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Chapter 2: Council
The High Council of the Kirin Tor of Dalaran convened in a strange room. It had no exit and no entrance, no holes and no imperfections. It was a scene in the clouds, where the weather changed for no reason whatsoever. The room was well known for stunning inept novices, astounding young magicians, and being disregarded entirely by the veteran councillors.
The ruling council was a powerful force in Dalaran – the rulers of Dalaran, in fact. Dalaran was one of the few city-states in the Alliance – probably the only one – but its prowess rivalled any other human nation. Dalaran, birthplace of all human wizards, was a magical city in its own right, built and powered by magic. The only faction within Dalaran was the Kirin Tor, ruled by the ruling council, and thus the ruling council held power over Dalaran. In this case, it usually applied literally as well.
The most notable members of previous councils had included Archmage Antonidas, the ruler of a previous council during a golden age, Kel-thuzad, now lich and lieutenant to the Lich King, traitor to Dalaran, Krasus, an enigmatic wizard who usually had the best interests of the Alliance at heart, though his personal agendas other than his spouse were unknown, Prince Kael'thas, who had defected with the blood elves to the orcish camp, thanks to the unruly actions of the pompous fool Garitos, Drenden, the former master of the Kirin Tor ruling council, and Modera, another aged but powerful wizard. Drenden and Modera had, in fact, been instrumental in exposing the traitorous Kel-thuzad, who now wielded powers well beyond most wizards. Kel-thuzad and the turncoat Prince Arthas had returned to Dalaran only to wreck it, turning it into a city of undead. Only recent actions had managed to liberate Dalaran from the Scourge, and the Kirin Tor was still reeling from that blow.
Of the members present, three were new. The replacements were for Prince Kael-thas, Archmage Antonidas and Kel-thuzad, and the other members were still wary of them.
"Krasus, you and Rhonin are to be commended – no, congratulated – by me personally, for this latest feat achieved. Getting an audience with the Red Dragonflight's Queen! Amazing. And securing their help with our latest conflict with the Blue Dragonflight? Astounding!"
Modera scowled at this. She was quite unhappy with the amount of praise Krasus and his mentee Rhonin had been receiving, but she could not complain. After all, they had accomplished a great amount.
"Red dragons have taken up positions. We have ten elite drakes constantly circling our skies, while twenty-four are on the plains. They have rather large appetites." The new speaker winced at the last – the wildlife population of Dalaran's fertile plains had seen a large drop in recent weeks.
Krasus and Rhonin grinned at this, but the only thing visible was a slight rippling in their masks. It was part of the theatrics, but also to secure the meeting. Not that the meeting was very secure, with magical beings abound. In fact, Krasus would bet his tail that no more than three or four of the council were really 'secure' when exposed to a good mature red drake. Probably none if exposed to him.
Of course, they were always exposed to him. Like right now. Krasus smirked at the thought, then shook his head furiously. His thought processes nowadays were just as narrow and constrained as these humans. He sighed.
Drenden looked curiously at this out-of-character loss of control displayed by Krasus amusedly, but no one else seemed to notice. A storm rumbled.
"What do the red dragons intend to do?" This was a feminine voice.
Four faces turned to look at the speaker incredulously, as if they were waiting for her to smack her head.
"Obviously I don't mean that I don't know the dragons' prowess!" Modera grinded out in frustration. "I'm very familiar with them – parleyed with three or so, in fact! But how do they plan to fight the blues? And, for that matter, how do we?"
Drenden snorted, but Krasus nodded sagely. "The blue dragons are different from the red dragons. Besides obvious differences in physique, and colour, they represent different things."
"You might as well tell me they have different wing spans. Stop being so cryptic! You're telling us nothing! And I'd doubt even you would know their physique." Modera was well-known to be short-tempered and holding a grudge against Krasus for besting her at mostly everything.
"Let Krasus speak. But I doubt it'd be much different from the ones we fought…"
"No. The blue dragons are immature, but not as immature as the red drakes you fought during the aftermath of the Second War. No, these blue dragons are sufficiently aged with plausible powers. Plus, the Blue Dragonflight represents magic and their intricacies. The blue drakes knowledge of magic alone, not counting their Lord Malygos' knowledge, probably rivals every bit of knowledge on magic gathered by all humans in their entire existence, including that contained in every one of the famed tomes in Medivh's library."
Modera seemed furious at that. "You talk about us as 'humans'. Not as 'us'. You're very arrogant, even for one of your kind."
Rhonin hastily stifled a chuckle. No doubt Modera thought Krasus a high-elf. "Krasus has much to be proud of. His accomplishments are great."
Modera seethed and looked as if she were to rebut that, when Drenden stepped in. "Alright, this is a convention of the elite of the Kirin Tor. I wonder if the elite behave like mere novices involved in a minor squabble. There is no need for argument."
"Very well. As I was saying, the Blue Dragonflight represents magic –"
"How would you know? Asked them?" Modera sneered derisively.
"As a matter of fact, I did." Krasus gauged Modera's sufficiently shocked expression, before continuing.
"The Blue Dragonflight's lair is in Northrend. The reason the Red Dragonflight chooses to place its defence here, in Dalaran, is simple. Firstly, Dalaran is in the heart of the Alliance, extremely near Lordaeron's Capital City. The Blues will have to swamp and penetrate many human defences before reaching."
"Secondly, the climate here is vastly different from Northrend's climate. They will be uncomfortable, and they will not be very much at home. Their spell-casting may be affected."
"Oh, not being at home, unlike us, helps us! They won't destroy our homes!" Modera sniffed derisively.
Krasus continued as if there wasn't any interruption. "They will not be able to manipulate the elements as easily as if they were in Northrend. However, the Red Dragons are quite at ease here. Meanwhile, they are also susceptible to preparations we conceive. And we get to choose the battleground, as they are the aggressors."
Drenden nodded in understanding; Modera writhed in confusion and fury.
"We need every advantage we can get on our side. Also, this incursion also ensures that they will have to battle another magic-wielding race, true to their calling."
"You would sacrifice the high elves for us?" Modera's jaw dropped. Another councillor winced; he had been thus far unsuccessful in persuading his people to wake up to the threat posed by the Blue Dragonflight.
"Not sacrifice. Persuade. As of now, they have refused to agree to support us should the blue dragons invade."
Drenden nodded again. Wan sunlight shone through, lighting the clouds.
Usually, given the face-masks each councillor wore to protect their identities, a nod would not be perceptible. In order to show it, a portion of the mask had to be dropped while still concealing the face, and Drenden was a master. This public, outward show of praise for Krasus was too much for Modera, especially since it was the second time.
"How strategic, Krasus. How patriotic you are."
"As I said, the Blues represent magic, and Lord Malygos, the Hand of Magic, rules them. Of the five dragonflights, therefore, they are the best spell-casters, even better than the red dragons you've fought."
"Spellcasting!" Modera seemed intent on having a shouting session. It had to be the lack of estrogen, given her age, thought Rhonin cynically. "Indeed, the red dragons cast spells so well, that I felt a tickle from the breeze! They don't cast spells! Are you an idiot?"
The last was too much. Drenden scolded, "Modera!", but before he could continue Krasus stepped into the conversation. Now a blizzard was howling through them.
"No, it's all right. I am perfectly willing to alleviate concerns about our allies' powers. Red dragons cast magic extremely well. The ones you fought were likely younglings. In fact, the only red dragons the humans collectively as a race fought were younglings. Dragons take a couple of centuries to mature. Except the blue dragons, whose magical strength and skill grow exponentially faster than the rest of the flights."
Modera took Krasus's subtle implication as an insult. "Are you saying that I can't beat a mature dragon? Bring him on, then! If he were in this very room I doubt he'd last ten seconds!" A low wind started up, and given the force of Modera's fury no one suspected that it was another of the room's theatrics.
The other council members stared at Krasus and Modera. It was a tense silence, and all of the councillors could sense the power that was gathering in Modera. But Krasus was undoubtedly better – no one could even sense Krasus anymore. Modera likely chalked it up to sensing herself too much.
The silence was broken by a chuckle from Rhonin. Everyone looked at him incredulously, except Modera and Krasus, and Rhonin said, "I advise you don't try that, Modera."
That was the last straw. Modera smirked and let loose a stream of fire and light, rushing as a wave towards Krasus. The other council members readied their shields – but it was too late; Modera's spell struck Krasus.
Or rather, struck where Krasus had been before. Modera stared in shock. "He got roasted that easily?"
"Teleport." This was grunted from Drenden.
"Coward!"
"No." Krasus appeared behind Modera, one hand on the back of her bare neck. "One more such showing and I'll retaliate."
Modera gasped, and whirled, readying another blast. The other council members watched fearfully: while Modera was undoubtedly powerful, the scope of Krasus' powers was entirely unknown.
"Since you insist a mature red is easy to beat, Modera, why don't you try Krasus on?" Rhonin drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Modera looked shocked. But Krasus was already transforming, becoming a gigantic red leviathan. Scales rippled and expanded, until a gigantic red drake stood before them.
"Well, Modera?" Krasus, via complex spellwork, could cause the air to vibrate such that it mimicked a human voice. A slight breeze tickled them all, but no one gave it any attention. Shock reverberated throughout the room, exuding from all except Rhonin. Rhonin seemed tickled; his amused expression was nothing short of ridiculous in this setting.
"So what!" Modera was all bluster now; everyone could sense it.
Krasus sighed. "Rhonin, that was foolish. It's the third time already."
Drenden blinked. "Third time?"
"Do what you always do then, master. Admit it, the discussion was useless. Preserve the earlier part before the action. In their subconscious minds, of course; subconscious information usually surfaces in danger."
The dragon sighed. All the council members stared incredulously, until their eyes went blank. Drenden was the last to go – he staggered about drunkenly before resting. Resistance was futile, for Korialstrasz the dragon had millennia of experience trafficking with magic. Their memories were stripped and the conversation locked away in their subconscious safely.
There came an almost imperceptible, familiar sigh.
"Rhonin…"