Quel'Thalas was at peace, and Sylvanas had yet to inherit the position of Ranger-General from her elder sister.
The beautiful high elf, with her stunning figure and agile movements, spent her days arranging defensive deployments for Silvermoon City's rangers.
Since her work left her with plenty of free time, she tiptoed outside Lirath's room during a break and eavesdropped on him and his disreputable friends discussing their betting plans.
High Elf houses were exquisitely built.
Their windows, however, were simply fitted with translucent panes of colored glass.
Those windows offered barely any more soundproofing than an open hole.
Sylvanas could clearly hear every word spoken inside.
When she learned that they intended to bet all their pocket money on Herad winning, she was left speechless at their stupidity.
Herad certainly had a decent talent for spellcasting.
But he still fell far short of the High Elf families that produced geniuses in droves!
That went without saying for the royal Sunstrider family.
Then there were Sunfury, Sun Eclipse, Flameblade, Flamewound, and Flamehawk.
These families whose names began with "Sun" or "Flame" frequently produced astonishingly gifted mages.
There were also several families whose names began with "Fire."
Firewing, Firekiss, and Firespeech, for instance.
These, too, were renowned spellcasting families.
Sylvanas truly did not fancy Herad's chances.
Lirath had mentioned that Herad had been working hard lately.
But just how hard could he possibly work?
At most, he might churn out a hundred fireballs a day.
She could not begin to imagine how relentlessly Herad pushed himself.
He cast every basic spell at least a thousand times a day.
And as his mana increased, that number kept climbing.
Casting vast numbers of spells improved his proficiency, while meditating to restore his mana strengthened his mental power.
Stronger mental power, in turn, meant stronger mana.
As this virtuous cycle continued, the results were astonishing!
The high elves had never seen anyone who pushed himself this hard.
Even the famously diligent Prince Kael'thas trained by maintaining just three small magical orbs.
They could hardly match human geniuses, who became legendary archmages in just a few decades.
Herad happened to be a high elf with a human mindset.
Of course, Sylvanas could not possibly have known any of this.
In her mind, Herad was surely still an Apprentice Mage.
When she ran into Herad at the Spell Tournament's opening ceremony, the first thing she did was ask about his strength.
"Hey, little brother, I hear you've been working hard lately. Are you close to advancing to the next mage rank?"
Herad had known Sylvanas since childhood.
Grinning, he greeted the beautiful ranger with her lovely face and magnificent figure.
"Morning, Second Sister! I've still got a while before I advance. Probably a little over six months at least."
Sylvanas was somewhat surprised by the news.
"You really must have been working hard lately, if you're only six months away from advancing!
"But getting a place in the Spell Tournament will still be difficult when you're up against those geniuses!"
She had worked in Silvermoon City for the past few years, with hundreds of rangers at her command, and was far better informed than most.
She knew exactly who at the junior magic academy had advanced to intermediate mage and deliberately postponed moving on to the next academy just to enter the Spell Tournament.
After taking Herad down a peg, Sylvanas pulled him aside to explain the competitors' strengths and weaknesses and assess his chances of placing.
After weighing all the factors, she reached a conclusion that was not too bad.
"You're still a little short of intermediate mage, so your chances of qualifying aren't great.
"But with a little luck, you might still make it through this time."
Watching her deliver such a well-reasoned analysis, Lirath, who knew the truth, nearly failed to contain himself.
For the sake of their grand money-making plan, however, he held back his retort.
A hefty sum would soon be rolling in. They had to keep a low profile.
The spell tournament's opening ceremony was a grand affair.
After all, magic was the fundamental power on which the high elves depended for survival.
Even Prince Kael'thas, who resided in the Dalaran Magic Kingdom as a member of the Council of Six, teleported back to Silvermoon City for the ceremony.
Watching Prince Kael'thas on the raised platform, three small magical orbs circling above his head, Herad curled his lip in disdain at this epitome of the tall, rich, handsome man.
In his eyes, princes whose names ended in "-thas" were all walking disasters.
Prince Arthas had been far too extreme, slaughtering a city, murdering his father, and destroying his kingdom.
Prince Kael'thas had grasped at any remedy in desperation and likewise dragged his kingdom into a terrible mess!
Blindness and shortsightedness were failings shared by everyone in this world.
Even prophets who could foresee the future saw only scattered fragments and struggled to discern the truth.
Though Herad had transmigrated into this world, he dared not claim that his memories were entirely reliable.
For now, he could only train hard to improve his strength while gathering as much news of world affairs as possible.
One example was the Guardian Medivh, who should already have gone astray and begun helping the orcs invade.
When it came to speeches by important figures, the high elves had truly mastered the Chinese approach.
Several dignitaries droned on at such length that their speeches lasted from morning until noon.
Fortunately, the first stage of the tournament began after lunch.
Otherwise, those dignitaries might well have kept the opening ceremony going until nightfall!
The spell tournament followed much the same format as an ordinary competition.
First, all contestants were assigned to eight groups, with the strongest from each group advancing to the finals.
However, little effort went into arranging the seeded contestants.
Selecting the strong required no such elaborate maneuvering.
If you could not beat another seeded contestant, you deserved to be eliminated.
The junior magic academy had over two hundred contestants.
Winning three or four matches would secure a spot in the quarterfinals.
When the random group assignments were announced, Sylvanas excitedly patted her chest.
"Group Two isn't bad for you. That Kelson Firespeech isn't an intermediate mage yet, so you should have a chance of beating him."
Herad was not particularly concerned about the draw.
He was more interested in Sylvanas patting her chest.
As he stole glances at the resulting ripples, he made a show of agreeing with her.
"If you say I've got a chance, Second Sister, then I'd better seize it. Bet on me to win later. You won't regret it!"
Though Sylvanas was studying the contestant list, her senses remained extremely sharp.
She noticed Herad sneaking looks at the rather unseemly motion of her hand against her chest.
She immediately lowered her hand without a change in expression.
Noticing this, Herad stopped stealing glances and began preparing for his match instead.
The spell tournament prohibited all enchanted equipment and items.
He simply handed his equipment to Sylvanas and stepped into the arena.
Herad's first opponent was a young girl.
Unlike physical combat professions, spellcasting imposed no age requirement.
As long as you could conjure a fireball, you could fight just fine.
Besides, anyone who made it here was no weakling.
The girl might not have finished growing, but she could certainly whip up a fireball!
Herad activated his Spell Shield and courteously allowed her the first attack.
Battles between mages were boring.
They started by activating Spell Shields, then traded attacks in a contest of endurance.
Still, attacking first did offer a slight advantage.
The girl promptly began conjuring fireballs without standing on ceremony.
Unlike in the game, mages had access to an enormous range of spells, far beyond just arcane, fire, and frost.
Under the Sunstrider family's influence, however, High Elf mages generally favored fire magic.
Opening with a fireball was perfectly normal.
A fist-sized fireball slammed into the Spell Shield. Crimson and pale blue energies canceled each other out, leaving only a faint ripple.
After gauging the girl's casting speed, Herad began conjuring fireballs just a little faster than she did.
Their monotonous exchange of fireballs finally ended when the girl ran out of mana.
Compared with the swift, decisive assaults of the seeded contestants, Herad's battle of attrition offered nothing worth watching.
The betting odds for the two contestants were also virtually even.
But for certain bettors who already knew the outcome, this was practically free money!
One match that was little more than a performance, and gleaming gold coins were theirs.
Herad finally understood the joy of match-fixing!
The difference was that he remained in complete control.
And the final result had not actually been rigged.
It was Sunday. Another chapter would be posted later.
Before you continue