Setting out

Patrick planned to leave Silvermoon City to study elsewhere and broaden his horizons through travel. He intended to spend a few years away, primarily to encounter other forms of arcane knowledge. The way Patrick framed it for himself was that he was going away to college.

A few years would be enough. If the elves were not so consumed by pleasure and indulgence, Silvermoon City would have developed at an incredible pace. Its title as a Magic Kingdom was not unearned: all of Silvermoon City's everyday infrastructure ran on arcane energy, much like people's reliance on electricity today.

There was nothing wrong with understanding arcane energy as electricity, really. The only difference was that people on Earth could not control electricity with their Spiritual Power, while people in World of Warcraft could control arcane energy with theirs. (Both were the same pale blue, both had the same energy fields, and both could be routed through the same kinds of circuits.)

Before leaving to study, he still needed to discuss it with his family and ask their opinion. When his parents learned why Patrick wanted to go away, they were astonished. Both agreed that if he was going away to study, wasn't a few years too short?

By High Elf standards of time, progressing from a mage apprentice to someone capable of independently serving as a mage's assistant in a mage tower, and then becoming a mage capable of conducting independent research into the arcane arts, required at least ten centuries, if not more.

Patrick hardly knew whether to laugh or cry. He could not tell his parents that his soul was human. Nor could he easily say that his body also housed an ancient relic of a mage who had attained immortality in antiquity and was about to advance to demigodhood.

[What do you mean, an ancient relic of a mage?]

"Didn't you tell me yourself last time? During the War of the Ancients, as an Archmage of the Highborne Royal Magical Research Society, you used the Power of the Well of Eternity to advance to Transcendent Archmage, just one step short of demigodhood." Patrick raised his long, slender eyebrows.

[Yes. If the Well of Eternity hadn't exploded, I reckon I would have advanced to demigodhood long ago over these past ten thousand years. Back then, I had already gained the power of immortality. I had already transcended the mortal realm, as they say, and was pursuing higher arcane truths. You may call me a Transcendent Archmage or a Truth-level Archmage, not some ancient relic of a mage.]

Setting aside Ellen's interruption to pick a fight, Patrick felt that humans and high elves differed utterly in their understanding and outlook.

That made sense. If elves were as "impatient" as humans in everything they did, then elves would rule Azeroth. Take his own parents, his father Phil-Cabrolon and his mother Aina-Cabrolon: they had lived for nearly three thousand years, yet had only two children, him and his older brother, Patterson-Cabrolon. There was nothing to say about that reproductive capacity. Give humans three thousand years, and they could populate an entire planet.

But one conclusion could be drawn: most of the responsibility for the elves' low birth rate probably lay with the males. First, less than two years after Rhonin and Vereesa got together, they already had children-and twins at that.

Then there was the entire High Elf race's obsession with the Sunwell. Male or female, caster or non-caster, almost everyone knew a few minor spells. It was precisely the mages' obsession with the Sunwell that seemed to leave the males uninterested in producing offspring.

Finally, High Elf society had a very unhealthy atmosphere. In Quel'Thalas, where hedonism ran rampant, most High Elf parents were not particularly willing to have children. They cared only about pleasure. Having children was just a side effect; all they cared about was the process of making them.

He left home and set out. Before Silvermoon City's main gate.

This was his first time at Silvermoon City's main gate. Unlike its counterpart in the game, the gate was magnificent. Statues of the two kings, Anasterian and Dath'Remar, stood on either side, and Spellbreakers guarded the entrance. Outside, statues of elven maidens surrounded a magical fountain, as though welcoming every visitor to Silvermoon City. The gate connected directly to the Thalassian Pass, which led out of Eversong Woods.

In later years, Silvermoon City's main gate had been destroyed, and the former Thalassian Pass had become the Dead Scar.

Silvermoon City, too, had been split in two by the Dead Scar. With its endlessly wailing spirits and Ghouls wandering everywhere, it was like a blade of agony plunged straight into the high elves' hearts, a pain that breathed. Time was not a cure-all. It had not made the high elves slowly forget their pain, but had instead made them grow accustomed to it-a helpless kind of habit.

After leaving Silvermoon City, Patrick intended to make his first stop at the East Sanctum, due south of the city. A famous magical sanctum in Quel'Thalas, it stood east of Fairbreeze Village and west of the Life Forest, right beside the Thalassian Pass, and served as an important supply point along the kingdom's main route.

The East Sanctum also served to monitor the Zeb'Watha Trolls in the Life Forest. Together with Fairbreeze Village, it could provide logistical support and reinforcements for the Farithas Rune Stone and the Shandor Rune Stone. The East Sanctum's importance spoke for itself.

When he reached the East Sanctum, it was not yet as he remembered it. It was practically a small town now, only with far more Ranger Forces than usual. Recently, the Trolls of Zeb'Watha had shown signs of advancing, and sentries outside town had spotted Trolls watching from a distance several times. The Farstriders dared not let their guard down and had dispatched many additional troops to bolster the East Sanctum's defenses.

Upon entering town, Patrick's first task was to find the inn. He planned to rest at the East Sanctum for a few days before setting off again for Tranquillien in the Ghostlands.

An inn attendant hurried over to welcome Patrick. It had been a long time since the attendant had received a Fifth Ring mage. Mages who came to stay in town generally lived in the mage tower; they almost never stayed at the inn. Moreover, apart from the mages stationed in the Eastern Sanctum Tower, most other mages merely stopped in town for supplies before leaving.

Lone mages like Patrick were rare, exceedingly rare. A typical Fifth Ring mage had attendants accompanying them, or at least a few apprentices. After all, Fifth Ring mages could already be considered part of the elves' middle ranks, with the potential to strive toward becoming high-ranking arcane masters in the future.

After getting somewhat settled, Patrick went out onto the streets. Because of the trouble with the Trolls, the town was far less lively than before. Pedestrians were sparse, rangers moved through the streets, and the guards at the outlying sentry posts had also been reinforced.

He happened to spot their ranger leader-Alleria. Why was she here too? Wasn't she directing the war against the Trolls at Farstrider Lodge? Had the fighting over at the Farstriders Camp ended?

Or had the pressure there been relieved, leaving only the Trolls near the East Sanctum still slowly advancing? From Patrick's observations along his way into town, the watchtowers outside had clearly gained more ranger guards. Below the towers were traps and trenches made by the rangers, while the town's main thoroughfares were being cleared to ensure they remained unobstructed. Alleria seemed to have prepared for every possibility. She truly was the leader of the Farstriders, thoroughly versed in tactics for fighting Trolls.