I do know what you mean. The graph or should i say a cycle of power in warcraft but i did it intentionally. i sort them by the ration of void/light energy instead. after all the duality work as Nature/Fel are Light related faction. On the other side you have Arcane/Death.
So yes they are opposing as you say in the "cross" but have more similiarity between the next to type magic.
Arcane/Death/Fel/Nature/Arcane/Death/Fel.... and so on. in cycle dosnt metter in what direction you look at it.
i sort them this way becouse in my mind its like:
Light 2:0
Narru 1:0
Nature/Fel 2:1
Elemental elements 1:1 with decimal points of differnces for each.
Arcane/Death 1:2
Old Gods 0:1
Void 0:2
Its like you are mixing water and oil. all the power has the same source but different ratio of void/light.
I am not sure I understand how that idea works. Each of the power types is derived from a fundamental part of the Warcraft universe's physics.
Light -> Holy
Life -> Nature
Order -> Arcane
Shadow -> Void
Death -> Necromantic
Discord -> Fel
The setting works on the theory of the counterbalancing forces, where each force has an equal force counteracting it. I am not sure you can truly divide it apart as you do because the division line is completely arbitrary. I could just as easily divide it as Light/nature/arcane vs Void/death/discord and have the exact same level of inference for my idea as you with your division line. Logically speaking as far as I know unless I am missing something the only logical place to compare energies is with their counter form.
edit: the page directly after the diagram even groups the powers in the same manner as I do. Light/Shadow, Death/Life, Arcane/Fel
Sorry if i don't express myself properly (second language and poor at that).
Honestly i believe both those views works. yes the countering is wholly described in the books as you say.
But what i have in mind is there is not much diffrinces between Fel/nature and Arcane/death.
The fist idea for me of this was from the fanatic Naaru who said to the illidan he was destined for Light and offeret(almost mindrape him
) him purefire him from the fel to the light, I highly doubt he could do the same if illidan was Death night for example since the ratio of void/light would by closer to the void.
Dont forget The light orders silver hand and others in the warcraft seting are hunting any arcane and death user as evil by the degree of their holy light -which is talking to them like the old gods are whispering to their victims.
The idea is if you look at the similarities between nature/fel you can see they are sort of same but with a twist. bouth powers work with live energies, bout work in the animal sence of eat or be eaten, nature is in essence chaotick where every day is a battlefield be it grass or trees traing to get more light and to shade others or animals wanting food for themself or their pups. coming of new dominant species or extinction of the old ones.
The Fel as i alredy mentioned before is corrupted by sargeras, being of order so now you have a hiearchy with leader, generals (also originaly being of order) and then daemon footsoldier who are the true daemons essence how they should be. but before it was the same eat or be eaten. multiply (felhunter) by absorbing the power of your enemy.
Even fyzicaly they have similarities even if vain, Horns/wings transformating into sort of animal/daemon. And also their summoning, druids summont plants and spirits of animals to fight, Fel summons other deamons from twisted nether.
But all this is metafyzic filosofis shit honestly. its just how i perceive the world of warcraft described. and i like books much more then the game itself but now witch kronics their are fusing those book/games world stories into one coherent univers- from which is the power graf.
I'm sure I knew, maybe, a quarter of what was being asked the other day. The rest, not a clue. Like, what the hell is the "Law of Sympathy" supposed to be? Nothing I read before mentioned anything about that! Sure, there were some fundamentals that were described and hammered in quite vigorously, but all this theory stuff was left out completely.
But today I turned my ill fortune around. Today, I will rebound!
Got to the academy early. Mom didn't tease me too much on the way over. Also left me at the gate this time instead of walking all the way in. Said she needed to run some errands and see some more old friends. Pretty sure that these are 'friends with benefits'.
Met up with Elsia inside. Wasn't hard to find her in the crowds. Her bleached white hair stands out amongst the throngs of blondes and brunettes. She was also the only person that looked so small in their clothes. She seemed a little surprised that I sought her out.
While we waited, and chatted, I could feel the difference from yesterday. Gone was the energetic atmosphere. Gone were the throngs of kids happily talking to one another. Gone were the adults who filled the length of the auditorium. It was all replaced by something far more somber.
Nervousness.
Hushed whispers.
Even a sob or two.
Maybe they all felt like I did? That feeling of smug superiority that comes from being a big fish in a small pond. That they were on top of the world. That they were one of the smartest people in the room. Only for reality to ensue and get a gut punch right out of the gate.
"Some failed already," Elsia told me. "Mother said that academy's servants delivered notices of failure to various homes this morning."
"Wait really?"
She nodded, "they were informed before dawn not to come today. Mother said, while meditating outside this morning, she heard one of the neighbor's start yelling at an academy servant at their manse's gate. It's probably happened to more than one family."
Looking around, the room didn't seem that depopulated. Technically, the room was emptier, but I chalk that up to the lack of adults, parents and the like, rather than fewer kids. Then again, my counting might be off. Anything with less people than yesterday makes the room emptier.
Wait, what if I failed and I don't know they gave me the boot yet!
"Could someone, you know," I began. "Not get that notice before getting here? Like, they failed, but they don't know they failed."
"Does the academy have your postbox address?" Elsia questioned. She didn't even entertain the notion that I was thinking about anyone but myself.
"Yes."
"Then you would have been informed this morning," she stated. "And even if they didn't have it," she cut off my next question. "You would have been stopped at the gates if you had failed but tried to enter regardless."
"I-"
"Some people failed, you did not. Take strength in that," Elsia was more forceful this time. "At least, that's what Mother told me this morning when I questioned her about it."
I was going to ask her something else, but the proctor got on stage. The sound of his clearing throat sliced the quiet murmurings across the room.
"Good day, and congratulations for successfully passing the first portion of the written exam. Today, you shall demonstrate your writing and information gathering skills in the grand library." He told us.
"You will each be given two prompts. You shall complete both to the best of your abilities. They shall be no less than one and a half pages in length. To accomplish this, you will be ushered into one of the library's wings. There, you will find a selection of texts chosen by the staff that are relevant to your prompts. Quills, ink, and parchment, shall be provided. You shall have until dusk to complete and submit your paper. If you have any questions, the staff will do their utmost to assist you in whatever concerns you." He gestured to the table in front of the stage, "please proceed to the table, and best of luck on the exam to come."
As he finished, the masses of children made their way to the table in question. Slowly, and with far less enthusiasm than yesterday.
The line moved faster than yesterday.
"Name?" The man at the desk asked me when it was my turn.
"Syllia Dawnguard."
He looked at his list. For the briefest of moments, in the back of my mind I feared that I had failed but wasn't told.
Irrational? Yes.
Also, all for nothing. He handed me a sealed envelope a moment later.
"Hallway on the far end," he stated.
Wait, what did he- Oh right.
I thanked him and made my way to the hallway. Saw Elsia going down a different way. She gave me a small smile and a wave. More animated than yesterday I noted. I responded in kind as we went our respective ways.
--
For an auditorium, this place sure has a lot of hallways, I mused.
The halls of this place are covered in runes, glyphs, inscriptions, and enchantments of every kind. I can only begin to imagine what they actually do. Lights? Alarms? Just walking down the way I could feel the mana circulating around me. Like having a giant fan blowing on me.
As I walked down the hallway, near the library entrance, I caught a glimpse of a collection of large paintings. All of them depicted regal looking elves. Out of the corner of my eye I read the gold plate beneath the first portrait: Deth'Remar Sunstrider, First King of Quel'Thalas.
I stopped in my tracks to look more carefully.
The first king certainly cut a regal look. Sharpe features. Radiant blond hair. Bright blue eyes. A masterpiece of art. And yet it all looked off.
He looked far more muscular than a High Elf ought to be. Ears were longer too. The armor he was in was certainly colored like a High Elven King's armor should be, red and gold, yet the actual design looked quite foreign. And while his eyes were blue, they didn't shine the same way a High Elves ought to.
Now, to the average passer byer, none of this would look that strange. Most would probably chalk all these little physical quirks to artistic flair or a stylistic choice. Nothing to think too much on. Of course, all the little changes and differences make complete sense when you know this isn't a painting of a high elf.
It's a portrait of a pale, blonde, Night Elf.
While conceptually I know High Elves were descended from Night Elves thanks to my first life's knowledge, but seeing the differences, rather than merely reading or remembering them, was staggering. For obvious reasons, I have had no other Night Elves to contrast my appearance to.
I looked over the other portraits along the line.
Arelar Sunstrider, Second King of Quel'Thalas
Teladian Sunstrider, Third King of Quel'Thalas
Bemariel Sunstrider, Fourth King of Quel'Thalas
Annasterian Sunstrider, Fifth King of Quel'Thalas
And the last, I mused.
While all the kings shared many of the same general features, hair color, eyes, skin tone, I could see the changes that were occurring to the High Elven race as each king came and went. Or at least, the changes to the royal family itself. While side by side the changes seem small, almost insignificant. But when I compare Dath'Remar to Annestarian's portrait, I can see the deviations quite blatantly.
Annestarian's ears are shorter. His build is far more lithe, no visible sign of muscles to speak of. Facial features have smoothed out, losing than sharpness from ages past. The flowing crimson robes seemed more at home on a high elf than the Greco inspired armor Dath'Remar wore. I could even hear the names changing. To an English, or in this case Common, speaker you can't really tell the difference. They all sound equally 'elfy' in that flowing, wishy washy sort of way.
In Thalassian however, the names do not sound similar at all.
Only Kings three and onward sound Thalassian. Or in layman's terms, normal. The first two, Dath'Remar and, I assume, his son sound very foreign. Also hard to pronounce. For example, I have to catch myself from pronouncing 'Dath'Remar' as 'Deth'Remier'.
Come to think of it, how closely related is Thalassian to the Night Elf language? I know some words carry over, like Quel'dorei basically means the same thing in both languages. But the rest? Is it going to be something like Spanish to Portuguese, close but still distinct, or is it more like German to English, where you can understand every tenth word of each other's language?
Maybe-
Wait. Stop it!
I don't have time for this! First write my essays!
Then wonder about divergent evolution!
--
Thanks to my detour, I arrived several minutes later than I would have liked.
Say what you will about elves, but we sure do know how to build a fine looking library. It was large and open. The center area was given over entirely to desks, writing stations, and comfortable seating. All around this center are bookcases upon bookcases. Filled to the brim with all manners of texts, tomes, and literary sources. Large stained glass windows allow light to flood the chamber. Additionally, crystals floated above to provide additional artificial light.
That being said, for something of this size the library seemed empty. Just kids, and library staff. Lots of empty areas. Guess this was closed off for the day to regular students.
I reached an empty desk, papers, ink, and quill set aside on it. Time to see what I actually had to write today.
Opening my envelope, I skimmed the small slip of paper inside. Not flowery words. No instructions beyond 'write one and a half pages minimum'. Just two short sentences composing the prompts.
The first prompt was 'Interaction between Magic'. The next was 'Troll Conflict'.
Okay then, I mused. The first one was simple enough. The second one, however, was a little vague. Did it mean all troll conflicts or a single conflict? Guess that's the point through. Kids have to figure that out themselves and write from there. Makes the whole 'meeting thing' tomorrow make a bit more sense.
It's not what you write, but how you write.
Well, time to get to work!
First the books!
The books were preselected for us. Probably because the library staff didn't want a bunch of eleven year old's rolling through their library of precious books. There were over a dozen of them lined up in neat rows on some of the longer tables. Some even had little bookmarks in them. Probably reducing the amount of reading we had to do to find some of the more obscure stuff.
Amongst the rows of books, one tome immediately caught my eye.
Not because it was large, every book here seemed thick enough to stop a bullet. Not because it was nice looking, in fact it was one of the more ratty looking books around. All green, moldy and almost falling apart at the seems to be honest. Truthfully, it was not for any rational reason.
Quite the opposite, it caught my eye for irrational reasons.
Because I could see oily black smoke leaking out from between its closed pages. It was because the patterns along the cover looked like tendrils grasping a serrated sun like object. A single slit eye dominated the cover, at the center of the sun image. More importantly, and horrifying, I could hear it.
Whispers. Just above a hushed silence. Yet clear as someone speaking to me in a normal voice.
Look at me.
Come over.
Read me.
Learn from me.
These phrases kept repeating ad nauseum.
Okay then.
I backed up from the table, walking so far that my back softly bumped into the bookcase behind me.
Yep.
Yeah.
Not touching that thing.
This is some Old Gods bullshit. Bet my life on it. Ignoring the obvious N'zoth eye symbol and the tentacle designs, this thing was already giving off way too many red flags with the oily shadows and whispering.
You'd think that this would elicit a greater reaction than annoyance. The first time I saw something like this, as in something scary I cannot explain, I was scared shitless. The second time, I was terrified. Six months on, I am just sick and tired of all of it. Of course, this little display is the most obvious of the things I have seen. No small shadow moving in the corner of my eye. This is a very in your face type of Old God nonsense.
Looking around, it seemed like no one else was paying any mind to this eldritch bullshit going on. Some kids casually walk by the book in question without batting an eye.
So this is how it's going to be? I scowled. It wasn't enough to put me through hell in my dreams, it has to fuck with me while I'm awake now. Because this is definitely some waking nightmare/delusion stuff. That book probably either only exists in my head and what I'm seeing is being superimposed on a real book.
I open that thing up, and I probably get a jump scare tentacle thing popping out. Or some maddening vision due to eldritch writing in it. Or something equally bad that I just can't comprehend. Would make me look crazy if I just started screaming, seemingly, out of nowhere.
Yep. Just going to ignore it.
I grabbed two books at random and walked away. Putting as much distance between myself and the book as I could.
For the next ten minutes everything was normal. I had my parchment out, quill in hand, ready to write down notes. Thankfully I had actually picked up a book on types of magic, so that was good.
Then I heard the whispering again.
Glaring to my side, I found one of the books I had taken, which had bright red just a bit ago, has been replaced by a moldy old book leaking oily shadows.
I groaned. Getting up I walked back to the table to get another one. To my own horror, each time I reached for a book, it changed. As did the next one. And the next one. Eventually, every book on the table was altered. Moldy. Leaking oily mist. Dark, hushed, whispering.
Then the next table.
Soon all of the tables.
Then the books on the shelves around me began to turn. One after another. Row after row. Oily mist pooled on the floor. In the quiet of the library, the whispers joined together in a deafening chorus. The light seemed to dim as the shadows covered everything.
Worst of all, everyone around me wasa oblivious to it all, a couple of kids even casually strolling through the shadowy mist pooling on the floor without a care.
You know what, fine! I huffed. I grabbed a couple of the eldritch looking tomes at random from the shelves and marched back to my seat. Trying to look as natural as possible, as I waded through the mists that rose to my knees. The entire chamber seemed to have taken a mixed hue of sickly orange and purple.
In the time I was gone, the books that I left behind also turned.
On the way, I passed a servant. They asked me a question, but I heard nothing over the ravenous whispers. All I saw was their lips moving.
"Thank you, I'm fine," I told them hoping I guessed what they were asking me correctly. I was careful not to give into the urge to raise my voice above the eldritch noises, knowing full well I was the only person hearing them.
Didn't want to seem crazy or anything.
Rushing back to my desk, I dropped the texts down with a louder thud than I intended. Probably startling quite a few people if the turned heads was any indication. Without thinking, I pushed my papers and ink to the side. Taking one of the books I brought back with me before me. Time to see what that squid wants me to see so I can get back to my work.
That damn whispering is ruining my concentration! Can't think straight with all this noise! And I don't like the strange looks some of the people are sending me after they saw how I carelessly treated some of the tomes.
With a huff, I brought the book up for closer inspection. Oil shadows rolled off my fingers; it felt like a cold mist. The whispers became louder. I steadied myself, as if I were taking a hit to the gut; probably less dangerous than what I was about to do. If I know something is coming, then it won't be as bad.
I think.
Eyes shut, I wretched the book open.
I sat there, eyes sealed shut, waiting for something to happen. Just listening to the whispers around me. But nothing immediately happened. Though the cool feeling mist on my fingers stopped.
So I sat there. Eyes closed.
One minute passed.
Then another.
On the third minute, I worked up the courage to open my eyes. And upon the page of this obvious Old God affected book-vision I saw….
Nothing.
Not in the sense of nothing abnormal, but nothing at all. It was a blank page. Yellowed from age. But nothing eldritch or maddening about it. No pictures or writing of any kind. Scowling, I flipped to the next page. Also, nothing. As was the next one. And the next one. And the ten that followed.
Cradling the book, I flipped through every page. Each and every one of them was blank.
What the fuck?
Curious, I opened the next moldy text. Whispers, shadows, and all.
It too had blank pages comprising the entire book. The mists stopped flowing out as soon as I cracked it open.
As were the next three books I leafed through.
What was the point of all this?
"The point is to expand your mind," an authoritative voice jolted me. My body jerked, the book fell over. Looking at the source of the voice I saw a woman walk over to me.
Fuck did I say that outload!
Wait…
Looking around, I realized everything was normal again. Everything was gone. Mists. Shadows. Whispers. Even the books turned back to normal. As if someone had flipped a switch to turn off 'eldritch vision'.
She looked amused. "Don't be alarmed dear. It's clear you're part of the testing group."
"Y-Yes," I squeaked out. Fuck. Fuck. Not good. If he sees some kid talking to themselves and being scared of books, that could be very bad for me! Failure would be the least of my worries compared to being put in an asylum for insanity!
Getting a good look at her now, it was obvious she worked at the academy. Tall. Garbed in fine wine-red robes. She looked very young, of course that didn't mean much with the way elves aged. She had well kept, if dulled, blond hair.
However, the more I looked at her the more I could see something was...off.
Her skin seemed to shimmer under the light. Like little ripples in water after you throw a little pebble in. Not in the eldritch oily way either. More of an officiating type of rippling. Actually, now that I get a good look, her robes seemed completely normal, it was just her skin that had that shimmering appearance.
She looked at the mess in front of me. Small pile of books. Crumpled up parchment. Ink covered fingers. The woman chuckled at my nervousness. "Don't worry, you're not in trouble or anything. If we failed students for being messy there would be no mages left in all the kingdom."
"Sorry," I hastily tried to clean my area regardless. Let her think I was just nervous over being caught in a mess.
"It's still far more organized than my office," she joked.
I laughed nervously. She seemed like a nice person. Less strict instructor, more a kind older sister.
"Now I hope it's not a bother," she looked over my paper. "But I wanted to ask you what you were working on just now. Heard a bit of noise over there," She gestured to the next row, "so I got curious what was going on."
Fuck! I blathered out the first thing that came to my mind.
"Reading."
Her face remained jovial, "reading?"
"Yes ma'am."
Giving me a quick smile, she snatched the top book of my pile and fingered through the pages. It was dusty brown now. Probably its original color. Come to think of it, I actually have no idea what the book actually says. Or what most of these books are about.
Wait! What if it's a book about something completely out of left field! I just grabbed a bunch of books from the shelves! Or something not normal! I'm supposed to be writing something about a 'Troll War'. I really don't want to explain why I'm reading something not related to the work. What if it's something like-
"Well this is a surprise," her musing broke my mental diatried.
"You think so," I sounded way calmer than I actually was. Was this surprise in a good way or a bad way?
"I do indeed," she looked back to me. "I admit there is a bit of a bias in the Academy towards the Amani Wars." What? "But to be frank, I think it's honestly refreshing to see someone writing about something other than those trolls."
Placing the opened book back on the desk, I could finally see what I was 'reading'.
"An account of the Gurubashi-Stormwind War"
At least I don't look crazy for having a book unrelated to what I'm writing.
"I'm actually curious why you'd choose this particular subject," she tapped the page. "Most children these days seem more enamored with the Troll conflicts closer to home."
Think! "I just wanted to do something a little different," I replied. Fuck why did I say that!
"Different?"
I nodded, giving no glimpse into my mental ramblings. "If everyone is doing the same thing over and over, then what's the point?"
"So you're writing on this topic because you wish to stand out," she questioned again.
"Not exactly," The words were coming easier now. This tale I was weaving seemingly taking shape with every sentence. I was going to make the best out of this lifeline I had, and hope it didn't become my noose. "I didn't choose this for the sake of being different, but because I felt that if I wrote something different it would help me stand out more amongst the dozens of seemingly identical essays."
"Fair enough, " she relented. "But if you don't mind me asking, what part of the war interests you the most?"
I'll let you know when I figure that out. "It's less about any one thing," I began to string my story together. "I was just curious about things involving other kingdoms. All I've read about until now was just about Quel'Thalas's wars and battles with the trolls. I just want something new is all."
Please leave me alone, I mumbled in my head.
She must have gotten the hint from my expressions, "well don't let me keep you from writing. Good luck dear." With that she walked away.
I sighed.
Fuck, now I need to write about the Gurabashi war….
---
"Congratulations on completing the written phase of the entrance exam. And congratulations for reaching the third day of examination," the proctor called out from the stage.
The room was far emptier than it was yesterday. His voice echoed much further and more clearly than days before. Whereas before it was difficult to really gauge if there were less people, today it became very apparent that many people had failed. My best guess was that, maybe, half of the original number of kids were still here.
Thankfully, Elsia was still here. It was nice to have someone to talk to.
"Within the next hour, you will be summoned for consultation by members of our staff," he began. "From there, you will be evaluated. Should you meet their expectations, you shall be seconded to the final portion of the exam. Should you be found wanting in your meeting, then we thank you for your time."
Lay it on thick why don't you.
As the hour went by, servants would periodically come in and call out a name. One by one, the children trickled out of the room. Most came back looking broken up. Red faces. Puffy eyes. Tear stricken clothes. Oh yes, this was very comforting.
"I wouldn't worry Syllia," Elsia comforted me as we waited. She was, awkwardly, patting me on the back. "It's more about how you answer your questions than what you answer."
I blew a strand of hair obstructing my vision, "You are seeing everyone walking out looking like their dreams were just shattered right?"
"They were shattered," she quipped back. "More likely, they are afraid of what their parents or guardians will react to their failings."
Fair enough. "That doesn't fill me with confidence."
"It's just-"
"Miss Elsia Emberbirth!"
We both looked to see a servant gesturing Elsia to come over.
"Well," she took a deep breath, straightening her clothes. "Looks like it's my turn."
"Good luck," I offered her my hand.
Smiling, she took it, "you as well, Syllia."
Seeing her walk off into the distance, following the servant down a hall. I wondered how much longer I would have to wait.
The answer, it turned out, was two minutes.
"Miss Syllia Dawnguard!"
---
A short walk later, we reached somewhere. An office? Conference room?
The servant knocked on the fine door twice. Waited three seconds, then cracked it open.
"Pardon the intrusion, your Lordships," the servant spoke softly. "The applicant you requested has arrived."
A moment of silence. A clearing throat. "Good, send her in," a man replied.
"Of course, your excellency," she opened the door fully. Head tilted downward, eyes to the floor, she gestured for me to enter.
Walking in, I quickly observed two things. First, the room was beyond opulent. Less an office suited for a teacher, and more of a private study you'd find secluded in a mansion. Fine furniture. Rich tapestry. A set of bookcases filled with all manners of tomes, scrolls, and texts. A gold plated fireplace, flames blazing on within. So many floating crystals, gems, and other do dads I had no name for. What's more, even a single step in, I could feel the density of mana that was currently circulating in this space. Like wading through a room of thick steam.
The second thing I noticed, as the door closed behind me, were the room's two occupants of the room.
The first man was the one I expected. He looked very old, wrinkles layered his face here and there. Spectacles gleamed in the light. Greyed out hair was well kept. Red hued robes with gold accents; though the red was closer to a wine red then the fiery red I've seen the other mages wear. He gave off an old, grandfather vibe with his soft smile.
His counterpart, however, did catch me a bit off guard. Unlike the first mage, this man looked young. Mid twenties by human estimates. Of course, they could put his age anywhere from twenty to two thousand in elf terms. He had long chestnut brown hair that ran down his back. Almost feminine, by human standards, in style. But a form favored by many elves I have seen. He had a neutral facial expression, betraying nothing. The most striking departure from the norm was his robes. Instead of the reds and golds I've seen until now, his were predominantly blue and purple.
And emblazoned on them, quite boldly, was the sigil of the Kirin Tor.
"Don't be shy dear, he doesn't bite," the older mage jokes, beckoning me to come over. The other mage rolled his eyes at the old man's humor.
I complied, of course, taking a seat in front of his desk.
"Ah, where are my manners. I am Keeper Lyandros," the elder mage introduced himself. He gestured to his companion, "and this gentleman is Archmage Aethas Sunreaver of Dalaran."
Sunreaver. The name rang a bell. Wasn't that a Blood Elf faction name? I'd think about that later.
"Greeting your excellences, I-"
"We know who you are, Miss Dawnguard," Lyandros interrupted, chuckling at my introduction. "By the way, which do you prefer to be addressed by, Syllia or Miss Dawnguard?"
"Either one your excellence."
"Splendid. And dear, a simple sir will suffice for me. Can't speak on Aethas's behalf, but in private I find the whole 'excellence' thing a bit overdone."
"If we were in my lecture hall," the Archmage finally spoke up, "or meeting in a more official capacity I would insist. But here? Sir will be enough."
"Yes sirs."
"Now that introductions have concluded, let us get to the point of this meeting," Lyandros fiddled about with a paper on his desk. "How have you been finding the exam so far Syllia?"
I tried to find the right words, "It's," Hard, "not what I expected."
"You are not the first to feel that way," he chuckled. "Nor do I believe you shall be the last."
"This is all just a little, overwhelming," I confessed. "Forgive me sir, but why is-"
"Aethas here?" Lyandors finished my question.
I nodded, looking to Sunreaver, "I don't mean any insult sir. I'm just surprised that a mage from Dalaran is here."
"Nothing to apologize about, child. Truth be told I only arrived an hour ago, " Sunerever explained.
"I used to be a part of the Kirn Tor myself in my distant youth," the Keeper elaborated. "Eventually I retired to teach at the academy. My days in Dalaran may be over, but I still have some friends amongst the Council of Six. I just wanted to have a second opinion on some of the things you wrote about in your essays. Aethas was the first to respond."
Oh fuck. What is this about?
"All that being said, let us begin. What can you tell us about this diagram you drew," Lyandros placed a paper before me.
It was my sketch from the exam. He didn't show the question, or my answer. Just the chart I attached to my answer. To visualize what I meant.
It was a rather simple design. An X with a single line down the middle. At each end point, a word was written: Light, Arcane, Death, Shadow, Fel, Life. Each word was paired against each other at opposite ends of the same line: Light-Shadow, Arcane-Fel, Death-Life.
I stared at it, "is it wrong?"
"No. No. Oh no," the Keeper replied quickly. "On the contrary, this is quite accurate."
"Though most mages tend to consider them as separate, isolated, spheres of conflicting energies. Rather than parts of a greater whole," the Archmage added.
"So," I tried to piece together what they were getting at. All I did was draw the chart the way I remember I saw it on the wiki. "Did I write it the wrong way?"
"We're just curious," Lyandros did not address my question. "Why did you draw it this way specifically."
Because that's what I remember from the wiki. Doubt that answer would mean anything to them.
So while writing my essay I may have used some of my knowledge from the WOW wiki to write out the stuff. I mean, the books the library provided seemed to take almost twenty pages to explain something as simple as 'Fel bad, Light good'. So I took it upon myself to use the wiki, sparingly, to get things done a little faster.
I'm pretty sure I didn't use anything too in depth.
"They all relate to one another," I replied. "Nothing is isolated, everything connects in some way."
"So you say, but most mages would assume Light would oppose both Shadow and Fel," Sunrever countered. "The nature of Shadow is self explanatory, but Fel is the domain of demons; of destruction and ruin. Light, as the priests will never let us forget," that remark got a chuckle from Lyandros, "is the domain of purification and healing."
"I wasn't saying that the light couldn'-"
"That may be," Aethas interrupted me. "But the question remains. It is the very antitis of the Fel. So how did you come to think that Arcane is the counter to Fel?"
"Shadow and Light oppose each other because they are opposites by nature, Light and Dark," I explained. "But Fel is Chaos. Not destruction. Not ruin. Just chaos. Arcane, by contrast, is order. Therefore, order and chaos naturally oppose one another."
They were both silent for a moment. A few glaces to one another. Knowing looks.
Lyandros scribbled something down, and cleared his throat. "Moving onto your second paper." He snatched the chart back, " truth be told this is the aforementioned reason why I called for my friend here, as this topic is far more within his purview than my own," he explained. "In your paper, you mention a human mage as being instrumental in the Kingdom's victory against the Guribashi. One 'May-dev'."
"Medivh," I corrected him. Once again, I had to rely on my wiki knowledge to properly answer this question. The books got some of the information right, but there wasn't a single mention of how Medivh single handedly saved the city of Stormwind from annihilation. Granted I wasn't expecting them to say 'Medivh, Guardian of Azeroth' because the whole Guardien thing was a secret, but they didn't even mention him at all. Seems like a pretty big oversight to me.
He gave a quick look to Aethas, who nodded. "Of course. My mistake. The mage Medivh," he flipped through some papers and scribbled something down. "You wrote that," he adjusted his spectacles, "quote, 'the human victory in the war would have been impossible without the aid of mage Medivh. His intervention during the siege of Stormwind proved the deciding factor of, not only the battle, but the war itself', unquote. Is that correct?"
"Yes sir," I nodded.
"Can you expand upon that," the keeper explained.
"What do you mean sir?" Does he mean why the trolls even made it the city in the first place?
"Forgive me if I seem brusque, but how can a single mage, no matter how powerful they might be, shift the tide of a war? Even the Battle of the Alterec Mountains required the combined effort of hundreds of mages to decimate the troll hordes."
Okay, how to phrase this without going into the whole 'He is the Defender of Azeroth from the Burning Legion' thing. "Well, he was the greatest human mage to ever live." Who also opened the dark portal to Azeroth. "And the Troll army was all bunched together when they assaulted Stormwind. It's not that hard to wipe out an army when they're all together like that. Especially from the battlements as the trolls are smashing themselves against the city walls."
Lyandros looked to Sunreaver, an arched eyebrow silently asking for his input.
"While it may seem strange, Miss Dawnguard is correct. It is important to remember the scale of the war in question. The Battle of the Altrec Mountains was for the survival of all civilization. The Siege of Stormwind, merely the survival of a single nation."
"Merely," Lyandros joked.
"Compared to the survival of the civilized world? Yes, merely."
"Well there go my questions," Lyandros said to himself. "Still I have to say that it was quite fortuitous for the King of Stormwind to call upon such a mighty mage in their hour of need."
"Indeed," Sunerver agreed, "It was fortuitous that King Wrynn brought him into the conflict when he did."
Wait a second. I remember the wiki! Sure, it's been over a decade since I looked at it, but to me it feels like just a few weeks memory wise. And I know what I read. And that's not what happened! The king had no idea about Medivh. It was his son who called for his help.
But, do I really want to risk them failing me on the spot for trying to one up them? Am I really so proud that I have to show off my knowledge to people who are centuries my senior?
...
Damnit.
I shook my head, "that is not correct."
The mages looked at me.
Lyandros raised an eyebrow, "It's not?"
"No," I took a deep breath. "It wasn't the king who called for Medivh's help but his son, the prince. At first, Prince Wrynn suggested bringing Medivh to Strangethorn to deal with the Gurabashi threat once and for all before they could attack Stormwind. Medivh wiped out the Guabashi in the area, but the trolls later regrouped and laid siege to the city itself. Most likely to sack it to exact revenge for their prior defeat. King Wrynn died in the battle. Prince Wrynn assumed the throne and asked Medivh to aid them one last time. Which he did, destroying the invading army and ending the Guabashi War."
Whatever they expected me to say, it certainly was not that. The two looked owlish at me, as if I had grown a second head. They exchanged some looks with one another. I heard the quick scribbling noise of a quill on parchment.
Maybe I relied on the wiki a little too much for that explanation.
"Correct," Sunreaver seems genuinely surprised. "You seem to be quite well read in history for someone of your age."
I almost blushed from the compliment, "I just like reading sir."
"If only youth today were as humble and educationally inclined as you," he complimented me. "In fact, I have half a mind to bring you to Dalaran this instant. Only half Lyandros," he quickly added when the Keeper shot him a look.
"Unfortunately for you, but fortunately for the Academy, she is set to compete in the practical examination tomorrow," the Keeper finished his feverish writing. Stamping whatever it was he wrote on. "You may be my friend, but I will not quietly let you poach our applicants. Only so many hopefuls make it this far."
"And I have every confidence that only a third of them, at most, will meet this Academy's exacting standards."
"And should she not be a part of them, you should rest assured that you will be among the first to know; outside of the admissions council themselves."
Wow. Mages are sure territorial over 'prodigies' like myself. This is some highbrow bickering.
Sunrever gave a light chuckle, "as much as I want to continue this, now that my task here has concluded, I must be off." He held his hand out expectantly to Lyandros. Sure enough, the old man handed him a sealed letter. Probably the thing Lyandros was just writing.
"Fair enough. Give my best wishes to his Lordship for me when you see him."
"I shall. Though knowing Antonidas, he will scoff and claim he is merely old; not decrepit."
"Yet," Lyandros solemnly noted.
"Yet," Sunreaver agreed. He turned to me, "Farewell Syllia Dawnguard, this meeting was more productive than I had thought it would be. Best wishes on your exam to come. And know that the doors of the Violet Citadel will be open to you should your venture here come to a premature end."
With those parting words, in a flash of light, he was gone.
Seems like a nice guy.
I turned to Lyandros, the old elf was once more writing at a furious pace. As seconds ticked by, it would appear that he had forgotten about me.
"Sir?"
He looked up, "ah yes. Forgive my absent mind. Arrive at the meeting hall before noon tomorrow. Everything else shall be explained there."
I meant if I'd passed or- Wait!
My heart fluttered. Did that mean….
"So I passed?"
"Pardon?" He looked at me.
"The exam, sir," please don't tell me he has elf dementia or something! Did he really forget the whole point of the meeting. Less than a minute later! "Did I pass? You said to come tomorrow, so does that-"
"The exam? Oh, yes, of course you passed," the keeper replied. His tone made it seem like it was an afterthought. "You are free to head home for the day."
I did my best not to squee in front of the man. That would probably ruin the, I hope, good impression I had cultivated during the meeting. Had to bite my lip to keep the cheer down. But my arms did jerk into a semi fist pump. I walked to the door, careful not to look like I was rushing. Or skipping.
"Word of advice, Miss Dawnguard," Lyandros spoke up before I left. "I would highly encourage you to get a full night's sleep, and have a good breakfast before arriving. You will need all your energy for tomorrow's exam."
I turned back, "Sir?"
"I can say no more on the matter," he smiled. "Just be well rested, well fed, and prepared for anything."
Well that's not ominous.
I nodded. Thanking him for the advice, I stepped out of the room, doing my best not to trip over my own legs as I rushed out.
Sadly, I failed to keep my balance on the way out. Scraped my knees on the stone floor. Thankfully no one was there to see me hit the ground.
But I didn't even care. My ego was restored! I was ready! I had my second wind! All my fears about washing out ignobility were gone!
I could do this!
Just one more step!
And god was I nervous about the hellish gut punch I knew was coming my way tomorrow!
Well. I wonder if she looks super advanced? Or completely of the walls with new magical theories. Fel is chaos cosmologically, but they may not know this.
I think the tests are on a very harsh curve grade system. Where if you get something like a quarter of the questions right you pass with a C and 50% gives an A.
True going to Dalaran would let her meet up with Jaina and Arthas when that time comes, it also gets her away from the Sunwell, which probably won't matter but it might give a bit more resistance towards the whole Withering problem that happens.
True going to Dalaran would let her meet up with Jaina and Arthas when that time comes, it also gets her away from the Sunwell, which probably won't matter but it might give a bit more resistance towards the whole Withering problem that happens.
If she's powered by eldergod juice then I don't think she'll have that problem anyway.
Part of me wishes she stays, having made a friend. On the otherhand this school is going to be full of politics and she should get away from that as fast as possible.
Maybe she'll keep in touch with lady Emberbirth anyway.
And if she spends more time with Kael, then I from this moment ship them as a couple.
While she won't be able to influence Arthas as much, she'll be able to make up for that with a far more active Kael'thas.
There's a long long road from here to there so I stop speculating now because we haven't even gotten into WC3 and there's so much fun that could be had.
Well, the wooden charm doesn't work. What does it mean that she have live visions of old gods twisting her perceived reality?
That she is roayaly facked, if the old gods can do that when she is wake and trying to concentrate inside magickly protected building of extreem value.... not sure thare is anything she can do. Maybe do spend some nights in the churge of holy light or get bath in holy waters or perhaps much better and expensive charm but thats not the point.
The point is With this power the old gods cant lose, thay can control & influence anyone in time of weeks/month. to change someone perception of the real word and when she is trying to concentrate and intently avoid their invite-.--- just damn. She cant trust anyone now, local citizen, mayors of cities, mages, archmages or the nice lady at the desk all of those are potencional agents like in Matrix.
I am amazed this version of Azeroth still exist, with this power thay should have win like two milenium back with nothing to hold them back. the seals holding old gods are paper thin acording those actions, such a shame....
They are not territorial about a prodigy but about any student, knowledge or prestige. The thing is they dont like each other in general.
Thare are some elves that are supporters of dalaren and their experimentation because it doesn't have so many limitation as in Silvermoon.
Mailny thanks to those stones around their territory that dampens magic, or specifically the interaction of arcane to the twisted nether. Those stones were created to hide the presence of arcane so those outside cent "see" mages doing they daily magic on Azeroth..
Dalaran dont have those. Its also reason why the Guardian was made - besouse whit humans using arcane they also began summoning thinkgs from twisted nether who were making a mess and killing anything around them antil put down.
Dalaran is interesting for elves for only few reasons.
- dosnt have the barriers from lodestones so you can access the mystery in twisted nether
- thanks to short human lives they progress and share knowlage more freely
- as an elf you can sell a lot of knowlage the human mages are drooling to get from you while you give them crumbles of ordinaly knolage of elves.
- as an elf you are basicly outside of Silvermoon politics so a lot of renegades are going there or those who didnt have talent but in human terms are probably a normal talented individual.
- can get politicle power a fame easly while in silvermoon those are closed or difficl do get in elf sociaty.
A bit on the nose with the entire paragraph where she stops and looks at portraits of Sunstriders in a public setting don't you think?
Is that just her being observant and curious or does she resemble them enoguh that the wispers of bastard will start following.
I too would be curious about her going to Dalaran, to meet Jaina and Arthas. But I also don't want her to leave her friends, who I have a theory about for things a good bit further down the line. Either way, I expect some globe trotting in her future. Hopefully she stays a High Elf too.
A bit on the nose with the entire paragraph where she stops and looks at portraits of Sunstriders in a public setting don't you think?
Is that just her being observant and curious or does she resemble them enoguh that the wispers of bastard will start following.
Huh, I kind of thought it would be funny if she did look a lot like Sunstriders enough to cause a scandal, but didn't think she looked like them in actuality(?).
"Well, it's all a mental thing. If you play, or do anything really, against a person who thinks only in terms of winning and losing, you can really mess with them. Make it so they don't lose, they'll see it as them not winning, they get frustrated and try again. Do this a few times to get them off balance, then go for the throat. Metaphorically of course!" She quickly added the last part.
Buckle up buckaroos! It's the "I can't believe its not a tournament arc" chapter!
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"Syllia, sweetie, be reasonable," Mom asked me. Her hand on my shoulder, eyes almost puppy like.
How was this even a question? "No!" I turned my attention to my eggs. Ignoring the whining, woman child, next to me. I had to focus on eating my breakfast right now.
"Oh come on Syllia. Don't be stingy! Your mother is offering to help you."
I groaned. "That," I pointed at her aid, "is not helping. That is a possible crime."
"It's just a tool," she tried to counter. "No different from a book or a wand."
"It's a gun!" I picked up the flintlock pistol she placed at the table earlier. "This can kill someone!"
She looked amused at my point, "first off dear, that is a single shot pistol. Can't fire more than once in a row. Second, and no offense sweet, you're not a good enough shot to really hurt anyone." I've never even held a gun before; this life or last! And I didn't even know we had a gun in the house!". Third, " she took it from my hand, "how is this any more dangerous than what mages already do?"
"It could kill someone," I repeated.
"Syllia, how is a little ball of lead more dangerous than a fireball capable of incinerating a house," she questioned.
"Because," I tried to come up with a counter argument. She was right, magic, on its own, is more dangerous than any amount of munitions.
"Because…" she looked quite smug at my lack of a response. Her damn smile grew more impish by the moment. "Yes sweetie, because," she leaned in. How the hell did her smile keep growing?
"Because-" I was at a loss for words. "Because....did you use a gun at my age?"
"Of course not," she waved off my question. "I learned when I was younger than you."
Are you kidding me! "I'm not taking a gun. End of discussion Mom!"
She threw up her hands. "Okay. Fine. No gun." Mom put the flintlock away; in a kitchen drawer of all places. Why would she store it there? She turned back to me, "you'll at least take the knife right?"
Oh my God. I pinched the ridge of my nose. Next to the spot where the pistol had been was a simple knife. I ran my free finger along the flat end of it. My finger nearly clipped the bladed edges.
"You probably poisoned it when I wasn't looking," I mumbled to myself.
"Your damn right I did!"
I didn't register her words for a moment. Tilting my head, I realized just how close my forefinger was to the blade's pointy tip.
….
I retched my hand away, cradling my forefinger. Examining it for a cut. "Why would you give me a poisoned knife!"
She looked beyond amused at my flustering. Arms crossed, she grinned, "a better question is why wouldn't I give you a poisoned knife?"
"Because people don't just give kids poisoned knives! What if I accidentally cut myself and got poisoned by it?"
"Nothing would have happened," she picked up the blade, twirling it between her fingers. "Because you've had the antidote in your system since last night."
"When did you-" My question died on my tongue. Mom cooked dinner last night. Probably slipped it in with the food.
"And you just finished a second dose of it a few minutes ago." To emphasize her point, she picked up my cleaned breakfast plate. "You'll probably be immune to this toxin until this evening."
So Mom slips me drugs in my food. What a foreboding thought.
Of course, the question remained.
"What would that stuff do anyway?" My curiosity demanded.
"A minor paralysis poison," she answered while washing off the dishes. "Nothing too exotic. And not in a concentrated form. Worse comes to worse, they'd be immobile for an hour. More likely, they'd be paralyzed for however long it takes for a healer to flush it out of the poor kid's system."
"Why would I even need a poisoned knife," I brought the conversation back. "The exam could be anything."
"You're right, I could be anything," she agreed. "If you're fighting someone you'd be able to use it. If not, just keep it sheathed."
"Having it assumes I'm going to fight someone, I could-"
I heard her give an exaggerated sigh, she turned to me, "Sweetie, when someone tells you to be prepared for anything, always assume the worst."
"It's just a test," I tried to tell her.
"With magic," she fired back. "Anything involving magic tends to become dangerous rather quickly."
This was getting frustrating, "Mom I am going to be fine. I don't need a knife. I certainly don't need a poisoned knife or a gun. That last one might just disqualify me if I actually brought it!"
She was quiet for a moment.
"Okay," she said.
"Okay?"
"Yes okay," she repeated. "Maybe I went a little overboard."
A little, I snorted.
She sighed, taking a seat next to me, "I love you. I'm just trying to make sure you have the best chance of doing whatever it is you'll do today. My parents taught me a certain way. Guess that way is just incompatible with a mage's way of doing things." She hugged me.
"I know. And I love you, but I need to do this on my own. No shadowy stuff." I hugged her back. But, one thing still nagged at me, "actually, what would your parents do in this situation?"
I felt her grin, "you mean getting into a fight or getting into a school?"
"Both," I was nervous about the answer now.
She hummed to herself, "well to get into a school, they'd probably make sure to either blackmail or bribe whoever was in charge of admissions," she seemed amused by the face I made. "But if it was a fight then I guess it comes down to what I was up against."
"What do you mean?" I was very nervous now.
"If it was a fist fight, Mom would tell me to bring a knife," she laughed at some unspoken joke. "You know what she'd say if they brought a knife to a fist fight?"
"Bring a gun?"
"Nope. Burn down their house at night as a warning to the others in the area."
She said that with such genuine charm and glee that it makes me wonder how she turned out so normal.
Relatively speaking….
--
The auditorium was quite empty today. Maybe two dozen, not just test takers, were here, myself included. The room was absolutely drowning in nervous energy. Whereas the first day kids met up in small cliques and groups, now everyone sat a good distance from each other. No one seemingly talked to one another. Or if they did, it was so quiet I couldn't hear. Some just sat their, eyes closed in the comfy lounge chairs provided. Others read books. Most sat quietly.
The room was almost as silent as the grave.
Looking at the stage, the set up was a little different today. The proctor from before was still there, in all his professional, if somewhat bored, glory. But this time he brought a friend with him; a mage. His face was covered by a cowl. But his robes were quite ornate and clean. Like every other mage I've seen in this place.
Thankfully for my own nervousness, I did meet up with Elsia again. She had none of the nervousness the others showed. Then again, her display of emotions seemed to be more on the stoic side of the spectrum. It's not that she did not show emotion, but rather she was quite reserved in who she showed them too. She did seem a bit more lively when I talked with her when compared to seeing her talk to someone else.
That being said, I've only known her for a few days. So maybe I'm completely wrong.
After waiting half an hour, the proctor began addressing us.
"Greetings and congratulations applicants," the speaker's voice boomed across the empty room. "You have passed through the gauntlet of tests and examinations that have ended many a hopeful's dream. When we began this examination, there were one-hundred and twenty six applicants. In the ensuing days, your numbers have been whittled to twenty-two."
Holy shit, that is one hell of a failure rate. I quickly glanced over to the remaining children. Some fidgeted. Others took quick breaths. One looked completely bored.
"Even still," he continued, "your numbers shall be reduced even further before the day is over." He gestured to the robed figures before him.
With a nod, they began channeling mana for a spell. A spark of mana, bloom of light, and there was a simmering portal at the foot of the stage.
"We shall now travel, as a group, through this portal. It shall take us to the location of the final part of this examination. All shall be explained on the other side. Do not tarry." With a curt nod to the telemancers, the Procter walked off the stage, motioned for us to follow, and stepped into the portal.
Teleporting via a portal is an...experience. Like the whole world spun around for a split second before righting itself.
The chamber we arrived in was vastly different from the room we were in before.
To start it was massive. At least three stories high. This whole chamber was predominantly made with a red colored stone. There were no windows or natural light sources of any kind. All light emanated from an assortment of crystals, braziers, and candle light. Large amounts of cushy seating surrounded an elevated stage that ran the length of the center of the room.
Or arena, I mused.
Looking around, one thing did nag at me. Along one wall at the far end of the chamber, there was something. A distortion. A wavy flux in an empty space some ways up. For a moment, I feared I was about to be visited by N'zoth and his nightmare bullshit, but this seemed different. It wasn't shadowy, or oily, or anything that burned my eyes to look upon. The distortion was simply there.
Curious, I reached out to feel the mana in the area. To my surprise, and relief, I felt mana pooling in that area. Swirling like a vortex. Throwing away anything that got too close. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.
Even in the worst of N'zoth's Old God fuckery I couldn't feel any mana out of place. As if everything that happened was natural. This, by contrast, my senses were telling me was something off. Meaning that it wasn't old god bullshit. But if not that, then what?
"Welcome! Welcome!"
A elderly voice broke me from my investigation. Seated in a balcony far above was a collection of elderly looking elves. Their skin wrinkled and withered with age. Hair greyed or whitened by time. A few looked positively atrophied; more skeleton than skin and muscle. In spite of that, the robes they wore were beyond immaculate. Gems, crystals, circlets, and other trinkets shined in the false light. The display of wealth and power was figuratively, and literally, blinding.
"Welcome children!" an elf seated at the center of the balcony called out. He waved his arm to get the other's attention. His robes and trinkets were markedly more gaudy then his companions. He walked to the edge of the balcony, a golden staff in hand as a makeshift walking stick.
"Welcome, I am High Magister Erhen, Headmaster of Dath'Remar," despite being so far away, he sounded as if he were standing before us. Magic, obviously. "I, and my colleges," he gestured to his compatriots above, "are proud to welcome you to the final phase of the entrance examination."
He now had everyone's attention.
"This portion of your exam is meant to test your practical skills in magic and spell work," he explained. "For the past week, you have been tested, tried, and pushed to your limits in theory. Now, you shall demonstrate your potential for all to see. Few applicants make it this far. Fewer still shall take their place amongst our number. Know that regardless of your success or failure in the coming test, the skills you have demonstrated, the resolve you have shown, are clear indications of a bright future ahead for each of you."
He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts.
"Each year, our practical examination takes on a different focus. Ultimately, what form that exam takes the form of is my decision. For this year I have decided that you.." he pointed his staff to us.
"....shall duel one another."
Confusion rippled across us.
He's going to make us fight each other?
So is this battle royal or one on one. Because one is far easier than the other.
"Your opponents have already been chosen," the Headmaster clarified. "You shall compete against one another to the best of your abilities. And we," he again gestured to his associates, "shall judge each and every one of you on your merits in combat and come to a decision. Defeat does not mean failure."
So you can lose, but still pass. It's not about winning. It's about showing off. Okay. I can show off.
"You shall fight until either one party can no longer continue the battle, one party yields, or the proctor judges the participant unable to continue. Healers shall be on hand to deal with any extraneous injuries you may suffer."
They had healers on standby. That, almost sets off red flags for how dangerous this will be.
"Good luck, to each and everyone of you," he turned to sit down. Slowly, needing the staff to help hobble to his ornate throne. "You may begin proctor."
The proctor gave the Headmaster a deep bow, then turned his attention to us. "As his excellence stated, you shall duel one another. I shall call up your exam numbers in pairs. Proceed to the stage when called. The rest of you take a seat and do not distract the duelists."
Duel, nice way of saying battle.
I looked to Elsia, who nodded and motioned over to an empty area. To be fair, the place was empty to begin with. As I began to sink into my cushy seat, the proctor began to read off the first numbers.
"For the first bout: Applicant twenty-five, Elsia Emberbirth." I saw Elsia take a quick breath in next to me. She hadn't even taken her seat. Looking at me, she gave the briefest of smile's before marching forward.
I held my breath for the next number.
It would be so ironic if-
"And Applicant thirty-two, Ferris Oakshield" a boy flinched. Must be his number. He also walked to the stage. While he tried to hide his emotions, his constant wiggling of his fingers betrayed his nervousness.
For a moment, I thought we would be fighting each other. Seemed like the stereotypical thing to do. Force two people who built up a kind of friendship with one another to fight it out. Potentially causing a grudge to form between both parties that ruins said budding friendship.
Of course, statistically speaking, there really was only a one in twenty one chance that my name would be called.
They both walked on stage, standing a good distance away from each other. Elsia's face was stoic. The boy shook like a reed.
"Are you ready," the proctor questioned.
"Yes," Elsia stated.
The boy gulped, "I think- I mean yes. I'm ready."
The proctor was silent for a moment.
"You may begin."
Immediately, the stage erupted in white flames. They snaked and coiled around where the boy was standing. I heard him screaming. Couldn't tell if it was in shock or pain. Elsia looked bored; hand extended manipulating the flames. This display went on for a minute, during that time, the boy's voice went ragged, then stopped altogether.
The flames died of their own accord shortly after.
"The match is over, Elsia Emberbirth is the victor."
The boy was on the ground. He didn't seem in pain. His robes were a bit burnt a bit from the fire. His face red from the flames. But overall, he didn't look like he was burned alive. Even walked off the stage under his own power. So that's good. Looked like he was going to cry though....
That bout probably hurt his pride more than anything really serious.
The one sidedness of Elsia's match set the tone for the next matches. One applicant would simply overpower the other. Each match was finished in under a minute. The abilities of each victor showed were equally overwhelming.
One girl teleported behind her opponent and blasted them forward with arcane energy. Kid had a bloody nose from where he hit the ground.
In the next match a boy used a supreme display of fire magic, though not to the same extent as Elsia's spell work, to encircle the area his opponent was standing with fire. The flames never touched his opponent, but the fear it inspired, and the fresh memory pf what happened earlier, caused her to forfeit the match.
Then came a weird one; twins. In short order, the sisters knocked each other out with equally impressive displays of magic. They seemed to have had fun during the duel if their smiles and good natured quips, prior to being knocked out, were anything to go by.
Following that was-
"Applicant sixty-nine, Venara Coldwater" I feel like such a child being amused by that. Oh wait-
"and Applicant Thirteen, Syllia Dawnguard."
Wait.
The announcement dragged me from my thoughts. Already, a girl was already walking up to the stage.
I jumped a bit when a hand touched my shoulder.
It was Elisa, "Coldwater's are known for their frost magic."
Of course a family with a name like 'Coldwater', they'd be experts of frost magic.
I nodded, "any other tips?"
She shook her head, "nothing that would help right now. Just be careful."
"Thanks Elsia you're a good-"
"Applicant Thirteen, Syllia Dawnguard." the procter repeated.
I groaned to myself, "I'm coming!" I spared Elsia one last look before rushing onto the stage.
I finally got a good look at my opponent. She was pale. Not in a sickly sense, like what I saw in Elsia, but more from lack of sunlight. Face still had some baby fat; pudgy around the cheeks. Her brunette hair went down a little past her shoulders. She was dressed in fine black-red robes with hints of gold thread here and there. Also wore a pair of thin black gloves.
The most distinctive part of her outfit was her little shoulder cape.
It broke nearly every color convention I've seen in all High Elf society; it was blue. The embroidery of a tree's roots holding a circular disk was threaded in silver rather than gold. Silver and blue. Against her robes black and red. Quite distinctive.
"Are both applicants prepared?"
"Yes," I called out.
"As am I!" I heard Coldwater answer from my spot.
The proctor nodded. He paused for a few seconds; as if syncing the match to an imaginary clock.
"Begin!"
Even before he finished the word, Cloldwater was already in motion.
Cold blue energy built up in her hands. She looked amused.
Frostbolt! As the realization dawned on me, I hurriedly charged up my own counter spell. Arcane energy swirled between my fingers, then condensed into an orb.
With smooth precision, Coldwater raised her hand, palm open, and launched the bolt of icy magic. Its target is obvious. The orb of frost magic wasn't as fast as my arcane orbs. But that only left me with a couple of seconds to finish up charging my spell. It sped from my hand, on course to intercept the frostbolt mid flight.
I held my breath as they collided seconds later. The frostbolt smashed into my arcane orb, shattering it, and continuing on its path. It was not slowed by the impact of my spell.
Logically, I knew I probably had the necessary time to bring up a second orb, or even a third, to try and shatter the bolt mid flight. Barring that, I could simply gather arcane energy in front of me and tanked the bolt. It must have at least lost some of its energy from being struck by my orb; I knew for a fact those things can scorch rocks! Or, if I was in a pinch, I could just channel a stream of fire from my hand and hope that it was enough to melt, or deaden, the frostbolt.
Sadly for me, my flight instincts took over.
Shit!
I dove to the ground, scraping my elbow and knee as I skidded across the stone floor. Incidentally, it occurred to me, lying on the floor, that the bolt might be controlled by Coldwater. Meaning she could just direct it to follow me to the ground.
Thankfully, that was not the case. The frostbolt passed bye where I had stood. It struck against the far fall with a satisfying thunk. Traces of snow and frost plastered the wall where it impacted.
Unfortunately, I didn't see the next bolt she fired. It hit me square in the chest while I was getting up. I was thrown right onto my ass. Fuck. Felt like a large bag of ice slammed right into my chest. My robe was drenched around the impact site. The skin beneath felt raw as I patted the area.
I raised my free hand to conjure another arcane orb, only for a third frostbolt to crash into it.
Fuck! I keeled over, inspecting my wounded hand. It was beet red from the spell. Small sheen of ice on a few of the fingers. I wished I'd worn gloves now; clenching my fist experimentally. Fingers, while in pain, still worked.
"Is that it?" I heard Coldwater demand. Looking over I saw her walking over, arms crossed; little cape fluttering with each step. She looked quite annoyed. "You don't even have the power to block a frostbolt? Then you jump out of the way like some mundane? And then," She didn't finish, shaking her head. "I don't know where or who trained you, or why you're even here, but I refuse to play this charade any further. Proctor!" She turned to the mage, "It's obvious she can't compete against me. Call the match already so she doesn't hurt herself."
The man remained silent. His eyes flicked for a brief moment to the headmaster's booth, then back to the arena. He made no motion to move or speak.
"Hey did you hear me! I said I refuse to fight her!"
"Are you yielding the match?" The man questioned.
"What- No!" She pointed to me. "She can't beat me! What's the point in prolonging this match when the winner is obvious!"
"Matches shall continue until either a participant yields or the proctor calls the match," he repeated the earlier instructions. "If you wish to not continue the match, you may yield at any time."
"That's not what I - Ughh!" She gave up appealing to the proctor. She turned her full attention to me. "Hey you!"
I had gotten to my feet again, knees and elbow sore. Hand twitching back to life. Still felt numb.
"Listen to me," she started. "Just yield. For your own sake if nothing else. There's no point in being beaten to a bloody pulp for nothing."
Fuck you too, I glared at her.
She saw that and decided to change her approach, "look, you just had a run of bad luck going up against me of all people. There is no shame in yielding to your superior."
"Excuse me?" What is with this kid?
"This isn't personal," she stated. "But facts are facts. Someone, like you, can never hope to compete against someone of my pedigree. We Coldwater's trace our lineage back to the founding of the kingdom."
'Oh my god she's monologuing.'
"We are the masters of frost magic. We bend the rivers and waters of the land to our will. We are the moon's power incarnate upon the world, the tides ebbing and flowing to our designs. And I," She took a dramatic pose, "stand before you as the product of ten generations of careful breeding. The heir to the glorious power and responsibilities of the Coldwater dynasty. Do you really think someone such as yourself, from a family I have never even heard of, could honestly ever challenge someone like me?"
To be honest, I kind of tuned her out after that. I think she started going on about this ancestor or that famous relative to make a point. All of it wrapped up in a warped sense of honor and Noblesse Oblige. Honestly, this made me just want to shut her up.
As she began to go on about her 'dynasty's honor and prestige in courtly matters' I formulated my counter attack. Those frostbolts could tank my arcane spell. So the only thing I could do was attack.
Without warning, I fired off an arcane orb; beginning to form a second one as it flew forward.
"...his Father's name- HEY! Did you even listen to me!" She raised her hand, palm out. A frostbolt formed and was sent flying against my arcane orb. "You-"
Whatever she was going to say died on her tongue. She watched as I effortlessly controlled my orb to avoid her bolt. Swerving long before the bolt even crossed its path. As her bolt smashed against the back wall, my orb careened towards her.
Surprise was replaced by a clam expression. She crossed her arms, arcane energy pooling in front of her. Arms jerked as her barrier absorbed the full force of my spell. And the next one. And the one after that. By the tenth impact, I gathered that brute force was not going to break her shield.
'What about from behind?'
I charged up a handful of more orbs and quickly sent them straight at her. All except one, which I curved to go far above her and arch downwards at her back. As the last orb smashed her barrier, the one from above struck right between her shoulder blades.
She cried out as the impact threw her forward. Coldwater landed on her hands and knees, skidding forward across the hard floor.
She scowled at me as she straightened her clothes, "you want to keep fighting? Fine! But don't blame me when you get hurt."
She held her hand out to the side. Moments later, water began to appear from thin air. It streamed forth in a thin line, levitating above the ground. After a certain amount had been created, she clenched her fist. The water snap froze into a long, sharp, pseudo ice spear. Said ice spear now turned its point at me.
So frost and hydromancy. Coldwater. How appropriate.
At the flick of her wrist, the ice launched towards me.
Oh fuck.
I moved out of the way as quick as my feet would carry me, throwing an arcane orb as I moved. Thankfully, I stayed on my feet this time. Sadly, but unsurprisingly, the orb did nothing when it connected with the ice. Maybe it broke off a chip or two. No real damage. It whistled past where I once stood, shattering against the back wall.
Looking back to Coldwater, I saw she was in the process of creating several more ice spears. Her eyes glaring at me.
Fuck!
She threw three of them at once.
No time to move. Orbs do nothing. Don't think my arcane barrier could stop them. Only one choice left, blink away. Though I still wasn't that good at it, better getting stuck in the ground by my ankle than ending up skewered by those things.
As the ice neared, I channeled my mana. At what seemed like the last second before the shards touched me, I teleported to the opposite side of the arena. A few feet above where I wanted.
Thankfully I stuck the landing.
And I was now behind her.
As she turned around, hearing my landing, I unleashed a barrage of arcane orbs. One after another. Coldwater had no time to react. The first orb threw her on her ass. The next two hit her arms as she shielded her face from further hits. Sadly, after that, she raised her little barrier; the rest broke against it.
Hey, that was pretty effective.
Coldwater lowered her shield to fire off another frostbolt. But she just as quickly had to stop to raise her barrier again, as I threw a pair of orbs at her. While Coldwater had her barrier up, I blinked again; once again behind her. Once more, she was struck in the back and thrown from her feet. And once again, she was hit by consecutive orbs before raising her magical shield.
After a couple bouts of this, a cold blast of wind hit my face. My assault relented as I covered myself from the icy wind.
"Enough!" I heard her cry out.
The icy wind stopped after half a minute. I turned to her as my vision was restored.
I saw her put both hands in front of herself. Coldwater started to conjure water again. Unlike the other times where she'd stop and snap freeze it into little spears, the water just kept flowing. Pooling at her feet. After a large amount was on the ground, it began to float. More and more water joined the mass, which began to take on a humanoid form.
All the while, Coldwater started coughing during the process.
Not waiting to see what the hell she was doing, I fired off several orbs at her.
Without warning, the mass of water moved. It swirled around her, placing itself between the orbs and her. The orbs impacted the mass, blowing off large chunks of water. Said water, from the smallest drop to the largest puddle, quickly reformed back into the main body.
No longer a gelatinous mass, the vaguely humanoid form sprouted a pair of arms and a head. A spindly, single leg, held the construct's form off the ground. Hands with meaty fingers twitched to life. Two ethereal looking lights shined where the thing's eyes would be.
A water elemental.
Coldwater, still coughing, now hunched over holding onto her own knees for support, gave the elemental a single arm gesture. On command, the creature lurched forward. It moved way faster than something of that size should move!
Before I even had time to react, the creature was almost upon me.
On instinct, I gathered all the arcane energy I could to blast the watery monster away from me. Or at the very least break up its form.
One pulse later and the elemental's charge was broken.
Sort of.
Half its mass was now scattered across the immediate area; myself included. A chunk of its chest, and the entirety of one of its arms, was gone.
With the amount of water it lost, it should have collapsed under its own weight by now. Just like it shouldn't be staring at me with its still functional head. And it most definitely shouldn't be rearing up its other arm to punch me.
Reflexively, I took a step back. Slipping on the wet floor. As I felt back, I blinked away. The elemental punched thin air as I landed on my ass; ten or so feet away. Not only had I miscalculated the height I blinked to, a foot off the ground again, but the angle I came in at was not the best. If standing upright was a ninety degree angle, then I just came in at a hundred and thirty degree angle.
As I nursed my sore ass, I watched as the elemental reformed. All the water that had scattered around the area was now flowing back into it. Just like the arcane orbs form earlier, the water elemental was reformed in a matter of seconds. As if nothing had happened.
Another arm gesture from a still wheezing Coldwater, and the elemental charged again.
I didn't even have a change to stand up as the construct barreled towards me once again. Both arms raised. Read to beat me into the ground.
Can't blast it apart with brute force. What about boiling the water away?
Fire magic was the one bit of magic I was most iffy about. Not for any rational reason. I burned myself the first time I tried to cast a fire spell. Kind of put me off to practicing such spells as much as my Arcane spells.
Cast a fire spell, it'll be fine, don't tell the student they need to shield their own hands from being burned. It'll be fun.
But, well, what better time to put my limited skills to the test than a water elemental controlled by a pissed off mage hurling itself at me?
Seconds seemed to drag on as I raised my hands, palms open, heat pooling between my fingers. Raised a small arcane buffer between my hand and said heat. The elemental, oblivious to the charging fire spell, continued onward.
Once it was close, I pushed the heat outward.
The result was instantaneous. Fire spewed out of my hands. No control. No elegance. Less a flamethrower and more a cone of fire spraying orange hot flames in every direction.
While I was not the pyromancer Elisa seemed to be, fire was fire.
I actually couldn't see around the light of the blaze. I waited for a water fist to smash through my flames..
Instead I heard a watery groan. I felt a blast of hot steam flow around me. I kept the flames going for another few seconds before cutting them; half expecting the elemental to be relatively unharmed.
Thankfully, that was not the case. It was simply gone. All that remained was the steam.
Looking over to Coldwater, she looked like she was dying. Heaving and coughing, as if she was gasping for air. Her body shaking. Skin took on another pale shade. As she was on her knees, still coughing, she brought her hand back up. Water began to pool again from it.
'Nope! Not dealing with that shit again!'
I fired several orbs at her. Before they even traveled half the distance to her, they shattered.
What the-
"The match is over," the Procter announced, his arm outstretched. The after effects of a spell still present on his fingertips, "Syllia Dawnguard is the victor."
Polite clapping followed from the spectators. I saw Elsia clapping with actual, genuine, enthusiasm.
I gave Coldwater one last look, watching as she finally got back on her feet. Still breathing heavily.
Making my way-
"No!"
Snapping back, I saw Coldwater begin conjuring more water.
"Miss. Coldwater, the match is over," I heard the proctor intervene. "Please take your-"
"I did not lose!" she snarled, almost baring her teeth. "Not to HER! Not to some Nobody!" As the water began to pool, her coughing returned. "I refuse-" Cough "I refuse to lose to-" Eyes growing wet. Her face grew red. "I won't accept! I will not-Cough". Her arms began shaking. Then, it stopped. The spell, her flow of water, fizzled out. She fell to her knees, in the puddle of her own making. Trying in vain to control her coughing. Tears ran down her face. One arm crossed her face, hiding her red blotchy features from crying; trying to preserve some dignity.
"Miss Coldwater."
It wasn't the proctor this time. It was the headmaster himself. He had gotten out of his seat, and had perched himself against the railing of the booth. She tried to stand up, to turn to the Headmaster, only to fall to her knee again.
"The match has ended," he said calmly. "Your objection has been noted. Please return to your seat. If you require a healer, please indicate such."
Realization dawned on her. Arguing now was meaningless.
The proctor offered his hand to her. She swatted it away, smashing her own fist into the ground several times before getting up under her own power. Fixing her outfit, flattening out the creases that formed, she proceeded back to her seat. Slowly. Breathing heavily. Looked like she would fall over at the slightest breeze.
In reality, it was her tripping on her own shaky feet that caused her to fall over.
Okay, she might be a bitch, but even I just can't sit by and watch this train wreck.
Before she hit the ground, I blinked to her side. Or more accurately, I blinked in front of her, when I meant to be beside her. Trying to catch her caused me to fall alongside her. My body cushioning her fall.
Took both of us a moment to realize what had just happened. With her on top of me, I could feel her shaking like a reed and how cold she actually was. Didn't need to be a master mage to put two and two together: Mana exhaustion. Probably from that water elemental she summoned.
Also explains why she was keeled over for the last bit of the match.
I somehow slithered my way out from under her; ignoring the soreness in my abdomen. Back on my feet, I offered her my hand. I honestly expected her to slap it away. But she just stared at it, then me, before taking it. Coldwater held my hand for support as we walked to the seats. She guided me to her seat, where I helped her down. Healers were at our side moments later. The golden glow of light magic filled the area.
Turning to leave, I felt a hand grab the edge of my robe. Looking back, I saw Coldwater gesture for me to come close. Shrugging, I leaned in. Her hand gapped the collar of my robe to bring me in closer.
"Why…" I heard her whisper, voice straining.
"What?" I asked.
"Why….did you...help me?" she wheezed out.
Because even if you were a complete bitch, I still pity you in the state you are in, probably would not go over well with someone who was as prideful as her.
"You needed help, so I decided to help" is what I decided on.
"You…" she was at a loss for words. Closing her eyes, I heard her sigh heavily. Shaking her head, she muttered something to herself. It sounded something like "...Idiot...".
She said nothing else. Letting me go, she leaned back in her seat, giving me a shoo gesture.
Rolling my eyes, I walked back to my seat.
Nobles. I wonder if I will even understand them.
As I sat down, I heard Elsia congratulate me. She stopped herself from patting me on the back. Probably a good thing; felt a little sore. Obviously. Took a frostbolt there.
I also felt a little sore from all running and moving around, but nothing too bad.
--
The following matches seemed to pass by like a blur. I didn't really pay that much attention to them, going over my own bout in my head during said duels.
"Hold still now."
I remember the last one ended in a similar matter to the others; one side overwhelming the other.
Then the headmaster got up and said how very good we all were. Honorable. Unique. Special. All the good stuff. Told us to go home, rest, and wait for them to mail us the 'results'. Whatever the hell that means.
One week at most he promised.
With all this testing and examination nonsense done, I could now focus on more immediate issues.
"Stop fidgeting, I'm almost done."
Which leads me to now...
I hissed in pain as Mom dabbed the soaked cloth against my blister covered chest.
Hours after everything was said and done, I was feeling the pain from my duel with Coldwater. Whatever adrenaline high I had been on was gone. I felt everything that was wrong with my body right now.
I only wish I felt this hours ago, where the fucking healers were!
I was sitting in Mom's bedroom. My upper body was covered in a mismatch of blisters and bruised skin. My muscles screamed from being used for the first time. And my scabbed knees and elbows were bandaged up in pseudo band-aids. Hell even the hand that took a frostbolt was twitching underneath bandages.
Feeling like this, I wonder how I was able to walk home under my own power.
"Don't worry Syllia, this solution will have those blisters gone by tomorrow," Mom told me as she dabbed another blister, this one just above my stomach.
"And the muscles?" I hissed. I was barely able to sit up because every little muscle was screaming out a dull, but constant, pain from being used today. Sit up, pain. Lay down, pain. Move arm, pain! Shift even a little bit, pain!
She hummed to herself, "I do have a minor health potion over there. You'll probably have to take a teaspoon or two every six hours for about a couple of days before you feel better."
I groaned, "I feel like my body is going to die…"
"Oh sweetie," she cooed. I twitched as she dabbed another spot, "you'll probably feel even worse tomorrow. 'The day after is always worse than the day of' Mother would always say."
ha?
Why did they not call it the second she got nailed in the face?
Feels like blatant favoritism tbh.
Also fucking rogues who the hell thought it would be a good idea to allow them to raise children
