Chapter Fifty-Three: The Followers

Moltenlight Town, Sally-Gurun’s Inn. The eight-member team was gathered inside.

“This expedition to Uldaman was an experience unlike any I’ve ever had. For the bountiful rewards we gained, I raise a toast to our arcanist!” Surveyor Redur grinned broadly, flashing a mouthful of white teeth as he lifted his mug in salute to Patrick.

The Explorers’ Guild’s venture into Uldaman had gone flawlessly. The Bronzebeard dwarves had effortlessly—well, more like tagging along—reached the depths of Uldaman, even managing to slay—well, cheer on the slaying of—a senator of Dark Iron City. And with their packs brimming with treasure, the dwarves’ spirits soared.

Patrick, however, was not in the habit of drinking. Mages, especially those of high rank, needed to keep a clear head at all times, so he filled his glass with juice and took a symbolic sip alongside the dwarves.

“Ah! Fine drink…” The dwarf’s rough voice rang out, accompanied by a hearty belch; he glanced at Patrick’s untouched ale with a tinge of regret.

“It’s thanks to Master Patrick joining us that we secured these treasures. To our success, let’s have another drink!” Sel’durin the Lost echoed, his mood as bright as the rest, all the dwarves reveling in their triumph.

“And it was thanks to your maps that we found the Seat of Khaz’goroth so directly. I’m also grateful for your assistance,” Patrick replied sincerely. The five dwarves’ maps had indeed saved the party much time.

Patrick’s simple words made the five dwarves almost float with pride. Praise from an elf was rare enough—especially praise directed at another race.

---

The high elves of Quel’Thalas were the very image of the elegant and privileged—handsome, beautiful, long-lived, affluent, and benevolent. For generations, they lived amidst the grandeur of their magical kingdom, their lives steeped in opulence and splendor.

Arcane magic was woven into every facet of elven life, their personal power formidable, their arcane arts unrivaled for centuries. The name of the Kingdom of Quel’Thalas was etched into the mind of every race across the continent.

Of course, I must add: much of this glowing image was self-conferred by the high elves themselves.

To human eyes, elves were long-lived, the men striking, the women breathtakingly lovely—but their personalities left something to be desired: they were vengeful, haughty, and unreasonable. The arrogance might be understandable, given the kingdom’s might and the elves’ clear superiority in magic.

But their penchant for holding grudges and being unreasonable was harder to excuse. Humans were the most populous race on Azeroth; compared to the elves’ millennia of life, a human’s years were but a blink. Many a human, through some misdeed, had offended a high elf—yet a hundred years later, when not even ashes remained of that human, the high elf would recall everything in perfect detail.

When the elves came calling to settle old scores, it was, to humans, almost laughable.

“My great-grandfather did what? Show me the proof! It’s been so long, my own father probably doesn’t know anything about it. What does it have to do with me?”

“Are you sure it was my ancestors? A hundred years ago, we didn’t even live there.”

“Ah! Ha! You elves and your memories—so clear after all these years.”

...

Thus, among the upper echelons of human society, high elves were not particularly well-liked. During Antonidas’ time, there was still a veneer of balance between elves and humans at Dalaran, but the best example was Garithos. His paranoia, arrogance, and fervent human supremacy drove away their then-allies, the blood elves under Prince Kael’thas, causing Quel’Thalas to break from the Alliance.

Stormwind’s covert support of the Silver Covenant, Jaina’s later purges in Dalaran—such events were all too common.

---

So, praise from the lips of a proud elf was like a potent stimulant, sending a thrill through the hearts of the five dwarves.

“Hahaha! We were the backbone of this venture as well. To our success, another round!” Olaf’s face was split by a joyful grin as he raised his mug. The five dwarves downed another drink, their cheeks flushed.

The gathering did not last much longer; most of it was spent boasting under the influence. Patrick listened with a faint headache, while Aurelia had grown weary of the dwarves’ antics, remaining only out of courtesy.

After everyone retired to their rooms, only Patrick, Aurelia, and Loren Riversong—the three elves—were left.

Loren Riversong spoke first. “Thank you, Archmage Patrick, for your help; this expedition was truly meaningful.” He offered a few polite words, little more than formalities.

“Aurelia and I intend to rest a bit before returning to the Sun Sanctuary. Will you be returning to Quel’Thalas as well?” Loren hesitated. “Well, I suppose I could,” he replied, his words carrying a hint of another meaning.

“Hm! Is there something you wish to discuss with us?” Patrick prompted.

Loren drew a deep breath, then voiced his thoughts: “Archmage Patrick, I wish to serve under you, to work at your side.”

His confidence seemed fragile, as if simply speaking the words required steeling himself.

Patrick paused for a moment before replying, “That’s not a problem. We’ll make detailed arrangements after we return to the Tower of Sunlight.”

Patrick was indeed in need of capable people. Once his family’s supply of alchemical materials stabilized, he could accumulate some initial capital in the Sun Sanctuary and even in Ghostlands, thereby expanding his influence in the region. As the chief mage of the Sun Sanctuary, he was, in a sense, a local lord, able to attract adventurers under his banner to carry out various tasks.

According to Patrick’s plans, his focus was not on Silvermoon City; recruiting personnel for intelligence and administration was imperative. In the future, when Azeroth was plunged into turmoil, Patrick would need to consolidate his power and protect his domain—a sound administrative structure would be essential, as would individuals capable of shouldering the responsibilities of society.

Loren Riversong was a promising candidate—an adventurer with a clean background, unentangled with the great families of Silvermoon, and thus relatively trustworthy. He also possessed insight and connections among adventurers, making him well suited to oversee intelligence, gather information on various factions, recruit adventurers, and even quietly influence public opinion to maintain order.

“I’ll bring him on board and assign him a position, then observe his abilities before making any decisions,” Patrick thought to himself.