her mind was racing—Ah, the Master doesn't use frost magic? Think, think, what other spells are there?
"In that case, I've recently been studying Fire Blast, but I haven't finished the lessons yet before having to depart. Mr. Prestor, could you teach me that?"
Allen fell silent for a moment.
Sigh, no helping it—he was a rather honest person, not one who liked to lie.
"Uh," there was a trace of awkwardness in his voice, "actually, I don't have much research into fire spells either."
Jaina let out a soft gasp in her heart.
I see. He must be a master specialized in the Arcane school. It's not uncommon for mages to focus on a single discipline. Think—what arcane spells have I learned recently…
She originally wanted to ask about Arcane Explosion, since there were parts she didn't quite understand. But when the words reached her lips, for some inexplicable reason she changed them: "Then… Mr. Prestor, you must be very knowledgeable about Arcane Missiles, right?"
Arcane Missiles.
The most basic arcane spell—almost every apprentice mage's first lesson.
You know this one, at least, right?
This time, Allen remained silent even longer.
After a long while, he spoke awkwardly: "This… actually, I also don't have much research into arcane spells."
The room fell into complete silence.
Jaina almost couldn't maintain her ice-cold expression. She wanted to blurt out—
You don't know frost.
You don't know fire.
You don't know arcane…
Then what spells do you even know?!
Paval exchanged a glance with another attendant standing nearby.
That look carried the exact same meaning—Had King Varian run into a charlatan?
How could he recommend someone like this to escort Miss? This is outrageous!
They would definitely have to bring it up with Miss later.
Allen looked at their expressions and understood everything.
He sighed.
Forget it. Might as well break the pot entirely. Better to just tell the truth so this girl stops bothering me over this kind of thing.
"Actually," he said calmly, "the spells I usually dabble in are rather deep and… dark. They might not be suitable for you."
I've put it like that—she shouldn't bother me anymore, right?
Sure enough, upon hearing this, Jaina's guards' expressions changed.
Paval's hand was already on the hilt of his sword, his body leaning slightly forward, ready to shield Miss at any moment.
Although Jaina's expression didn't change, her thoughts were surging like waves.
Deep… and dark… dangerous magic…
That sounds like… a warlock?
By the time Paval politely invited Allen to leave the reception hall, Jaina was still in a daze.
She watched Allen's back disappear through the doorway, watched him fade into the shadows of the corridor.
He really is so mysterious…
What spells does he actually know? And how did he become Stormwind's Royal Magical Advisor? And what has he gone through, to make him always seem so… melancholic, so absent-minded?
Logically speaking, he should be a dangerous individual.
But why do I… feel this itch in my heart, this curiosity?
After a long while, Jaina finally spoke, her voice so soft it was almost a whisper: "What do you think… those deep, dark spells he mentioned could be?"
Paval's face darkened.
No time to waste. He had to quickly figure out at which port they could throw that warlock off the ship—before he corrupted Kul Tiras's pure and innocent Daughter of the Sea.
...
On the way back to his room, Allen ran into Morgan.
Morgan was standing in the corridor, gazing out at the sea through a porthole. When he saw him, he smiled and greeted him.
The two went to have dinner together.
Stella didn't show up.
But Allen wasn't worried, because she seemed to be thoroughly enjoying soaking in that bathtub.
He had never really asked them, but Morgan and Stella seemed to have assumed from the beginning that they would follow him to Dalaran.
Morgan—his intention was simple: to help, to repay the life-saving favor, and to continue pursuing justice.
As for Stella…
She was simply tagging along to freeload.
Before, Vereesa had been the one actually paying, so Allen hadn't felt it.
Now that he himself was the one spending money, he finally truly understood what "it hurts" meant.
It was expensive.
Supporting someone who just eats and drinks for free.
If not for the fifty gold coins Vereesa had given him, Allen would have definitely kicked Stella off the ship and made her stay in Stormwind.
Sigh.
Come to think of it… those fifty gold coins were also Vereesa's money…
After dinner, Allen felt seasick and returned to his room early to rest.
He wasn't used to the rocking of the sea; his stomach churned violently. Lying on the bed, he closed his eyes and let the swaying carry him into a half-dream, half-waking state.
Morgan, meanwhile, went back up to the deck.
He helped the sailors with some odd jobs—carrying things, pulling ropes.
Only after it had completely grown dark did Morgan return to his room.
He sat on the edge of his bed and closed his eyes.
He began to pray.
The words of the Holy Light flowed slowly from his lips, low and devout.
Golden light emerged from his chest, gradually enveloping his entire body.
That light was warm and gentle, like a mother's hand softly caressing him, dispelling the fatigue of the day and the shadows in his heart.
The Holy Light surrounded him.
Immersed in that warmth, Morgan forgot time, forgot where he was, forgot all his worries.
Before he knew it, he had been praying for a long time.
When he opened his eyes again, he froze.
Outside the window, a storm had suddenly fallen upon the sea.
The previously calm ocean had completely changed its face.
Fierce winds howled, torrential rain poured down, and massive waves crashed against the ship one after another, making the entire vessel shake violently.
Rainwater lashed against the porthole, blurring the view outside.
In the darkness, only the occasional flash of lightning illuminated everything.
BOOM—!!!
A thunderclap exploded, shaking the cabin.
The sound was too violent, too sudden—Morgan's heart clenched sharply.
Lightning flashed past the porthole, a ghastly white light illuminating that small pane of glass—
And illuminating something outside.
A shadow.
An extremely tall shadow.
Its outline was blurred, twisted and distorted by the heavy rain, but it was far too large to be human—freezing Morgan in place instantly.
By the Holy Light…
What was that?
---
I will post some extra Chapters in Patreon, you can check it out. >> patreon.com/TitoVillar
---