Dalaran

Dull thunder heralded the rain. Drifting raindrops nourished the earth, and the people of Lordaeron looked forward to another good harvest under favorable weather.

Since the two princes had been born in succession, the Kingdom of Lordaeron had used various economic incentives to recruit a large workforce to clear wasteland and forests in the northern Silverpine Forest and western Tirisfal Glades.

Every year, large quantities of timber and ore were shipped from Silverpine Forest to Hillsbrad Foothills and Arathi Highlands. At the same time, new farms continued to spring up across western Tirisfal Glades. After years of peacetime development, the kingdom's economy and agriculture had both grown tremendously.

If this development continued, then by the time Prince Arthas inherited the throne, it would take only a few years for the Kingdom of Lordaeron's economic strength and war potential to far surpass those of all the other human kingdoms combined, making it the true uncrowned ruler.

However, while the common folk were still dreaming of an autumn harvest, King Terenas of Lordaeron received troubling news from Antonidas, the leader of Dalaran: a group of creatures of unknown origin, calling themselves Orcs, had ignited a war in the southern Kingdom of Stormwind, and Stormwind City was in grave danger.

When Terenas was young, he had met Llane, now the king of the Kingdom of Stormwind. He was a wise and resolute man. With Anduin Lothar, the last descendant of Thoradin, at his side as an advisor, Terenas could not believe the Kingdom of Stormwind would be defeated so easily.

But as a competent king, even though he considered the Kingdom of Stormwind's defeat highly unlikely, he would still prepare in advance for any trouble that might arise.

"Contact Master Antonidas for me. I'll visit Dalaran in two days."

At last, the king stopped thinking and gave the order to the attendant who had been standing behind him. But before the attendant could leave the study, he added, "Tell Arthas and Alvin that I'm taking them to visit Cross Island on Lake Lordamere."

The two little ones were growing up. For the men of House Menethil, staying cooped up in the palace all day was no good.

Every boy in House Menethil was assigned a private tutor to teach him from the age of five. According to the palace tutors' reports, Arthas had always performed respectably, while Alvin, a year younger, had shown a startling aptitude for learning.

Even a fledgling had to feel the wind before its parents pushed it from the nest to try its wings. After several years of study, it was time for the two boys to gradually experience the world beyond the palace.

Dalaran was a human marvel. Its history stretched back more than 2,800 years, to the epic battle in which an alliance of High Elves and humans defeated the Trolls.

Alvin had once been fortunate enough to find an old book on human history in the royal library. In it, he came across this passage—

"Great balls of fire fell from the sky. Their scorching flames consumed the earth, and their crimson light stained the heavens. Countless Trolls fell amid the explosions and shock waves, swept into a sea of fire. We stood atop the hills, watching the figures writhe and struggle, while their screams of agony rang in our ears. We had won. The Trolls had lost."

In the war that drove the Trolls from the top of Lordaeron's food chain, a hundred humans taught by the High Elves encountered a mysterious power unlike anything they had ever known: magic. From then on, they became mages, wielders of a powerful and mysterious force.

But Emperor Thoradin himself instinctively distrusted and suppressed the art of spellcasting, a power beyond his control. The ruling class of Stromgarde deliberately downplayed the mages' contributions to the war, while dark rumors began to circulate among the common folk.

To escape that stifling environment and pursue greater power, the hundred mages and their apprentices left Stromgarde, crossed the Wall of Arathor, and established Dalaran on Cross Island in Lake Lordamere, the second city-state of Arathor.

Unlike the stately grandeur of Lordaeron, Dalaran's buildings were more ornate and mysterious. When Arthas saw the towering purple spire before them, he leaped from his chair in astonishment. Even Alvin, who had seen plenty of tall buildings before, had to admit that this spire, standing more than a dozen stories high, was impressive.

After all, most buildings in human society were still made from a mixture of timber and stone, and were generally no more than two stories tall. To the two young princes, the purple tower in the distance completely redefined their understanding of the world.

An energetic old man had been waiting on the shore of Cross Island for quite some time. Antonidas held a smooth silver staff, topped with a fist-sized blue gem. Visible Arcane energy swirled slowly around it.

As the ship carrying Terenas and the two princes drew closer, the old mage turned to the "young man" beside him, whose face looked old.

"Khadgar, King Terenas has arrived. I hope you can make your case interesting to him. I don't believe the Orc army you spoke of could break through Stormwind City's sturdy walls, but I still hope you can make him take the threat seriously. After all, you're that man's apprentice, and you're sure to become a member of the Kirin Tor one day."

At this, the old mage winked at the promising young man. "To be honest, most kings are just like the legendary Emperor Thoradin. They don't much care for mages like us who pursue the arcane. If we hadn't helped with Prince Alvin's diagnosis, the relationship between the Kingdom of Lordaeron and Dalaran probably wouldn't be so harmonious."

Khadgar was only eighteen, but his appearance did not match his age. Snow-white hair fell over his shoulders, a white beard hung down to his chest, and his face was marked with the passage of time. He looked every bit like an old man nearing the end of his life.

His rosewood staff was covered in intricate runes. Mysterious power had twisted its tip into a spiral, with a small strap tied around it. The simple staff matched his plain robe, making him look like a hermit who had left the wilderness to live apart from the world.

Looking at the old mage, who was trying to lighten the mood, Khadgar spoke slowly, his face clouded with worry. "The prince who's been asleep all this time?"

"That's right. A true genius," Antonidas replied with a nod. "They say that at the age of five, under the guidance of Archbishop Faol, he became an apprentice Priest devoted to the Holy Light."

"The Holy Light?"

Khadgar gazed at the calm lake and the approaching ship, murmuring to himself, "Can the Holy Light and the Arcane really help us resist those bloodthirsty Orcs?"