Late evening, at the Windrunner estate.
Shane teleported to the entrance. The elf greeting guests had not expected a mage to suddenly appear by teleportation and froze in shock for a second, but quickly recognized the visitor.
"Lord Shane Dawnblade, this way, please." The attendant led this "guest the young lady had ordered must not be neglected" toward the garden. I can't sense arcane energy around him, yet it feels denser than those others. After entering the garden, the attendant gave Shane another glance before taking his leave.
This year's Landing Festival banquet is being hosted by the Windrunners. This must be what Sylvanas meant when she said it was boring. Shane found himself a corner, selected a glass of grape juice, and quietly watched the various elves attending the ball.
There was no distinction of rank here. Most of the elves present were energetic and held at least middle-tier positions in their respective fields. Their power flickered like flames. Releasing his spiritual senses had nearly become a habit for Shane, and he unconsciously did so again. They enthusiastically mingled and exchanged information, or discussed poetry and art. Young ladies and gentlemen of high birth did not mind befriending them either. Many pairs were obviously lovers deeply immersed in romance.
Elves used marriage to facilitate class mobility and bring fresh blood into their ranks. Most elves lived corrupt and decadent lives, yet their society retained its vitality. Neither were the classes stagnant; every elf could strive for the life they desired, though most craved comfort and gave up trying.
"Mage Shane, I heard from the attendants that you had arrived. I searched for quite a while before finding you here."
Hearing a familiar voice, Shane saw one of the two mages who had helped him build the Red Sun White