Faserin's Invitation

Creeeak!

The heavy door was pushed open slowly, the rusted edges scraping against the floor to produce a sharp, piercing sound.

Yet, this did not disturb the hunched figure hunched over his desk, scribbling away.

As Lanlos opened the door, the chilly evening breeze snuck inside, causing the flame on the candlestick to flicker, which finally drew the old man's attention.

"You're back." Carefully laying down his quill, Fergus scratched his messy, graying beard and slowly stood up.

Thousands of years ago, after being exiled by their kin and moving far from the Well of Eternity, the Quel'dorei gradually lost the blessing of immortality. Disease and aging—the troubles of common humans—descended upon them.

Even so, the youth of an elf lasted far longer than that of a human. Only when they truly reached the end of their lives would a Quel'dorei become like Fergus: hunched and frail.

Of course, when Lanlos first met Fergus half a year ago, he had fantasized about whether he was the "grandfather with the white beard" people often spoke of.

Facts proved he was just an ordinary old man, an elderly village chief.

Closing the door behind him, Lanlos nodded slightly as a greeting. Just as he was about to lean on his cane and head toward his room, his gaze was caught by the shimmering ink marks on the desk. "Is this a notice? Where did it come from?"

Golden Branch Village was a small place. Its inhabitants were largely self-sufficient, requiring no outside supplies and lacking the capacity to export goods. Consequently, the place was almost forgotten; the last time a notice had been posted was the day Lanlos was rescued.

But clearly, this time was far more significant than before.

"Silvermoon City." With a soft sigh, deep sorrow appeared on Fergus's furrowed face.

Lanlos raised an eyebrow, inexplicably feeling the air grow heavy.

"The forest trolls seem to have stepped up their offensive recently." Fergus pulled open a drawer, slowly rummaging for something. "Several frontline scouting parties have been missing for weeks, and the safety line at the border is becoming increasingly blurred..."

"Even if these trolls are rampant, they wouldn't threaten our village, would they?" Lanlos's words were somewhat pessimistic, but undeniable—he was right.

Golden Branch Village was located in the heart of the Eversong Woods. To the north lay the heavily guarded Sunsail Harbor, and to the south, across the Erendal River, stood the large settlement of Golden Mist Village acting as a sentry. It was even less likely for these forest trolls to land on the golden beaches to the west, unless they wanted to be blasted into dust by the high elven fleet. As for the east, the valley was shrouded in mist year-round, and the nature spirits wandering within would show no mercy to anyone who disturbed them.

Just as Lanlos said, threatening Golden Branch Village? What a joke...

Fergus's cloudy eyes fixed on Lanlos, and the caution they revealed made the latter put away his smile.

"Never underestimate these cruel monsters. If it weren't for King Anasterian lowering his status all those years ago to form an alliance with the human empire of Arathor..." Fergus seemed to recall some unpleasant past events, paused, shook his head silently, and then hastily ended the topic. "In any case, as someone who has seen it all, I advise you not to look down on these trolls."

"Understood." Lanlos nodded, his expression solemn.

In fact, he understood the strength of the trolls better than Fergus did, whether it was the Amani, the Drakkari, the Gurubashi, or the Zandalari.

His knowledge of these creatures was not necessarily less than that of this old elf who had lived for thousands of years.

But one thing was one thing; he still didn't believe these Zul'Aman forest trolls would travel thousands of miles to attack a small village with no strategic value. After all, as far as he knew, the fundamental reason the high elves went to war with these trolls was that Silvermoon City was built upon a magical nexus. And as luck would have it, this nexus happened to be an ancestral ruin of the Amani trolls from who knows how many years ago.

For thousands of years, the Quel'dorei and the forest trolls had fought countless wars. It was a life-or-death struggle between them, with no possibility of reconciliation. As for how it started, that no longer mattered.

Therefore, to put it bluntly, what the trolls craved was not something a Golden Branch Village could satisfy.

"Ah, found it!" An exclamation from Fergus pulled Lanlos back to reality, and the latter immediately focused his attention on the man's hands.

Fergus was holding a letter, its exquisite wax seal faintly shimmering with a golden light, shaped like a phoenix with its head held high and wings spread.

"This is?"

"An invitation to Fastherin Academy." A kind smile appeared on Fergus's wrinkled face, yet this seemingly plain answer made Lanlos's eyes widen.

Fastherin Academy was located northwest of Silvermoon City, on an isolated island known as Sunstrider Isle. Its only connection to the outside world was a bridge spanning the sea directly to Silvermoon City.

This place had an inseparable connection to the Sunstrider Court that ruled all of Silvermoon City. Not to mention its name, the first leader of the Quel'dorei, Dath'Remar, was buried on this very island.

The purpose of Fastherin Academy was to help the Court cultivate excellent magic apprentices and various scholars. To use an imperfect analogy, it was a royal military academy.

Of course, none of these were the reasons for Lanlos's surprise. After all, this place was also the starting zone for blood elves in the game.

Seeing Lanlos standing there in a daze, ignoring him, Fergus coughed lightly to pull him back to his senses.

The latter bowed apologetically, but immediately pushed the invitation back. "Old man, although the war is tight, surely there's no need for a disabled person like me who has trouble moving to join the army, right?"

Lanlos's smile carried self-deprecation and deep helplessness.

"You're half right." Fergus naturally knew why, glancing quickly at his right leg. "This does indeed have to do with the front lines."

"But it's not to make you an apprentice; I'm not that heartless." Scratching his gray beard, Fergus straightened his back, looking so smug as if waiting for praise. "This is an invitation for you to be a teaching assistant."

???

"Teaching assistant? Me?!"

"What kind of expression is that?" Seeing the look of disbelief and absurdity on Lanlos's face instead of the expected admiration, Fergus felt a bit awkward, then immediately straightened his face. "I spent a great deal of favor to secure this position for you, you brat. You can doubt it, but you absolutely cannot refuse!"

As soon as he finished speaking, Fergus shoved the invitation into his hands.

"But..." Aside from his student days, Lanlos had never been involved in the teaching profession, let alone teaching a group of elves? It was simply absurd!

"Don't worry, it's just a teaching assistant position." Fergus patted his shoulder heavily. "This job isn't as hard as you think."

Seeing the other wanted to say something more, the old man spoke again, forcing Lanlos to swallow his words: "Believe in yourself. Although you aren't old, I have seen your performance with my own eyes."

"Your passion for learning is the most intense I have ever seen among the Quel'dorei. In just over half a year, you have basically read through my entire collection of books."

"Regarding the history, geography, and culture of Azeroth alone, you know even more than an old man like me who has lived for three thousand years... tsk tsk, it's truly shameful to say, I don't even know how you came to learn it all." Shaking his head in self-mockery, Fergus continued, "And it's clear that you have an extraordinary desire and talent for arcane knowledge."

"I am not a spellcaster; the knowledge here cannot satisfy your requirements, but Fastherin can."

"It has the most formal educational model. Whether you want to become a politician or a spellcaster in the future, Fastherin can make your wishes come true."

"Furthermore..." Fergus's gaze drifted downward, lingering on Lanlos's right leg, "with the knowledge possessed by the priests there, your leg ailment might just be curable."

"I..." Fergus's hoarse voice sent a violent jolt through Lanlos's heart, as if it had been gripped by something, leaving him momentarily speechless.

A flicker of reluctance flashed in Fergus's eyes, but he quickly assumed a carefree expression: "Alright, don't look at me like that. This is supposed to be a cause for celebration, so why make it so miserable?"

Waving his hand, Fergus turned and slowly began to climb the stairs: "Don't forget, at noon four days from now, a cargo ship bound for Sunstrider Isle will depart from Sunsail Harbor. I've booked a spot for you, so don't be late."

Watching him disappear from his line of sight, Lanlos felt as though he were seeing the director of the orphanage from his youth—equally aged, equally hunched, and equally lonely...

Legend had it that Fergus's partner was a ranger who had tragically fallen in the wars against the trolls years ago. To honor his devotion to his beloved, Fergus had remained alone for nearly a thousand years.

Now, his days were numbered, yet he remained without children of his own. However, he was no cold-blooded creature; he still yearned for familial affection, a fact Lanlos had come to understand deeply over the past six months.

Though Fergus had never explicitly said it, it was clear that he had been caring for Lanlos as if he were his own child.

For Lanlos, this feeling was incredibly warm...

Clutching the invitation tightly in his hand, the corners of Lanlos's mouth curled upward, and his footsteps as he climbed the stairs seemed to grow lighter and more cheerful.

The dawn sunlight crept through the window, gently caressing Lanlos's pale face, the reflection on his forehead appearing particularly dazzling.

Seemingly sensing something, the elven youth snapped his eyes open, his azure irises revealing endless fear and agony—a fleeting expression, yet one that was truly horrifying to behold.

What on earth could cause someone to wear such a terrifying expression?

After several deep breaths to steady his heaving chest, the youth sat up shakily and stared blankly out the window. Bathed in the sunlight, everything was shrouded in a glorious gold, dreamlike and illusory.

Yet, Lanlos was in no mood to appreciate the beautiful scenery.

Nightmares invaded his mind almost every night: the sneering laughter of the Soul Eater, the shrieks of demons covering the mountains and plains, the gaze of the Spider Queen's crimson eyes...

Everything that had happened in Mardum lingered in his dreams like a slide show.

Fortunately, it was only a dream.