You wouldn't even call me Godfather

Al and his party walked along a path in Lordamere with the council members led by Antonidas.

"Master Al, a pleasure to meet you."

Antonidas fought the urge to look at Type Zero and exchanged pleasantries with the elven youth.

"I've long heard of you, Lord Speaker."

Al bowed gracefully, likewise offering a formal high elven mage's salute.

"Hey, you two brats, don't go touching things. This big fellow is precious."

"It's simply a heaven-sent masterpiece. Just let me touch it once, I promise..."

"A creation of Master Al's certainly lives up to its reputation..."

Seeing Antonidas and Al walk on ahead, the two young Archmages, Karlain and Ansirem, could finally no longer contain their restless curiosity.

Standing nearby, Modera was also very curious, but her pride as a lady would not permit such discourteous behavior. She could only watch longingly as the two climbed into the cockpit.

Krasus merely followed the nearly distant Antonidas with little interest.

Sharing in the glory, Kael'thas explained things to the two Archmages using his half-baked knowledge of construction. Anyone unaware of the truth would surely have thought he was Type Zero's owner.

"Hmph, what the hell does that dainty prince know? Don't let him fool you two! He only just picked up a few scraps from Lord Al, and now he's playing the scholar in front of you..."

"You!"

Kael'thas pointed at the smug old dwarf in mortified anger, unable to get a word out.

"Ha! I'll bet you don't know this fine lad's name."

Hemet shook his head theatrically while stealing glances at their reactions. His Highness's face was livid; he wished he could blast that affected, self-satisfied big face with a fireball.

"Listen up, lads. This fine fellow's full name is Battlecast Behemoth - Type Zero. It's a giant robot Lord Al and I created together. A robot, understand? Don't look at me like that. This fellow is nothing like that Goblin scrap metal."

"Wow!"

"Really? Master Dwarf, did you truly create this with Lord Al?"

The two powerful, high-ranking Archmages had little hearts in their eyes, their fondness for the arrogantly speaking dwarf before them instantly rising several notches.

"Heh, you're nothing more than Master's tool. What would a savage, ignorant dwarf know about engineering? If I had been assisting Master back then, Type Zero would certainly be even more perfect than it is now."

Kael'thas spoke from the side, his face full of disdain.

"Bullshit! Do you even know what smithing is, you dainty little girl?"

"If I'm not mistaken, every single rune inscribed upon this perfect creation was completed by Master alone. What can you do besides tighten a few screws, you worthless runt?"

"Want a fight, little girl? Got an itchy asshole?"

"Though you're nothing but a filthy, incompetent fool, I'm still willing to discipline Master's disobedient pet for him..."

"I've been sick of you, you sissy! For Lord Al to have such a pretentious, shameless prince around him-what rotten luck!"

"Oh? On that point, we share an understanding. From the moment I first saw you, I wondered how the person standing beside my radiant Master could possibly be a savage, ignorant, ill-mannered, uncivilized dwarf. As his student, I find it an immense disgrace."

The two figures, one tall and one short, glared at each other, ready to come to blows. They had clashed like Mars striking Earth from their very first meeting, each finding the other unbearable. Who knew whether their birth charts were incompatible?

The two young Archmages clung desperately to their arms to prevent them from having a duel of "honor" in this tiny cockpit.

"How discourteous of us, Master Al..."

The commotion behind them left Antonidas looking somewhat embarrassed.

"Not at all. I find them quite lively, and that very liveliness is an essential quality for a mage, isn't it, Lord Speaker?"

Al merely chatted intermittently with Antonidas. He was still working through his earlier plan and had no time to pay attention to that clown Hemet.

He's certainly no simple character. What is he hinting at? Could he already have seen through my plan? No, I need to probe him further.

Antonidas's already solemn face grew even more serious. He discreetly studied the youth out of the corner of his eye but found no clues.

The intelligence says he's only sixteen this year. Given the elves' long lifespan, wouldn't he still be a young man even after another thousand years?

To be so calculating at such a young age... Damn Quel'Thalas for protecting him so well. After all these years, all the Kirin Tor's intelligence department managed to discover was that he was a biologist? It seems the sewers will need a thorough cleaning after this symposium.

As though something had occurred to him, Antonidas's face darkened. Beside him, Al was also thinking about something, not saying a word.

Krasus watched the two figures with interest. Their differing expressions had piqued his curiosity somewhat.

"That up ahead must be the Violet Barrier. Dalaran certainly lives up to its name, locating such an abundant ley line node with such precision. Even compared to those old scholars in Quel'Thalas, you give nothing away."

An enormous hemispherical protective barrier enveloped all of Dalaran. Even the well-traveled elven youth found the spectacle eye-opening.

Is he hinting that, although Dalaran has reached its present scale, our unrestrained extraction of mana from the ley lines has already touched the blue dragons' reverse scale? I thought we'd hidden our conflict with the blue dragons so well. To think he...

Could it be Kael'thas? Impossible. Even if Kael'thas knows we've had some friction with the blue dragons, he certainly wouldn't know that the conflict is on the verge of escalating. Hiss... what meticulous thinking. As expected of you... Al.

Al: I heard Dalaran has a wishing fountain. Should I toss in a coin later to mark my visit?

Each harboring his own agenda, the two finally stepped into the human kingdom of magic-Dalaran.

Al studied the enormous magical barrier curiously. Having just emerged from it, he was a little dazed, but the bizarre sight before his eyes left him utterly dumbfounded...

The streets, normally bustling with traffic, were now packed with people.

Alchemy shops, tailoring shops, engineering workshops... Every household and shop was festooned with red banners.

The youth casually glanced around, and the dizzying variety of advertisements overwhelmed his eyes.

"Welcome to Dalaran, Master Al! Five percent off every piece of spellcloth and primal mooncloth in stock."

"Mix Jinkela into your fertilizer, and one bag does the work of two. Mages short on mana must have Jinkela. Dalaran is short on resources, so it must have Jinkela.*

Jinkela, Jinkela, the mage lords need it. Jinkela, Jinkela, Lord Al invented it. Jinkela, Jinkela, choose it for the good of the nation and its people."

Behind the enormous red banner hung a portrait of the elven youth. In it, he held Jinkela in his left hand and gave a thumbs-up with his right, smiling brilliantly. To be fair, the likeness was quite good.

And that wasn't all. When the people crowding the bustling streets spotted Al at the city gate, they all rushed toward him like mad.

Several pretty girls even rolled their eyes back and fainted.

There were all sorts among the crowd: some held flowers, while others raised fan support signs reading "I love Al."

The scene instantly spiraled out of control, and even the guards maintaining order were scattered by the frenzied crowd.

Just as a livid Antonidas was about to cast a mass sleep spell, a group of black-robed mages rushed out.

Several hundred people began casting together, releasing a vast mass of dark clouds. Moments later, everyone except Al and his party was soaked to the skin.

The frenzied fans and the civilians swept along with them were drenched and thoroughly cooled off. Order was restored, and the crowd quieted, obediently standing to one side to watch Al's party pass.

While Al was still wondering just who these people in black were, they had already marched up before them in force.

Several hundred people formed neat, disciplined rows. At a low command from the gnome leading them, they all dropped to one knee, one hand over their chest and their heads bowed, and shouted, "Godfather!"

Al: So I was the crooked-mouthed Dragon King all along?

PS: One more chapter. I'll try to get it out before midnight.

Posting first, editing later.