Dalaran and the Silvermoon Embassy Reserve the Right of Final Interpretation

At the negotiating table in the Violet Citadel.

"Antonidas! You broke our previous agreement!"

Rommath's eyes were bloodshot. The air of assured control he had worn on his pampered face upon arriving was long gone. Events had developed beyond his expectations, forcing him to intervene personally in hopes of securing more benefits.

"Is that so? If you have any objections, Lord Rommath, please speak freely."

Antonidas, by contrast, took a light sip of the Peacebloom tea beside him. Its fragrance filled his nose and lingered in his mouth, drawing a soft sigh from him. "Excellent tea."

"I will not accept these rules. We had an agreement, Lord Speaker!"

Rommath's face twisted as he spoke through gritted teeth, his voice low enough for only the two of them to hear.

"Ah, unlike you Quel'dorei, this old man has no long lifespan. Among humans, someone my age is already a doddering old fool.

"When people grow old, their memories fail. And when their memories fail, there are things they simply cannot remember."

"You!"

Rommath pointed furiously at Antonidas. He wanted to denounce him as a treacherous scoundrel, but the words lingered on his tongue, refusing to come out. Accusing his opponent would only make him look worse, wouldn't it?

"Enough, Lord Grand Archmage. We have already wasted too much time here. If you lack full authority over this matter, I suggest you consult His Majesty the Sun King first."

Antonidas gave a courteous smile, though the corners of his mouth curled into a strange, almost imperceptible arc.

"His Majesty will never agree to such an outrageous demand. If necessary, he will show all of Dalaran the wrath of the Quel'dorei!"

Rommath blustered, but under Antonidas's mocking gaze, he obediently left the room to contact the Sun King.

"Good day, Your Majesty."

Rommath bowed slightly to the blurry figure in the communication spell.

"Oh? Rommath. Is the plan proceeding smoothly?"

Anasterian seemed to have just risen from bed. His long, pale golden hair lay somewhat disheveled over his shoulders, and two maids beside him were helping him dress.

"Y-Your Majesty, there has been a small problem with the plan."

Rommath raised his head with difficulty, constantly wiping the cold sweat from his forehead.

"Speak. If even our Grand Archmage finds it troublesome, matters must have grown quite serious."

Anasterian, who had still been a little sleepy, opened his eyes. The almost tangible authority in his gaze left the already guilt-stricken Grand Archmage feeling even more as though he were treading on thin ice.

"This is what happened..."

Rommath fought back the urge to prostrate himself and poured out every detail of what had happened in the banquet hall, including Al's agreement to Antonidas's proposed magic competition.

"Why! Never mind... this was not your fault."

Anasterian restrained his anger. After glancing at the trembling Grand Archmage, he decided to focus on reassuring him.

"Rommath, leave this matter to Kael'thas for now. No, never mind. Follow the wishes of that boy from House Sarona. Give the prince your full support."

"I... but... I... as you command, Your Majesty."

Rommath suppressed the resentment in his heart and bowed.

As the blurry communication spell vanished, the Grand Archmage wilted like an eggplant struck by frost.

"Why! Why! Damn Antonidas, damn Al! Why must you all oppose me? Why couldn't you just follow the plan? You ignorant fools have no idea what you've done!"

His fair, delicate fist slammed into the wall. Bright red blood trickled slowly down to its base as Rommath snarled under his breath.

He had been on the verge of greatness, destined for greatness, only to have his future ruined by a bookworm and a lowly, inferior human. How could he not be driven mad with rage?

After a long while, Rommath composed himself, and his sickly, flushed complexion regained its healthy color.

"Congratulations, Lord Speaker. His Majesty has agreed to the rules you established. The magic competition... may begin."

"Haha, I knew His Majesty the Sun King was no hidebound elf. A toast to a victory for both Dalaran and Silvermoon City. Cheers."

Rommath elegantly raised his stemmed glass and drained the red wine within. He swirled the glass and exchanged a smile with Antonidas. The scene was so harmonious that the earlier tension seemed to have been nothing but an illusion.

Kainar Flamesun disdainfully brushed the dust off his shoes. He had never had such an unpleasant experience in Quel'Thalas.

"His Highness's taste isn't much to speak of, either. Is that the Violet Citadel up ahead? Heh, Antonidas's mage tower is only half as tall as Lord Belovar's. What a bunch of paupers."

Kaynell surveyed everything around him with a critical eye, his disdainful gaze looking exactly like that of a nouveau riche returning to his hometown.

Beside the wishing fountain, Nielas Aran reverently used Mage Hand to engrave something on a copper coin issued by the Kingdom of Stormwind.

"'I hope I can find a way to resolve the Kingdom of Azeroth's plight. I hope... I... can... meet... her... again.' I never imagined you were such a hopeless romantic, boy. By the way, who's she?"

Kaynell stood behind the human mage, reading the words on the coin one at a time.

Nielas Aran stumbled in fright, nearly dropping the unfinished coin into the wishing fountain. He turned, hid the coin in his sleeve, and stared at the elven mage in embarrassed anger.

"Who are you? Why were you peeking at my wishing coin? Don't you know how rude that is?"

Nielas Aran spoke angrily.

"Don't flatter yourself, human. I just happened to wander over here and accidentally caught sight of your wishing coin."

Kaynell whistled. His flippant manner made the Archmage want to punch that hateful face.

But his good upbringing made him forcibly restrain himself. He quickly finished the coin in his hand and carefully tossed it into the wishing fountain.

"Oh, is the little mage angry? You still haven't told me who she is."

"None of your business."

Nielas Aran ignored the grinning pest. All he wanted now was to leave as quickly as possible.

"I hear people use gold coins to make wishes, or silver at the very least. Why did you use copper? Could even a lord mage be short of money?"

His face dark, Nielas Aran strode away on his long legs. The pest behind him had hit a sore spot, leaving him overcome with shame and anger. He only wanted to shake off this clinging nuisance as quickly as possible.

The two strangers, who had originally had nothing to do with one another and had never even met, unknowingly reached the noticeboard by the city gates amid the chatterbox elf's incessant prattle.

The milling crowd blocked the contents of the noticeboard, piquing Kaynell's and Nielas Aran's curiosity.

Both cast Eagle Eye at the same time. The writing, originally no larger than black specks, instantly became clear.

"The Twin Cities Magic Championship will begin in three days at the Dalaran Sewers Arena. The events and rules are as follows."

1. Spell invention for spell circles 1-6 {New spells invented by contestants must possess a degree of practicality and accessibility. The judges will select the six most destructive and functional new spells of tiers 1-6.}

1. 2v2 team competition {High-ranking mages only.}

2. 3v3 team competition {Archmages only.}

3. 1v1 individual competition {Grand Archmages only.}

The competition will use a points system. Each event victory awards 1 point, while the 1v1 individual competition awards 3 points.

All contestants must register at the Violet Citadel and the Silvermoon Embassy within three days. The leadership of both sides will select the competitors. Late registrations will not be accepted. Dalaran and the Silvermoon Embassy reserve the right of final interpretation.

Nielas Aran and Kaynell stared at the noticeboard, dumbfounded and speechless. After a long while, Nielas Aran darted away while the elven mage wasn't looking.

"Hey, poor boy, where are you going?"

Kaynell watched the departing Archmage in confusion, then slapped his forehead as though something had occurred to him and charged off like a madman.

"Lord Al, wait for me!"