I mean, all someone needs to do is call in some favors to have "Syllia is a long lost daughter of one of our branch families" declared the new legal reality with some forged proof ("look at this diary from a dead woman that we totally had this whole time") to give it a veneer of legitimacy, if that.
They don't need any real proof, the High Elf government runs on nepotism and royal fiat when it runs at all, if a powerful family wants her under their thumb the only way to reasonably stop that is a lot of blackmail or another strong family getting in their way.
Given if one family tries that multiple families would probably react? And react quite badly? That's very much an "all or nothing" gamble.
For bonus points that opens the door to someone trying to get bloodline tracing magic used on Syllia to disprove it - or find out who the other parent is. Can you imagine how badly it would go for the Emberbirths if Syllia was proven through magic to be a Coldwater? Their reputation in politics would be destroyed. They'd have made mortal enemies of the Coldwaters. They'd also have destroyed any ability to negotiate or even talk to other families due to being caught deceiving everyone to steal a child.
On the other hand I wouldn't be surprised if someone tried finding a way to "test" Syllia's bloodline inconspicuously for similar reasons. It could be a great way to make friends ("I found your long-lost heir!"), create problems for their enemies ("What were you thinking throwing away a child with such promise?!?"), or creating problems for two rival houses at the same time via toxic gossip ("So Mr. Emberbirth and Ms. Coldwater had an affair that lead to a child.. such a scandal! And then they threw the child away. Can you imagine?")
Note as far as I can tell Syllia was created whole-cloth when the SI landed in Azeroth so any bloodline tests are going to have interesting results. "Okay, so her bloodline pattern is a plaid with white, gold, green, and blue*.. what the heck does that match to?" is one example. Another would be "Her bloodline begins with .. her? She's the first of her bloodline? How the heck does that work?!?"
* - The colors of Earth as seen from space - clouds, sand, vegetation, and water.
Given if one family tries that multiple families would probably react? And react quite badly? That's very much an "all or nothing" gamble.
For bonus points that opens the door to someone trying to get bloodline tracing magic used on Syllia to disprove it - or find out who the other parent is. Can you imagine how badly it would go for the Emberbirths if Syllia was proven through magic to be a Coldwater? Their reputation in politics would be destroyed. They'd have made mortal enemies of the Coldwaters. They'd also have destroyed any ability to negotiate or even talk to other families due to being caught deceiving everyone to steal a child.
On the other hand I wouldn't be surprised if someone tried finding a way to "test" Syllia's bloodline inconspicuously for similar reasons. It could be a great way to make friends ("I found your long-lost heir!"), create problems for their enemies ("What were you thinking throwing away a child with such promise?!?"), or creating problems for two rival houses at the same time via toxic gossip ("So Mr. Emberbirth and Ms. Coldwater had an affair that lead to a child.. such a scandal! And then they threw the child away. Can you imagine?")
Note as far as I can tell Syllia was created whole-cloth when the SI landed in Azeroth so any bloodline tests are going to have interesting results. "Okay, so her bloodline pattern is a plaid with white, gold, green, and blue*.. what the heck does that match to?" is one example. Another would be "Her bloodline begins with .. her? She's the first of her bloodline? How the heck does that work?!?"
* - The colors of Earth as seen from space - clouds, sand, vegetation, and water.
Does anyone actually have a source on the magical paternity tests, because I've never heard of that in Warcraft and can't find anything online about it.
Does anyone actually have a source on the magical paternity tests, because I've never heard of that in Warcraft and can't find anything online about it.
In Warcraft blood magic is magic that uses blood as a power source. It's not like a Dresden Files sympathetic magic thing. I've only played the games, idk if there's some deep dive lore thing, but I think this might be something from another setting that someone has misremembered as being in Warcraft.
Sympathetic magic is not just in DF, it's basically in most magic settings in fact. Blood Magic and Sympathetic Magic are not actually mutually exclusive, they in fact have common spells and processes. You have SM in Warcraft as well, afaik, including this story.
Sympathetic magic is not just in DF, it's basically in most magic settings in fact. Blood Magic and Sympathetic Magic are not actually mutually exclusive, they in fact have common spells and processes. You have SM in Warcraft as well, afaik, including this story.
I think you've misunderstood what I'm saying, blood magic in a lot of settings works by magically connecting to things via pieces of them through some inherent property, which DF is a well known and detailed example of, and so in most settings blood magic would let you find genetic relatives. In Warcraft it's life magic that uses blood as fuel, completely different, so it's not a path to doing a paternity test.
The sympathetic magic is a thing in arcane where if someone interacts with something they leave their magic on it, again nothing related to finding family members there if they haven't interacted before. It's not running off of similar inherent properties like sympathetic magic usually does in fiction, it's based on interaction.
I don't think Warcraft has a spell in canon that would let you find family members, I don't remember seeing anything like that even when it would come up. Does anyone actually have a source besides "I think I remember seeing it once"?
The air is damp. A thick mist hangs in the air above the water, making it impossible to see more than a few feet in front of me. Light shines from an unseen source. I aimlessly walk atop the water, the surface as sturdy as solid ground, unsure of where I'm walking. Cold mists dig into me, causing me to cradle myself to retain any warmth that I can.
I wander for a time. Unsure of where I am or how I got here. Time itself is a subjective illusion as the barren place I find myself in shows no passage of time.
So, I wander, as I have done so many times already.
After some time the mist parts and I can make out the silhouette of a figure off in the distance. They are small, hunched over, looking down at something. With the mists before me, I can't make out any further detail on them.
I call out to them, as I always have done. Then, as always, the figure turns to me, their blazing red eyes staring at me. Then, without a word, they walk away. I race after them, calling out for them to stay where they are.
They never do.
So, I chase the figure deeper into the mist. Despite how far I run, and how long it goes on, I never grow tired.
Eventually, I see the figure again, and I rush over. Heedlessly running even deeper into the obscuring fog.
But it all changes in an instant.
The fog vanishes, the light dims, and the world itself seems to shift. I lose my footing and feel as if I am in some warped free fall.
Then there are voices. Unintelligible, yet loud and demanding. I say nothing, or if I did say anything it was drowned out by the noise around me. They keep getting louder and more rapid. A cold pain flashes to life in the back of my head. I hear gurgling laughter as I squirm and froth in anguish. A burning sensation like knives carving against my skin.
A bright light pierces my vision, an eldritch screech, a-
My eyes shoot open. Heavy breathing. Heart racing, beating so hard it felt like it was about to burst from my chest.
'Another nightmare?' I swore to myself as I sat up and took stock of myself.
It was early morning. The first rays of sunlight dawned into my room. My sheets were drenched in sweat. I shivered as the cold air splashed into my overheated body.
'It's getting worse,' I solemnly noted.
I've been having recurring nightmares for over a year now; they started just around the time I started Dath'Remar. Initially, I thought it was just nerves anyone gets from starting a new school, or academy in this case. New surroundings, new people, very uncomfortable environment, made sense at the time. As did my initial belief that this would go away on its own when I got used to the new situation.
By now, with how recurring it has been, I'm pretty sure there is more to this than just 'nervousness'. While I don't exactly remember the nightmares in any real detail, despite how many times I've suffered it, I just know it's the same one over and over again. Call it a gut feeling.
Nothing works with trying to curtail it. Potions. Charms. Nothing works. I can drink something that puts me in dreamless sleep, and I'll still wake up shivering come morning. Not to say that I suffer it every night, most nights I sleep nice and sound, just that it happens often enough for me to think something weird is going on.
My running theory, for now, is that this recurring nightmare is some subconscious thing where my mind is trying to process the whole "second life in a new body" thing. Question is, why didn't I have nightmares from the beginning once I realized what had happened to me? Maybe because the 'changes' are only really starting to come into focus now, and I don't mean the gender thing.
Out of my bed, I headed to the bathroom to splash some cold water on my face. As droplets ran down my face, tracing and curling around my facial features. I stood there looking at my reflection, gazing at the undeniable proof of my inhumanity.
Yes, almost twelve years on and I've only just bung to just realize I'm no longer human. How smart of me!
Joking aside, my realization arose from the least likely source. A physical feature, but not one I should cause such a nightmarish reaction from my mind. It wasn't my pointy ears. Nor my glowing blue eyes. Hell, it wasn't even the fact that I was a girl or that I could cast magic with a flick of my wrist!
No. It was my eyebrows.
By human standards, they are far too long and extending further than my brow should; by now my brows are about the length of my pinky finger of my head.
But by high elven standards, as Mom assured me after seeing me fuss about them one time, they are just right for someone my age.
Objectively, this should be the least worrying part of my new physiology. The fact that I'm potentially going to live centuries, or that if the Sunwell is destroyed in a near future I have the very real possibility of turning into a living equivalent of a raisin without an ample supply of mana doesn't seem to bother me as much for whatever reason. Of course, the raisin part assumes that I don't lose my mind from whatever innate mana addiction I probably have but don't recognize yet.
But like I said, it's none of that stuff: it's the fucking eyebrows.
Sighing to myself, I used a towel to dry my face.
A knock rapped on the bathroom door.
"Hurry up sweetie!" It was Mom. "You need to eat something before heading off!"
"Okay," I responded, slightly grimacing.
Ah yes. School. That other thing on my plate.
When I first heard about a "magic school" in this new life, I admit that the first thing I thought of was Harry Potter's Hogwarts. A magical place, with magical people, teaching magical things. A place where the fantastical was mundane.
I remember when the acceptance letter came in the mail I was over the moon! Books, uniforms, a training wand. It was almost too good to be true. Didn't even sleep that night. I was just so excited to learn something like magic. I couldn't wait for it to start!
However, a year on, and now the 'honeymoon' period has worn off I realized something. I was so focused on the "magic" part that I ignored the second, more crucial part: the "school" in magic school.
Now I "like" school as much as the next person. Some subjects more than others, but I consider myself quite an educated individual. Add in my knowledge from my first life, and I assumed that anything the Academy could throw at me I could easily finish with my "prodigal" intelligence.
Oh, how naïve I was.
--
--
"Careful Miss Dawnguard! Concentrate!"
"I am sir!"
At first, I didn't know what to think when I heard that my Fire magic teacher wasn't actually a fire mage but a frost mage. Seemed counterproductive to me. Why have a teacher who is teaching the literal opposite of their chosen field?
Kind of obvious in hindsight.
He wasn't a fire mage instructor. He was a frost mage who was teaching students the basics of fire magic. The basics all mages must learn at some point. If, or more likely when, something goes out of control he can put it out.
This class, Basics of Casting, was a hybrid indoor/outdoor class. Indoors, it was like any other classroom at this place; gaudy, immaculate, and filled with way too many valuables. This is where the theoretical part of the class takes place.
Outside is where the real class begins. We have our own little area set up for 'practice'. The immediate area is warded so spells would not pass outside the area. It was also bereft of foliage of any kind; no trees, bushes, grass, etcetera to set fire to by accident. Instead, the area was made up predominantly of smooth red stones. The layout makes sense to me. Kids learning to bed the very fabric of reality to their wills will, inevitably, lead to something going wrong at least once. Don't want to burn or wreck all that fancy stuff inside now, do we?
Currently I was trying, and failing, to keep a ring of fire levitating around me. It was a thin icicle of yellow flames; the embers dancing just below my elbows. The sensation of keeping it up wasn't any different from what I was used to with arcane magic. It's oily, it's slippery, and you need to always keep an eye on it.
So why was I struggling?
I jerked in place as the fire licked a little too close to my elbow for comfort. That minuscule distraction was all that was needed to have the flames destabilize and whip about. The whipping flames only made me more nervous I would burn myself, causing me to lose even more control. And so on.
Just as my flames were about to slip out of my control, I felt a stream of foreign mana inject itself into my flames. The fire immediately calmed before vanishing.
The professor sighed, "why don't you rest for the rest of class Miss Dawnguard."
I nodded, "yes sir…", walking off to the side, I noticed that everyone else had moved onto the final step of the practice.
I was still struggling at the starting line.
As I watched the students complete the last part, I felt a tap on my shoulder.
I turned to see Elsia, a small book in hand that I recognized to be one of our reading assignments. She had been excused from doing the exercise on account of her being an already prodigal fire mage. So, she spent her time across the way, treating the class more as an additional study hall for the duration of our work on basic fire magic.
She just stood there for a moment, seemingly unsure of what to say. Eyes glance between me and the other kids. "You burned yourself before."
"What," I was caught off guard by the statement.
"I was asking if you-"
"No, I heard you. Just came out of nowhere is all" I clarified. "But you're right though, I did burn myself. Was practicing a fireball, didn't shield my hand," I wiggled the offending limp.
She mulled over what I told her. "You keep flinching when the flames get too close to you. You're worried that the flames are going to burn you, that you start to pull too much attention away from maintaining the mana flow and worry about being burned. It only makes sense that you were burned at some point and are afraid of it happening again."
"Shouldn't I be afraid of getting burned?" I knew I was sounding a bit defensive, but I was just frustrated at it all.
Elsia didn't seem to take offense, "you do remember that our robes are enchanted to resist most basic spells, including open flames, correct?"
I didn't say anything, merely nodding; ashamed that I had been forgetting.
"You should always be concerned about getting burned," she continued, "but you need to be aware enough that the robes are enchanted to never let you get burned."
"But," I searched for the right words. "No one else is having any issues," I gestured to the other students. The flames were whipping around them. Bubbling about. Circling. None of them seemed to have any fear about them.
"That's because they don't realize how dangerous fire is."
I shot Elsia a look, "they don't?"
"Correct," she nodded pointing to them. "See how even when the flames touch their robes, they don't show a hint of fear?"
"Yeah," Now that she mentioned it. They didn't seem all that concerned about the fire touching their robes, or even getting close to their faces.
"That means they don't understand what fire can do to them."
What? "But you were just saying-"
"That the robes are enchanted, yes. But their attitude with fire shows how they don't really understand how badly fire can hurt." Looking back to me, she pulled the collar of her robe done, exposing her collar bone. "My first burn happened right here; embers jumped out of my fire and seared through my clothing."
"First- Wait, you don't wear fireproof stuff when training?"
She shook her head solemnly. "Of course. But I was playing around in my bedroom at the time. And I was six. It was my first time trying the spell unsupervised. Luckily nothing caught fire that time."
Oh boy. "That time?"
She gave me a sheepish smile. She pulled the sleeve of her robe up, showing me her bare arm, "second time happened when I was eight. I put too much heat into a fire spell that blew a gust of hot air at me. Raised my arms to cover my face. The air blew my sleeve up enough for the fire to burn my whole arm."
Before I could respond, she tapped her bare knuckles.
"My most recent burn was here. Shielded my hand properly, but the flames licked between my fingers. Everything healed alright, but my hand twitched for the rest of the day."
"You need to stop playing around with fire," I mumbled.
She looked me in the eye, "each mistake I make, each burn I get, makes me even more aware of what to do and, more importantly, what not to do. How far can I push myself, and where do I need to draw a line."
I didn't know what to say. What does someone say to that?
"I know everyone learns differently," she began. "What works for me might not work for you."
"But…" I led her on.
"But," she continued, "just be aware of your situation: you're wearing a fireproof robe, you're close to a frost mage, and no matter what burns you might receive the Academy's healers can fix nearly any reasonable injury you might sustain here."
I get what she's trying to do. A good old pep talk. "You can do it!" "I believe in you!" "Don't give up!" Objectively speaking she's right. The Academy is probably the safest place to learn fire magic. That being said; saying if you get burned, don't worry, there are healers on standby is not all that reassuring to me.
My expression must have been as clear as day since she gave me another sheepish smile, "I'm...I'm not very good at this am I?"
"It's the thought that counts," I ignored the implication of the question.
"Is it really?" she questioned.
Before I could answer her, I heard the professor call us over, "Dawnguard! Emberbirth! We're going back in!"
"Yes sir!" I called back. I turned back to Elsia, giving her a quick hug "But thanks. I mean it. I can work through this. But it'll just take me some time."
She blinked like an owl from my short embrace, "I could-" she cleared her throat. "I mean, I could show you a few tricks I learned to help you get comfortable around a fire."
Actually, that probably would be a good thing. Prodigal pyromancer helping middling fire starter.
I beamed a smile at her, "sure!"
Thinking back, it was probably a good thing the professor called the class back in; it looked like the heat of the summer day was starting to get to Elsia. Her face was getting a little red. Today did seem a bit warm to be honest; even I was starting to feel the heat myself. Though, it's probably wrong of me to poke fun at the fire mage who is uncomfortable under the hot sun. Being proficient at fire magic has nothing to do with tolerance for heat, just the ability to use fire.
I hope she drinks some cool water when we get back in.
---
Following 'Basics of Casting' was study hall. I was secluded in a small alcove of the elaborate library, sitting in a comfy sofa chair along with a bright red wooden desk with parchment and writing utensils laid out. I groaned into my readings.
Yes, readings. Plural. Each professor assigned readings that needed to be done within a certain amount of time. Nothing unusual for anyone that goes to school. The catch is the reading material itself.
Twenty pages of "Mystical Analytics for Beginners". An incredibly dry text detailing the basics of mana regulation, sealing, and challenging from a theoretical perspective.
Ten pages from "Madam Teri's Grimoire: Volume 1". This one is an old Lady complaining about the youth and their lack of drive for one hundred and twenty pages. The current chapter is on how lazy they are.
Six pages from "Alchemy: A Primer". A somewhat interesting book about alchemy.
And finally, another ten pages from "The Meditations of Grand Magister Orak". From what I read so far, this guy is basically high elf Marcus Aurelius'; a philosopher ruler of sorts who wrote a book on how to be a ruler.
With exception to "The Meditations", each was dry to the bone. Getting through them was a slough. Honestly, if it was just the books, I would be fine. I've been getting by so far by just skimming some of the historical stuff and filling in the blanks based on what I hear other people say.
The problem is the writing assignments that come along with the readings.
Now, I was used to having a lot of reading and writing from my first life. I'd like to think I was good at it. One case I remember quite well, for the worst reasons, was working on a twenty-four-page essay on the Flensburg Government for my graduate degree in Political Science. A paper meant to be worked on over two months was squished into a period of two weeks. I asked my professor at the time why she pushed it up so much. The answer was, essentially, because "fuck you".
Ughh. Just remembering that makes my fingers hurt.
Now though? Now I must write a short summary of what was read for each reading. Not that big a deal objectively speaking. Two, maybe three, paragraphs in length and I'm good. Not even a whole page. Maybe three quarters at most.
So what was my problem?
Well...
"That's wrong," Coldwater snapped at me, snatching my paper from me, and began to scribble corrections on it.
Ah yes, Venara Coldwater. My 'study partner'. I feel the word 'acquaintance' is a bit too distant to refer to our relationship. But I certainly wouldn't call her a friend. She's abrasive and prickly at the best of times. Carries herself as if every person she passes should thank her for the honor of being in her presence for even a moment. A staunch classist if her comments on the various staff are anything to go by. And, to top it all off, she is one of the proudest and spiteful people I have ever met.
On the first day of classes, a boy tripped her along the walkways outside; right in front of the main gate. I'm not sure if it was intentional or not because I didn't see it, but it doesn't matter in hindsight. Her response to him? Yell at him? Threatened to tattle on him? Of course not!
Her response was to blast him with a stream of conjured water and snap freeze it, so he was stuck on the ground. Such a 'measured'response. And of course, nothing happened to her because of it.
How do I know that last bit? Because she told me about when she sat down next to me the next day.
Yes. The girl who is so aggressive that she thinks freezing a kid who may or may not have tripped her is a proportional response decided to sit next to me in every class we have together. Me. The kid who beat her in an actual fight.
The only warning I had the first day was her backpack slamming down next to me. She had this scowl on her face as she took the desk next to mine. I genuinely thought she was going to cause a scene. Maybe snap at me with a "you shouldn't be here" type of thing. Or maybe a "know your place" speech. Seemed to fit with her whole cliché alpha bitch thing she had going on.
But out of the left field, she just starts talking. 'Talking'. It was more like she was venting than anything else, to be honest. Since that day, she's done her best to stick to me like glue. Every class we have, she darts over to where I am sitting. Every lunch hour, she zeroes in wherever I am.
But for me, now in study hall?
Across from me, I heard her mutter to herself. Scribbling fiercely on my paper, occasionally shooting me a look with a raised eyebrow before looking back down. All the while muttering to herself. When she was satisfied with her word, she slid it back to me, "Orak was the third Grand Magister, not the thirtieth."
Grumbling, I looked at her correction, my eyes rolling at her cutesy writing style, "that's what I wrote".
"Really?" Coldwater smiled, leaning across the desk, her hands supporting her head, "a child has cleaner writing than you."
It's not my fault elves are stuck in some medieval stasis and have never invented a pencil in their thousands of years of civilization!
I hate quills! They're brittle; I go through about three or four a day. Ink gets everywhere. Every time I scribble in a certain way, there's the chance of me ripping the parchment. And the way I had to hold it made my handwriting look like a child just learning how to write for the first time.
For a so-called 'advanced' society, they seemingly have no concept of a fucking pen. Just give me a pencil for God's sake!
"Look I have a hard time writing okay," I countered.
All she did was shake her head and give an exaggerated sigh, "standards here have obviously slipped in recent years if something like this was considered acceptable."
I frowned, "you know you come off as arrogant right?"
She huffed and shrugged her arms, "Is it wrong for me to be proud of my intelligence?"
I groaned in frustration. It seems like she doesn't even like me. So why was she constantly following me around if that is the case! Was this some kind of unspoken nobility thing? I defeat her so she has to put up with me. Hell, I've seen her utterly ignore the very existence of some people for far less sass than I give her! Like not using her name with enough respect. Honestly, what the hell does that even mean?
If she dislikes me, then I ask again, why does she follow me around?
Then again, I've found that she loves to needle Elsia with tons of petty little insults and jabs when she sits down with us. Really petty stuff: "My home is bigger than your home". "Your clothes are out of season". "My scores are higher than yours on [insert relevant exam], what an embarrassing display for your family". Credit, where it's due, Elsia gives as good as she gets, pointing out all of Verana's failings in kind, and seemingly not taking anything Coldwater, says overly personal; or even caring what Verana is saying.
I'm pretty sure this isn't bullying, or at least Verana isn't trying to bully her. They do choose to sit next to one another almost every day at lunch. And they do have more constructive conversations that don't involve berating and insulting each other. So, there's that at least.
Still beyond frustrating.
"You're one to talk, Venara," I said softly.
Coldwater cocked her head and frowned; eyes wide as an owl's. "What was that?"
I coyly hummed, "what was what?"
"What did you just say?" she demanded.
"Oh that," I looked up, "I was just practicing my Common. I'm very proud of my skill in it."
Her expression soured
Yes, Verena Coldwater, the self-proclaimed greatest mage of our generation, whose knowledge of the arcane is "second to none", is horrible at foreign languages. She could barely speak Common, let alone write in it! And when the professor did force her to speak, it was broken, harsh, with sounds so overemphasized that her speech had all the melody of nails being dragged on a chalkboard to me.
Maybe I was being a bit harsh. Technically speaking, I am a 'native' Common speaker; since Common is literally the same as English. Despite immersing myself in both readings and writing Thalessian for the past years, I could still speak and write in perfect English. Got applauded for it too! Our foreign language professor says I have the best grasp of Common that he has seen in over five hundred years.
Actually, it's ironic. In my first life, I was terrible at other languages. Only knew English. Now, I'm a language 'prodigy'.
She took my jab with all the grace I expect of her.
"Hey! I'll have you know that it's not my fault that humans have such a stupid language! They sound like trolls with all the grunting and moaning! Don't even get me started on the writing!" Oh Coldwater, I think you've already started. Everyone in the local area is now shooting glances at her. "I can barely read that birdscribble they call the written word! It looks like they just spill ink onto a page and smear it about with their fingers and claim-"
She jumped a bit as a librarian shushed her quite loudly. Coldwater sunk into her seat; a flash of embarrassment clear on her face as she became all too aware of how many eyes were now on her.
We sat for a minute in silence. I returned to my writings.
"Honestly," she started up again, looking around to see if she was still being watched. Thankfully minding her tone this time, "it's almost as bad as your handwriting."
I won't tell her that I take that as a compliment.
--
--
"You have all made considerable progress these past six months," the elderly-looking man told us from his podium. This was a break from our regular schedule. Usually, we had Enchanting class after lunch but instead of Professor Lightlens, this older guy came in; one Lector Naris. Given the opulence of his robes, and how much jewelry he was wearing, it was obvious he was one of the 'big wigs' of the Academy.
"But now that you are acclimated to the Academy, it is time for you to 'spread your wings," he chuckled to himself at a joke only he knew. "While the Academy can teach you much, some things are better taught outside our walls." From his podium, he picked up a packet of papers. He jostled the papers before us, "one month ago, the Academy sent out word that we were looking for upstanding individuals of the proper station who were willing to take our new students on as apprentices for the immediate future."
Oh, that.
Firebrook told me about this. This was basically an internship program in the simplest terms. Essentially, the Academy looks around for people to take on a student part-time. It gives kids a bit of an outside experience. It lets them see how the world 'actually' works. Some hands-on, real-world, applications of intelligence and magic. It can even help you set up personal connections to people for use in the future. A foot in the door, so to say, for future career options.
Firebrook mentioned he got the memo about this and put his name forward to be my mentor. He also noted that as a relative unknown, he'd probably not have any issue taking me on as his apprentice.
"And so they have responded," the Lector continued. "After providing some amount of information on each of you, you have each been chosen by name by at least one, or more, individuals. Out of these numbers, have chosen the individual we believe is best suited for the role of mentorship. Barring any unfortunate situations," he let the words hang in the air, "you will be apprenticed under them for the duration of your time at the Academy."
An energy of excitement filled the room.
"This does not mean you may slack on your lessons and homework," he quickly added. "You must learn to balance what your mentor wishes and what the Academy expects of you. Failure to do so can potentially impact your future. Now then," he pulled a single sheet out of order and shuffled it around. Then straightened out the papers against his lectern, "when I call your name, you will come up and I will hand you all the information you will need for your first meeting with your mentor. Which will happen today, when this class ends."
That got some whispers going on.
Ignoring them, he ran off the names of my class. One by one, the students went up, he had a short word with them, handed them the paper, and they went back to their seats.
I honestly couldn't tell if he was going in alphabetic order or not. Because the names went down as, first Allbright, then Brightstone, then Coldwater, then Emberbirth, then the Greatstar twins. If he was going alphabetically, then he completely skipped me. By the time he reached Starlight, everyone but me had gone up.
This was weird.
One paper left, he looked up to the class, "if you have received your instructions already, you are free to go. Dawnguard," he addressed me directly, waving me over, "a moment."
I gave Elsia a look, she nodded and proceeded out with the others. Coldwater lingered a bit, her eyes looking between the Lector and myself, before leaving as well.
Alone, I approached the podium.
"Is something wrong sir," I asked.
The Lector pinched the ridge of his nose, "not from anything you have done, I can assure you." He pulled up the last paper he had, "I suppose you have no idea who this is?"
"It's probably not who I'm thinking it is," I sheepishly responded.
He sighed, "unless you're thinking of someone with ties to the royal family, then no."
The Royal Family?
"Ah, I can tell by that expression that you are as lost as we are," Naris began. "The day we released the basic information of yourself and your classmates for mentorship, a letter arrived in the post box. Within the hour to be precise, after we released the information. And said envelop the letter came in was stamped with the royal seal."
He waited for me to digest just how big of a thing this is before continuing. Someone, or someone's, had a particular interest in me.
"In the letter, we were told, in no uncertain terms, that this woman," he tapped the paper, "was to be your mentor."
"Who sent it?" I was genuinely confused. Why would anyone even pay attention to me, let alone know about me?
"While I not allowed to say; simply know that it was someone who cannot legally be denied under any circumstance within the kingdom," he told me grimly.
Wait. Cannot legally be denied? In an Absolute Magocratic Monarchy, only one person has that amount of power. But that doesn't make any sense. Since that would mean that sender was the-
"I kept you behind to see if you had any indication about all of this," Narsis went on. "But your confusion only raises further questions. I have no idea how you have attracted such attention Dawnguard but be careful. Having attention is not always a good thing. Remember this one thing if nothing throughout your studies. It may seem trivial, but it is by far the most important thing you may ever learn here."
I grimaced at the meaning, "I understand."
He handed me the paper, folded so I could see what was written on it. Then, he ushered me out.
Outside, I saw both Elsia and, surprisingly, Coldwater waiting down the hall. They looked like they were ignoring the other but perked up when they saw me.
As I walked to them, I unfolded the paper and scanned it up and down. All that I saw as a single address, somewhere just outside the city limits, and a single name:
Siristra Everflight.
================ ================
AN: so yeah the reason I stopped updating was because I may have forgot I had an SV account. Funny right?
Everflight's address wasn't that far from the city limits, a half hour walk at most. And it was seemingly a popular area, given that the road was an actual road and not some dirt path.
But this whole situation just rubbed me the wrong way.
First was the fact that someone picked me by name within the hour of being told people could choose children to mentor. Technically speaking, that didn't surprise me all that much. I was expecting Firebrook to snap me up at the first opportunity. But for some woman I never heard of or met to pick me out so quickly? Oh yes. That set off all sorts of red flags in my head.
Add in the fact of how she muscled her way into, basically, reserving me. A seal from the royal family is not just something you can ask for. Even with my 'real world' twenty-first century knowledge of nobility and the like, I can tell that this is beyond unusual. If it was a favor she called in, why waste a favor with the royal family on me? If it wasn't a favor, and the King himself was watching me…
Was I snapped up by name out of nowhere, or was I unknowingly being watched for some reason?
Some reason like someone noticing an Old God's energy….
I really don't know which is worse.
After a good half hour of walking, I reached the address. It wasn't a house, but an estate.
It sat amongst a vast track of cleared land, tended to by a vast array of enchanted gardening tools that floated about. Each going about their tasks without pause. Several buildings made up the large estate. At the center of it was the manor itself, standing five stories tall with a large balcony on the highest floor. Red and gold-stained windows. Clean marble walls with a red tiled roof. Neatly ordered flower beds. Chairs and benches for lounging rested amidst a massive garden in the front.
A large fountain, a stone dragon with ruby eyes shooting water from its mouth, laid before the font doors. I could just make out a large grassy field in the back with some sheds.
Yet, a few things I saw didn't add up. A series of tiny cracks in this, otherwise, picturesque location.
The grounds around the property seemed a bit too unkempt for an estate of this size. In particular, the footpath to the front door seemed to be overgrown with weeds and other greenery. Some bushes looked a little too disorderly for where they were along the path. Half the flower beds had flower petal colors that did not match any theme or reason. While that in and of itself could be the theme, it doesn't add up when the other half is a clear color scheme of red and yellow.
And then there is the property itself. Overall, it was beautiful. But again, some things did not add up; though far less than the grounds around it. Whereas some windows shined brightly in the sun, others were matted in a fine layer of dust. As if they hadn't been cleaned in years. A few windowsills had bits of paint chipped off them from exposure to the elements. Yet the front door shined as if it had been recently painted.
For a house this size, you'd think that the owners would take more care of it.
Strangest of all was how mana seemed to flow around the house.
Unlike most places, where ambient mana would flow around the building's structure, this place looked like the eye of a hurricane. All ambient mana was shunted out of the area surrounding the property.
In particular, there seemed to be a swell of mana by one of the lawn chairs out front. But no matter how much I looked at it, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
Something was not right.
Not right at all.
Taking a breath, I crossed the threshold to the main grounds.
Immediately, I was beset by a sense of vertigo. The world around me seemed to tilt back and forth. My body involuntarily shivered. Every hair on my body stood up. Numbness gripped my entire being for the briefest of moments. I barely even noticed my foot coming down.
Then it was over.
I righted myself before I completely lost balance.
My head swiveled in every direction, looking for anything that might have caused whatever the hell that was!
But there was nothing. Not even some faint dividing line in the ground separating the property from the nature around it.
Not wanting to stick around in one spot. I double timed it over to the front door, doing my best to avoid the uneven tiles along the path.
Reaching the door, breathing heavily, I took a moment to compose myself. Clean up my hair. Straighten out my robes. First impressions were important after all.
When I felt I had made myself presentable, I knocked on the door. Eagerly awaiting my first glimpse of my mentor.
No response.
Huffing, I knocked again.
No response.
Frowning, I knocked harder.
Yet again, no response.
I sighed to myself.
Great. Just great.
Frustrated, I uncrumpled the note I got in the envelope with all the other stuff to see if I had misread the address. Not an unwarranted belief given the 'out of sorts' look this place had.
No, it was right.
'Come here immediately' she wrote. 'Time is of the essence'. Couldn't even bother to be here at the time-
"Actually, you are the one who is late."
I gave a startled squeak as I heard a voice behind me.
Turning to the source, I found that one of the reclining chairs in the garden was occupied by an elven woman smiling at me, an open book sat on her lap. Her red hair ran down to her mid back. Everything about her looked like it was sculpted to perfection, from her blemishless pale skin to her soft facial features, to her perfect figure. All wrapped up in an immaculate, if muted, muted red dress.
My response to this beautiful goddess? And what was the first impression given to my possible future mentor?
"Ughh."
Eloquent, I know.
She took my stuttering in stride, "technically, you did arrive on time. But that might as well be late. Arriving on time doesn't imply that you are punctual, it tends to send a message that you don't care about the meeting in question. That you're only going to put forth the minimum effort required."
I know I should be listening to her right now. But I know that seat she's in was empty when I got here. Was she-
"But I do apologize for that little bit of deception earlier," she explained, standing up and striding towards me. "I'm actually pleasantly surprised. You did see me, but you put too much stock in what your eyes saw rather than what you saw."
I'm genuinely unsure of how to act in this situation.
Everflight came to a stop right in front of me. "I was curious to see how alert you are to mana signatures in your immediate area." She gave a sheepish smile, "perhaps it was a bit cruel to pull such a stunt on our first meeting. Though I can't promise not to do something underhanded like that again."
I didn't respond, though I could feel heat rising to my cheeks.
Her hand clapped my shoulder. "Still, you've done better than most," she congratulated me. "Clearly a good sign for the beginning of a wonderful mentorship!"
"I...um," I stutter my words. I attempted to ask something that didn't make me sound like a flush schoolgirl. "So, in your letter you said that you came from Dalaran-"
Before I could even finish my inquiry, I felt her fingers pinch my check.
What the…?
"Oh, my! You're just so cute!" She smiled and giggled at my reactions to this…contact. Less in the tone of voice of some suave seductress, and more of a cheery grandmother who is seeing something she finds adorable.
Well, this was different.
She did eventually let go after a handful of tugs. I rubbed the affected cheek. "Sorry dear, you just look so cute and remind me of my one of my daughter's when she was your age," she apologized. "And to answer your question: yes, I do hail from Dalaran, thank you for asking. But enough of these pleasantries," with a firm hand, she pulled me along as she moved towards the front door, "let's get inside and have ourselves a bit of a talk. Just to get to know one another better."
"But-"
"I hope you don't mind the smell of drying paint," she cut off my protest. "I had to start renovating the grounds without the help of the girls. You know, to get some one-on-one time with my cute new apprentice."
The door opened on its own, and I was ushered past the threshold.
The area just beyond the door looked less like a home and more of an establishment. A large counter and desk laid out before a massive stairwell with two other doorways leading in opposing directions. Velvet red drapes and cloth hung from the doorways and windows. True to her word, the whole place smelled of paint. Tarps and sheets laid sprawled across the floor and covered furniture like chairs and lamps.
It looks like a reception area for a hotel or lounge of some kind.
"Wait girls?" I finally registered what she said.
"Oh don't worry about them! You're my only apprentice right now. Some of them are still under my wings so to say, but for a different reason," she happily explained. "They'll be here in a few days to help with the last bits of renovations. For today you have my undivided attention!"
She pushed me past the desks and up the stairs. I heard the door close of its own accord as we walked.
All the while enchanted paint brushes and buckets of a dizzying number of sizes hovered about. The brushes dip into various colored buckets and smear fresh paint onto clearly worn walls and the ceiling. I actually flinched as a glob of wet, gold, paint splashed down in front of me.
"Like I said, watch the paint!"
We moved from staircase to staircase, ascending to the top floor of the building.
I had to ask. "What is this place?"
"Some place I got very cheaply," she explained as if that was all that needed to be said. I watched as a drop of paint bound for her was repulsed by some kind of barrier. It splashed on contact with it, yet her dress was unmarred by paint.
"This is cheap?" I gestured around, particularly to a crystal chandelier being hoisted into place by arcane energies and cleaned by enchanted cloth.
Siristra gave a smug smile, "it only cost about ten thousand gold. So yes: cheap! When I got here it was in ruins." She continued, "the windows were all smashed. The grass overgrown. Weeds everywhere. The pools held water contaminated by green ichor. The greenhouse was covered in dead plants. And that is only the outside. Inside everything that could be wrong was!"
As we ascended, I caught glimpses of what laid in the hallways of each floor we passed.
Portraits of dragons. Lots of dragons.
Mostly red ones. They weren't shown as monsters, but rather in a noble light. If the scenes of them descending from clouds or them watering fields of flowers was anything to go by. One portrait had a drake holding a little white lamb in its clawed hands, another had a red wyrm using one of its mighty wings to shelter a group of travelers from what appeared to be a rainstorm. Basically, anything showing those rascally reptilians in a positive light.
"The wood had rotted away. The floors had holes in them. Wallpaper had long peeled off. What little furniture there was here was old and hideous from exposure to the elements. Oh, and let's not forget all the wild animals that made their home here! Rats. Bats. Spiders. An entire pack of wolves on the first floor! And that is just this building. I'll spare you the details of what I found in the residential building or the greenhouse."
When we reached the end of the last stairwell, we were greeted by a large set of doors. The stench of paint vanished entirely as we entered the far room.
"If I had bought this property when it looked like it does right now, then I'd probably pay something along the lines of one hundred to one hundred and fifty thousand gold. So, I think that it was pretty cheap for the price I paid."
We entered the room, and I was taken aback by its size. It was large! Maybe as large as my entire home in terms of floor space. A set of comfortable sofas and reclining chairs off to the side, a fireplace, and a massive bed that dominated the far end of the room. There was a doorway, covered in silk that hung from the empty door frame, that went off into another room.
However, two other things caught my eye.
The first was an entire wall of tinted red glass. Walking over to it, I looked out to see that it was a window to a lower level, probably the ground floor. I saw a collection of tables, chairs, and other furniture below. Large square sheets of tarp laid across them; polka dotted by various shades of red and gold paint that seemingly dripped from the ceiling.
The other thing that really got my attention was a massive mural at the far end of the room, hung just above the bed. A mosaic of different colored stones and precious gems. All slotted together like a collage to make an image. It depicted a great red dragon, with huge horns, breathing fire on a field of flowers. Below the dragon were women who were, tastefully, depicted dancing in the flames amongst rows of flowers.
"Ah but enough about boring stuff," Siritra broke me out of my thoughts, motioning over to the sofas. "Make yourself comfortable, I'll be out in a minute."
She proceeded through the silken doorway.
Minutes passed as I snuggled into my overly cushy seat. Trying to process what the hell kind of place I walked into. My gaze drifted back to the mosaic. Now that I had a good chance to look at it, I could swear the dragon in question seemed very familiar. This was a very specific red dragon, that much I knew. I felt like the name was on the tip of my tongue, yet I just couldn't put my finger on it. Like the thought kept being yanked away from me as I got near the answer.
So weird. Ugh, I just know this is going to annoy the hell out of me until I figure it out-
"Sorry for the delay."
My head turned to see her walk back into the room. Still barefoot, she returned with a bottle of wine and two empty glasses in hand.
"So, how about we get to know one another!"
----
----
When Siristra said she wanted to talk, I thought it was going to be more about magic related stuff, academics, hell, even just a get to know you type of talk.
"-so you know what I found? Guess? The very same bitch from the gala! 'It's just a onetime thing' he told me. I'll admit, I was annoyed. Not that he was sleeping with her, but that he had the gall to lie to my face about it..."
I assumed that the stuff would be about what life was like in Dalaran compared to Silvermoon. Or asking how my home life was.
"- told him not to, but the father came in anyway! So, what does this man do when he sees his girl having some harmless fun with a boy she likes? He goes off about marriage and purity and 'think about her image'! Ugh. People like him are just damn sticks in the mud. It wasn't like she was going to run off with the boy under the cover of night. Okay sure, they got married by the end of the year but she didn't run off like that old bear trap was fearing!"
For the past hour and a half, if the clock was correct, she's more so just talked to me about everything in her life. And I mean everything...
"-and I'll be honest, I didn't get why the girls were fawning over Malcom. I mean sure, he looked like a strapping young man. Not the bulging with muscles kind, but the athletic lean sort of fellow. He also had a better than average head on his shoulders. Basically, the dependable sort. But his trade was less than ideal. I mean sure! Some people are fine with stable hands. Personally, I prefer my partners with a little more social mobility and grace. I'm not thumbing my nose up at anyone who isn't a prince or countess. But if you want to be serious and start a family, these are the things you need to consider. Why, I remember when-"
This was very much outside of my wheelhouse.
"- so I was stuck in that damn keep for six weeks. Six! And I can assure you no knight in shining armor was coming to save me! After all that occurred, there was no way I was getting any help from them! So, what did I do? Simple, I played to my strengths. Build up some kind of trust with the brigands. A kind word here. An understanding quote there. A tactically precise tear at a sad backstory. Then, when their guard is down and thought I had a sympathetic opinion of them, I struck! Smashed one over the head with a candle stick, got myself out of these magic cancelling bindings, and burned the whole place down to its foundations! And let me tell you, it is very difficult to melt stone, but when you-"
This was the uber powerful mage I had wondered about hours ago? The mage who not only singled me out by name, but had enough clout to get the royals to intervene on her behalf? The image in my head was that of some ancient sage with eons of experience under their belt. Some scholarly type. Maybe even the seductress I saw when I arrived. Not...
"-and then they left! No letter. No note. Nothing. My babies left without saying a word! They just got up and left the nest! I was billowing fire, literally!"
..this.
"Why me…" I groan to myself as she goes on and on.
"I assumed that question would be at the top of the list." Siristra hummed, hearing my mumble and finally stopping her long winded story about how her babies 'flew out of the nest'. She sat up, no longer reclined. "Truth be told, I came here at the behest of my Mistress."
"Who is," I led her on, even more curious now.
"A very powerful woman," Everflight remained elusive.
"Who is," I repeated my question.
She smiled, "a very powerful woman," she repeated in turn. "A woman who wishes to remain anonymous for the time being."
"Okay then," seeing how I wasn't getting anywhere, I changed my question. "Why did your mistress want you to train me?"
"Now that is a question I'm allowed to answer a bit more succinctly," Siristra took a quick sip of her wine before answering. "My Mistresses' lover saw your performance during your examinations and relayed his observations to her. They both agreed that you showed great promise and so I was sent to teach you."
"And he was?"
"A mage from Dalaran," another vague response.
"Why are you even letting me ask you questions if you're going to be so vague about everything?" It was a genuine gripe I was starting to have with her.
"Not my fault you're asking the very narrow range of topics that I have been asked to refrain from expanding upon," she refilled her glass. "You can ask me just about anything, and I'll give you plain truth of it all. Remember that I was just telling you about the time I met those two strapping young dwarfs who-"
"I get it," I cut off her recounting of that particular tale again. My psyche can only take so many "sword" euphemisms. "I get it, some things are just off limits for now."
"Quite the prude I see," she laughed at my reaction and slight squirming. "Aren't kids your age supposed to be open minded or something? Interested in 'adult things' and the like?"
"I am not prudish, you're just a woman child," I countered, forgetting for a brief moment I was basically backtalking my mentor.
"Fair enough," Siristra laughed off my label. "Though I prefer to think of it as not caring what others think of me. Come think of it, I'd wager my unique outlook is very applicable to yourself."
"You mean not caring what others think of me?"
"No. Pretending to be what you are not," she explained. "I don't mean to paint a grim picture for you, especially since it is many years away, but you are going to face greater difficulties advancing your career then any of your peers. The magisters and convocation are not the most open minded of groups to begin with even within their strata of society. Sad to say, but you are probably going to need to use every dirty trick in the book to get even a fraction of what others will achieve with minimal effort."
"But I'm not interested in any of that stuff," I point out.
At my comment, and for the first time, Siristra's happy go lucky façade slipped. Her smile slips and she blinks at me as if she were a deer caught in the headlights of car, "I'm sorry?"
"I said, I have no interest in any of that political stuff." Sure, this is a mageocracy, and all mages can rise through the ranks of government, but that really isn't what I want to do. All I plan to do is learn as much as I can to survive when The Scourge comes barreling into Silvermoon.
She stared at me, almost a minor sense of disbelief on her face as she rubbed her temples and sighed. "Dear, tell me what the name of the academy are you going to is?"
"What?"
"This isn't a trick question," Siristra rolled her eyes at my expression. "Just tell me what is the name of the academy you are going to."
"Dath'Remar", I played along, curious to see where this was going.
"And what are you learning at Dath'Remar?" She pressed on.
"To be a mage." The way she was asking her questions made me wonder what the point of all this was, or what point I was supposedly missing.
Siristra had this look in her eyes from my reply, "just a mage?"
"Um…I guess they-we become high ranking mages…?"
She chuckled a bit at my response. "Yes, they become 'high ranking mages' in the same way the king lives in a 'big house'. Technically correct, but vastly understating the magnitude of what it is."
Finishing up her glass, she placed it down and looked me right in the eyes.
"Syllia, you were wrong. Dath'Remar Academy does not train mages. It never has, and most likely never will. Dath'Remar trains Magisters," Siristra emphasized the last part. "The two professions overlap in skills, but one is a wholly different beast from the other."
The implications of what she meant slowly sunk in.
"When you graduate," she went on, "you will, immediately, achieve the rank of arcanist for no other reason than simply graduating from Dath'Remar. Oh, the document you get will say it in prettier words, but a clerk in the Convocation will see you were a Dath'Remar graduate and simply stamped the approval without a glance at your actual capabilities. Some months later, no more than five from what I've seen, you will be given a position of moderate authority. Think garrison commander of a small city, a provincial governor's attaché, or even a clerk in the halls of the Convocation itself."
But I don't-
"Then, some years later after you have settled into your comfortable position, you will be invited to your first gala. Of course, that is an overestimation on my part. Graduates with friends get invited to these high society parties right out the gate but I've never heard of a graduate waiting more than a decade for their first high society invitation."
I never really thought of the school like that. It's just school, to put so much stock in someone just because they graduated from a specific place…
"By the time you're one-hundred, you'll ascended to the rank of senior arcanist and be working under the auspices of a senior magister at court. Once more, because you are a graduate of Dath'Remar. At court, you will rub shoulders with some of the most powerful people in the Kingdom and interact with the highest circles of society."
'Most high elves will be dead in ten years,' I bit my lips to not share that bit of foreknowledge even as I felt light headed over what I was being told.
"Finally, at four-hundred, you will be granted the honor of ascending to the rank of a proper magister and be asked by the senior magisters to take a seat in the Convocation to help lead the Kingdom towards a brighter future," the way she said it made the position sound more like a punishment then anything else.
I was silent as I mulled over the information. Four hundred years…
"Syllia," Siristra broke me out of my thoughts, "do you know how long it normally takes for someone to go from initiate to magister?"
"I don't know," I answered truthfully.
"Apologies but that was a trick question: lowborn mages will never reach a rank higher than senior arcanist," she explained. "And even for high born mages, it usually takes centuries to reach the rank of magister, sometimes more than a millennia. But for you, a Dath'Remar graduate? Four hundred years at most. With your innate skill and power, I'd wage three hundred years before becoming a proper Magistrix."
But why would a bunch of snobbish, rich classists, give a poor commoner a literal golden ticket to into their club? It makes no sense. Sure, some of them are probably nice like Elsia, but if even a handful are like Verana who feels completely comfortable to she talk like she does about her views to my face then-
And like that, a lightbulb flickered to life in my head.
I rattled off all the names of the students I knew in class, the people I brushed shoulders with daily. Sat next to them, trained with them, even occasionally talked with them.
'Greatstar. Goldfire. Brightsun. Redburn….. they're all noble families.'
My mind wandered to the two people I was closest to at the Academy.
'Elsia Emberbirth, sister to a Senior Magister. Verana Coldwater, heir to a noble family and daughter of Senior Magisters.'
They're also both nobles.
Everyone I have interacted in with at the Academy is a noble and they….
And they assume I'm a noble as well.
"I know it might seem like a lot to take in," Siristra's voice broke me from my thoughts, the expression on my face must have clued her into my revelation. "But one day you will be one of the most powerful individuals in the kingdom. Either magically from talent or politically from the nepotism the magisters show all Dath'Remar graduates."
"But I'm not a noble," I whispered to myself.
"Does that matter?" Siristra questioned. "What people believe is fact is entirely in the eye of the beholder. To them, or at least your peers, you are a noble. Therefore, you are a noble. But because you didn't grow up in that environment, you're at a distinct disadvantage. I have no doubt you are going to have moments where you want to punch some snot nosed blue blood kid in the face for what they say. Speaking from personal experience, while it can be very cathartic, it will lead to issues in the future."
"Wait, you beat a child?" I think I was hung up on the wrong part of her point.
"Look, if you're in the guise of a child yourself when you're trying to smack some sense into one of those pint-sized brats it's not as bad as an adult doing it," she neither confirmed nor denied my accusation, and her response was a little too quick for someone talking in pure hypotheticals.
"But you didn't answer-"
"Let us not get caught up in past. Point is, you probably have no experience in the intricacies of court. Things that are expected to be learned at home. Given you are not a noble with an etiquette tutor, you are at a disadvantage."
"But you can help me with that?"
"Of course!" Siristra sat up straight on her couch. "I'm not just a pretty face after all. Not only am I a expert mage, but I have been mingling with high society for longer than some kingdoms have existed. Nearly all my pupils have risen to positions of respect and prominence in their respective communities. And I shall do my best to impart such knowledge onto you."
"Under the orders of a woman you can't tell me about, who in turn was told about me by a man you also won't tell me about," I roll my eyes.
"I understand how it might sound, but I can assure you my Mistress has nothing but good intentions," Siristra waived off my concerns. "Rest assured, when the time is right, she will reveal all and I will apologize for the deception. But until then, just have a little trust."
"Then what's the point of it all?"
"The point is to say the 'correct' things," she smiled. "If you use words or logic that the nobility doesn't agree with, you will get nowhere. But if you play by their script, all sorts of doors start to open up."
The meeting at that point descended from a sober mood to a more lighthearted tone as if to balance out our discussion. Her bantering and teasing did start to grow on me by the end, even if her humor trends towards the crude and indecent. Not sure if she makes the constant jokes because she enjoys them, or just enjoys seeing me get flustered and annoyed by it. I suppose it's a chicken-egg situation.
By the time everything was said and done, with a schedule worked out, the sun was already setting. While I feel like it was a highly productive meeting, I couldn't help but feel I had forgotten to ask her something that was on my mind. No, not that I had forgotten but that it just…fizzled out. Like I had the question in my mind, but something else always seemed to keep popping up that was more important to me. And now that I am walking out of the place, I've wholly forgotten what I wanted to ask in the first place.
Well, took me a while to get around to it, but I've enjoyed catching up. And really looking forward to the next few chapters you indicated were coming out soon?
Also a 'tad' frustrated with the reason for the delay... On the other hand, at least you remembered? Having said that, here's some editing mistakes I found:
You're worried that the flames are going to burn you, that you start to pull too much attention away from maintaining the mana flow and worry about being burned.
Not sure what the mistake here specifically is, just that there's at least one. I think you meant to so 'You're so worried' in which case you don't need the 'worry about being burned' at the end. But you might have something else you prefer.
Mostly red ones. They weren't shown as monsters, but rather in a noble light. If the scenes of them descending from clouds or them watering fields of flowers was anything to go by. One portrait had a drake holding a little white lamb in its clawed hands, another had a red wyrm using one of its mighty wings to shelter a group of travelers from what appeared to be a rainstorm. Basically, anything showing those rascally reptilians in a positive light.
The thing I like most about magic is how easy it is to cast.
Going beyond the whole "elf = magic" thing, spells are a bit more straight forward to cast in Azeroth than in most fantasy settings. No lengthy chants, no wands or staffs, all you need are mana and a mental idea of what you want to cast. Like, if I conjure water to fill a glass, all I need to do is hold out my hand, channel mana, and imagine water coming out. And presto, a glass of water! Magic, as far as I can tell, is about thinking and imagining the correct "stuff".
Of course, some stuff isn't as simple as that. Some spells require a bit more thinking to them to get them to work properly. Take the water example: if I cast the spell over a magically enchanted fire, then all my water would evaporate as it's being conjured. But if I enrich my water with mana to hold its form under the fire's heat, then it would maintain its liquid state even as the fire burns within it.
And further still, there are things that require very precise calculations to cast…correctly.
Blink.
"Better Miss. Dawnguard! You're making stunning progress!"
"I don't feel like I'm making progress," I mumbled under my breath, leaning into a wall of packed sand that half my body had phased into from a failed Blink. I did Blink properly I supposed; I traveled at least fifty feet in one teleport and went from one end of the massive room to the other, right on the "bullseye" laid out by the instructor. I was merely several feet to the left of where I wanted to be; hence my arm and leg stuck in sand.
One thing I'm still surprised about is how active magical training can be. I mean, there are still the stereotypical "Harry Potter" types of classes where all I need to do is sit, take notes, practice spells, and so on from the comfort of an overly cushy chair. In other classes, there's stuff like this: an indoor obstacle course with a very high ceiling.
The second bit of that description may sound like a superfluous thing to add, but it is important to note given the exercises that go on here-
A loud thud echoed behind me was quickly followed by a pained cry.
"Still too high Miss. Greatstar! Perhaps if you'd been paying attention, and not fooling around in the back of the room with your brother, you would have stopped making the same mistake by now. But now, with your arm bent like that, I say you're done for the day. Can someone help Miss. Greatstar up and take her to the healers? Looks like she'll be able to what she clearly wants to do, giggle like a child with her brother in healers office!"
"….fuck you…"
"What was that Miss. Greatstar?"
"I said 'thank you', sir!"
I held in a snort when I heard the professor grumble something under his breath as a student dragged the young girl off the sandy course to the healer. While I don't take joy from people getting hurt, she had this coming. The twins had been joking around all class, paying little or no attention to the lecture on how to properly use a short-range teleportation spell.
Her brother had already been dragged off the course, sprained his wrist falling onto the ground at just the right angle and height. Seems like his sister did the same thing, maybe worse if the sound of her impact was anything to go by.
Still, could be worse. There was an urban legend in the Academy that the reason the teleportation training was done in this place, with a high ceiling and in a room filled sand that was molded into ad-hoc obstacles, was that a bunch of kids died in the past. The story goes that all the training once took place with specially prepared stone and wooden obstacles, meaning they were enchanted to resist magic against them. Keyword being 'against'. The story goes that one day a bunch of kids blinked into the obstacles and died from asphyxiation since the stone was enchanted to keep people from messing with it from outside and the instructors never considered the possibility of someone blinking inside them.
On the one hand, that sounds way to morbid and fantastical to be true. Mostly because why would anyone use something like that in training? Magically negating objects, enchanted or otherwise, don't work like that. The closest thing I can think of from my studies is something that negates all forms of magic in a set area, as in the caster cant use magic in the allotted area. But if that were the case in this story, all the teachers would have had to do was turn it off said negating object, or simply pick it up and move it, then break the kids out of the rock.
Regardless, I think this story, even if fictional, is a helpful reminder about what 'could' happen if you don't get your calculations right. Not just where you want to reappear, but the spatial orientation and relative height in relation to where you are going to appear appearing. If your off by a centimeter or two, you're not going to really feel like something is wrong. But a few feet? Oh dear.
Most kids seemed to have the orientation down but mess up on the height. Ignoring Greatstar falling like a sack of potatoes, a dozen of my classmates made similar mistakes though only ending up ten feet in the air before crashing down. Another five, the ones who came after them in the lineup, overcorrected their height and ended up either chest or neck deep in the sandy ground. It's not like they're trapped or anything, anyone can dig themselves out after a minute or so, but it does sting some of these kid's pride.
And me? Well, I turned out to be a 'natural' according to the professor.
I don't feel like a 'natural' standing on one leg, with the other stuck in a sandy wall with an arm, mere feet away from the 'target'.
My thoughts were interrupted by a telltale flash of light from a teleport off to my side.
Several feet away from the "target" I saw Elsia submerged neck deep into the sand, her mop of white hair sharply contrasting off the tan of the ground. She blinked her eyes, tried to arc her neck to look around to get her bearings, only for realization to dawn on her as she notices her predicament. Weakly, she tries to dig herself out. Her efforts result in a huff of frustration, when she finally noticed me staring at her.
"Pardon me Syllia," still ineffectually trying to wriggle out of the dirt, "but I may require assistance." She maintained her stoic expression, but her cheeks went flush with embarrassment.
"Sure, be right there." Holding in a small laugh, finally pulling my sand caked arm and leg out of the wall and walking over to help dig her out.
--
--
Following the end of class, and a short time in the locker rooms to wash up, I was gathering up my things and getting ready for lunch.
Heh. While they may call that place a "locker room" these facilities are closer to what I'd expect to find in some luxury resort than a school. Even by high elven standards, I'm sure that school facilities don't usually include a massive roman pool, hot tubs, saunas, private baths, and a massage parlor with servants at the ready! Add in the marble floors, golden reliefs, and crimson stained glass, and this place screamed "seaside resort". Well technically the Academy was along the shoreline so…hmmm.
Not that I'm complaining mind you. It would be damn hypocritical of me to do so when I happily float around in a private tub almost as large as my bedroom as the warm water sooths my aching muscles. I'm half tempted to claim all the water here is treated with something, since I doubt that a ten-minute dip in regular old warm water can fix all my aches and pains.
Before I can muse further about the disgusting levels of comfort, Elsia strode out of the changing room in a fresh set of red-black robes though her hair still damp from her soak. The trials and tribulations of trying to clean sand out of one's hair. She was still feverishly using a towel to wring out the last of the droplets before 'returning' to the Academy proper.
"Hmmmm, I needed that," she mumbled to herself while straightening out the creeses in her robes. "My muscles felt like they were going to fall off if I didn't get that."
"Isn't that a little over dramatic?" I ask as I gather my things from my personal cabinet, because locker is too pedestrian a word to describe this dresser sized thing. "I mean, you say the same thing every time you come out of the baths?"
"I don't care…" she sighed, a dopey smile forming on her lips as she stretched her arms over her head to the tone of a subtle crack. "Ah, much better. Nothing compares to a warm bath to rejuvenate yourself for the rest of the day." Taking a deep breath, she gathered her things and turned to me. "Well, I'm heading out now, I need to study for an exam in my next class. Are you planning to stay in for much longer?"
"No, I'm heading out too," I reply, moving to the door. "I have a history essay due next class, and I want to look it over again."
She smiled at that, tossing her used towel into a bin before catching up to me and walking side by side in the halls proper. "Then how about we pool of efforts? You can help quiz me on some topics for my exam, and I can help correct your grammar."
"I didn't say it was about grammar," I counter, the two of us avoiding a gaggle of students pass us by in the halls. Mostly just students gossiping amongst one another and servants rushing to and from one task or another.
"And you didn't say it wasn't," she quipped back.
I sighed, "yeah, I could use some help with my grammar."
"Then it's a d- deal," she tripped over her own words for a moment.
"What was that?" I question.
"What was what?"
"You just tripped over your own words there," I left the unspoken question hanging.
"Oh that. I was just thinking about something else, no need to worry about it," she waved away my question.
"Okay…" I usually worry when people say, 'don't worry'.
"It wasn't anything negative about you if that's what you are worried about," Elsia provided a less cryptic answer.
"You say that, but-"
"We can spend all afternoon talking in circles or we can hurry over to the mess hall and get something to eat," she interrupted and countered my next question. "The more time we spend dilly dallying, the less time we have to study."
Couldn't really fault her logic there. "Fine," I dropped the issue, as we made our way to the cafeteria. While I never thought she was making some snide comment or the like, I still feel like the other thing she on her mind was making a comment about me in some way. Or I'm just overthinking things, like usual.
--
--
After a quick lunch, and a very frustrating discussion on grammar, I made my way to history class.
A class that is, in fact, less about history and more "What other races do wrong: 101".
"-this semester we've talked at great length about the failures of the Empire of Arathor. The shattering of the first human state into the collection of petty city-states that would form the kingdoms we know today. We discussed the faults and failings of their political structures that decentralized power to the provincial level and how it weakened the Empire to the point of collapse."
The professor spoke from his lectern, behind him was a massive diagram showing a timeline between the founding of the Kingdom to the present. Along the line were a series of 'X's that denoted points in time where a nation, somewhere in the civilized world, experienced some kind of internal strife or challenge, civil war, change in ruling families, or incidents of 'Mob Rule'.
I knew I would be facing a bit of culture shock in Dath'Remar. Not just from being a low-class person in a school for the elite but also from being a former human in an educational system created for elves. I know people here may have different ideological views from the human norm, both from different biology and different worlds, but there was a fine line between things that seemed different and the 'what the fuck am I looking at' diagram on the board right now in history class.
"We also looked at the weakness inherent in this political landscape that has long left its impact on the human race," the professor continued. "In this polity of constant fighting and self-harm, they allowed weakness and softness to fester unabated within the foundations of their civilization. The First and Second Wars are both the most recent display of the effects these failures have wrought, and the most damning examples to date."
The point of all this exercise? To show how 'unstable' and 'fragile' non-elven political systems were. Because by elven standards, any governing body that cannot maintain unity for at least one-thousand consecutive years was seen as shaky at best, and a hair's breadth away from complete anarchy at worst.
Of course, the professor didn't just pick on the humans. The dwarven War of the Three Hammers forever shattered the 'racial unity' of the dwarven race. The gnomes were too cosmopolitan in nature and had a culture 'constantly on the precipice of collapse' due to how fast they change the gears of their whole society. Goblins are money grubbers to whom the word friendship means that they demand slightly more money to betray a person then they would normally ask for. And the less said on the 'barbaric' orcs and the 'bestial' trolls the better.
Honestly, given the overall tone of the class, I was surprised the professor didn't break out some skulls from behind his desk to show how small the other races brains were.
"-so Miss Coldwater," the professor said, jolting me from my grumblings. "Would you care to share with the class what the failings of the human political system that you have found that contributes to their instability."
'Talk about a leading question,' I mused from my textbook.
Verana stood up from her seat, overflowing with confidence.
"Yes professor. I've found that one of the more damaging aspects in human politics is their tolerance of mob rule."
Ah yes. Mob Rule. Sounds rather bad right? Well for elves 'mob rule' means any type of political involvement in the nation by the lower classes ranging from hearing the grievances of the guilds, to allowing elections for government positions for even something as small and local as choosing a mayor.
In Quel'Thalas, everything is under the control of the Convocation, a senate like body, that is composed of the most powerful and politically connected magisters in the kingdom. While obviously not every mage in the Kingdom was a member, ever member of the Convocation is a mage. No one is elected to the position. It is a body filled solely by appointment. And the only one allowed to appoint, and remove, a sitting magister is the king himself. In short, serve and leave at the king's behest.
And when I say everything is controlled by them, I mean everything. If it's not a hereditary position, they decide who has it. Captain of the city guard: Convocation. Governorship of a territory not held by a noble family: Convocation. Mayor of a small town in the middle of nowhere: Convocation. Generals of the army: Convocation. Headmaster of a state school: Convocation.
Suffice to say, nepotism and cronyism runs rampant in Quel'Thalas. More often than not, a position is filled with a magister's relatives or close friends rather than a qualified individual. A few of the worst cases I've read about in my own time make it look like some magisters will put their opponents relatives in position utterly unsuited to their talents so they will fail; allowing them to embarrass their competition in the eyes of their peers.
In layman's terms, they knowingly put people in positions they have no qualifications for because they want to look good, or make their opponents look bad.
How does a 'superior' race defend blatantly inefficient and self-destructive activities?
With classism.
"Their mob rule is nothing more than a popularity contest," Veranna continued. "Positions of power get filled by individuals whose only skill is playing the crowds or who can make the grandest promises that have no basis in reality. Of course, that assumes they have any education to begin with."
I might have warmed up to Coldwater a bit over the years, she's pretty interesting once you get to know her, but one thing I can never understand, or want to, is her utter dismissal of the 'lower classes'. By that label, she of course means anyone who is not a 'proper' noble. Not even the wealthy merchants or large landowners are spared from her ire. After all, why trust the 'money grubbing cheese merchants' with any power?
As far as she is concerned, if you are not from a noble house, with the exacting standards and a moral stake in 'decency' and 'righteousness' for the kingdom such an upbringing instills, how could a person be reasonably be trusted to work for the betterment of all?
"Very good Ms. Coldwater," the professor applauded her response. He looked to address class as a whole. "But a reminder to all of you to not limit this ideal to merely human societies. If mob rule can just as easily bring our kingdom low as quickly as any other. Mark my words children, the day the stable hand, the courtesan, and the farmer have as much say in governing as the lords and ladies of court, is the day our kingdom begins its spiral into self-destruction."
Coldwater sat back down and looked at me with a smile. Her eyes that seemed to be looking for some form of approval from me.
I gave her a nod and a small smile.
What else could I do? Going by all the nods and genuine affirmations from our classmates, I'd be the only person who has a problem with this. Sure, I'm all for having qualified people in positions of power but the mindset takes it to whole different level.
But in this environment, it was best to keep such thoughts to myself.
----
----
----
"So what is it?" Coldwater questioned. Following the history class we had a study hall. She must have looked up from her books to see me scowling.
"What?" I responded.
"You're too quiet," she clarified, marking the page she was on before closing the book to give me her undivided attention.
"It's nothing I just-"
"Oh no, you're not doing that," she cut me off.
I growled a bit, "nothing is wrong."
"Yeah, sure nothing's wrong," Coldwater imitated my own words. "You just look like you want to set something, or someone, on fire for no reason."
"Verana…." I groaned.
"Oh no," her hand gestures were quite expressive. "None of this 'nothing's wrong' or letting whatever is bubbling just stew until it bursts. Nope, we are not doing that. As your friend I won't allow it."
'Friend?' The word caught me a bit off guard. I'd expected acquaintance or associate, but friend? I mean sure, we were together a lot on campus, and yes Verana seemed quite loose-lipped about her life around me.
But that attitude of hers.
The constant poking and prodding. The unspoken back hands and slights on me. The constant back talk. I'd always assumed our relationship was more of that friendly rivalry sort. The ones where both rivals, despite being opposed to one another, develop a healthy degree of respect towards each other.
She always seemed a bit too condescending to be considered a 'friend'.
"Wait," she stopped any reply from me before I could even open my mouth. Muttering under her breath as if conversing with herself, realization dawned on her. "Something upset you in class."
One bit of praise I will give her is that she does put things together rather quickly.
"But I can't see why you'd be upset," Verana thought aloud. "You're one of the professor's favorites and your grades are excellent."
"How do you know my grades?" She wasn't wrong, but it's a little creepy that she knows my grades.
"I see the grades you get on your assignments Syllia when the professor hands them back because I sit next to you," she explained with an eye roll. "The only points you get deducted are for grammar. If you knew how to write properly, you'd easily have one of the highest grades in class."
'Hey, it's not my fault this language is so fucking hard to write!' I bit back my retort.
"So just tell me what's bothering you already so we can move onto fixing it," her tone of voice and the expression she was making did not seem to synch up. Her facial expression gave off the impression of genuine concern, but her voice sounded perpetually stuck in a passively arrogant tone, like a child annoyed at something and wants it fixed as quickly as possible. It's a weird mix.
I sighed, realizing I was not going to get out of this.
"It was that whole thing at the end of the lesson," I explained.
She hummed, finger drumming against the table as she thought. "Well, I know you're not the type that gets upset by being upstaged in class. So, what is it? Look if this is all about the paper you turned in at the end-"
"I don't believe in that stuff," I cut to the point.
Verana rested her head on her hand, "you're going to have to be a bit more specific then-"
"All that stuff about Mob Rule, Race stuff, and this," I held up my book to her. The current page was about the 'Moral Virtue' of the current political system. "All of this is just nonsense!"
Coldwater for her part looked genuinely surprised at my statement. I didn't give her a moment to reply, like a burst dam, all the annoyance I'd been holding in for the past few weeks as we covered this societal bullshit just flowed out.
"This stuff is just degrading. Everything in here treats people like their little more than chattel who need to be tended to! With no concept of self-preservation or self-improvement in a single fiber of their being! As if they lack the basic intelligence to make decisions on their own! Like the people would just happily run off a cliff if they saw enough people do it in front of them because their brains are too small to understand-"
"Okay, Okay I get it," she held up her hands to calm me down.
As I caught my breath, I became painfully aware of how loud I had been. Almost everyone in the immediate area was now staring at our table.
Oops.
Coldwater ran a hand through her hair, "geeze Syllia, try and speak up next time. I don't think the King and his court could hear you clearly from all the way over here."
"Sorry," my eyes kept meeting all the eyes on me. But since I was now quiet, they slowly began to return to their previous things. "I'm sorry I just…. this whole thing just frustrates me, alright."
After a few moments of silence, mulling over what I had 'told' her.
Then, the noble pinched the ridge of her nose and sighed.
"I really should have expected this…"
"I'm sorry?"
"You're one of those people," she sighed. "'Everyone is equal'. 'Everyone should have a voice'. 'It's not right they can't decide for themselves'. That's what you think right?"
While I nodded, I just knew she was going to take a stance I did not like from her tone of voice.
"I'm actually surprised," she told me as she pinched the ridge of her nose.
"About what?"
"I'm surprised that someone so smart can so st-…ignorant of how the world works," Verana explained.
Smooth Verana, I almost didn't catch you about to call me 'stupid'.
"And how does it 'work'," my voice carried a slight edge to it.
"It works like this," her tone become more forceful, but not to the point of coming across as demanding. More like exasperated as she leaned towards me. "Society is comprised of different classes with different obligations and responsibilities to the greater whole. The farmers till the land. Merchants pawn their wares at market. Priests heal the sick. Scholars teach and pass on knowledge to the next generation. And so on."
She paused for dramatic effect and to let her words sink in.
"All these myriads of classes and disparate groups are organized under the guidance of a ruling class. A class who are burdened with the task of managing these, often conflicting, classes into a cohesive structure for the betterment of all."
"And they are?" I had a sinking feeling about what her next words would be.
"Us," her tone indicated that the answer was obvious. "We", hands gesturing to both of us, "are that class. Without us, without the skills and foresight we provide, society would collapse."
'Bullshit' I wanted to spit at her.
She saw I was unconvinced and changed her approach. "Think of it like this then. Who would you trust with the leadership of an army: an educated general, or a shoemaker?"
I think I had an idea of where she was taking this.
"This isn't a trick question," she confused my lack of reply for hesitance.
"The general," I finally replied.
"Yes, and why?" she led me on.
"You're building a strawman Verana," I told her. "When I said I think everyone should be equal, I didn't mean it in that way."
"You chose the general because they have been trained in military matters," she finished her own point. "And just like generals are trained to lead armies, we nobles are trained and educated to deal with the rigors of statecraft and politics."
"Verana-"
"Fine," she cut me off and sat back down at her side of the table seeing that I wasn't budging from my position. "Fine. I can see your being as stubborn as a mule on this topic. There are a dozen and one rationales to why the world is the way it is, and I could go over each of them in detail to you but I don't want this to turn into some shouting match between us as you get more and more upset. Just know that I… respect that you hold certain views on this matter, but know that I respectively disagree with them."
"Okay, fine, I'll drop it," I sighed, agreeing to disagree. This was probably the best outcome for our discussion with two people holding wildly different world views clashing with one another.
"Good then," she let out a breath she seemingly didn't know she was holding in. With a flick of her fingers, she returned to her previously marked book page. "Before we got off track, I was going to ask you for some help on that Arcane Theorem paper. Low as I am to admit, you have a better grasp of these mysteries than I do."
As our prior argument left our minds, I could only wonder why someone who held beliefs like Coldwater would even hang out with me.
If that is the type of stuff she genuinely believes and holds to be true, I wonder how she would react to me? I'm the daughter of a whore; I am literally from the bottom of the societal totem pole. Yet here I am, rubbing shoulders with the cream of the crop of society.
By her logic I shouldn't even be here.
Even as a girl myself, I fear I shall never understand them.
AN: Ah magic school antics! The Blink story is actually inspired by a canonical in universe lore blurb about a Dalaran mage who blinked himself into a wall and suffocated. Why didn't he just blink out? No idea.
And Verana, casually classist to the commoner next to her who she assumes is a noble. After all, could some baseborn peasant ever beat someone like her? A prodigal mage from a magisterial family? I rest my case.
EDIT: Just noticed this story is, as of this chapter, 69k words. Nice.
Well, I actually managed to get around to this 'right' after you posted it. And it's amusing seeing the differences between this and the old version I re-read last night.
I'm really loving the class tensions with Syllia and the rest of the students. I can't wait for Verena's worldview to crack to little tiny pieces when she realizes the only person she considers equal is the daughter of a penniless whore.
I'm really loving the class tensions with Syllia and the rest of the students. I can't wait for Verena's worldview to crack to little tiny pieces when she realizes the only person she considers equal is the daughter of a penniless whore.
I fear that'll confirm her biases long term when they figure out who Syllia's gene-donors/actual parents are. "Breeding strikes true, just what you would expect of a true daughter of royalty, ascending even from the lowest of the low. Her blood shone true."
I fear that'll confirm her biases long term when they figure out who Syllia's gene-donors/actual parents are. "Breeding strikes true, just what you would expect of a true daughter of royalty, ascending even from the lowest of the low. Her blood shone true."
I thought the SI got spontaneously elven-ed when their human body got shreded by the transition to Azeroth, they even have a smartphone and everything.
So she is a super strong mage because her body was spontaneously formed from magic?
Well, took me a while to get around to it, but I've enjoyed catching up. And really looking forward to the next few chapters you indicated were coming out soon?
I fear that'll confirm her biases long term when they figure out who Syllia's gene-donors/actual parents are. "Breeding strikes true, just what you would expect of a true daughter of royalty, ascending even from the lowest of the low. Her blood shone true."
I thought the SI got spontaneously elven-ed when their human body got shreded by the transition to Azeroth, they even have a smartphone and everything.
So she is a super strong mage because her body was spontaneously formed from magic?
I think he's saying the whole "powerful child mage of prostitute getting preferential treatment" will spread rumors about her 'Parentage'. While she was created as you said, spontaneously formed by magic with her human body right next to her new body, rumors of her 'true' origin will undoubtedly come to light.
And she does look pretty Sunstrider-y if you look at her. And it would explain why she's so powerful, power tends to run in powerful bloodlines. And who are more prestigious and powerful then the Sunstriders themselves? Would lessen the blow of being outshined by a 'whore's daughter' if said girl was the King/Prince's illegitimate daughter.
Again, not the case in reality. But people still talk, and what would be more believable: isekai human that got turned into elf baby and found in the woods next to their old body, or bastard child of noble line?
