Under the steady hum of engines, the Pepelats rushes toward Dalaran. All systems are normal, the strings are positioned as they should be, and we aren't planning on exploding. No one tried to kill or blow us up during the night, which in my opinion is a good sign. We made our way south, and around nine in the morning, after a field breakfast, the city appeared on the horizon.
During the flight, one can appreciate the scale of the territory's infection—by the destruction and the presence of Cursed Land. These dirty-gray territories usually have a cauldron or some other source of magical poison at their epicenter. It poisons everything: the earth, plants, and animals. Humans will likely feel quite unwell upon contact, to say the least. A disease penetrating the body, though not an ordinary one, but magical.
But it's not all bad. The north of the region was subjected to the infection. The closer we get to Dalaran, the fewer traces of Shadow there are. The reason, one must assume, is to prevent Mages from tracking the influence of the Undead, for as long as they don't come into contact with it, there will be no reaction. And now beneath us are clean green meadows, rivers, and fields tended by peasants. Ordinary medieval countryside, living its own life.
Perfectly content, I sit in the pilot's seat, lazily correcting our movement through the gauntlet while glancing around. Jaina and Venidan stayed below in the living block; on the bridge, besides me, only the Magister's crow familiar is idling. The Prophet vanished into the sunset immediately after the oath ritual—well, good luck to him.
I'm bored in the pilot's command chair (requisitioned in Stratholme), hands on the armrests, gauntlet glowing with energy, helmet on my head. I look ahead; my path is clear. We are now flying over a vast lake; launching a surprise attack here would be difficult, so there's nothing to worry about. With a rustle of wings, the crow landed on the back of the chair.
"Look ahead, apprentice. The sight of a magical city is quite fascinating the first time. I do not wish to deprive you of this opportunity; you have earned it."
I nodded silently, staring ahead at the thin, tall towers rapidly approaching. Dalaran, the city of Mages. Not yet floating, not yet attacked by the Scourge, it stands upon the lake, sparkling with magical lights like a diamond. Yes, at first glance it's medieval... actually, no. It is radically different from Stratholme, even if you don't look at the strings. It's hard for me to believe this city has any relation to the Kingdom of Lordaeron at all; it's just that different.
High walls, radiating magic so strongly it's visible to the naked eye. Instead of monumental low buildings, there are tall towers, deceptively thin, with magical crystals rotating around them and domes at their peaks. A minimum of massive stone blocks, a maximum of magic-polished slabs held together by magic and a belief in miracles. And the miracle works, allowing them to do whatever they pleased with the geometry of the local levels.
The city's architecture is much closer to the Eastern countries of Earth. Square buildings with domes on top, but they don't feel massive—rather light, soaring. Numerous turrets, if examined closely, are crowned with something resembling a dome, only more vertical, like a narrow tree leaf or a spearhead. And there are dozens of such "spears" throughout Dalaran. The towers are white or slightly yellowish, the peaks of the domes mostly violet, bright and shimmering in the sun. In several places, the towers are especially high, and while these aren't the city center, they are clearly important buildings. I'll find out which ones exactly later.
The center of the city, however, is marked by an especially large Mage tower, consisting of several towers clustered together; the central one is about one and a half times taller than the rest of the city's buildings and glows with a pale green light. The lower ones around the central one are covered with balconies and windows, revealing the residential part of the building. I assume the local leadership lives there.
Around the city is a high wall, atop which magical towers glowing with runes stand in a row. Above them hangs a bright blue glyph in the shape of an eye, visible from a great distance—likely a weave for detecting cloaked targets. No other defense is visible at first glance, but I suspect the weaves on the tall turrets aren't just for show either. Likely, when the siege begins, Dalaran can display far more defense than it currently demonstrates. Revered, and yet the Scourge took this city by storm. But even they couldn't exterminate it, and that's a testament to its strength.
In the sunlight, the city frankly shimmers with white, blue, violet, scarlet, and pale green colors. And as for what's happening in the strings, it simply defies description. I've never seen such a density of rigid strings anywhere. Of all shapes, sizes, and complexities, the strings permeate literally everything, stitching disparate pieces of buildings together into a unified structure. It seems the local Mages created a landscape the size of a city, which is Revered. I can understand them; I'd do the same. And yet, how magnificent it is!
"Magic..." I exhaled, taking off my helmet and flying closer to the glass, "real magic. I... I'm just speechless."
I lack the words to describe this city and how much it differs from any architecture I've seen before, on all levels. And even a comparison to the game won't work. The in-game Dalaran is just too... well, game-like. It lacks the scale, the movement, the number of weaves, the play of sunlight on the towers, and the magical shimmer. This is a city built by Mages on the principle of "why not?" It reaches into the sky with complex constructs of tall towers; it hums with magic, imposing its inhabitants' vision of the world onto reality. Likely, even at night, the lights never go out in Dalaran, which is a unique phenomenon for Azeroth.
Hmm. Someone is flying over the city.
"It seems we have been noticed," the Magister noted. "I believe we should inform Lady Proudmoore before we are deemed disturbers of the peace. Continue to lead us; I shall do this."
The crow flew off the bridge, and I returned to the pilot's seat, trying to distract myself from the sight ahead. Now is not the time; landing is the most difficult part of the flight, and I've never landed the Pepelats in a city. I won't turn on the weapons; we aren't here for that. And there's no point in provoking the locals; they won't understand.
While waiting for Jaina and the Magister, three dots approached, becoming Dwarves riding Griffons. And yes, I stared at them a bit too. So what? It's the first time I've seen a real, live Griffon not as a picture or an illusion. It's a fairly large beast with the body of a lion, wings, front legs, and the head of an eagle. A Dwarf sitting on this bird with a Thor's hammer on his shoulder—and I'm not joking right now—looks imposing. A long red beard, an irokes half a foot high, and musculature that turns the warrior into a cube of muscle. You see someone like that, and you're going to be very, very polite. The other two Griffons carried similar bearded men with mohawks. The leader hovered directly in front of the Pepelats and made several gestures.
"He wants you to follow him," said Jaina Proudmoore as she ran onto the bridge. "Just do as he says. I am the apprentice of one of the Council of Six, the Archmages who rule the city. I will handle things when we arrive."
She made several gestures, to which the Dwarf nodded, and then the Griffons turned around. One flew in front of us, two on the sides. I turned to the Wizard:
"Local signals?"
She nodded.
"No, a common sign language for flight. Of course, there are resonance spells to communicate within a group even over long distances, but for strangers or non-mages, there is a universal sign language. Warriors and Griffon riders use it constantly."
I see; I'll need to learn more.
Meanwhile, we approached the city and then flew past the walls, directly over the towers. I'm staring wide-eyed at the approaching buildings, at the residents. And at the magical mechanisms flying past, which the Mages use for transport. Magical disks, a Griffon, a flying Goblin shredder, a helicopter, and who knows what else. They all zip by; the drivers look back and sometimes wave at us. Likely at Jaina, so I don't react, though I want to. It's so... amazing!
And of course, I'm examining the city with all my eyes. It's so strange! And magical. Yes, I still lack the words to describe Dalaran. I feel like Harry Potter stepping onto Diagon Alley for the first time. And here is an entire city! I already want to explore every inch of it. Judging by the face of Veni, who came onto the bridge, she is also very, very curious.
And don't you three look at me like that! I know I'm acting like a child—technically, I am a child, so don't be such bores! Especially since I landed the Pepelats quite briskly and without any destruction on the platform suggested by the escorting Dwarves. There's a whole row of such disks here, somewhat reminiscent of the Mos Eisley spaceport on Tatooine. The niches are occupied by a wide variety of technology, mostly Goblin and Dwarven. Shredders, helicopters, strange flying constructs made of rocket engines and containers that look almost futuristic if they weren't made of scrap metal. A level above, on a tower balcony, are stables for flying animals, mostly Griffons. Unfortunately, I didn't get to examine all of this; the Pepelats descended onto its platform, and the walls hid all the most interesting parts.
Jaina, meanwhile, grabbed her travel bag and prepared to leave.
"I need to report everything we saw there to my teacher. You aren't planning on flying away anywhere, right?"
I nodded.
"Not for the next few days. If anything, we can be found here."
The Magister added through the crow:
"Do not worry, Lady Proudmoore, we are not strangers to a large city. And I shall watch over my apprentice."
Satisfied, the Wizard left. Very soon, the Griffon riders flew away, presumably having received explanations from Jaina. Venidan clearly hesitated. The crow noticed.
"Do not worry about it; I shall arrive in person shortly. You may go wherever you wish."
As a result, the Rogue also left, and I was left alone with the crow. The Magister, waiting until everyone had gone, remarked:
"You will have to wait a few minutes, apprentice. I need to take some money and prepare. I will be there soon; just wait a little."
Naturally, I guessed exactly how the portal would be opened—using the familiar as a marker. And I, of course, guessed correctly, but it was fairly obvious. The crow remained sitting on the table, and a portal vortex formed in front of it. A second later, the blue color of the vortex was replaced by an image of one of the rooms in the Magister's tower. Not very clear, as if in a distorted mirror, but recognizable. Portal magic is a rather complex branch. Stable portals, gates, and so on. And even mass teleportation.
The possibilities in this sphere of magic are many and extremely useful in any situation. But the Magister is in no hurry to teach this very useful knowledge, alas. Not that I'm complaining much; even without spatial magic, there's more than enough to study.
Anyway, that's for later. For now, I watch the Magister, dressed in a rich robe, emerge from the portal and...
"Mama? Hi! Oh, Father, you're here too! I'm so happy! Happy-happy-happy! Hi!"
The Elf, stepping onto the ship's deck behind the teacher, smiled broadly and opened her arms. Into which I flew with great pleasure. We hadn't been apart for long, less than a week, but it felt like a month or even several had passed. I allowed myself to kick my legs, hug, and almost shriek with joy. I couldn't do the last one; it's impolite in front of strangers, even the teacher. I must carry myself with dignity. The Mage himself, though he kept a straight face, still showed a slight, almost imperceptible smile.
"I felt, apprentice, that you would appreciate such an opportunity to spend time with your loved ones."
What he didn't say aloud, but I understood: an opportunity that likely won't present itself again anytime soon. When Jaina takes them to Kalimdor, there will be a mass of other, no less important and complex tasks; there simply won't be time left for family. And the chance to spend time with parents in the coming months just won't exist. So yes, I am quite sincerely grateful to the Magister for this. I'll think about preparation and other difficulties tomorrow. Today is for a walk through the city. Today I'm a child with parents; I can afford it once in a while.
We left the landing zone and approached a clerk. A perfectly ordinary clerk in a robe, who informed us in a bored and slightly nasal voice:
"Your platform is booked for a week under the guarantee of Master Antonidas. Should you wish to extend, you must notify us additionally."
Here I decided to clarify, blabbing some nonsense. Well, like the child I look like.
"They processed it quickly, though."
The clerk, unperturbed and still bored, explained:
"Lady Jaina Proudmoore, his apprentice, has privileges as his representative. By her authorization, as scouts of the Council and trusted associates of Lady Proudmoore, you receive access to the platform. Anything else?"
Just as I thought. Naturally, we left the landing zone as one family. The ship doesn't require maintenance, except perhaps cleaning and painting, which is quite modest by current standards. But the locals decided otherwise, and a technician, a Goblin in a jumpsuit, ran up to us.
I tried not to stare too much, but it's the first time I've seen a Goblin, so let's give me a pass here too. What can I say? Short, even a bit shorter than me, with a very large nose, green, with a huge jaw, disproportionate. The head is normal, even large, but the body looks like it was put on wrong as a joke, too small for such a big head. Gnarly, with a belly, yet again unusually large palms and feet. The Goblin braked at a respectful distance and announced:
"Hello everyone, I'm Zeltzer Mazgoflus, senior technician of the crew. Since you're one of ours, maintenance is on the house. Let's see what we can do with this little one," the Goblin said in a slightly nasal voice, pulling a tablet with a notebook attached and a large grease pencil from his belt. How far technology has come, indeed.
I frankly enjoyed talking to this guy. Zeltzer didn't care about appearances at all, being more interested in the technology's capabilities. Not forgetting to amusingly comment on and record everything.
"Four jet engines!" The Goblin surveyed my—let's be honest—flying brick. "Ha! Aerodynamics were invented by those who don't know how to build motors, eh? I respect that! Didn't think I'd say that to an Elf, but..." He threw up his hands. "But how I respect that!"
Looking around slyly, the technician approached confidentially—since my height allowed it—and rattled on:
"Now, the materials aren't great, but you're excused. And since that's the case... I suggest an exclusive! Replace all this stuff. For example: the glass with armored crystal. It'll be much stronger, even without magic. A win for you, and field tests for us. We'll also plate this little tree with armored steel; there's a profitable contract with the Dwarves coming up, and with your talents, the weight won't bother you. Also, there's an interesting idea..."
In short, we talked for a long time and productively; it even started to feel a bit awkward that I'd "abandoned" my parents, so I hurried to wrap it up.
"What about the timeframe and cost? We only have six days until departure."
The Goblin waved his large hand dismissively.
"Don't worry. Of course, in normal conditions, you'd have to pay extra for urgency, but you have a recommendation from the higher-ups and my personal admiration. The bosses love it when their lackeys return with a victory and aren't late. And I love a good project. In short, any whim at the Council's expense. And the more we do, the more we get paid."
Well, why not? I didn't think twice before agreeing. It was hard to resist such a freebie. Likely, Antonidas will curse me, but I really need all of this, and the Mage is going to die during the siege of Dalaran anyway.
Here I noticed that my parents had left us with smiles, not interfering with their daughter playing with her toys. It's understandable; they aren't very interested in all these details and promised to wait outside. So I need to add some of my own wants regarding the material side, so to speak:
"Since we're doing this, I'd like to update the furniture and the interior finish." It's not like I'm the one paying, after all.
"We can do that, no problem!" Zeltzer beamed, clearly catching my drift and nodding with even more respect.
"And also, back in our backwater, there were no decent magical crystals for the turrets. And there are only two of them, while there are four slots..."
"Say no more, I got it. If the connectors are ready, it'll take longer to order them than to plug them in. Targeting system?"
I pointed to the doll acting as a guard.
"Golem. A clay one, but I'm satisfied. Wrote it myself."
The Goblin wrote that down too but paused to think.
"What towers are we putting in? Magical, cannon, mortar, rockets? Mine or grenade launcher? Or maybe a Death Lazor?"
Now, that really made me think. All options have their pros and cons.
Magical turrets—no need to worry about ammunition at all. I have plenty of Mana; I can charge them myself, at least for now. But when the Well is gone, problems will arise. Though I'm looking for solutions anyway. In short, pros—compactness, effective against light armor. Cons—requires a lot of Mana.
Rockets are also good. Especially since the guidance heads are provided by a simple golem with an order—move forward and slam into the target. So it's a "fire and forget" system. The Goblins will assemble the bomb. The main problem is the reliability of this creation and the size. Rockets take up a lot of space compared to a cannon shell. And on the Pepelats, space is already limited. That means even small rockets will only number a few hundred, roughly. Especially if I give up all the free space for them. That is, of course, very unpleasant and ends up... Wait! I'm getting a bit spoiled with this magic... At least three hundred rockets! I want them!
An auto-cannon is also tempting. But less powerful and less accurate, requiring a good targeting system and timely repairs. Even the fact that it's less constrained by ammunition and more compact doesn't cancel out the complexity of the mechanisms. For suppressive fire at relatively close range, it's perfect. But I don't think they can quickly manufacture a model that satisfies me. A rocket, however, is a thing unto itself. You can teach it to explode just by getting close enough to the target. Whereas a cannon will waste a mass of shells, and there's little that can be done about that.
As for mortars, like the ones the Dwarves use against ground forces. Honestly, last century. The presence of high-precision rockets gives this short-barreled artillery a hundred-point lead despite the bulkiness of the ammunition. And a high-explosive or fragmentation warhead can be built into those too.
So, there's not much of a choice. I'll have to install three crystals and rockets. And hope the ammunition will be at least somewhat sufficient.
"Let's go with the rocket one. I'll fill two storage rooms with them. One with fragmentation, the second with incendiary. And guidance heads, can't do without those."
The Goblin grinned understandingly, baring his teeth.
"Nice to meet an Elf who knows about explosives. And as tall as a Goblin, too," he laughed outright. "Maybe you're one of ours?"
I shrugged and whispered loudly, leaning in closer:
"Don't blow my cover, colleague," at which we both laughed heartily.
In short, we have complete mutual understanding with the technical team. Repaint, replace some parts, magical turrets, add a rocket block with a loading system, and fill two storage rooms with rockets. I won't even mention the little things like the finish and furniture. And all of this at the expense of Jaina and Antonidas; they offered it themselves. For a very impressive sum, by the way—five and a half thousand gold. You could furnish a nice mansion for that, though magical items cost far more than ordinary ones, so it's normal. I suspect the technical team will pocket a significant amount, but as Zeltzer Mazgoflus correctly noted:
"Don't sweat it. It's not us paying anyway; the contract is already signed, and it's not your signature on it."
So, I left the hangars very satisfied. Naturally, I'll have to apply the magic myself separately, but the Goblins will install the material part of the modifications. And me? I'm all for it. More weapons mean more chances to survive what's coming. And if I'm pressed to pay, I'll find a way.
The pleasant pastime didn't end there. My parents and I went to lunch at a local restaurant, and I tried Dalaran cuisine for the first time. And considering we just fleeced the Kirin Tor for money, my mood went from just good to simply excellent.
I told my parents a heavily truncated version of the events in Stratholme, about the Undead and the plague. Mama frowned; she knows a bit more, after all.
"So, this is the work of a dark cult?"
I nodded, devouring stuffed fish. Very tasty; not talking with my mouth full takes some effort. But I am a polite and well-bred child. So, swallow first, then answer.
"As it turned out, yes. Infected food sold from the village to the city. And the workers started eating it immediately. There simply wasn't time to react reasonably, especially since the cult didn't give us any. But we managed anyway, Mom. It was hard, but we won."
Father knows less; he mostly listened and occasionally spoke with Mother. I don't know about what. But it was very pleasant, being with family.
Especially since a walk through the city followed. And it was just wow! It really looks like Arabian palaces combined with magical devices. Compared to Stratholme, we've basically traveled three hundred years into the future.
We also passed a courtyard where siege golems stand behind a fence. Huge, four stories tall, with mighty arms that could crush walls. These creations of metal made me whistle quite impolitely and fly a bit higher to get a better look at them. This is much larger and cooler than anything I've seen at the Magister's before.
The fence only hides about five meters of them, so most of this giant and its friends can be viewed freely. Made of reddish metal with a gray tint, huge and very wide, the front part is covered with massive armor plates that look very strong and heavy. I think I'd only be the size of one of this construct's fingers. And it's made humanoid, even having a face and eyes. This is truly a giant, a Giant Fighting Humanoid Robot, damn it! I know I'm staring with my mouth open; I don't care, it looks too cool!
"Is it hard to destroy one like that?"
Mama, dressed today in a Mage's robe, explained with a smile:
"Of course, DaVi, it is hard. One of the primary weaves of heavy siege golems is Antimagic. Such a giant needs a lot of Mana to move, and it absorbs it from everywhere, including from applied magic. In fact, such a giant can only be destroyed by physical damage. But even that is quite difficult; as you can see, it's covered in a very thick layer of armor to withstand cannon fire, ballistae, and catapults. And while you're trying to bring it down, the golem will be sweeping everything from its path with its mighty fists. And its heavy legs allow it to kick through the walls of houses, so it's very hard to hide from it even in a building."
I gasped with delight.
"But they still get broken, right?"
This time Father answered.
"From what I've heard, the Orcs are quite good at damaging their weak spots. Besides, Ogres are very strong and can also break the joints of such a machine. That's the weak point; if you jam a golem's leg, it's not going anywhere."
I'm impressed, no joke. An Antimagic coating on the Pepelats would look nice... but it severely limits the use of any magic, which is logical. Those same magical turrets, many enchantments, including those for durability, would become impossible to use at all. Antimagic weaving interferes with magic, suddenly. Alas, I'll have to settle for something simpler.
Then we came to the shopping street. And I was frankly overwhelmed; there's so much of everything there. It's like... like... like Diagon Alley from Harry Potter. Only it's a whole damn market taking up a couple of blocks!
Entire rows of houses, shops, and stalls for every Mage's need. Are you an Alchemist? Welcome to the shop with ingredients—and I learned about many of them for the first time by reading the names. Do you need transport? Dalaran craftsmen offer various magical disks, chairs, and mechanisms. And brooms too, but judging by their number, they aren't valued. As the seller said:
"A broom is uncomfortable; your backside will hurt."
Do you need a pet? For every taste. Both living ones and golems or mechanisms created by Mages with their own habits. And even mechanical creations of Goblins, Gnomes, and Dwarves, almost like my scout bird. Choose whatever you want; everything is there, everything is for sale.
Are you clueless about magic but want to use mass teleportation, Restoration, regeneration, purification, see the invisible, freeze, or strike with a fireball and so on and so forth? The Inscription Guild has prepared scrolls for every taste. All this and more—just press your hand to the seal and you're done. Though the prices are—my respect. Hundreds of gold for a scroll, and that's truly a lot, on the level of an enchanted armor element. But the selection is truly huge; there's even a spell that allows you to build a house at a specified point. Instantly. Yes, yes, that very "toy town hall" from the strategy game. You place it in the right spot, break the magical seal, and run back about a hundred meters. You have a new home. How long it will last on these soils is a slightly different question, but the construction itself is literally instantaneous.
There are smithies too, magical ones of course. Here they will not only make equipment to order but also enchant it. For an additional fee, of course. And then there are hunters' shops with ingredients for equipment and Cooking, various products and spices. Bookshops. Alchemists' shops with potions of every taste and color. And that's just the beginning! I just drowned in it, dragging my parents all over the square and looking at everything.
What can I say after four hours of wandering the market? The game doesn't convey this place even closely. In the game, the assortment is built on what the player needs. Here, they sell anything to anyone. And a significant part of the assortment is domestic.
And by the way, someone tried to swipe my wallet. Some Human boy, clearly seeing my reaction, quietly and unnoticed cut the wallet and disappeared into the crowd. Why am I telling this so cheerfully? Well, I didn't have a wallet; I gave everything to my parents. And
"Yes, the teacher promised. And by the way, he would like to meet you. He's become interested in a promising Elf wizardess who loves building mechanisms. I think Archmage Antonidas is curious to see what you can do. So be ready for not just a theoretical, but a practical examination."
Expected. These old Biotics users are simply dying of boredom. There was one more important question. Holding the pause, I asked:
"And you? Well, about what we discussed with the Prophet."
Jaina gave a frank sigh.
"I will do it. Many ships and trading companies are connected to my father, so I'll be able to influence them. And I think they'll listen to me, considering what's happening in the kingdom. If necessary, I'll apply pressure with the will of the Kirin Tor. I don't think many people here will follow me, but we will gather some forces. The plague has hit too many; if I say this is merely a prelude to a larger slaughter, there will be many willing to wait it out. I will keep the word I gave to the Prophet," and seeing my hesitation, she asked, "is there something else?"
I nodded. Sharply, trying to manage the awkwardness. I didn't like this, but it was the right decision.
"My parents, Lady Jaina. I intend to put them to sleep and ask you to send them to Kalimdor on a ship. Separately from me, of course."
The wizardess agreed easily:
"Not a problem. But why put them to sleep? Why not just explain? I think they would understand the gravity of the situation."
Well, I had a perfectly honest answer for that.
"My mother taught me Polymorph. I intend to stay, and I don't want to experience that wonderful spell firsthand. Which they would cast on me precisely because they love me—to keep me from running away and to ensure I stay safe. No, talking isn't an option, alas. And going with them isn't either. You will lead the people; I will gather knowledge and try to win us all a little time. I don't think my parents will want to listen. Understand—yes, but listen—no. And I love them, and I don't want them to die during the slaughter."
Jaina even got a bit emotional but pulled herself together. She hugged me so hard I nearly suffocated. The wizardess has a good, strong grip.
"Of course, Davilinia. I understand. I will help."
"Thank you, Lady Proudmoore. I am grateful to you for this."
And so my legitimate day off ended. Tomorrow, the meetings, plans, and other work would begin. What must be done. And now, to sleep. At home. Likely for the last time.
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