Lannath first approached the rangers and bowed with a smile, then turned and said sternly, "If the rangers hadn't guarded Quel'Thalas's borders for thousands of years, do you think you could sit comfortably in your father's mage tower studying arcane magic?"
"You... Hmph!"
Left with nothing to say, Xiao'en flicked the sleeve of his mage robe and strode away under everyone's strange gazes.
After he left, the indignant rangers finally began voicing their complaints.
"Heh, so he's a pampered young master. No wonder he looks down on us rangers."
"Are all arcanists like this nowadays? Honestly..."
Charlemagne, who was temporarily serving as Lireesa's adjutant, stepped forward to stop them.
"All right, don't tar everyone with the same brush. Get back to work, and don't blame anyone else if you have nowhere to sleep tonight."
Only when their superior intervened did the rangers scatter, grinning.
"Got it, Adjutant Theron."
"Haha, the adjutant's getting angry! Run!"
Charlemagne shook his head helplessly at this disorganized, undisciplined bunch.
Because of the high elves' easygoing nature, relations between superiors and subordinates were not particularly formal.
Although they obeyed orders during wartime, officers usually mingled freely with their subordinates in their spare time.
The Theron family had served as adjutants to Ranger-General Windrunner for thousands of years, so these people, most of whom also came from ranger families, were quite familiar with them.
Although Charlemagne was still young, everyone had witnessed his efforts over the ten years since he regained his senses.
Apart from a handful of veteran rangers who had survived the last great war, his current strength ranked second only to the ranger-general's eldest daughter, Alleria, among the younger generation, and the novice rangers were willing to follow his orders.
Of course, Lireesa would not entrust all the responsibilities of an adjutant to a newcomer like Charlemagne so readily. She had also assigned a veteran Advanced Ranger to serve as another adjutant.
However, hoping to train her student, she had spoken to him beforehand, asking him to let Charlemagne handle matters whenever they were not too troublesome.
After the rangers left, Charlemagne approached Lannath to thank him.
"Lord Lannath, thank you for speaking up and helping us out. Otherwise, I really wouldn't have known how to bring this matter to an end."
Naturally, he still remembered the surname Blazeblade from his years of regularly clearing Sunwell Plateau. It was a typical royalist family.
With Quel'Thalas enjoying prolonged peace and its ancient enemies, the trolls, firmly suppressed, the long-lived elves had nothing to do all day and had begun playing at political struggles.
Quel'Thalas's leadership was broadly divided into the royalist and council factions. The Blazeblades were royalists, so that Xiao'en fellow whose surname was Chenxingzhe... naturally belonged to the council faction.
However ill-informed Charlemagne might have been, he had still heard the name of Councilor Chenxingzhe, who currently handled administrative affairs in the Silvermoon Council.
As a long-lived race, the high elves had a low birth rate, and their families were usually not very large.
Because of their exalted status, mages had received special permission from the first Sun King to recruit followers. However, those followers did not receive their patrons' surnames, so this Sean Morningstrider was most likely a fairly central member of his family.
"Not at all. I only hope the rangers won't develop any prejudice against us mages."
As he spoke, Lannath gave a courteous, elegant bow. "Then I shall take my leave. Shorel'aran."
Ah, it looks like the struggle between the royalists and the council faction is growing increasingly overt. With a formidable enemy approaching, these people still have the leisure for infighting.
Watching Lannath leave, Charlemagne sighed helplessly.
Familiar with the future, he naturally knew that even during the later orc wars and the Scourge invasion, the king would still be secretly struggling against the Silvermoon Council.
Prince Kael'thas's inability to return home was clear evidence of this, and Dar'Khan's betrayal had not come without warning either.
For a long time, the Sunstrider family had held sole control over the Sunwell. Only the royal family and certain royalists could enter the Isle of Quel'Danas, where the Sunwell stood. Naturally, this bred discontent among Silvermoon Council members such as Dar'Khan.
As Lannath left, the veteran adjutant Lireesa had assigned also approached and gave Charlemagne an encouraging pat on the shoulder.
"Well done. I can already see a little of Commander Sigma in you."
Charlemagne hurriedly bowed modestly. "No, you flatter me, Uncle Yawen. I still have much to learn."
This lean, muscular male elf was named Yarwen Amberblade, and he had once been the most important deputy of Charlemagne's father, Sigma.
He had willingly accepted orders to help General Windrunner train his former commander's son. Judging by things now, the Theron family's eldest son, once rumored to be mentally deficient, was doing quite well, handling matters methodically and responding with neither servility nor arrogance.
Charlemagne sincerely respected this veteran elven ranger. For years, Yawen had remained in the ranger forces as a mid-level officer, and he had earned his strength as a mid-stage Advanced Ranger purely through his own efforts, arrow by arrow.
Yawen's talent was not outstanding. Many of the more gifted rangers who had joined alongside him had already perished in the Troll Wars. In the end, this ranger of ordinary talent had instead advanced to the high rank, surpassing many whose gifts far exceeded his own.
With thousands of years of combat behind him, Yawen had an incredible wealth of experience, and Charlemagne had learned a great deal of useful knowledge from him.
However, this elf, who was showing clear signs of aging, probably did not have much longer to live.
High elves usually remained in their prime for a very long time, only aging rapidly during their final hundred years.
Once signs of aging appeared, it meant that an elf was approaching the end of his life. The current Sun King, Anasterian, was one such example; he was probably not far from death either.
This was precisely why the Silvermoon Council was growing restless. They had driven the prince away because they intended to seize control of the Sunwell when the king died and Kael'thas could not swiftly take command of the kingdom.
Not long after Charlemagne and the others finished pitching their tents, Sylvanas also arrived, travel-worn.
Without time to exchange pleasantries with the rangers, she asked where her mother was and went straight into the Sanctum of the Sun to report.
That afternoon, Lireesa emerged from the sanctum with several unit leaders, her expression grave, and summoned everyone to assemble.
"I now have a general understanding of the situation. The Amani Trolls intend to split their forces into two groups to attack the Sanctum of the Sun and Farstriders Camp separately. That means we must divide our forces as well."
"After discussing it with the unit leaders, I've decided to station our main force at the Sanctum of the Sun to fight the trolls to the death. A smaller force will defend Farstriders Camp."
Lireesa would personally lead the defense of the Sanctum of the Sun, the target of the trolls' main assault, and look for an opportunity to counterattack. Farstriders Camp would remain under Sylvanas's command, primarily tasked with containing the enemy and defending.
When Lireesa subsequently divided the forces, Charlemagne was surprised to discover that he, Yawen, and Liadrin had all been assigned to Farstriders Camp with Sylvanas.
He had originally intended to question his mentor in private. After all, transferring elites like Yawen and Liadrin away from the main force seemed unreasonable no matter how he looked at it.
But when he saw the meaningful glance Lireesa gave him, he immediately understood her plan.
A feint in the east to strike in the west... You really do think highly of Sylvanas, Mentor.
(End of chapter)