Dressed in a sharp suit, with his hair combed like a grown-up

Rommath had not worn his beloved mage robes, changing instead into the Sunfire Robe bestowed upon him by His Majesty the Sun King.

Intricate patterns of gold and red intersected with translucent threads shimmering with magical light, making the entire robe look both imposing and luxurious.

He gently removed his mask, revealing a handsome face tempered by the years.

Solemnly securing the Hood of Arcane Purity bestowed upon him by His Majesty the Sun King behind his head, he carefully smoothed the creases in his robe. Only then did the elegant elf give a satisfied smile.

"Grand Archmage, your staff."

The butler considerately took the Greatstaff of the Nexus out of the cabinet and respectfully presented it.

Rommath nodded reservedly. He had long envied this epic staff owned by Belovar, but today... he too had reached the heights that man once stood at.

Perhaps this nation will change because of my rise.

The corners of Rommath's mouth lifted as he silently thought to himself.

Rommath had become a Grand Archmage six months earlier, the fifth in all of Quel'Thalas.

"Have those high-ranking mages prepare. It is time to depart. For the glory of the Quel'dorei."

"For the Quel'dorei."

The old butler bowed and vanished amid pale violet ripples of arcane energy. Indeed, this little-known butler was also a high-ranking mage.

The sky gradually darkened as Al let Kael'thas's maid fuss over him, utterly bored.

The maid licked the corner of her mouth. Lord Al, even more handsome than her own prince, was someone she could hardly keep her hands off. Of course, she was merely choosing clothes for the elven youth.

"Your little finger has brushed my stomach three times now. I don't think that's a coincidence..."

Al swatted away the maid's wandering hand and gave an enormous yawn.

The elven maid blushed under the other maids' envious gazes. She quickly straightened the youth's formal attire and quietly withdrew.

"Human-style formalwear? Passable, I suppose."

The youth in the mirror wore a sharply tailored, ink-black suit. A spotless white Lordaeron cotton shirt and burgundy tie made him look even more polished, and a fresh white rose adorned his lapel.

His already unearthly features looked even more otherworldly against them.

"Go tell Prince Kael'thas we can leave."

The youth nodded to the maid and called Hemet to head out with him.

The youth sat somewhat awkwardly in the ornate human-style carriage. Kael'thas sat beside him looking thoroughly pleased, while Hemet grumbled sulkily but, unusually, did not bicker with the prince.

The reason for Al's discomfort was simple. The moment he stepped outside, a black-robed mage had silently opened the carriage door for him, respectfully holding a hand against the doorframe.

Al gave the prince a puzzled look, but Kael'thas merely smiled and shook his head.

After boarding, Al lifted the curtain to admire Dalaran's nighttime scenery, only to discover black-robed mages standing ramrod straight along both sides of the street at ten-meter intervals.

The lucky ones who met the youth's eyes even bowed, sending chills through Al.

The carriage moved swiftly, and the Violet Citadel was already before them.

Just then, a luxurious gold-and-red carriage stopped ahead of Al.

"Your Highness."

Rommath stood beside the carriage with a smile and bowed.

"Congratulations, Lord Rommath."

Kael'thas smiled and patted the Grand Archmage's shoulder, leaving the somewhat reserved Rommath overwhelmed by the honor.

"You flatter me. It was all thanks to His Majesty's and Your Highness's guidance."

"This must be Master Al. I have been studying your academic achievements. With your accomplishments, you will surely become a pillar of Quel'Thalas in the future."

"You're mistaken, Lord Rommath. Tea- ahem, isn't Mr. Al already a pillar of our nation?"

"My apologies. I was terribly shortsighted..."

After bowing to the Grand Archmage before him, who seemed both unfamiliar and familiar, the youth gave no further response. He patiently appeared to listen to their empty pleasantries, while his mind wandered who knew where.

After a long while, the two seemed to notice Al's impatience and ended their conversation.

The Violet Citadel, banquet hall.

Antonidas welcomed guest after guest with a broad smile, showing none of the loss of composure he had displayed that morning.

Judging by his expression alone, anyone would have thought this harmless-looking middle-aged man was warm and hospitable.

"Master Rommath, your presence honors all of Dalaran. Please, take a seat."

"How thoughtful, Master Antonidas."

Faced with the chairman's humility and enthusiasm, Rommath merely nodded reservedly and seated himself to the right of the host's seat without ceremony.

Silently watching this seemingly harmonious scene between host and guest, Al shook his head. In terms of age, Rommath could have been Antonidas's ancestor, but in cunning and shrewdness, this newly promoted Grand Archmage still fell a little short.

Perhaps his many years in a position of power had fostered this dismissive attitude. When dealing with human nations, that conceit and arrogance multiplied all the more. Undoubtedly, this was not a good sign.

Al thought with a complicated expression.

"Master Al? Master Al?"

The quiet voice beside his ear brought the youth back to his senses. He gave Rommath an apologetic smile, then sat to the left of the host's seat.

Several human Archmages sat facing several high elven Archmages. There was none of the anticipated hostility. The humans were quite calm, whereas almost every elf's elegant expression carried a faint trace of arrogance and disdain.

If you ask me, arrogance is Quel'Thalas's original sin...

Al thought helplessly. His kin's irrepressible sense of superiority had developed tens of thousands of years ago, when they were still Highborne. This arrogance etched into their bones could not be erased.

"Then, I hereby declare the banquet begun..."

Antonidas's deep, resonant voice rang out. Smiles appeared on the faces of the previously restrained guests, and the atmosphere relaxed.

The once solemn Violet Hall had long since been decorated for a reception.

The enormous magical crystal sphere in the dome shone brilliantly, its shifting colors like a sky full of stars.

The hundred-plus-square-meter space in the Violet Hall was brilliantly lit without feeling crowded in the slightest. A saxophone sounded softly, and elegant dance music drifted into every corner.

Dalaran's mages and the elven delegation had initially sat on opposite sides, clearly divided, but amid this lively setting, the atmosphere grew somewhat flirtatious, and racial boundaries blurred.

At last, someone entered the dance floor: a gnome couple. Their small bodies leaped down from the raised platform, drawing a wave of good-natured laughter.

Neither minded, and they began to dance.

Time slowly passed.

On the venue's spacious dance floor, several pairs of elven men and women danced gracefully, their movements captivating and their bearing extraordinary.

More than a hundred well-spoken guests conversed quietly, punctuated by the occasional clink of wineglasses.

The splendidly dressed human ladies smiled charmingly, forming a beautiful sight.

Several shy young human women invited Al to dance, but the youth politely declined each one.

Some elven noblewomen joined in the fun as well. An elven youth "waiting to blossom" like Al was precisely their type, and that face, even "prettier and more charming" than the prince's, left them positively dripping.

Al helplessly pushed away the fifth voluptuous mass of "fat." The dazzling noblewoman was not angry; she merely slipped a note bearing her name and address into the youth's collar, her gaze sultry.

"You're very popular, Master Al."

Rommath took a small sip of red wine and teased him.

The youth merely smiled helplessly and wiped the scarlet lipstick mark from his forehead. A tiny flame danced between his fingers, discreetly reducing the note to ashes, and only then did his wildly pounding heart finally settle.

The tent at his crotch slowly subsided as well. In this life, Al was, after all, a healthy young man in both body and mind, and he still had normal physiological reactions.

Perfumed clothes and beautiful figures, fine wine and delicious food, song and dance reaching new heights.

From time to time, Silvermoon celebrities gathered to hold forth, while Kirin Tor elites discoursed on worldly affairs.

The socialites discussed the tailors' new magical fabrics and latest styles.

Young men and women with restless hormones in their eyes danced to the gentle music. The entire reception resembled a magnificent painting, with everyone doing their utmost to display their finest selves.

After a long while, Antonidas's face was flushed as though he were drunk. He clapped his hands, and the masters in the hall obligingly stopped what they were doing and looked toward the chairman of the Kirin Tor.

"That you could all attend this academic symposium is an honor for this old man, and an even greater honor for Dalaran."

Giving a delighted smile, Antonidas continued:

"This symposium is the result of discussions between His Majesty the Sun King and myself.

"Its purpose is to help the Kirin Tor's mages understand more clearly the gap between us and the great Quel'dorei."

At this, Al's fine brows drew together. He glanced around, only to discover that his long-eared kin showed not the slightest humility. Instead, they looked even more pleased with themselves and proud.

What on earth is this old man up to...?

"Although this gap is plain to see, this old man would still like a clearer understanding of exactly where the differences between our Kirin Tor and the Quel'dorei lie, so that we may better learn from our 'teachers' and improve."

The corners of Antonidas's mouth lifted almost imperceptibly in a mocking smile, which immediately vanished.

Al keenly caught this detail, but he still knew nothing of Antonidas's plan.

Antonidas surveyed his surroundings. Narrowing his eyes, he looked with satisfaction at the puffed-up elves and continued:

"So I have decided to hold a knowledge competition..."

At this, a look of realization appeared on Al's face.

"You old rascal. So this was what you had waiting for us."