Magni held Arthas's warhammer and examined it closely, his gaze grave.
After a long while, Magni set the warhammer on his workbench. Rather than begin the repairs right away, he asked Arthas a question.
"What sorts of things have you fought with this warhammer?"
Arthas thought back. "Beasts, bandits, murlocs, gnolls... well, most recently, trolls."
Magni immediately ruled out the first few possibilities. "Trolls? What kind of trolls?"
"A high priest of the Forest Trolls-the kind blessed with the divine power of a loa."
The dwarf king fell silent for a moment, apparently gathering his thoughts. Then he picked up the warhammer and pointed to its head. "The head of your warhammer doesn't look badly damaged. There's only some ordinary wear and tear, but the material itself has actually suffered considerable damage."
"A weapon of this caliber shouldn't sustain damage like this in ordinary melee combat." Magni had repaired countless weapons, but the condition of Arthas's warhammer was truly unusual. "Perhaps the collision between your Holy Light and that priest's power produced an excessively violent reaction, causing irreversible damage to the warhammer's material."
"I'm a warrior, and I don't know much about the Holy Light, so I can't explain exactly how it happened. I can still repair the damage to your weapon this time, but that may not be possible next time."
What could Arthas do except give a dry laugh? Drawing on his wealth of experience and knowledge, Magni had come very close to the truth. It was not a clash between his Holy Light and the troll priest's divine power, however, but a collision between Holy Light and death that had damaged the warhammer so badly.
Without the Cosmic Chart inside Arthas maintaining the balance, even the finest material could not withstand being scoured like that by two primal energies with conflicting properties.
Holy Light and death were not entirely opposing forces. Necromantic energy could not undergo an almost lossless conversion with Holy Light the way shadow power could. A Shadow Priest who embraced the void, for instance, could freely switch between Holy Light and shadow forms, provided madness had not yet burned out their mind.
Generally speaking, a Death Knight who had fully embraced death could indeed no longer wield the power of the Holy Light. Yet even an undead being could still potentially use the Holy Light, so long as they had not become a Death Knight. A minion of the old gods, however, would never receive the Holy Light's protection.
Compared with relatively neutral and gentle energies such as arcane, the elements, and Holy Light, ordinary people who ventured into the domains of death or shadow would sooner or later find their minds affected. Necromantic energy amplified hostility toward the living and obsessions carried over from life, while weakening other emotions.
Shadow energy did precisely the opposite. It magnified a particular emotion to an extreme, whether love, hatred, or even a person's rationality-reason taken to its utmost limit became the ultimate madness.
More terrifying still, wielders of shadow energy would draw the attention of the old gods, and even of their creators, the void lords. The gaze and whispers of these higher beings could easily drive mortals insane.
That was why mages and priests so deeply loathed those who studied death and shadow. It was not merely because almost all of them eventually became cold-blooded monsters or madmen, but also because their research could draw out unimaginably terrifying beings.
But his father had once said that only magic could counter magic.
When facing the dark creatures of the endless void, those who understood them well and had conducted extensive research in the relevant fields could prove enormously useful.
Arthas felt that condemning them all indiscriminately was actually rather foolish. Kel'Thuzad, for instance, was hardly a good man, but if he had received Dalaran's support, perhaps he would not have blindly pursued the Lich King's power.
"Do you need any other materials?" Arthas silently mourned his warhammer for a few seconds. If he wanted to unleash his full strength, the [Might of Menethil] would simply have to suffer.
"No, what's left is enough for the repairs." Magni waved a hand. "But if you want to avoid this problem entirely, the best solution, besides taking care of your weapon, is to find something that truly suits you."
Magni did not pursue the subject further. Although priests and the teachings of the Holy Light had existed for a long time, Paladins had only appeared a little over a decade ago. He thought this might simply be normal.
As for finding a suitable weapon, Arthas would have to figure that out himself. Even now, dwarves had rarely made warhammers or greatswords that met a Paladin's requirements. Previously, everything they made had been intended for priests.
"Azeroth's history is incredibly ancient. We dwarves want to uncover the truth about our world through archaeology and excavation, but so far, we've only seen the tip of the iceberg." As an archaeological explorer himself, Brann was the most qualified to speak on the subject. "There might be an artifact buried in some ruin somewhere."
"Brann's right, but the best weapon isn't necessarily the one that suits you best," Magni said as he worked on the repairs. "Perhaps you could forge a weapon yourself."
Arthas, who was putting his new armor into his Space Pouch, heard the suggestion and thought of the [Ashbringer], which had yet to come into existence. In the established course of history, that sword had been forged by Magni himself, and its power could even rival a titan artifact.
"I'll consider it, if I can find suitable materials." Arthas readily accepted Magni's suggestion. It was indeed an excellent approach, and forging a weapon of his own with his own hands could also make it better attuned to his power.
"Maybe I'll find something in Northrend that's just right for you, lad." Muradin, now free of other tasks, poured more liquor into his mouth. "Are you really not coming with us? We happen to be short of a fine Paladin."
Speaking of which, was it really safe to bring something as dangerously flammable as hard liquor into such a hot working environment?
Arthas still did not agree, saying only, "If I can find the time."
After several days of enjoying Ironforge and snow-covered Dun Morogh, Jaina received a magical letter from her teacher with a glum expression-the chairman was instructing his student to return and deal with the pile of business left in the wake of her week-long absence.
After reluctantly saying goodbye to Arthas, Jaina opened a portal to Dalaran, repeatedly reminding him not to forget to come to Dalaran for Winter Veil.
When Muradin came to see Arthas with roast meat and ale, he also noticed that the room had become rather empty. "The lass left?"
"Yes, she went back to Dalaran this morning."
Arthas sat alone in a chair, reading a letter and occasionally frowning. Noticing the changes in his expression, Muradin poured ale into a cup and asked, "Run into trouble?"
Putting away the letter he had finished reading, Arthas picked up his ale and took a sip.
"Yes. My people had a bit of a clash with the native creatures while exploring Kalimdor."
The team he had sent to find the Tauren tribes had been attacked by quilboar. Although they had lost only two people and some unimportant supplies, it had still caused considerable trouble for their mission.
The difficult part was that the goblin guide they had hired happened to be one of those two casualties. The poor goblin's horse had been frightened by the quilboar, throwing him off and causing him to fall to his death.
The team now faced a dilemma. They were already halfway through their journey and did not know whether to turn back to find another guide or continue according to the information they already had.
Judging by their report, however, they seemed inclined to complete the rest of the journey. After all, they still had plentiful resources, enough to support them along their planned route.
Arthas trusted their decision. As elite personnel sent to explore a new continent, every one of them was a carefully selected specialist, and all were utterly loyal to him.
"Kalimdor... I've heard of that continent. Shame I've never been there myself." A look of longing appeared in Muradin's eyes. When it came to his interest in adventure, he was much like his younger brother Brann.
"Would you like to go? In the next year or two, I may send a fleet to make a proper landing there and establish outposts."
"If I can, of course I'd like to see it for myself." Muradin chuckled. "That's a true wilderness! Ha, just thinking about it gets my blood boiling."
"Then I'll let you know as soon as I have news?"
"You said it! No backing out when the time comes!"
Hearing that, Muradin slapped the table, feeling that befriending Arthas had certainly been worthwhile. Even the platter of roast meat on the table seemed more appetizing... uh, wait, where was the meat? Why was there only an empty plate left?
Before you continue