Azshara was dumbfounded, and she couldn't sit still.
Azshara had secretly been delighted by Sarodal's invitation.
Light of Lights was extremely confident in her own charm. She wasn't afraid that he wouldn't take the bait—only that he would remain unmoved.
Now, Sarodal had finally agreed to be alone with her. How could she not make the most of such an opportunity?
So Azshara returned to her estate and began an exceptionally long, painstaking process of dressing up.
"Fashqi, bring out those formal gowns I wore before. These ones aren't nearly magnificent enough. I must be suitably dressed for a place that the Titan God often enjoys visiting."
Well, Azshara and Fashqi seemed to have fallen into a misunderstanding.
A place that a Titan God often enjoyed visiting had to be an incredibly grand and luxurious venue...
Especially when that Titan was the old rogue Sarodal.
In the end, Azshara chose a grand gown she had once worn to a state banquet ten thousand years ago. Its silver-white cascading fabric had been meticulously hand-sewn from spider silk, and the dress was adorned with pale violet patterns that were both solemn and elegant.
The moment she looked in the mirror, Azshara was brimming with confidence. She was still the Light of Lights, still the only peerless beauty among the Night Elves in ten thousand years.
Then...
Azshara was dumbfounded, and she couldn't sit still.
This was Suramar City's snack street. Restaurants and eateries of every kind lined both sides of the road, creatively setting their tables and chairs right along the street.
Commonly known as street stalls.
"Boss! Boss! Another serving of grilled ray fish! Two mugs of ale! Oh... and three skewers of Kaldorei grilled spider legs. The lady beside me loves those, hahaha..."
Azshara stomped her foot at that and