Disclaimer: The characters and settings created by Blizzard Entertainment Inc in this story are owned by their creators. I do not claim them as mine in any way, shape or form. I am not receiving monetary profit from this story and no copyright infringement is intended.

Today, in Pandaria…

It rained gently outside. Pyorin, Tempest and Kael'thas were now crowded on the little purple couch. As the water dripped slowly against the window ledge outside, Liadrin eyed them all with great disdain.

"Kael'thas… we'll get to you proposing marriage to Jaina Proudmoore through blackmail later. And it also shines a light on some of the current issues we're having with the Human kingdoms. The ones who do remember never forgot, did they?"

Kael'thas looked aside, miffed, "Anyway, I still get the Dalaran University alumni magazine…"

"But Pyorin! You… you arrested Sunthraze, twice? And he wasn't even really guilty of anything?!"

"Tempest did it too."

"I did not! Not… exactly."

Pyorin glared, "And you were messing with his head, doing that crazy sekuu spy thing."

"Well… yeah, I did do that." Tempest smirked, "I rather enjoyed that, actually."

"Hrmph."

Liadrin threw her hands up, "Oh, this is awful. I mean, I read some things in the papers back then, I remembered bits and pieces… but not like this." Liadrin slapped hands on her legs and raised her eyebrows, "Just how many times did the Blood Nexus almost, well, cannibalize itself? We almost didn't exist, several times, now! I don't think the Silver Hand goes through this with their paladins, at all. How could they even manage it?"

Sorn looked up, from tracing blue magic through the air, "That's just it. They don't."

Tempest leaned in, "Well, you forgot to count Prince Arthas. He went rogue and destroyed a bunch of stuff, you know. Killed his own father…"

Liadrin waved her hand , she fixed eyes on Pyorin. "Well, it's your chance to clear things up, if you even can. How did you go from… well, being a bonifide jackass to actually becoming any kind of leading figure?"

Pyorin cleared his throat. "Well, you see Britecleff—"

Tempest shut her eyes, "Do we have to say his name?"

Kael'thas turned down the side of his mouth, "I don't want to talk about him, either."

"Fine." Liadrin conceded, "We don't have to talk about anyone who caused a lot of pain, betrayed or otherwise tried to wreck the Nexus… who isn't already in this room." Liadrin glared at Pyorin.

Pyorin drummed fingers on his leg and went on, "Becoming a Bloodknight completely changes you, I swear. Being as straight-arrow as I am today, it took a helluva lot of work. I clearly used to be this big, nasty idiot most of the time… Ugh, I hate these memories coming back to me now." Pyorin looked up at the ceiling, sighed.

Everyone waited for Pyorin to go on, to explain what started to change his mind about Sunthraze.

"Well, believe it or not, I think it was Demon-lover."

Liadrin looked truly frustrated, "Who?"

Tempest sat back, "He means Fennore."

"Ah, yes." Pyorin smiled, "Let's talk about how I finally met the man I… that I remember I used to call, 'Dirty Uncle Fennore.' And by the way, I keep getting crap about not being a smart enough guy. But I am plenty smart."

Tempest rolled her eyes next, and started shaking her head, mouthing 'No.'

Pyorin brightened, "So, let's start this off with saying, no matter how it seemed at first, okay, I was definitely not an idiot."

Long ago, in Silvermoon…

Pyorin definitely wasn't an idiot. After what looked like Sunthraze going into a panic and trying to kidnap his girlfriend, and Tempest not even putting up a fight… Pyorin arranged for some time on leave, at a lovely hotel with a view of the Sunspire, a romantic dinner for two and a night in the plush honeymoon suite.

Pyorin figured he had good timing, too. Convincing Britecleff that he and Tempest needed to go on leave wasn't so difficult.

At the time, Britecleff stared at Pyorin while they sat in his office, fingers arched before the kind of brooding expression only a commander could give.

"You'll lose your two best rangers, probably, if we don't get some kind of morale boost after this."

Britecleff's frown darkened, "I just sent an innocent man to the keep at the Sunspire, reserved especially for the most dangerous criminals in Quel'thalas after a series of bureaucratic blunders that got out of my control…"

Then, as Pyorin gave another charming smile, began to defend his intentions, "And you did too!" Britecleff glowered, turned, and bounced a dark leather ball he usually kept in a stand on his desk, off the wall nearby. "You're just worried about getting laid."

Pyorin thought through his next statement, carefully. He'd just been painfully reminded that Britecleff was not an idiot, either. "Commander, Tempest is at the center of our mission… as Farstriders, as… future paladins. I hate to drop so many sensitive phrases in this office, but she has men pawing at her and shouting at her all of the time, and this ordeal with Sunthraze, ontop of all of that…"

"So you want to paw at her, alone, instead?"

"Commander, a lot has happened, an intense amount within the last day. Someone in her charge tried to abduct her before he disappeared, and what he did, what we didn't stop-slash-prevent either, may constitute harassment. But I may also be able to bring her around with a quiet evening."

"Engaging in more harassment-slash-fraternizing."

"Britecleff, you've gotta give me a break here. I almost watched that hot-headed prick walk away with my girlfriend. I need to diffuse the situation, I'm not as one-track minded as this seems. You even could… well, I don't want to tell you what to do, but I'm sure you want to see your own girlfriend. Lady… Lady uh…"

"Lady Weaver."

"Yes, her. I'm sure you could use a quiet night, too. Seargent Major Windemere would approve that for you. A chance to clear your head before filling out all that paperwork? And come to think of it, isn't Windemere technically off duty tonight, at his son's wedding? He's always after you to get married too, you know."

Britecleff kept frowning, kept bouncing the thick leather ball off the wall by his desk. At last, he sank back into his chair.

"Yeah, get the hell out of my sight, Pyorin. Well, I guess I'm just mad. You must have earned some good leave… somewhere along the way. You and Tempest. But only one night. I want both of your butts back here, first thing in the morning."

"But check out isn't until noon—"

"Look here, Pyro—"

"I'm going!"

Which left Pyorin and his lady lounging in the sheets, enjoying a box of chocolates after midnight.

"You choose first." Pyorin slid the freshly opened box across the maroon sheets. Tempest was lying on her stomach. She leaned up on an elbow and took one, but realized she didn't want to eat it.

"I… can't."

"It'll just melt on your fingers, and then if we get the bed dirty…"

She popped it in her mouth. "Are you kidding me? The things people do in hotel beds already? The things we did in this bed, already?" She picked up the box, balanced it on Pyorin's abs, then cuddled against him.

"That's… gonna fall off, Tempest."

"Off of your rock-hard abs? Never."

Pyorin couldn't help smiling.

"It's just that… we can even see the Sunspire from here. And he's in there. In some cage. A worse cage than in the Garrison. The plan was always to charge him, set bail and let him go… now he's… he is in serious trouble, Pyorin."

"I thought seduction interrogation, when done correctly, is mostly unilateral. My dear, you've been caught up in your own little game with him."

Tempest kissed Pyorin's neck. "I'm still yours."

"I'm sad about what happened to that punk, too, but what can we do? And we're not just… Farstriders, you know. We can't draw any more attention to ourselves and blow our cover. Britecleff wouldn't want that. No one… none of them would want that."

Tempest reached up and had another chocolate.

"And think about it. How do we know he's not a spy."

"Pyorin…"

"We'd practiced in that field plenty of times before. He chose that day to come and watch us?"

"Pyorin, you're better than this…"

"And then, he could have walked away from Britecleff, but he had to go and punch him in the face!"

"Just because Sunthraze is in serious trouble now, you're going to… I don't know what you're doing? Why are you giving up your beliefs just because the royals are involved now? You don't have to change who you are, what you think, just like that." She snapped her fingers.

"Well what about you? You turned on me pretty fast yesterday morning. You were getting so aggressive about him and those… lame tattoos of his, I thought I was going to be sick."

"Well, maybe… maybe I slipped a bit. I came on really strong during the fight with Sunthraze. You should have seen me yesterday afternoon, though. I handled the tightrope a lot better."

Pyorin frowned.

"They're nice tats, honestly—"

"Why are we still on that topic?"

"…And he isn't so bad. Sunthraze was nice to me for some of that, while I watched him, you know? Pyorin," she leaned her head back so that she could look into his eyes, "Sunthraze really did think I was in danger when he first attacked us, we both know he isn't some spy. You just became a chicken when Advisor Sorn showed up and shouted whatever he wanted us to. Really, all this is your fault."

"It's not my fault."

"Right. Right, I guess… we were both following orders. I'm just so angry about what didn't need to happen at all!"

"Look," he put the chocolates away and pulled Tempest into him. He kissed and caressed her until she started smiling, "Can't we talk about or… do something else right now?"

"Like talk about how it's been eight months and we're still not exclusive?"

"I'm going to bed."

"Fine. Go to bed. I don't even get a kiss goodnight, do I?"

Pyorin inched down underneath the blankets kissed Tempest someplace she wasn't expecting.

"Pyorin!"

Well, after that, they went to bed.

A morning getting ready at o'dark thirty to head to work after that was, of course, dreadful. Pyorin was able to get up and get dressed faster than Tempest could.

After taking his shower, Pyorin toweled off his hair, and began to comb it. Then, he shaved carefully. He rubbed more steam off mirror so that he could see himself better, make sure he'd got everything.

A face framed by so much dark hair, a strong jaw. Thick eyebrows above eyes that searched, mulling over everything. Pyorin knew that he was an attractive man, even very attractive. But he didn't like to look himself in the eye, make a big thing of it. Eyes, clean teeth, clear and shaven skin, everything was there where it was supposed to be.

It bothered him that other people, especially women, seemed to make a big thing about his appearance. He didn't remember experiencing so much pressure before coming to Silvermoon. Before Silvermoon, it was just fun, a game. Now, it was the real thing, somehow. Like a battle. And even then, it wasn't just the way you were expected to look, the way you dressed, it was the way you were meant to talk—you had to be clever about it. And what you needed to talk about was critical. Everyone asked what you did for a living, right off, where you went to school. Wrong answer, and you got locked out of a lot of situations.

"Private First Class Pyorin—I'm over at the Garrison."

That was a good answer. Pyorin wondered why he was saying that out loud, now?

"I've got… many medals. I took out an alpha voodoo priest at Zul'Aman, I got my promotion, was commended… I've got the best girl. The most beautiful girl…"

Pyorin supposed he sounded like a pratt. Did he? Maybe a bit. Pyorin patted on some after shave, then turned on the water to wash his hands.

Beautiful woman in the next room, and it was a very nice suite, in a great hotel. A view of the actual Sunspire, the Highborne palace, where he worked on most days, was right next door. He knew the queen, personally… It was a good life.

It had to be.

"That punk kid Sunthraze. Who the hell is he?" Pyorin didn't like the way his dark hair looked, began combing it the other way, "Red head, this wild, orange-red hair… his hair's the color of a pumpkin."

Then again, Tempest wore her hair red, too. And Queen Celestia, of course, was a redhead these days. Maybe… he could lighten his own hair. If that was a thing. Was it?

"All those tattoos… I think the biggest, stupidest one is in… Trollish, right? Is that a thing, too? Trollish tattoos?" Pyorin frowned. He didn't have a tattoo on his body. He never even considered it, it just wasn't something he craved. Pyorin began to rub some lotion on his bare arms, his large shoulders still a little wet from the shower. "Maybe I should get a tattoo. I could find something better than his stupid tatts. Cover up all this… skin. Gods, when did I get so pale? Does he tan?"

But Sunthraze would be tanned from wearing overalls and working in the sun all day, outside.

Pyorin looked up and saw his consternation in the mirror. What was he even doing right now?

"I'm too big."

What? Pyorin had never worried about that before.

"If I keep bulking up, I'll look like some… tree. Some idiot man-bear. Britecleff is thin, well, lean. More thin than me. Sunthraze is short, pretty small. Light and also strong, like a dagger. Well, I'm not fat." Pyorin raised up his arms to stretch, then he flexed, wondering about his musculature. Wasn't it too much?

Not that he had been trying to put so much on. That's how he was, how he'd always been…

Pyorin stopped and bit the inside of his cheek, stared at himself in the mirror.

"He's younger. He's tan, he's better." Pyorin began to put all this things away, back into his kit. "There's always someone better than you. I'll just… get better than him, that's all. And what am I worked up about? He's in a prison."

But the impression Sunthraze left on Tempest. She wasn't going to forget that. So it did still matter. Because there would be someone else like Sunthraze, wouldn't there be? So he would have to up his game and be better than the next guy, to keep her. To keep any of it.

Pyorin looked around the bathroom, checking to be sure that he'd got everything. They were going to check out soon.

Then, he took off the towel, kicked it aside on the floor, and got dressed. Old trick, faster to keep everything in his bag and do everything in the bathroom, rather than wander about the hotel room, pulling open drawers. And chancing the woman seeing him and wanting another round, which took up even more time. Usually, they did. If he could just… not have a woman jump on him sometimes. Let him be himself when all he wanted to do was get dressed, get through his life. It was embarrassing and it was annoying.

"And he's an aristocrat, that Sunthraze—everybody's from a damned…old family in this city, damn him!"

Why was he saying this out loud? Why did he care, why was he letting this stress him?

It was hard, doing anything, being anyone, in Silvermoon. He should be sick of it.

"No, it's like… being born. It's bloody, it's messy, it's painful, but that's life. You just keep your head down and you get through it. Someday, soon, I'll have my perfect house, my own land, the perfect woman… money, whatever I want. You just have to… fit in, and pay your dues. I can do that. I mean, I was already born. If I can get through birth, then I can get through this."

Pyorin worried that he sounded stupid. That Sunthraze kid, he had so much… charm. So many clever things to say, even when he was being mean, he was sly. Finesse, that was important in Silvermoon. You had to be subtle, you had to carry a joke…

Pyorin knew he wouldn't make it. Not really. Wasn't he an idiot, anyway? There were a lot of things he didn't even get about life, like right now…

"I'm not thinking about this." Pyorin finished dressing, got his dark green duffle bag with the red phoenix stamped on, one last check to see if he had everything… Tempest's stuff was everywhere… then he left the bathroom.

"Babe, get up."

Tempest was in a mess of sheets, naked, snoring her head off.

Something about Tempest relaxed him. Well, when she wasn't actually awake.

"That's an awful thing to think…"

Well, no. When they were quiet together. When they took breaks and he watched her smoke, or when they were standing guard, or just… chilled out. He wished she could be that way more often. Tempest was more like a… a meteor shower. He had to be so…on, all the time, for her. And she wanted so much. Sometimes, it felt like too damned much.

Feeling stressed again, Pyorin poured himself a glass of champagne. There was still some left.

"Hey, can I have some?" Oh, so now she's awake. Here we go again…

Pyorin swallowed what he had, poured himself another glass. "Sorry, that's the last of it."

Tempest raised up a bit, frowning at him. Pyorin watched her body. Nice ass, beautiful breasts, nice… everything. Tempest was exotically beautiful. And there was something about her as well, that she had chosen a warrior's name that was so uncomfortable, so… not-sweet and not welcoming. She had been a challenge to get and keep. She didn't like to give anyone an easy time.

Tempest had grown up Kezan, in the Goblin kingdom. A rare occurrence, but she half-explained that her mother was a very successful entertainer at the casinos down there so that's where they made their living. Well, whatever kind of 'entertainment' that was, those naturally alluring features clearly made their way down to Tempest. The wild, rare Highborne island girl, who probably spent all her days gyrating in some coconut-scented breeze. Pyorin smiled at the thought. He enjoyed being so silly sometimes, imagining…

She asked him sweetly, "You already showered, babe? You don't want to shower with me?"

That was why Pyorin had already showered, so that he could have some time alone to himself and not have her making comments all the way through them getting dressed in the morning. About all the things she needed, all the things she wanted that he just didn't have answers for…

Eight months and still not exclusive? Wasn't that what she said last night?

So? Well… shouldn't they just enjoy themselves? Why did she need the security of… well, maybe he could see it, how that was a long time to wait, to know if someone even wanted you, in that way… But he just needed more time, that was all. It was complicated.

Tempest wordlessly went into the bathroom. The door shut.

Pyorin realized he must have been ignoring her, and she didn't like that. Whatever.

"Maybe slamming a door on your boyfriend, when he only wants some friggin' space, is just how they do it in Kezan."

It was rude, but Pyorin wondered if he should care so much.

"What was that?" The bathroom door opened again. And Tempest did look annoyed.

Pyorin smiled at Tempest, like it was nothing. He reached a lazy arm out to her from the chair, "Miss you babe… hurry up in the bathroom so I can kiss you some more."

Tempest was suspicious, but she closed the door again. This time, gently.

Pyorin let his arm drop and melted back into the chair. He watched a sunbeam on the floor, trying not to feel anything.

As he looked up again, around at the luxurious room, he felt like a liar and a traitor. Because of… a few things. But really, it was still Sunthraze. It kept coming back to him. Sunthraze was innocent, but he was in jail. Technically, if he thought about it—no, definitely—Pyorin hadn't needed to arrest him. Sunthraze needed punching in the face, but he didn't need for Pyorin to arrest him. Both times.

Pyorin wondered if there was more to this life.

On the way out of the hotel, every hotel concierge, bell boy, doorman ever seemed to know Pyorin's name. It had been the same last night as well.

Tempest, already in an off mood, became more and more irritated as they departed. Out front, they mounted their Hawkstriders and rode at a casual pace down the street, with other Hawkstriders and foot traffic.

Silvermoon, downtown Silvermoon, was impressive. Beautiful white stone buildings, golden statues of King Dath'remar and famous magisters, red and yellow flags everywhere. The sharp, yet sweet scent of arcane magic came in on a breeze, here or there. Foreigners said it smelled like an exotic flower.

Pyorin looked over Tempest again, as she rode her Hawkstrider, in uniform, looking very much the part of a vigilant ranger. Also, very desirable. She could be threatening, eventhough you wanted her. That was her charm. Then, Pyorin thought of Sunthraze again. They met weird guys like that all the time, had to arrest some of them. But Sunthraze was kind of sticking to his ribs. Yes, he felt guilty.

"You alright, Tempest?" He said that, rather than what he really wanted to say. Their first stop was the Sunspire, where Pyorin worked on most days. Then, Tempest would go on alone back to the Garrison. "Damn! I forgot to get you breakfast. Sorry, Tempest."

"Well, we both forgot. I was just thinking… how did you get such a nice a hotel room, on such short notice, where all the staff know you, like it's your hang out place?"

Pyorin should have realized Tempest was that angry with him.

"I do work nearby."

"I didn't realize you had that much leave and free time, to be lounging around, alone, in a hotel, in a honeymoon suite that often…"

"It's not like that…"

"Who is she? Or, who are they? You have a lot of female fans up at the Sunspire, don't you?"

"Seduction interrogation is part of my job, too."

"But you're sleeping with them? Do you… love any of them?"

Pyorin got impatient, "Yes, I'm with other women. That's why I don't want to be exclusive. But you don't have to be exclusive, either, Tempest. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"But at the beginning you said… you call me your girlfriend. Now, you're just changing the goalposts up on me. You led me on to get me this far, admit it!"

"No, that's not what's going on." Pyorin shook his head, "We're both adults, right? And anyway, it's tricky, because of my work…"

"Are you sleeping with Queen Celestia?"

"Will you keep your voice down!"

"…Do you want to? Is that your big plan?"

Pyorin was too angry and insulted to answer.

"You're supposed to be a Farstrider, first and foremost. And a lot of other things… Unilateral seduction, my ass…" Tempest wound her hand around the reins a few more times, tight.

"Tempest, I do care about you, but… We don't have that kind of relationship. I hate to come out and say it like that. But it's how things are now, if you need me to… to spell it out for you."

"Well I want a relationship!"

"We have a relationship, we can have a relationship—let's just… play it by ear, though."

"Play what by ear, my feelings? The way I feel torn apart, everytime you say you care about me and then you do the opposite? I care about you, I would never do that to you. And then you keep changing things on me, I don't know whether you want me or you don't want me or what we're even doing together! Eight months is a long time to feel like that, Pyorin!"

"Will you just… will you shut up? I can't be everything for everyone all of the time!"

"Did you just tell me to shut up?"

"No, I didn't… I didn't mean to—"

Wrong answer, clearly. Tempest kicked her Hawkstrider and rode on ahead without him.

Well, that was how Pyorin started his day. The rest was standing guard, or whatever Queen Celestia and her ladies-in-waiting liked for him to do while there were definitely plenty of palace guardians around, at court.

They were all in red and black robes with large phoenix wing shields. Pyorin stalked back and forth in a green and tan Farstrider's uniform, from time to time.

The truth was, the queen had one fascinating conversation with Pyorin some months ago, at a ball, and had sort of adopted him. "I like the keen eye that only a Farstrider ranger can pass over a room. And, Commander Britecleff, I'd feel so much safer…"

And then that was it. Pyorin went from running raids in Zul'Aman to following the richest women in the kingdom, and perhaps all of the Eastern Kingdoms around, day in, day out.

So, yes, he was that attractive, he supposed. Sometimes, it was a problem. Pyorin listened, he reported everything he could back to Britecleff. Britecleff passed it along, so it could be used in some way. Pyorin never knew how, really. Overseeing needlepoint sessions, gossip about other aristocrats, their husbands' next political move, or the dress color of the season… His bit in the resistance. Pyorin thought about Tempest. Then, he worried about Sunthraze again. The whole thing made him angry… why did it feel like, up until yesterday evening, he had a good thing going with her, at the Garrison, and here, at the palace? But somehow, he was sure, Sunthraze was the one who wrecked it. Pyorin couldn't enjoy being in either place, now. How could he? Things would need to calm all the way down, first.

Today, the entertainment was a blonde lecturer from Stormwind. He was apparently so fascinating because he was 'mysteriously handsome', whatever that meant, and he was a Highborne who had dared spend his time among the 'unruly Humans these days.'

"I am Fennore Hollowmare, a holy priest of the first order." The man bowed to the women assembled in the stuffy room. And just as Pyorin was thinking it, Celestia made a face, and that's all it took, before her chief lady gestured angrily for one of the maids to go and throw open a few of the windows. Next, all the ladies fanned themselves after Celestia did. White butterflies fluttering beneath everyone's rosy chins or cheeks.

Pyorin tried not to sigh too loudly, and stalked back in the other direction.

"…I've served with Prince Arthas, Uther the Lightbringer, and many other famous Human and Dwarf paladins. As a Highborne, I chose, on my own, to serve and assist with the plague, first-hand. I suppose, then, you would say, Fennore Hollowmare is a… dark horse."

Polite laughter filled the room. Queen Celestia was genuinely smiling at him. He had this… awkward brand of scholar charm. This almost childlike idealism that his lengthy studies and no doubt dry adventures could make all the difference in the world, if they all just believed. Pyorin knew the sort. All the ladies in the room fawned like they wanted to hug him.

Pyorin came to a stop. He took the chance to look this Fennore over. A middle-aged blonde man with heroic-looking features. In fact, he was built like a warrior. Nothing reminiscent of a paper-white conjurer slumped over magical tomes day in, day out, at all. Strong jaw, intelligent-looking eyes. Confident smile. But there was something… dark hanging about him. The way shadowpriests and warlocks often had fel energy latent in their enchanted robes, or at their fingertips if a shadow spell had just been conjured.

He was really a holy priest? Pyorin was training, secretly with Tempest, to be a paladin. He was also more skilled at picking up on Troll voodoo magic and shadow-based traps in the Thalassian countryside. This man almost reeked of fel energy. There was definitely something… off about him.

"…the need of the Humans is dire. The Plague is like nothing man kind or even elf kind has ever seen before."

And that had to be the reason why Ranger-General Sylvanas had sent Fennore over from the convention in Stormwind. Pyorin nodded with understanding. He then walked the other way, passed his eyes over the nearly bared busts in the room.

"And that's when Uther said, 'Raise the Light! Raise it high for all in this cavern to see. And the succubae and even the ire speakers, they stepped back. They had to! That is the power of the Light, my ladies. And, gentleman." Fennore acknowledged Pyorin then.

Pyorin felt a bit put on the spot. He wasn't meant to be treated like 'one of the girls.' Though, he supposed, he was there in that awkward not-really-a-palace-guard limbo anyway, because there were no courtly rules to allow Pyorin to be put in a three-piece suit and sit there beside Queen Celestia looking like a toy lord of the manor in the first place. So, he was dressed for work and pretended to work.

Pyorin squinted an eye at Fennore, who smiled even more, well aware of the joke he'd just made, at Pyorin's expense.

Fennore went on, "And that's a very interesting thing when it comes to ire speakers, you see. Female demonesses are even more aggressive while in heat, and ire speakers are the worst. So the Light really, really, unraveled their battle plans, while we were in that particular chamber of Naxxramas."

"Priest Hollowmare."

"Please, my queen," Fennore bowed low, "You must honor me by calling me Fennore."

"Priest Hollowmare," Celestia began again. She was comedic in her own way, "I wonder what you really know about… the sexual proclivities of demons, or whether your inexperience in that area is relevant in this lecture?"

Pyorin looked from Celestia to Fennore. She was definitely baiting him. It was like someone telling Pyorin what the heck he thought he knew about fighting the Amani Trolls.

"My Queen, I…" Fennore cleared his throat, "Demon physiology… sexuality, in particular, is incredibly fascinating and highly relevant, actually. Though I know it is outside of the normal study of a priest, even a shadowpriest. But I find, it is through understanding other sentient beings that we better understand our own race, and furthermore, there are cases of aggression, heroic challenge, in the mating rituals of many demons and they make for very good stories. Actually, in one case with an ire speaker in the Outland, I hear…"

This guy… was crazy. He was talking about Demon sex in front of the Queen of Quel'thalas!

But, as Pyorin looked around the room, he realized the women were enjoying it. They were blushing, whispering to one another. Celestia crossed hands over her lap, smiled knowingly. The queen was a plump readhead, abundant curls everywhere, covered in emeralds and red gems. Celestia knew exactly what she was doing. When Fennore finished, Celestia stood, applauded and told him 'it was a good show.'

Another way to make fun of Sylvanas' consistent efforts to make the royal House of Sunstrider care about the Plague, and the Humans beleaguered by it.

At tea time, Pyorin was able to wander around alone in the hedge maze outside. He strutted, lost in his thoughts. He kept an ear out for the ladies, some of whom were strolling together in the sun with parasols, but he was under no allusions that he was there for their real protection, anyway. The palace guard didn't really associate with him, they didn't know him and acted as if he was just some fad that would pass in time.

"Apple?"

The voice was familiar. Painfully familiar. Fennore had found a pair of apple trees in an alcove set with white benches and a fountain. He was standing up. Pyorin had the same problem. The benches weren't meant for grown men, like them. It amused Pyorin, that Fennore had realized it also.

"These are very good. Silvermoon White. Gods, I've missed these…" Fennore crunched through another one.

Pyorin sighed, walked over, kicked at the gravel.

"Oh, come on now. Being a royal boy-toy can't be that bad."

Pyorin blurt out laughter.

"So, who's your girlfriend, here at the castle?"

Pyorin thought of Tempest just then. Gods, it felt like he was managing two different lives. Two whole different planets, "I do have a woman here, a few, but… Well, I won't say their names. Their husbands would mind. And frankly, sir, I don't know you."

Fennore let out a low whistle. "And your other girlfriend, the redhead back at the Silvermoon Garrison?"

Pyorin put a hand in his pocket. He looked around, but they were in an isolated part of the garden and he didn't really hear the women anymore, which meant they could not be heard, "A fellow spy? I guess it feels like everybody is a spy these days. The Eastern Kingdoms must really be going to shit during this… plague, because they feel the need to stretch us Farstriders in every possible direction."

Fennore shrugged, "Actually, I used a mind vision spell on you, just now. I'm not sure if I really am a spy or not. Ranger-General Sylvanas said to come here and be 'as charming as I ever am.' I give these ladies about three weeks before they figure out how strange I am, and then the fun is over. And I'm getting paid to lecture. I'm pretty good at that. So I have a few weeks to infiltrate the ranks before Queen Celestia eventually gets bored and does away with me. It's a living, I guess."

Pyorin brought his hand out of his pocket. A white note fell out. Then, he bent over to pick that up, and another little paper squeezed its way up out of the top of his boot. A third, a pink one, fell out of his shirt.

Fennore looked dismayed, "Uh… so you're sort of bad at this spy thing, aren't you?"

"Nope…" Pyorin grunted as he picked everything up, "A deluge of love notes. They're not that secret. By the way, this is how it works around here. You can respond to all the notes at once if you have good enough excuses. Bed hopping, you know."

Fennore raised his eyebrows. "Well, you don't sound happy about it."

Pyorin looked very tired, unfolding one, passing his eyes over it quickly, then unfolding another one.

"Late night?"

"With my girlfriend. The one from my real life. I'm trying to keep her, and I do care about her… but then I got mixed up in all of this stuff. Right now, I'm just not sure…" Pyorin couldn't finish that. And he wasn't sure why he even started.

"Really? Wow. A guy could get used to this…"

Pyorin shook his head, his voice deadpan, "It's so horrible. It's so wonderful. Conscript with the Farstriders, and this, too can be you. All the uh… attention I get is the only reason I haven't transferred to deeper in Eversong Woods, by now. In another year, maybe I'll do that. Just pass on downstream. It's kind of getting old… Want one?"

"And how!" Fennore snatched the one Pyorin offered. "This'll be a nice treat. Normally, I can only get laid in Stormwind. That's why I relocated after university."

Pyorin wondered if he should ask Fennore what he meant by that. He chose not to, "I'll just tell Lady Feyrenil I never saw the note. Or that it fell out…" he whispered, "They don't actually mind, they just want someone young, who isn't their husband in that bed, at the end of the day."

They talked a little more about women and how the Silvermoon aristocracy had become thoroughly corrupt, before realizing they were enjoying the conversation far too much.

"Think they've all completely gone, now?"

Pyorin nodded.

Fennore crossed his arms. "Good, then. Show me your sword, and the first spell you all tried to conjure with it."

Pyorin drew his ranger's longsword. A good, balanced weapon. But there wasn't much time to admire it, before it began to simmer with golden magic.

"Good… good… that's the seal. What about the judgement?"

Pyorin grimaced.

"Does that hurt?"

"Why do I feel like I'm at the doctor's?"

"You sort of are… though why a burning phallic object reminds you of that is not something I will ask you about."

Pyorin wondered if he'd heard that right. An upstanding warrior of the Light, even a priest, who'd fought with Uther, who had been recommended by Sylvanas herself, making off-color jokes like that. And bad ones.

"Wait, are you making fun of me?"

"Oh, you've still got time to turn it around." Fennore smiled handsomely, "You're not really a man-whore yet, don't worry."

"What?!"

Fennore moved on, "Any idea why it hurts?"

"Neither of us can get past that point. We were hoping you would know."

Fennore tapped his clefted chin.

"Not to make it sound like another sex joke, but… when it comes to the Light, you need to use protection. You're in pain. Unless that face is about how… heavy it feels? Do you know what I mean?"

"I think so. Like a more complex spell is heavier."

"Yes. Precisely. Is it a burning sensation, or a tingling or…?"

"Could we talk about this some other way?"

"Not really, no. It amuses me and stops me thinking about how you're risking your life and sanity each time you conjure the Light as an unordained paladin."

"What?!"

"Just joking. Yes, then the first, most obvious problem must be your issue. Ranger Pyorin, paladins don't just wear plate because they're going into battle. The kinds of Light spells they use are powerful. They can, indeed, rip you apart. I can't believe you've been training without plate for so long. How many months has it been? And who's the other paladin? As strong as you are? If not, their health may be at risk as well."

"Oh, she's pretty fit." Pyorin got lost in thought.

"The other paladin is the girlfriend, then? Oh bother…" Fennore itched through his long, abundant hair. "Please don't take offense, but you sound to me very much like an idiot."

"Excuse me?!"

"I'll explain why later, other than the fact that you're pissing on your own doorstep… try a healing spell for me, please?"

This time, for a reason Pyorin really hesitated over, Fennore squatted and wanted to look up at him conjuring. "Go on. It's good to see how the Light travels up, through the body."

"You're an expert right?"

Fennore grinned, "I happen to be the best. And cough, please."

"If you touch my balls, you weirdo, I'll kill you."

"Nothing like that. You know, I used to watch Prince Arthas heal like this all the time. Watch him and critique him. He was really pleased by the results. For a few raids, I was his personal healer. Now, before the ladies hurry back…" Pyorin began to conjure, "Nice, very nice… thank you. Some more, please? Really stick it out. And don't forget to cough."

Fennore watched, thought, stood, walked a circle.

Pyorin finished. "What was all the… coughing for?"

"Healing spells, well… heal. It should have restored your breathlessness, but it didn't. So then, it wasn't effective. You now look very much out of breath."

"I am…" Pyorin couldn't finish.

"Honestly, this is sad. It's almost a travesty. To start with, you all need some damned books. A primer on the Light would keep you out of all this trouble. I'll lend you some."

"No. That'd be too obvious. Britecleff forbade that, it's too dangerous if they're found."

"I can completely understand that. Compared to the enlightened priesthoods of Ironforge or Stormwind, Silvermoon's standards on schools of magic are highly restrictive, almost outdated and backwards… you can see the result. You're making yourself ill every time that you try that Light spell. And just because some magister is afraid you'll become too powerful some day or take his job—but no, that won't do. You need books. And it's as easy as sending a letter to my man, to have him send over my second trunk, so you're getting them."

Pyorin had a seat on the very low bench. He kept taking heavy breaths.

"It also sounded to me, when you were coughing… that there was a blockage." Fennore patted his belly, then roved circles down lower in the air, over his crotch, "Somewhere in this area."

"Okay… okay, I think we're done."

"No, no, no, nothing like that. It's a chakram, an energy node, a hub in your body, around there. A paladin must be completely attuned. All your spells reach out to people, they enter their bodies and infuse them with restorative powers… you can't reach other people if you don't actually care about them, have that level of awareness about them. You're cut off, then. And imagine if you aren't aware of your own suffering."

"I don't think I understand."

"Humans aren't self-righteous. Don't believe what you read in the stilted Silvermoon newspapers. They're righteous… get the difference? They care. They don't numb that part of themselves. It's an amazing thing, the Human spirit. Pyorin, every paladin needs to do special exercises, regularly, to keep up a certain state of… elasticity between themselves and other beings. That means mindfulness… as I said before, attunement. We don't have months for you to practice it, to work out the kinks while I'm here. I'm only here for a few weeks. But I would recommend, if there's someone who is troubling you, causing this… blockage, this disdain for other men. Or, women. That you settle it with him. Or her." Fennore then leaned in, as if Pyorin had something on his nose. Pyorin touched his face, self conscious that a stain was there. "No, it's a him. Oh! How interesting. Do you… swing, in that direction? I never picked that up, usually I do…"

"Stop talking. You just used a Mind Vision spell on me. Right?"

"Yes."

"Well then, you know it's someone I… practically put down in the keep, beneath this castle. His name is Sunthraze and he's not supposed to be down there. In the end, I feel… pretty bad about that. But there's nothing I can do."

"How sad. Oh, how sad." Fennore shook his head, reading more and more of the situation without Pyorin's permission, from his mind. "Hey! Your girlfriend, the redhead, is a knockout. Wait, is that Marianne Cuomo? Holy gods!"

"Who's Marianne? My girlfriend's name is Tempest, though it used to be Lucia. Well… it's a long story. According to her, she chose a warrior name, which is a kind of hippie thing to do."

Fennore snapped his mouth shut, for the first time that day, "Nevermind. None of my business." Fennore extended his hand in a gentile fashion, "I think we've lingered here long enough. We'd better go back inside for part two of my lecture, or we'll be missed."

Pyorin began walking. Fennore looked for where to put his apple core. He leaned around, looking behind the bushes, then carelessly pitched it over their heads.

Pyorin smirked.

"Yes. I am very funny. I also always wished that I could do a warrior name. I've always wanted one. Fennore the… I don't know. Fennore the hero!"

"You're not heroic. Seriously, man, you're too strange for that."

"Fennore the… the... Ladykiller."

"Ugh. Something less obvious?"

"I'll figure it out."

"Something you said earlier, Fennore, I'm finding I have to ask…" they turned a corner and saw a clear, broad sunlit path back to the castle. About a quarter-mile ahead, the sun room had a wall that was almost all windows, white carvings inbetween. "Why is it that you can only really get laid in Stormwind? That's what you said, right? I know that's what you said."

"Well, being a strange man… I'm not very impressive here, I guess. But in Stormwind, surrounded by Humans, I'm exotic. I served with Arthas and with Uther himself… I'm a catch."

"You could… not be so strange all the time?"

"That's like asking you not to be a jerk."

"I never said I was a jerk."

"And a bit of a dim bulb. Pyorin, nobody out and says they're a jerk. I picked it up during conversation, and mainly my mind vision spell, naturally."

"If I punch you in the face for being a jackass, will you see that coming too?"

Fennore raised a finger, happy to point out something else. "…No."

Their boots crunched on the gravel for a few more steps. After arguing like that, the two men were somehow more comfortable with each other.

"Pyorin. I really would get that blockage seen to, today. I'm surprised it didn't affect your performance last night, to be honest."

Pyorin seethed.

Fennore went on, "It's interesting how blockages of certain chakrams affect sexual performance, not just in men, you know, Humans, Elves, Dwarves, mortals. Less so in Gnomes. But also with demons. Especially demonesses."

Pyorin wondered, if he didn't answer Fennore anymore, would the conversation die?

"That will be the second part of my lecture. Why don't I just throw the whole 'Symptoms of the Plague' out the window and focus on similarities in sexual dysfunction between mortals and demons? They seemed to like hearing about that?"

"Since I have to listen to this too, can we talk about something more normal?"

"Oh, it is normal, very normal. Many make that assumption, but it's all nature. Demons exist here, now, in the world, in nature, you know. Really, the word 'demon' shouldn't be used, as it's associated with hell and that's a mostly abstract concept, anyway. Now, if you look at how different religions in Azeroth approach the concept of hell…"

The closer they got to the palace and the oh-so-very familiar sun room, where Pyorin often spent days with the ladies of the court, the more Pyorin wanted to slow down, not get there.

"Ranger Pyorin, may I now… ask you something that's been on my mind, about you, for the last hour or so?"

Why did it feel like Fennore was about to propose marriage or something? Working through that uncomfortable notion left Pyorin with little time to object.

"When I was feeling the chakram, you know the one on your crotch…"

For the first time, of many times to come, "Fennore!"

"I sensed, well, despair. In you. You are terrified of something, Pyorin. It felt to me like… you believe you are on the great edge of something, a cliff, an abyss. Well, however I perceived it—you are ready to give up on yourself, the ones you love, this whole world. That's how much pressure there is. Does that make sense?"

Pyorin had this sinking feeling, that he knew what Fennore was talking about. But then, Pyorin didn't want to think about it. "We don't have time—I don't have the time, Fennore, to worry about stuff like that. A soldier just fights on. It's like being born, you see. Sometimes, life is this bloody, violent, messy business, but you have to keep your head down and get through it. And then it will be better, on the other side." Then, Pyorin hated himself for trying on that silly analogy again, from this morning. Who was he? He wasn't charming, he wasn't good at stuff like that. He was hardly… King Anasterian himself, to go around trying to be that clever. If Pyorin was honest himself, he was pretty stupid, wasn't he?

"You're a poet. Like birth! How amazing… hard times are like the very first hard time any person, creature… demon experiences, like being born. I really liked that—can I use it? I'll give you credit, of course."

Pyorin looked at Fennore like he had two heads. "It wasn't… I'm not good at that, in that way."

"No, that was very insightful. Don't put yourself down so easily."

"…Well, thanks."

"However incorrect your analogy is, about your current situation."

They were now close enough to see the carvings over the windows of that side of the palace. Faces of long-eared Elven cherubs and kneeling does nibbling grapes so peacefully over the miasma of suffering and foolishness burgeoning at the brinks of every glass pane.

Pyorin wondered if he should hand that idea off to Fennore too… "Wait, what did I get wrong? Life is just like that, sometimes."

"Ah, but what if there's just more suffering on the other side, after you keep your head down and you get through? Your better day isn't guaranteed, is it?"

That depressed Pyorin even more. And he looked it.

"Pyorin, you have to make a better day. Don't make excuses for being stuck in your miserable situation, the painful 'oh, that's just the way it is' that you've become used to."

Now they could see the faces of the women beyond the curtains. Some noticed the two men coming toward them, began to wave giddily, flirt.

Why did Pyorin hear snakes hissing at him, though?

"I won't tell you, Pyorin, what I believe is causing you to feel so desperate. If I tell you, you'll just become defensive and wallow in deeper, like a pig in poke. What you need to do is get up and do something about it, face it. That you are a warrior at heart, but you can't confront it… that you can't just go and your shield, your sword, run in and deal with it… that's been driving you a bit crazy, hasn't it?"

"A pig in a poke? So now, I'm a farm animal…"

"Just like that. We were getting somewhere, but you're already resisting me. It's why priests really shouldn't give unsolicited advice. I know that you didn't ask for it, but I wanted to try and give you… something."

Pyorin itched the back of his neck. "Yeah, you gave me something, alright."

"A little flame, I think. A little bud of Light that will grow and bloom... but only if you let it. Pyorin, don't snuff out the Light inside of yourself. You have the power to do whatever it is that you need to do. You shouldn't feel afraid to, and don't fight me on that one either, because I did sense a lot of fear in you, like I said." Fennore waited, really looked Pyorin in the eye, "But I also know that you can make it."

"And now, you're going to ask me to buy your book, or donate to your research, or join your… your cult, or something."

"No." Fennore got very serious, pointed again, spoke with conviction, "I'm here because Ranger-General Sylvanas told me to come and because I miss sex with other Elves."

Pyorin smacked his forehead. And he didn't mean to laugh so heartily at Fennore, either.

"And then there's the paladin thing, too. Right, Fennore? Priest Hollowmare?"

"Oh, right. The Silvermoon resistance movement and all that…"

The two men let their voices quiet down as they approached the doors. A palace guard opened one for them and they went in. The close air in the room, the sallow light from the candelabra, the dust, the deep red hues of the furniture and curtains, it all closed in.

Fennore patted Pyorin on the back, then went to mingle. Pyorin watched four or five finely dress ladies rush into some strange group hug Fennore offered, arms spread, as he neared the podium.

Pyorin knew that he shouldn't, but this amused part of his brain started to wonder what Fennore was like in bed, what a strange priest like that was really offering a woman? Reading their minds and telling them their desires? Asking them to get down on their knees, but not to pray? Telling them that, the way they look in the moonlight is a little succubine. To embrace their inner demoness?

Yeah, the third one. Pyorin turned his back on the scene of Fennore now putting his arms around two women on the couch. Then, Pyorin's large shoulders sagged with good belly laughter. He had to go and excuse himself.

Queen Celestia was waiting for him, around the corner.

"Where have you been? Conspiring with our guest?"

Pyorin tried not to look too surprised to see Celestia. She was sharp, she never missed anything. And he should have guessed that she'd try and get him alone at the first chance.

Celestia led him further into the quiet corner, "There are those… who spy on us. Who conspire against us, Pyorin. I wouldn't want you to make a wrong move. Get caught up in something without meaning to…"

"Nothing like that. He tried to give me some spiritual advice. And… do you know, that Priest Fennore… er… Priest Hollowmare, I think he's a pervert, actually."

Celestia beamed, "I know… oh, he's lovely. It'll be fun to have him while he lasts. He manages to be a parody of all the things the aristocracy gets sick of the little people crowing at us about all the time."

"Oh, do you mean… like the things he preaches. About the Light and… and taking good care of yourself. And caring about other people."

"Well, not that. Well, something like that. The sort of man who would beat us over the heads with alms for the poor, girding our loins, the great healing power of the Light, and how we all need to repent, that sort of message. But he's a hack priest, if I've ever seen one. It's wonderfully funny."

Pyorin wanted to leave the conversation then, but of course he couldn't. Should he?

"A lot of people don't know Uther the Lightbringer, or Prince Arthas personally. I've actually met Arthas, and his father for that matter. They're all… these hippies. Unwashed, uncouth, extremists. People see these men captured in stone, look at paintings and statues, read their speeches that get revised about ten times before they're delivered to the masses… but they're not gods, they're just men. Men who take things like the Plague, far too seriously. So some poor Humans out in the country are dealing with an outbreak of disease, and it's bad. So what, it happens. And why can't they see that as the natural culling of the…" she had to have a breath, she was talking so much, "… well the low-born? That's just nature's way."

Celestia folded up her fan, and slid the strap of it over her wrist, so that it dangled there, with her bracelets. She put a hand on Pyorin's arm, felt up his shoulder. "Anyway, I wandered off what I truly wanted to discuss with you. The thing is, I'm not sure that Fennore's aware of how amusing he is, Sylvanas' lecturer-turned-court-jester. We'll see."

Pyorin touched Celestia's hand, caressed it. But he was looking at the floor.

"Why so glum, hmm? You know, I wanted to apologize for what I did before?"

"What could that possibly be, my queen? You never disappoint me."

She smiled, not at him, perhaps, but the way he looked. Pyorin knew that about the way they were, the way all the men had to be with Celestia, at court. When he first met her he got caught up, and nervous that she wanted more from him. But when the men joined the ladies at other times of the day, Pyorin observed that they all flirted and went through the same thing as him. Well, mostly. They were powerful lords and ministers of government. Pyorin could tell that, compared to them, he was mostly a joke.

If Fennore, who had just arrived, was going to be the court jester, then what was he?

"Well, when Fennore called out like that, 'ladies and gentleman.' I'd been nodding at him, and back to you, for Fennore to say or do anything about the only other man in the room who wasn't part of the furniture."

Heat welled up in Pyorin's chest. He was squeezing Celestia's hand. When he saw that she noticed his reaction, that it began to entice somehow, Pyorin let go of her hand.

"Ah, well… funny."

"No, not really. You poor thing… you just looked so unhappy." She pouted, played with the small, raised embroidered collar of his leather armor, "But you're here to make me happy."

Pyorin smiled, bowed to her. Low, slow, gentile. Then, he backed away to leave. But he couldn't go. The queen had to dismiss him, first.

Celestia smiled, came near again and tapped the fan against her chin. "One last thing, the double Sunthraze, the once heir… I hear he's now in the dungeon. And you were the one who arrested him. Is that true?"

Pyorin was afraid to answer. She had a great deal of information about him, all of a sudden. It almost felt like she knew everything about his real life, his life at the Garrison, with Tempest, with Britecleff. Though, spies were everywhere.

Celestia continued talking to him, whatever his reaction, "The Sunthrazes have gone out of vogue, at court. But I haven't forgotten, I never could… his father and I were close. Family friends. I hate to think of his poor son down in the dungeon. I don't… know them anymore, naturally. But I have cared, I have been paying attention. I didn't think his son had come up a delinquent? And you had arrested him? You do realize it's in the papers by now."

Pyorin looked around, possibly for an escape.

Celestia looked sorrowful, "There isn't much that I can do. He's accused of being a spy and as queen of course, I can't be seen anywhere close to that… but as it's so hard for me to believe, and I'll have someone discreetly look into his chances, on my end, of course… will you, in the meantime, do what you can as his jailor?"

"Technically, he is Advisor Sorn's prisoner, now."

"Oh that—no. Do not worry about Sorn. I'll get him out of your way." Celestia moved them further away, "Now, I don't understand how the keep is set up, but if you bring the young Lord Sunthraze… a pillow, perhaps? A warm meal…" Celestia rolled her wrist, jangling with gold bracelets, "A woman? Something? To make him more comfortable?"

"A woman…" Pyorin set his teeth on edge. An image of Celestia down in the keep and ordering him to shove Tempest into Sunthraze's jail cell where he could have her, Celestia pointing and shouting at him to hand over his girlfriend, that went through Pyorin's mind. And it was starting to make Pyorin very angry. Why was he so obsessed with that pumpkin-headed freak?

"Well, I'm joking. I think I'm joking, if women aren't allowed down there, if they don't do… what are those… conjugals, anymore? But please do something for him, Pyorin. Please. For me? I'd consider it a great favor and reward you accordingly. While we're doing part two of the lecture, will you see to it? It needs to be done before the king returns this evening, you see. He doesn't… have time for things like that. And I'll need to be totally focused on Anasterian when he returns this evening, of course."

Pyorin kissed her cheek, gently. "If only I could do more for you, my queen. I so regret that."

Celestia knew it was all a game. She slipped hands up his chest, resuming their play from before, then she squeezed back down Pyorin's shoulders. "Good. I hope you're keeping track of the score between us. I do mean it. Anything that might help you, please you… And it's so nice of you to take pity on us women when you could be doing something more interesting with your time. But you see, Pyorin, you're clever. You notice things. You are essential and I will certainly call on your skills one day. For something greater than this. You'll see. And don't worry so much, don't look so sad all the time. Whatever is going on out there, this is your real place, in the palace. A good-looking man like you, and as capable as you are, you should be a palace chief of security, a well-off ennobled husband, something like that. The royal palace is where you belong. As soon as I can fix it. You're very, very safe here with me, Pyorin, and I do like you. You must do a good job, however. Don't sulk."

Pyorin straightened up, saluted, "I am honored to serve."

"Remember, I couldn't stand for you to get stuck on the wrong side of things. You've been very useful so far, so don't get involved with the wrong kinds of people. There is an… active effort, to root out everyone conspiring against the throne."

"Surely, lots of people these days make a little extra money, selling secrets. My queen, you're the one paying me to-"

"Everyone. Do tread lightly."

Celestia gave Pyorin's arm one last affectionate squeeze, and then went off to take her seat and enjoy the rest of the event.

Pyorin chided himself for looking weak in front of the queen of Quel'thalas. And then, he appreciated that Celestia didn't ever insist on real reciprocation. Courtly games, that's all they were. And he should have known better, he should not have let what was going on with Tempest and with that… Sunthraze put him in a bad mood and spoil his chances with the more important people, in the palace, in this very room.

Pyorin also respected Celestia very much for not pressuring things so far between them. She was realistic. She knew he was there to have fun, to mingle, make his own connections and climb the ladder. And that was nice of her, in the end, to just let him in after only one nice conversation, at a ball. Really, Pyorin found Celestia intelligent and very capable to just wield people, including the king, as well as she did. He didn't mind getting used… well, she wasn't really using him, and if she was, it was only a little bit. And he was using her, and everyone else in the room back. That's how it worked. Not just in the palace, but in Silvermoon City. Really, everywhere.

Celestia paused and spoke to Fennore before sitting down. He laughed at whatever joke she made, slipped arms around her waist. Pyorin felt a little jealous, he didn't know why. It's not that he wanted Celestia, or did he? Well, Fennore had just got further with her than Pyorin ever had. And, she was fun to look at.

Really fun. Pyorin liked her body. He did fantasize… But many men at court did, too. It was inevitable. Curvaceous Elves weren't easy to find, or easy to get and marry, therefore. King Anasterian was rumored to still be very proud of his catch.

Now, Anasterian, he was frightening. He was a very tough, intolerant man. Strong, yes. Admirable. Impressive. But more like a dragon, less like a person. Pyorin did not like to be in the same room as him. But Queen Celestia, ever watchful, would not let Pyorin serve at the palace on days when her husband was due to be around. As much as he was sworn to protect the House of Sunstrider, being out of Anasterian's way was still something Pyorin was grateful for.

Fennore began the second part of his lecture. "You know, there is a more important matter to discuss these days, other than symptoms of the Plague, which I was at first going to dedicate the afternoon to." Fennore leaned on the podium, raised a pointed finger, "Have any of you ever asked yourselves… 'How can I encourage my partner, my man in the evenings—when he has failed himself?' "

Fennore then waited for them to get it. Slowly, the laughter trickled in. Mainly because Celestia had begun fanning herself once more, and holding back her own laughter.

"That is, when your husband, or your lover, comes up… unsuccessful. Or, doesn't come up at all—"

Now, riotous laughter from all the women in the room. Celestia, of course, could not be seen to empathize, though she smiled enough behind the fan to let others know she would allow it.

"Sexual dysfunction is a cause of many frustrations in our modern society. And if a man, or a woman, tries to meet the day but is so disappointed from the night before, well… government doesn't matter, Prince Arthas doesn't matter—the Plague doesn't matter! So, let's fix what's going on in our bedrooms!" Fennore looked far too pleased to be on this topic, "And let's take an example from demon physiology and mating rituals. Now, if you were one in a harem of demonesses, your friendly neighborhood dreadlord, when he is ready to breed, he sort of stands…well, like this. With his hips in the receptive position." And Fennore stood beside the podium, beginning to act it out, "And it's interesting, when he's aroused, he actually…"

Pyorin remembered that Celestia had given him permission to go, "The double Sunthraze…right." And chose that moment to leave the room.

As Pyorin walked down the grand hallways of the Sunspire, thinking of Sunthraze who was so far beneath his feet, he wondered what he should do. What did he even want to do for that punk?

Funny, that Celestia thought Sunthraze needed a pillow to make him feel better about being a royal prisoner, "So, it's either a pillow or… whatever Fennore said."

Pyorin became solemn. Well, he could tell himself he was mainly concerned about being able to use his powers, as a paladin, so that was why he was going to care. Or that it was about unclogging his chakram… which, Pyorin wasn't really convinced was an actual theory or principle. It sounded more like another weird sex thing, coming from Fennore. Wait, was he…? Anyway…

There was probably still a way out of it, though. To avoid it facing it. Avoid it like everything else. Why not just send Sunthraze a paltry pillow, with his compliments? Make that fool's suffering only a little more comfortable… But the idea of avoiding something, ignoring the problem, yet again was starting to make Pyorin feel sick.

So maybe there really was a… clog. Somewhere.

And then, Pyorin was seeing himself. With a shield and sword raised. Mad as ever, and charging down that grand hallway. An army of chanting Amani Trolls, scheming Celestias, brawling Sunthrazes, gyrating Tempests, Britecleff scowling and tossing that leather ball from one hand to another, and a lot of other people who were pissing him off, all crowded there, daring him.

Pyorin set his teeth on edge. He made a fist, kept squeezing it… yeah, not being able to throw himself into the battle was making him furious, wasn't it? But, for months, more than a year, he hadn't known. Pyorin hadn't even asked himself if he was alright. He didn't dare presume he could do anything about all the pressure. He assumed he wasn't good enough, that so many people were better than him, knew better. But that didn't matter. He was a fighter at heart, he always was. Pyorin knew that he relished the challenge, he was hungry for it. In fact, he wanted to kick some faces in, but that wasn't a bad thing. It was just about where to strike, when and how. And believing that he could.

Seeing this, for the first time, it was like seeing the sun come from behind a cloud, at last. It made Pyorin feel so powerful. Yes, there was a way…

"It must be about that time, to find out what kind of a man I really am."

Whoever this Fennore was… he was good.