Their respective choices

"Lord Speaker..."

Nielas Aran bowed respectfully, not with an ordinary noble's bow, but with the salute of a disciple.

"Good, wonderful! Aran, I never expected you to come to Dalaran at such a critical juncture."

A heartfelt smile appeared on Antonidas's aged face, which ordinarily betrayed neither joy nor anger. He patted the Archmage's shoulder with considerable warmth.

In his youth, Aran had done something every mage apprentice dreamed of-traveling through Dalaran.

Back when Antonidas was not yet the Speaker, or even a council member, this exceptionally gifted mage apprentice had caught his eye.

He had personally taught him for a time. Although they had never formally become master and disciple, Aran had always regarded Antonidas as his teacher.

In a sense, Modera's council seat was one Antonidas had reserved for Aran. But the Archmage's ambitions lay elsewhere, and Antonidas could only let the matter drop.

Such tolerance was almost inconceivable from the Speaker of the Kirin Tor, a man renowned for his political maneuvering and iron fist.

"Lord Speaker, I saw what was on the noticeboard. Is it true?"

Overwhelmed by the honor, Aran cradled the teacup Antonidas had handed him and asked softly.

"Of course. I have already reached an agreement with the Sun King of Quel'Thalas. If we win this time..."

After considerable thought, Antonidas decided to give Aran some inside information and continued:

"If we win this time... we will gain the right to share in all of Aier Salona's research findings, as well as all his research findings over the next ten years."

Aran's breathing grew somewhat heavy. He had already memorized Master Al's books and academic papers by heart. Of course he understood what Antonidas's words meant.

"I..."

Aran felt somewhat apprehensive. He wanted to say something, but could not bring himself to speak. The man sitting before him was an elder he respected, and he did not want their relationship to be corrupted by personal interests.

Antonidas seemed to notice the Archmage's embarrassment. Shrewd with age, he lifted the corners of his mouth almost imperceptibly, then said:

"Would you be willing to join our team, Aran?"

Antonidas spoke sincerely.

"I... I... may I?"

Aran's face flushed red, and his voice trembled as he spoke.

"Of course. If you are willing, then on behalf of the Kirin Tor, I sincerely invite you: Nielas Aran, please join our team."

"But... but... I..."

"It's all right. If you have any requests, you may make them."

Antonidas maintained his smile throughout. That warm smile lifted the weight from Aran's heart. As though mustering every last ounce of strength, he said loudly:

"Our Kingdom of Azeroth would also like to share Master Al's research findings with Dalaran. Our country's borders... are suffering terribly from the Trolls' ravages."

After saying this, Aran slumped on the sofa as though all his strength had been drained away.

"All right, no problem. But I have a condition as well."

Antonidas agreed without much thought. This cunning old political creature seemed to be weaving yet another plan.

"Please, go ahead."

Aran spoke, suppressing the excitement in his heart.

"If we win, I would be very willing to share these research findings with the Kingdom of Azeroth. Mind you, only the Kingdom of Azeroth. But my dear Nielas, as a mage, I believe you should understand one principle."

Antonidas rose. His eyes were no longer kindly and gentle, but gleamed with an emotion called ambition.

"Knowledge... has a price. Once this matter is over, I can share this precious knowledge with you. I can even send a legion of intermediate mages to help you defeat the Trolls. But... what will the payment be?"

Aran's excited expression turned somewhat bitter. He understood the principle of equivalent exchange, but he also knew that the Kingdom of Azeroth, beset by troubles at home and threats abroad, no longer had enough to offer in return for Dalaran's help.

"Don't be so quick to refuse, and don't feel too troubled. The price of securing Dalaran's help is not as difficult to bear as you imagine.

Perhaps you could discuss this matter with the esteemed Lionheart King. For now, let us talk about the magic tournament."

Meanwhile, at the Silvermoon Embassy.

His face bruised and swollen, Kaynell Sunfire clung to a high elf's trouser leg. This was already the third time Rommath's supporters had thrown him out of the mage tower.

"Pleash, shtop hitting me, shtop hitting me."

"Pah! A lowborn pig farmer dares to make trouble at the embassy? You think becoming a mage changes the fact that you're lowborn? Hah! Go cuddle your Ayou and dream on."

A high-ranking mage in standard-issue mage robes kicked Kaynell away, then swaggered off amid his companions' laughter.

"I'm already a high-ranking mage..."

Despair filled Kaynell's face as he covered his bleeding black eye. He had come full of hope to seek out Master Al, but before he had even seen the master, these domineering high-ranking mages had given him a thorough beating.

He had intended to fight back, but happened to spot Rommath sitting in the hall, so he could only endure it in silence?

Rommath glanced out of the corner of his eye at his subordinates savagely beating Kaynell, merely raising the corners of his mouth.

This lowly, lowborn elf had brought him a little amusement. There were already so few places in the magic tournament; how could just any riffraff aspire to one?

"Father... I'm sorry. I don't think I'll ever climb any higher in this life..."

Ignoring the passersby's pointing, Kaynell sat back on his knees in the street, tears falling silently. His once-hopeful eyes turned hollow, until a snow-white silk handkerchief was held out before him.

After a day of sightseeing, Al was heading back to the embassy to rest when he saw an elf covered in injuries kneeling by the roadside.

For some reason, Kaynell's hollow eyes seemed to touch a tender place in his heart. Al slowly walked over and offered the elf the snow-white silk handkerchief he had casually taken from the banquet.

"Wipe your tears. You're a grown man. What hurdle can't you get past?"

"Too... too bright."

"What did you say?"

Al asked in confusion.

Looking at that warm smile and concerned gaze, Kaynell suddenly felt a beam of light shine in his heart. It was so bright that it even seemed dazzling. The youth before him was like a deity radiating light, pulling him, just as he was about to fall into the abyss, to the far shore.

"You're...? I recognize you. Kainar Flamesun."

A strange light flickered in the youth's eyes. With Hyperthymesia, he remembered who this was.

"I'm sorry, Lord Al. I've done so many things wrong. I came here to join your team, but I've changed my mind. Now all I want is to beg your forgiveness."

Kaynell lowered his head and spoke in a voice as faint as a mosquito's buzz, struggling to suppress the trembling sob in it.

"Welcome to my team."

"Wh-what... what did you say?"

Kaynell raised his head. Two fresh trails of tears joined the ones that had only just dried. A light called hope flickered in his eyes, but soon dimmed again. He must have been hearing things to hear something so absurd and unbelievable. How could Lord Al...

"Welcome aboard."

Tousled strands of hair covered a small part of his forehead. Silvery moonlight spilled over the youth, as though automatically casting a filter over him. A brilliant smile lit his delicate face, and beneath his long, slightly curled lashes, his clear eyes seemed to shine.

The youth reached out and pulled Kaynell up from where he had slumped on the ground.

Under Kaynell's disbelieving gaze, the youth spoke to him for the third time.

"I said, welcome to my team, Kainar Flamesun."

After a long while, just as the youth thought this elf named Kaynell had fallen asleep...

"Yes!"

Kaynell gave a firm "yes." He fiercely wiped the tears from his eyes and showed a brilliant smile of his own.