Emerald Falls

"I have always believed that good and evil should not be distinguished by profession. No intelligent race can guarantee that extremists will not arise among its people, can it?"

Odovish remained silent for so long that the elf nearly thought he had drifted off or fallen asleep. The wind elemental simulated a tiny snore, leaving Elufiel torn between laughter and tears. What a distinctive elementalist.

Odovish took the wind elemental from the elf's hands. The corners of his mouth seemed to lift slightly, but when Elufiel looked carefully, he appeared no different from usual. "The more I hear you talk about Azeroth, the more I want to see it for myself." Warlocks, mages, priests... Odovish felt that he had found something he wanted to achieve, something that could be called an ideal.

Iron-gray bricks formed sturdy walls and watchtowers, while every building within the city brimmed with the rough-hewn style of dwarves. A stone-paved road, its patterns long worn smooth, silently spoke of the city's ancient history. Naturally, unlike the other admiring passersby, the elf felt little in particular.

"I can never understand dwarven taste. Look at these coarse stones—why don't they polish them smoother?" Elufiel complained to the mage.

Whenever this happened, Odovish felt that the elf was like a child who had yet to grow up—mischievous and lively.

The two wove through the bustling streets. The most common sight in Gryphon City was adventurers carrying weapons. Some hurried along, while others chatted and laughed at leisure. Elufiel saw quite a few people riding griffins straight down onto specially built platforms in the city. Those great eagle-headed, lion-bodied creatures wore anklets. Their well-groomed, glossy fur alone could still intimidate many people, but their eyes no longer held the piercing sharpness of birds of prey.

Odovish led Elufiel into the residential district. At the very end of the street, he knocked on a door. A middle-aged woman in an apron welcomed him inside. Her hair was pinned in an immaculate bun, and though her clothes were plain, they could not hide her dignified air. She gave Odovish a proper curtsy before saying, "Mr. Snow, you arrived earlier than your letter indicated. Miss Goliath has gone to deal with those bats again. I'm afraid she will not return until tomorrow."

"That's all right. I'm not leaving in a hurry this time. I'll wait for her here." Odovish removed his cloak and casually set it on the sofa. He first introduced Elufiel. "This is Sharon, Goliath's housekeeper." Then he turned to Sharon. "This is Elufiel, my temporary student."

Elufiel nodded in greeting to the housekeeper, who returned the gesture with a slight bow.

"Sit. Sharon, prepare something to eat." Odovish sat on the sofa with the elf, taking the elf's removed cloak and placing it with his own.

Sharon responded, took the two cloaks, and withdrew. She soon brought tea and pastries, then quietly retreated to a place where she would not disturb them.

Elufiel glanced around the ordinary two-story house. Its interior was very cozy, but it did not seem like the sort of place that could employ such a highly capable housekeeper. Her guide was certainly suspicious.

"What do you want to ask?" Odovish leaned back against the sofa with a cup of black tea, asking lazily.

Elufiel blinked. "Will you answer whatever I ask?"

Odovish nodded. "I can."

"Then, Mr. Snow," Elufiel said, "who exactly is my guide?"

Odovish looked at Elufiel. "I'm afraid that is a very long story."

"No story could be longer than mine." The elf shrugged, pulled over a cushion, and assumed the posture of someone ready to listen.

Odovish had not recalled the past in a long time. He gathered his thoughts for a while before speaking. "In fact, Snow is only my middle name. I was born in the north of the continent, in the land of extreme cold. It was the territory of the Snow Duke, and also the former site of Alchemy City—Pandor. In the language of the fairies, Pandor means a treasure chest containing everything."

"On the northern ice plains blanketed in snow, there was only one city—Pandor. It floated above the surface of Lake Es, shining with a cold radiance every night. At its height, Pandor had dozens of dragon knights and dragon mages. The annual alchemy symposium drew spellcasters and scholars from across the continent in droves. Unfortunately, I could only witness such grandeur through my mother's stories."

"I had never met my father. My mother left me a locket, with portraits of her and my father inside..."

Emerald Falls

In the year 17635 of the Continental Calendar, the new emperor of the Itarigis Empire ascended the throne. He was the youngest Spell Saint in nearly five hundred years, only 103 years old. Every Arcane practitioner believed that he would lead Arcane back to glory.

At that time, the Holy See had not yet launched the War of Light. Although they and the Arcane practitioners were already like fire and water, they had never clashed head-on. They merely continued to proclaim the greatness of the Light God. The goddess was merciful and majestic; grant her your faith, and she would guide the world away from disaster. Combined with the healing power of light divine arts, such doctrine attracted wave after wave of believers. The convention of temples remaining apart from secular affairs was broken...

Meanwhile, within the ranks of the Arcane practitioners, the sudden incident in Emerald City once again pushed them to the brink of danger. Thus, the empire's emperor, the young Spell Saint—young indeed by a Spell Saint's standards—set out on a journey to uncover the truth.

Emerald City stood upon Whisperwind Plain. The beautiful Jika River flowed through it, dividing the entire city into eastern and western halves, connected by three bridges. Windmills of every size dotted the city, making it seem like something out of a fairy tale. It had once been called the pearl of Whisperwind Plain, but disaster had descended upon it not long ago.

A vast number of undead surged from beneath the western district of Emerald City. Those stark white bones, carrying an icy aura, tolled the death knell of the living. Clouds of death shrouded the entire western district. The Arcane practitioners' defensive formations could no longer contain the terrifying power of the undead army. People watched several Arcane practitioners supporting the formation in terror. They could not understand why their peaceful lives had been shattered so suddenly, and some began to question the Arcane practitioners.