Chapter 24: The Scum of the Mages

Finally free from the pestering of annoying nobles, Arthas sat down on a marble bench in the corridor outside the garden.

Back in Lordaeron, he had always disliked these banquets attended by nearly the entire upper crust of the nation. Had his status as a prince not required his attendance, he would have much preferred to be in the training grounds honing his swordsmanship.

"With Vancleef, I can establish a foothold in Kalimdor."

As Arthas enjoyed the gentle evening breeze, he contemplated his next moves. He had already settled on the location: the site of what would eventually become Theramore, on the southeastern edge of Dustwallow Marsh.

Although the climate of Dustwallow Marsh was far worse than other parts of Kalimdor, it was largely free from the influence of any local Kalimdor factions, inhabited only by wild beasts and elemental creatures.

Once he drove the orcs into Kalimdor, Theramore could serve as an outpost, while also acting as a buffer zone between the orcs and the other factions of the continent.

Though Kalimdor was far more wild than the Eastern Kingdoms, it hidden within it were the oldest and most powerful beings in the world—the remnants of the ancient elven empire, the children of the stars, the night elves: the Kaldorei.

The Blackwater Raiders’ ships had already reached Kalimdor, but they rarely encountered night elves. The elves were almost exclusively confined to Mount Hyjal, occasionally venturing down into Ashenvale and Felwood. Outside of those forests, the Kaldorei were rarely seen.

Arthas had also sent men to search for the tauren living in the region. They were a peace-loving race that cherished nature, but they were currently under threat from centaur tribes. If Arthas provided them with aid, he should easily be able to gain their trust.

In truth, the most difficult to ally with were precisely these distant cousins of the high elves. While they did not use magic like the high elves, they shared that same deep-seated arrogance.

Even when Azeroth faced the threat of the Burning Legion once more, the Kaldorei stubbornly believed they were the only force capable of guarding the world, disdaining any interaction with other mortal races.

Blessed by the World Tree and the Dragon Aspects, the night elves possessed eternal life and perpetual youth. Powerful heroes among them who had survived the War of the Ancients were numerous, and they held deep ties to the Wild Gods.

Yet, the long passage of time had caused some of them to forget the true terror of the Legion.

Had the overwhelming power of the Legion’s "Defiler," Archimonde, not eventually shattered the elves' pride, they might have continued to isolate themselves on Mount Hyjal, refusing to engage with the outside world.

Arthas understood deeply that the true threats facing Azeroth—whether the Old Gods or the Burning Legion—were not forces that any single race could resist alone. He had to unite all available strength.

This was not a game world filled with infinitely respawning adventurers acting as supreme commanders; it was a real planet. A single wrong step could lead to total ruin.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Jaina?"

Arthas roused from his deep contemplation. Turning his head, he was greeted by Jaina’s smiling face. The mage raised a slender finger, tapped Arthas on the forehead, and smiled. "Long time no see, my prince."

"Long time no see, Jaina."

Arthas gave Jaina a deep hug. Looking at her in her mage robes, he asked, "I didn't see you when I was introducing the guests at noon; I was quite disappointed for a while. Please forgive me for not visiting you in Dalaran for a year."

"Pfft, our Prince Arthas is such a busy man," Jaina teased playfully. "How did you manage to notice a lowly mage like me?"

"You’re wrong there. You’re the only one I notice in a crowd."

He kissed his fiancée’s smooth forehead and smoothed the hair behind her ear. "Did something come up?"

"Nothing much. One of my arrays suddenly malfunctioned just as I was preparing to leave, and I lost some time trying to fix it."

Jaina pulled away from his embrace and complained, "That cursed magic array—it didn't go wrong sooner or later, it just had to explode right as I was about to depart!"

"Master Antonidas didn't scold you, did he?"

"No, that array was never very stable to begin with. The fact that I kept it running for over two months was quite an achievement."

Jaina tugged at the hem of her robes. "But I didn't have time to change."

"Actually, these robes suit you quite well. I quite like them."

Dalaran mage robes were generally custom-made; Jaina’s outfit was more expensive than a standard gown, and robes, designed for comfort and mobility, were far more pleasant to wear than the restrictive corsets and evening dresses.

Not to mention, the designers in Dalaran were top-tier. The violet base, the noble gold and silver trim, and the luxurious fabric—had it not been for the lack of a waist-cinching corset, these robes were essentially no different from formal wear.

Arthas also noticed that the purple fabric of Jaina’s robe was embroidered with the eye-of-magic emblem of the Kirin Tor.

"You’ve joined the Kirin Tor?"

The Kirin Tor was a council of Dalaran’s elite mages, dedicated to fighting all threats to Azeroth's existence. Joining this council was a symbol of immense power in itself.

"Yes, that was last week. I am now one of the councilors."

Jaina didn't consider it anything worth boasting about. After all, there were many mages in Dalaran far more capable than her. Her early induction into the Kirin Tor was, aside from her own solid skills, largely due to her father being the ruler of Kul Tiras and her mentor being the Archmage of the Council of Six.

"Congratulations. Though, I still hope those eccentric mages don't influence you too much," Arthas said.

"Haha, how could they? And not every mage is as strange as you imagine." Hearing that Arthas liked her attire, Jaina, who had never cared for formal gowns anyway, abandoned the idea of changing altogether.

However, Arthas was right; there were indeed some old mages in Dalaran who were eccentric—not because they were involved in anything mysterious, but simply because they became incredibly naggy whenever their apprentices messed up.

Mage apprentices were absolutely the most unstable factor in any laboratory. Some lazy ones who didn't listen carefully might accidentally misfire a mentor's wand and turn themselves or their classmates into frogs.

Compared to the rare few who could blow up a laboratory in a mage tower, those mishaps were minor.

After chatting about some interesting anecdotes, Jaina no longer cared about Arthas failing to visit her. Suddenly, she thought of something that might interest him.

"By the way, Arthas, have you heard that Archmage Kel'Thuzad, one of the Council of Six in Dalaran, was expelled?"

Arthas nodded. Of course he knew; his intelligence network in Dalaran had been closely monitoring the Archmage's movements.

"I've heard a little. You would know more about the specifics than I do, being in Dalaran. Could you tell me about it?"

"It happened at the beginning of last month. Kel'Thuzad was stripped of all his titles and banished from Dalaran for practicing forbidden necromancy." Jaina recalled the situation; her mentor, Antonidas, had been furious. "My teacher was incredibly angry, saying he couldn't believe a scoundrel like that had emerged from Dalaran."

Arthas coughed slightly—if Kel'Thuzad's amateurish necromancy made him a scoundrel, then what did that make him?

However, now was certainly not the time to bring necromancy into the light. The death knights created by Gul'dan’s warlocks during the Second War had left deep psychological scars on humanity.

"Does anyone know where this former Archmage is now?"

"I'm not sure, but I overheard in my mentor's tower that Kel'Thuzad didn't return to his homeland. After leaving Dalaran, he traveled south. The last time he was seen was at the docks of Southshore."

This matched the information Arthas's spies had gathered: after being exiled, Kel'Thuzad had immediately packed his things, reached the Southshore docks, and boarded a ship heading for the frozen north of Northrend.

Arthas thought to himself that it seemed the Archmage had already been summoned by the Lich King. The Lich King had turned his gaze toward the human kingdoms, and he wondered if the Lich King—or the dreadlords watching over him—had noticed his own movements.

His intelligence network was already taking root in Northrend. While he couldn't get news directly from the heart of the Lich King's domain in Icecrown Glacier, based on the movements of his forces in the region, Arthas could roughly estimate how far along the Lich King's plans had progressed.

Arthas took Jaina’s hand. "Let's not talk about that mage who dabbles in forbidden arts for now. The banquet should be starting soon, and Varian is waiting for us."

"Oh no! I was so busy talking to you that I forgot to touch up my makeup!"

"It doesn't matter. This isn't a formal social event. I had Varian ask the chef to prepare plenty of Kul Tiran specialties; are you sure you still want to go fix your makeup?"

"Really? Is there Kul Tiramisu?"

"Of course. Let's go!"