Dwarves and Elves

The dwarf Allen saw was much as the books described. The dwarf went straight to the table opposite Allen and sat down, setting his enormous warhammer on the tabletop with a clang. The table began to buckle beneath its weight, making it perfectly clear just how heavy the hammer was.

Allen immediately realized that this dwarf was a professional, and a Warrior at that. Otherwise, how could he possibly lift such a heavy warhammer? Allen estimated that it weighed at least two or three hundred jin.

Not long after the dwarf sat down, someone else came in. It was an elf. This was Allen's first time seeing an elf, and his first impression was beauty. He could hardly find any words to describe how beautiful he was. Elves truly deserved to be called nature's favorites. Only nature could produce such looks; humans could not even imagine them. Even the celebrities Allen had seen in his previous life fell somewhat short beside this elf.

Allen quickly looked away after a glance, not only because staring at someone was impolite, but also because he noticed that this gentle-featured elf was male. No man liked being looked at that way.

Allen noticed the elf's sex, but the other people in the tavern did not have such keen eyes. Those mercenaries might never have seen an elf in their lives. Every one of them was captivated by his beauty, and some even whistled, intending to brazenly flirt with this elven "beauty."

The elf said nothing and simply released his aura as a professional. Allen immediately realized that this elf was not merely a professional, but a powerful one. This was the first time he had encountered someone so powerful. Had his mental power not grown considerably through his tireless daily practice of the cultivation formula, he would probably have been trembling like the mercenaries in the tavern.

Just then, the dwarf walked over and said to the elf, "Griffins, you still know how to make an unforgettable entrance. Hahahaha!" The dwarf began laughing without the slightest decorum. Watching him laugh, the elf muttered to himself, "This is why I hate coming to taverns."

"All right, don't be upset. I think we need to discuss the Stanenbud Ruins." The dwarf pulled the elf over to his table and motioned for him to sit down. The elf withdrew his mental pressure, and everything returned to normal, as though nothing had happened. Only now, none of the mercenaries dared look at him again.

The elf named Griffins sat down and said to the dwarf, "I heard there's going to be fighting in Kaltz again. Can we still get through?" The moment Allen heard the elf mention Kaltz, he perked up.

"Don't worry. I've been to Kaltz more times than I can count, and it's like this every time. Just a few minor clashes, that's all. Have you ever heard of Lordaeron and Alterac actually going to war?"

"Let's hope so. But you swear you're right every time. When have you ever actually been right?" the elf said dismissively. Seeing that he did not believe him, the dwarf hurried to explain, "Hey, friend, you have to trust me. That one time was just an accident. Apart from that, when have I ever been wrong?"

"But that one accident nearly buried us all alive in the snow," the elf said flatly. "All right, all right. Maybe I really did make a few little mistakes that time, but we're all still alive, aren't we? Stop bringing it up."

Just then, a server brought over liquor and some side dishes. "Oh, my drink's here. Let me have a taste." With that, the dwarf opened the bottle and gulped it down. "Oh, heavens, this is that old fellow Bruce's liquor. I'll never forget this taste. Back when I asked him for a few barrels, he was so stingy I had to sneak into his cellar for a drink. I never thought I'd get to drink it here." As he spoke, the dwarf kept pouring liquor into his mouth.

At that moment, a middle-aged man came up beside their table. He wore a pure white robe, had a short black mustache, and wore a down-filled hood on his head. Dressed like that, he would have looked every inch a noble if he had also held a short staff. The dwarf and the elf looked him up and down and asked, "Is this your liquor?"

The middle-aged man laid one hand across his chest and gave the dwarf and the elf a noble's bow. "Good day, honored adventurers. I am the proprietor here, and this liquor is indeed mine."

The dwarf and the elf looked somewhat surprised. "Oh, really? Then you must have more left. Bring it all out. Name your price. Whatever it costs, we'll buy it all," the dwarf said generously.

The middle-aged man answered at once, "You are quite right. I do have plenty more of this liquor, and I intend to give it to you free of charge, as a welcoming gift to make your acquaintance. It is all out back. This really isn't a suitable place to appreciate fine liquor. If you don't mind, please follow me." With that, he made an inviting gesture.

Allen watched from the side as the two followed the middle-aged man into the back. Clearly, the man wanted something from them and wished to discuss it there. Allen then sat for another half hour and heard all sorts of news. Some said Lordaeron was already preparing to go to war with Alterac and had even readied its military supplies. Others said there would be no war at all, and Lordaeron merely intended to frighten Alterac. There really was no end to the different claims.

Allen was more inclined to believe what the dwarf had said: it should only be a clash. Conflicts were unavoidable along a border like this. Whether it would develop into a war, however, was uncertain. He hoped both kings could be more rational.

Whatever the case, common people never wanted war. Allen did not linger in Darend. After replenishing his supplies, he set off the very next day.

Darend was very close to Kaltz. Even walking slowly, Allen could reach it within three days. But he was anxious, afraid that war would break out. He therefore took only one day to reach Kaltz.

Upon arriving in Kaltz, he was immediately captivated by the grandeur of its war fortress: towering walls and countless defensive towers, with groups of soldiers patrolling above. Those soldiers wore silvery-white armor, carried silvery-white longswords, and had silvery-white helmets on their heads. They were silvery-white from head to toe, and the sunlight reflecting off them was almost blinding. By comparison, Morien was simply a joke.

Allen looked at the war fortress and took a deep breath. Somewhat nervously, he approached it. At the city gate, the soldiers stopped him. He had not noticed anything from a distance, but up close, he saw that their full suits of armor covered everything except their eyes.

Honestly, he could never have worn armor that heavy. The soldiers here must all have been trained using special methods. Their appearance was already very close to that of the ordinary human soldiers in Warcraft, which he had played in his previous life. While playing back then, he had never felt those ordinary soldiers were particularly formidable. Now, however, these soldiers looked truly elite. Games and reality really were very different.

After a moment's daze, he hurriedly took out his travel permit. The soldier looked it over, seemed unable to read it very well, and handed it to the captain behind him. After reading it, the captain returned the permit to Allen and shouted for them to let him through. The soldiers then allowed him inside.

He had been terribly nervous just now, afraid the soldiers would arrest him as a spy. Fortunately, Viscount Morien's travel permit proved useful enough. Only after entering Kaltz's war fortress did Allen discover that it was completely different from the cities he had visited before. Soldiers patrolled everywhere, and there were hardly any passersby. There also seemed to be no marketplace or anything of the sort. Fortunately, there was still an inn, or he might have had to sleep on the street. It was nearly dark by the time he reached the inn. After eating, he did not go out again.

Early the next morning, he left the inn, intending to leave the city. He reached the city gate and was immediately stopped by the soldiers there. "Halt. You need documentation to leave the city." He took out his travel permit again, but this time they did not let Allen through so easily. The soldier examined the permit and asked, "Where are you from?" Allen answered honestly, "I'm from Shante, one of Baron Andre's subjects."

"But this bears Morien's seal," the soldier asked doubtfully. Allen immediately began invoking his connections without restraint again. "That's because I know Viscount Morien, but I'm not very familiar with Andre. Lord Morien personally issued this document for me. As you can see, I'm a mage apprentice. Lord Morien hopes I'll study diligently under a mentor in Dalaran. When I return to Lordaeron, I'll continue serving him."

The soldier did not know the circumstances, but that warmonger Morien's territory indeed had no mages, so it was hardly surprising that he wanted to train one. After learning that Allen had a connection to Viscount Morien, the soldier's attitude toward him improved considerably. "So you are a mage, sir. My apologies. We only stopped you as part of our duty. I hope you won't take offense."

"Of course not. But may I leave now?" Allen asked the soldier with a smile. "Certainly. Here is your document. Let him through," the soldier told the men behind him.

After leaving the city, Allen could not help feeling fortunate. At the same time, he began to realize just how extensive the privileges of the nobility truly were. If a noble had come through the checkpoint just now, those soldiers would probably have let them pass without even stopping them. If he could, he would have to obtain noble status for himself someday.