Chapter 105: Reactions from All Sides

Arcane Mage of Azeroth Aunt Liu 2303 words 2026-03-31 01:23:39

Casting off the shackles of the World Will that bound him, although Patrick’s abilities were capped at the eighth tier, he had directly ascended to the eighth ring. It was clear that another great clan was about to rise in Silvermoon City.

“There seems to be a formidable restriction upon you, greatly limiting your chances of further advancement,” the Lynx Spirit remarked beside him.

“I still need to find my own path. The world’s rules remain intact for now; bypassing them to reach the ninth tier is essentially impossible,” Patrick replied.

The Lynx Spirit, which had left a spiritual imprint on Patrick, had sensed his advancement immediately. Yet, it was puzzled—Patrick had met the requirements for the ninth ring, but something was holding him back.

“Our progression as mages differs from that of shamans and priests. We cannot fully command our souls and wills, and under the complete world rules, advancement is far from simple. Troll shamans and priests have always served your animal gods, their duties and paths defined accordingly. Coupled with the power you grant them, their ascension seems easier,” the spirit explained.

“That’s in the past. I will never trust those thieves who steal my divine power again,” the Lynx Spirit growled, anger flaring at the mere thought of the trolls, whom Regba considered blasphemous toward the gods.

The spiritual imprint revealed to Patrick that the Lynx Spirit’s strength had somewhat recovered recently. Patrick asked, “How do you find living here? Though you lack the exalted status you had among the trolls, this place should be comparatively more comfortable.”

The Lynx Spirit brightened considerably. “Indeed, life here is much more pleasant than among the trolls. Although only a few elves show interest in our power and our growth is slow, it’s far safer and more leisurely here. Honestly, I quite enjoy it.”

The spirit laughed joyfully, baring a soft pink tongue lined with the distinctive barbs of a feline.

The Lynx Spirit’s form had grown larger, resembling a robust adult tiger. Whenever it lounged outside in the sun, elves would often be drawn to stroke its soft fur.

The spirit understood their harmless curiosity and paid them no mind. To outsiders, the Lynx Spirit appeared as a great cat pet tended by Patrick. After Patrick had cleansed it of any witchcraft and voodoo taint, the arcane aura it radiated was strikingly similar to his own.

Now that Patrick had reached the eighth ring, the Silvermoon Council’s handling of the matter seemed thorny. The old guard would never allow him to freely seize the gains they considered theirs.

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“Master, this is the latest report from Liadrielle,” the attendant announced.

“Oh? Has the Sun Temple prepared another surprise for me?” Master Oaks took the magic scroll, embossed with the Dawnblade’s exclusive arcane seal.

The scroll bore just one simple line: “Patrick Cabron has ascended to the eighth ring.”

After reading it, Master Oaks nodded repeatedly. “This truly is a surprise. Rising from the seventh to the eighth ring so swiftly is unprecedented in Quel’Thalas.”

“Master, what are our next steps?” the attendant inquired.

Oaks did not answer immediately. “The royal family and other council members must have received the news by now. Theresta is the royal envoy stationed at the Sun Temple. Notify Liadrielle to inform Councilor Patrick that the Dawnblade Clan wishes to establish comprehensive cooperation with him—including sharing materials, coordinating mage resources, and trade partnerships.”

“We will proceed under normal commercial terms. Given the Dawnblade’s heritage, many of the Cabron family’s deficiencies will be remedied. In effect, he will owe us a favor.”

“Originally, the council colleagues wanted us to send a permanent representative to Sunspire Tower, hoping the Dawnblade Clan would act as the enforcer. We dispatched a priest vassal to execute this duty. Now, with Liadrielle as the cornerstone, we will engage in private cooperation with Councilor Patrick. The council can only watch helplessly. We will gain favor with a new council member.”

“Furthermore, arrange for personnel and subordinates to develop Dawnblade’s industries within the Sun Temple. We must establish a firm foothold there as soon as possible.”

The attendant beamed. “With Lady Liadrielle present, matters will be much simpler.” It had been the attendant’s idea to send Liadrielle to the Sun Temple, and now that spontaneous decision was proving invaluable.

Simultaneously, the royal family received the news promptly.

“Your Majesty, Theresta, our permanent envoy at the Sun Temple, has sent a report,” Selvor handed the message to King Anastasian.

“Oh? Another update so soon?” the king exclaimed, surprised at his own aging. “Already at the eighth ring? Truly a gifted mage.”

“Your Majesty, how shall we handle Councilor Patrick Cabron going forward?”

“No need for special treatment. The stronger Patrick becomes, the more issues concerning power distribution and market share will remain internal to the council. It will not affect us. We must maintain stability and watch the internecine struggles unfold. Everything else proceeds as usual,” the king incisively pinpointed the strategy.

With every new force rising, old members inevitably fall. Healthy competition benefits society’s progress.

“Also, issue a decree to announce across all of Quel’Thalas that Councilor Patrick Cabron has advanced to the eighth tier. He shall be appointed as an executive director of the Silvermoon Council. The celebratory ceremony for the new director will be held after the full council meeting during the Harvest Festival.”

Finally, King Anastasian showed a faint smile. “Both sides have ample time to prepare. We shall watch the forthcoming ‘performance’ with great interest.”

“As you command, Your Majesty,” Selvor bowed and withdrew.

Clouds gathered from all directions; various factions within Quel’Thalas stirred restlessly. Some favored the new director, energized and ambitious; others believed the old guard’s roots too deep to be shaken.

Patrick thought otherwise. Let the council’s conservatives be self-righteous. He had his own plans. The Dark Gate was about to open, and time was running short. As his rank rose, so too did the political demands on his time—a fact that filled Patrick with a growing sense of urgency.