That Day, I Chatted and Laughed with the Guardian

The Guardian was irritated.

She was in a rather bad mood.

Those Council fellows were like lingering ghosts, pestering her over the matter of an heir for decades.

In recent years, they had become even more excessive. They had even started blocking her path.

More than a dozen archmages of considerable standing in Dalaran or Quel'Thalas had, over this matter, either been thrown into a lake by her; turned into frogs and tossed into snake nests; or transformed into lizards and teleported onto snowy mountains.

Over the past year, they had gone even further.

They had actually found Karazhan and spent every day blocking her at the entrance. Fortunately, they knew her temper and power, so they did not dare go too far or truly enter Karazhan.

There was a bunch of clowns making noise at her doorstep every day, yet she could not truly punish them lethally.

Left with no choice, she locked up Karazhan, concealed her tracks, and left the South.

Following the principle that the most dangerous place was the safest place, the Guardian decided to hide somewhere near Dalaran for some peace and quiet.

Since she had not traveled the world for a long time, she did not use magic to arrive directly in Dalaran. Instead, she chose to journey there at a leisurely pace.

Along the way, the Guardian passed through the lands of dwarves and gnomes, passed Azeroth's largest dam and the Eastern Continent's largest swamp, passed humanity's first capital and the highlands, and finally arrived at the Hillsbrad Foothills.

After entering the human-populated hill country, the Guardian, unwilling to expose herself, stopped traveling on foot.

She summoned her exquisite magic carpet and flew through the sky, planning to find a suitable opportunity—preferably at night—to sneak into Dalaran for a stroll.

Of course, to do that, she had to conceal her identity and appearance.

That was simple enough for her.

Just an illusion spell.

With the level of those Dalaran fellows, no one would recognize her unless she wanted to reveal herself.

On a sunny afternoon, Magna Aegwynn sat upright upon her magic carpet.

She looked down at the human towns and villages below, admiring the ripe wheat across the fertile land. To her right front lay the magnificent, towering, half-veiled Alterac Valley.

A world untouched by demons is a beautiful world, she thought contentedly.

Just then.

A scorching presence surged up from below.

The clumsy, low-level energy attack was so pathetic that Aegwynn could only helplessly rub her smooth, fair forehead.

"Those antiquated Council fools are sending increasingly useless lackeys."

She decided to teach them a lesson.

This time, she would be harsher and let the Council know that her temper was not quite as good as they thought. If they truly pushed her too far, she would make them regret it.

"Blame your bad luck!"

Aegwynn muttered bitterly.

The gorgeous, exquisite magic carpet moved with its mistress's will and easily blocked the flame spell from below.

Then, carrying its mistress with imposing majesty, it descended toward the ground and brought her before the "attacker."

And so.

A dozen seconds after Orendo's first attempt at casting a spell since crossing over, an innocent-looking noblewoman appeared before him—noble and beautiful, with anger written across her lovely face.

Orendo looked at her.

He had to admit that this stunning blonde woman before him might be the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, including in his previous life.

Her long golden hair fell in lightly curling waves, giving her an air of languid defiance. Her expression was icy, her slender willow-leaf brows deep purple, and beneath dark eyeshadow, green eyes half-hidden by long lashes gleamed with a haughty aloofness that kept others at a distance.

A very beautiful young woman who looked to have a very bad temper.

"Um..." Orendo sighed, accepting his bad luck. "Good afternoon."

He had never expected that his first attempt at spellcasting in his life—his first experience with the most magnificent creation of this fantastical world, magic—would succeed on the first try, only for an awkward accident to occur and disturb this lady.

"I'm sorry. I apologize to you." Orendo's apology was extremely sincere. "I did not mean to. If you are willing, I would even bring a gift and personally visit you to make amends."

Orendo was sincere.

He had no choice but to be.

Clearly, this beautiful woman possessed far more than just beauty.

Simply from that excessively gorgeous and exquisite magic carpet she had descended on, he could tell that her identity was anything but ordinary.

Not just anyone in Dalaran could own such a fine, luxurious magic carpet.

At the very least, only a mage of archmage rank could command such a carpet.

She also appeared to be human.

This was the Hillsbrad Foothills, and a few hundred miles away lay humanity's magical kingdom—Dalaran.

Putting all those factors together, Orendo believed that this mage apprentice who had not even gone to Dalaran to study yet had, through sheer bad luck, offended an important figure from Dalaran.

Under such circumstances, anyone with normal intelligence would apologize and offer compensation.

In the Hillsbrad Foothills, the most influential power was not the prosperous Lordaeron Kingdom; nor was it the nearby Alterac Kingdom; nor was it the increasingly declining Stromgarde.

In the hill country, even if one offended the King of Lordaeron, so long as one showed a better attitude, there was little the king could do.

Lordaeron's rule over this region could only be described as beyond its reach. Unless the crime was serious, the king could not possibly send troops to attack someone.

If one offended Alterac or Stromgarde, as long as one was ruthless enough to cling to Lordaeron, neither Stromgarde nor Alterac would dare seek revenge at the risk of angering Lordaeron.

But if one offended the uncrowned king of the hill country, then even the Lordaeron Kingdom, the Alterac Kingdom, and Stromgarde combined could not save them.

The uncrowned king of the Hillsbrad Foothills was naturally humanity's magical capital—Dalaran!

Here, not offending Dalaran's mages was common knowledge among the hill country nobility.

Unless one was also a member of Dalaran.

His entire family fortune was here, and he himself was a mage apprentice preparing to study in Dalaran.

Orendo had no desire to come into conflict with Dalaran so soon.

Besides, he truly had been at fault, so before the other party even spoke, he immediately admitted his mistake.

If she demanded it, he was willing to pay some money as well.

Orendo apologized sincerely and bowed to the blonde beauty before him, a mage who clearly had an extraordinary background.

"Was that spell just now cast by you? Are you a mage from Dalaran?" she asked in an even tone.

It was good that she was willing to talk.

Orendo breathed a sigh of relief. He could tell that she spoke with the accent of the human common tongue, a very standard Dalaran accent.

It was very popular among the nobles of the human kingdoms, who all longed for the life of the magical kingdom.

Speaking the common tongue with a fluent Dalaran accent was considered something prestigious among the nobles of the northern human kingdoms.

Facing her questioning, Orendo remained neither servile nor overbearing. "I'm sorry. I cast the spell. My control over arcane magic is still poor, so I accidentally struck you."

"Also, I'm not a mage of Dalaran yet, but I soon will be."

"You're making excuses for yourself. Do you think I would believe you?"

"Whether you believe me or not, there is nothing I can do about it. What I mean is that I will go to Dalaran to study after some time. Right now, I can probably only be called a mage apprentice."

"A mage apprentice could never cast a Fireball of such tremendous power."

Hearing her doubt, Orendo also realized that his Fireball just now seemed to have been a little too powerful.

That was because of the Eye of Truth. It had improved the energy utilization and rules of the Fireball spell.

It had almost perfectly constructed the spell model and energy arrangement for Fireball from the information in Orendo's memories. With its flawless execution, the Fireball Orendo had cast was the strongest one he could produce at his current level.

This allowed Orendo to discover another function of the Eye of Truth, beyond organizing data and analyzing information.

It could also help him construct spell models and arrange energy particles—in other words, assist with spellcasting.

For now, this function seemed extraordinarily powerful.

With the Eye of Truth's help, he should be able to go quite far down the path of a mage.

With that in mind, Orendo's response came out a little differently.

"Can't help it. I'm naturally gifted. Everyone says I'm a mage prodigy, even though I'm only thirteen this year."

"You're very proud of yourself?" Magna Aegwynn looked at the young, immature country noble before her and spoke with faint disdain.

"When I was six, the Fireballs I cast were twice the size of yours. Only managing to cast a Fireball like this at thirteen—you really are trash."