Dalaran

Dull thunder heralded the onset of rain, and the falling droplets nourished the earth, as the people of Lordaeron looked forward to another bountiful year amidst favorable weather.

Ever since the successive births of the two princes, the Kingdom of Lordaeron had utilized various economic incentives to mobilize a large workforce to reclaim wasteland and forests in the northern Silverpine Forest and the western Tirisfal Glades.

Every year, vast quantities of timber and ore were transported from the Silverpine Forest to the Hillsbrad Foothills and the Arathi Highlands. Simultaneously, swathes of newly cultivated farms continuously appeared in the western Tirisfal Glades. Following years of development during peacetime, the kingdom's economy and agriculture had both flourished significantly.

If this momentum of development could be maintained, then by the time Prince Arthas ascended the throne, it would not take many years for the economic strength and military potential of the Kingdom of Lordaeron to far exceed the combined total of the other major human kingdoms, making it a true uncrowned emperor.

However, while the common folk remained immersed in dreams of an autumn harvest, King Terenas of Lordaeron received unsettling news from Antonidas, the leader of Dalaran: a group of unknown creatures calling themselves orcs had ignited the flames of war in the Kingdom of Stormwind in the south, and the situation in Stormwind City was critical.

In his youth, Terenas had once met Llane, the current king of the Kingdom of Stormwind, a man full of wisdom and firm resolve. Coupled with the support of Anduin Lothar, the last of Thoradin's bloodline, he did not believe the Kingdom of Stormwind would be defeated so easily.

Yet, as a competent king, even if he deemed the possibility of Stormwind's defeat to be slim, he would still make the necessary preparations in advance for any potential trouble.

"Contact Archmage Antonidas for me; I shall visit Dalaran in two days' time."

Finally, the King ceased his contemplation and issued the order to the chamberlain who had been standing behind him. Before the chamberlain could leave the study, however, he added: "Tell Arthas and Alvin that I am taking them to visit Cross Island on Lake Lordamere."

The two little ones were growing up, and for the men of the Menethil line, staying in the palace all day was not a good thing.

Every boy of the Menethil family was assigned a dedicated tutor to impart knowledge starting at the age of five. According to the reports from the court tutors, Arthas had always performed in a standard, steady manner, whereas the younger Alvin's speed of learning was astonishing.

Even a fledgling eagle must feel the flow of the wind before its parents push it from the nest to attempt flight. After several years of study, it was now time for these two children to slowly begin experiencing the world outside.

Dalaran was a miracle belonging to humanity, its history tracing back over two thousand eight hundred years to that epic battle where an allied force of high elves and humans defeated the trolls.

Alvin had been fortunate enough to find an ancient book on human history in the royal library, where he had come across this passage:

"Giant fireballs descended from the sky, scorching flames incinerated the earth, and crimson light stained the heavens. Countless trolls fell amidst the explosions and shockwaves, swept into the raging sea of fire. We stood upon the hills, our eyes fixed on the figures twisting and struggling, our ears filled with the continuous, heart-wrenching wails. We were victorious; the trolls were defeated."

During that war, which drove the trolls from the pinnacle of the Lordaeron continent, one hundred humans who had received instruction from the high elves encountered a mysterious power hitherto unheard of—magic—and thus became mages who wielded great and arcane strength.

However, due to Emperor Thoradin's own instinctive aversion to and suppression of magic—a power that exceeded his control—the ruling class of Stromgarde intentionally downplayed the contributions these mages made to the war, and dark rumors began to circulate among the common folk.

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

Unlike the solemn and grand atmosphere of Lordaeron, the architecture of Dalaran was more ornate and mysterious. When Arthas saw the towering purple spires before him, he jumped up from his chair in surprise. Even Alvin, who had seen many high-rise buildings in his past life, had to concede to the majesty of these towers, which stood a dozen stories high.

One must realize that most buildings in human society at present were still constructed from a mixture of wood and stone, so common structures rarely exceeded two stories. For the two young princes, the purple towers in the distance completely redefined their worldview.

On the shore of Cross Island, a spirited old man had been waiting for some time. Antonidas held a smooth silver staff, topped with a blue gemstone the size of a fist, with visible arcane energy flowing slowly around it.

Watching the ship carrying Terenas and the two princes draw closer, the old mage standing on the pier turned to look at the "young man" with an aged face beside him.

"Khadgar, King Terenas has arrived. I hope your account can pique his interest. Although I am reluctant to believe that the orc army you speak of could breach the sturdy walls of Stormwind, I still hope you can make him take it seriously; after all, you are the apprentice of that man, and you will surely become a member of the Kirin Tor in the future."

Having said this, the old mage winked at the promising junior. "To be honest, most kings are like the legendary Emperor Thoradin; they don't take kindly to us mages who pursue the mysteries. If it weren't for your contribution to Prince Alvin's diagnosis, I fear the relationship between the Kingdom of Lordaeron and Dalaran would not be so harmonious."

Khadgar, who was only eighteen years old in reality, possessed an aged appearance that belied his years—snow-white hair draped over his shoulders, a white beard hanging down to his chest, and a face etched with the marks of time, making him look entirely like a man in his twilight years.

The sandalwood staff was carved with arcane runes, its top twisted by mysterious forces into a spiral, tied with a small ribbon. With his simple staff and plain robes, he looked like a hermit living in seclusion, far removed from the wilderness.

Looking at the old mage who was trying to lighten the mood, the troubled Khadgar spoke slowly: "The prince who has been trapped in a deep sleep?"

"Indeed, a true genius," Antonidas nodded. "It is said that at the age of five, under the guidance of Archbishop Faol, he became an apprentice priest who believes in the path of 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?"