2 – For Future Reference
The dining hall was actually two elongated stores knocked into one dilatant and impressive room which could accommodate around one hundred and seventy diners.
The otherwise cold stone walls were adorned with huge, finely detailed tapestries and various coats of arms representing the transection of races which would form the guild. Many of these exquisite, and in some cases slightly gruesome, works of art, had been gifted to Sa'themar by some very influential clients who had been more than delighted when he announced he was going to inaugurate his own guild.
The floor, made of the same solid stone as the walls had been vigorously buffed and polished to a high-quality sheen, the embedded mithril deposits giving an almost iridescent look to it.
Tables, long and sturdy were basic in design but made from the best timber available - Ashenvale Oak. The grain, having been stained many times over to produce a deep, rich mahogany colour, was a trend favoured by the consequential establishments of the day. Benches were lined under the tables which normally would be simple hard seating for students, but on this evening, they were draped in soft furs to provide comfort for the guests attending the grand opening.
At the top of the room on a broad platform was the head table. It was not as basic as its counterparts on the hall floor. Its edging and legs were embellished with detailed mouldings depicting the ornate emblem of the high elves and the sigil for Lordaeron and its Capital City. This would be where the guild master and his senior staff, or guests of a venerate disposition would be seated. No benches here, instead, elaborate high-backed chairs, with identical mouldings to that of the table, provided padded, comfortable seating for elite posteriors.
Above their heads, five large dark iron chandeliers hung from the ceilings between the wooden beams. These tiered lights had been made by Don's father. The bases were constructed from cartwheels, their rims whittled out to provide bedding for candles. Trimmed in iron bands, six solid chains supported their weight and provided a frame where the smith's creativity was well displayed. He had woven ornate iron candelabras between the chains, each offering a setting for more candles, numbers tapering to the thick loop on which the chains interlocked. One heavy duty chain then held the entire creation suspended above the diners. More free standing candelabras were lined along the walls and so the enormous hall had more than adequate lighting.
To the rear of the hall, a double door led through and down to the kitchens. Wafting up from the extensive scullery, the aroma of roasted meats, spiced stuffing, game pies, fresh breads, sweet potatoes and honeyed pumpkins permeated the hall. Judging by the looks of anticipation on the faces of the diners, the pending fare had already been awarded their veritable approval.
Cooks had been busy since the day before preparing a banquet fit for a king. Appropriate, considering the king of Lordaeron, being an enthusiastic advocate of new businesses and professions in his city, had in fact been invited. Regrettably, he had declined Sa'themar's invitation due to important state affairs which he explained, could not be adjourned. King Terenas wrote a genuine apology for being unable to attend, for he was most exuberant that Sa'themar had decided to actuate his own guild (having made use of the rogue's services in the past and been most pleased with the results). He did, however, insist that he be represented at such a significant event and announced that Queen Lianne and their daughter, Princess Calia would attend in his absence.
As a thank you for their contributions, efforts, resources, loyalty and dedication, this was mainly a celebration for those actively involved with the guild, however, there were to be a few other notable dignitaries also in attendance.
From Quel'thalas, Belo'vir Salonar a prestigious magus and friend of Sa'themar, was from one of the seven noblest families in the high elven realm. The House of Salonar had a seat in the Convocation of Silvermoon enabling it to have great influence in the rule of the high elf kingdom. Belo'vir, who had fought valiantly in the Troll Wars and had proven time and again an auspicious ability in the art of magic, now looked set to being appointed Grand Magister. It was not, however, a position which was expeditiously bestowed upon one; it was a long, laborious process. The magus was, nonetheless, a patient man and one who knew his worth.
He was due to arrive along with another magus, one who, by all accounts had been a most illustrious contributor to the creation of Quel'thalas. It was rumoured that he was very ambitious young man, with an eye on the title of Grand Magister himself, although he was not presently being considered. He was according to rumour, assiduously talented in arcane manipulation and considered a worthy ally to have. Sa'themar was looking forward to meeting him.
The dwarves, not to be outdone in noble representation had King Magni himself making an appearance. Truth be told he was actually coming to the city to attend an audience with the human king.
His business was actually part of the reason King Terenas could not attend the banquet at Crimson Blade. Regardless, when he got wind of the new enterprise and the festivities he was quick to jump in when heard King Terenas had declined and was sending his Queen and daughter in his stead.
Always one for a decent mug (or two) of ale and first class fare, he advised the king of Lordaeron that as he was certain the state business needing to be discussed would be concluded by early evening he thought it only prudent to escort the Queen and Princess - merely as a courtesy, of course, to King Terenas.
The night elf representation was being kept a closely guarded secret. Much supposition abounded, although it remained in cloistered whispers. Only a few high elves really knew about them after all. Being descendants, although their paths seldom crossed due to the rather contumacious nature of the night elves since the months after War of the Ancients, the race was seldom seen or indeed mentioned. News about them was also rare, although Sa'themar had never wanted to completely lose contact with his roots so the rogue network managed to deliver snippets of information, albeit on an irregular basis.
Was it going to be the maniacal Archdruid Fandral Staghelm perhaps? It was doubtful, the elf was undeniably powerful but also unstable, particularly since the death of his son in Silithis. He was also, by nature, extremely irritable, so was not really the ideal dinner guest to have.
Perhaps it was going to be his contender for Leadership of the Night Elves, High Priestess of Elune, Tyrande Whisperwind. It was common knowledge that the woman was a true beauty who possessed a shrewd brain along with an unequalled grace. Or, perhaps her mate, the Archdruid Malfurion Stormrage had returned?
Speculation that the latter was still lost in the Emerald Nightmare created one or two chuckles amongst those not of night elven heritage; the seriousness of the Archdruid's predicament being lost on them.
One other astute brain, however, doubted very much it was any of those night elven hierarchy. Sauren's mind worked through all the history he knew, but the immortal diner still remained elusive to his power of deduction. It was, in truth, the only part of this evening's festivities he was looking forward to; the revelation he hoped, would not be an anti-climax.
While he was suitably impressed by all the individuals who had come to offer their services be it in construction, training, assignments, administration, even down to the housekeepers and cooks, the thought of sitting for goodness knows how long and having to play the part of perfect host was not how he favoured spending his evening. At least, not now.
Leaning against the stables door frame, he watched in disgruntled silence as the Crimson Blade recruits milled about making their way towards the dining hall. He knew he had to enter soon and stand with his father, where he would need to greet all other guests in the customary fashion. His mind was elsewhere though.
He glanced down at his hand. Just as Don had said, the list was in the usual place; at the back of the stables tucked into Sauren's saddle via the small incision he'd made with his anelace.
Loosely, he held the folded piece of parchment. He flicked it over, weaving it between his slender fingers. The names and details were emblazoned on his brain. His lips curled in quiet contemplation.
Patience was indeed a virtue, he thought. All those vile little upstarts who for years had ridiculed him dishonoured him and his family name with their taunts and filthy missiles launched at his person were now due for some payback. He had wanted every detail about their families; their kin, their jobs if any, likes, dislikes, fears and phobias, everything he could use for dramatic effect.
He sighed, lifting his brown eyes for a moment to watch the crowd entering the dining hall.
This was not, as some may have considered it, just a petty revenge. This was a lesson in life – firstly for those on the list. A lesson which would indubitably teach them to never underestimate him; a half-breed, ever again.
This was also going to be a lesson for himself. The way of the rogue, the assassin, was always personified by their ability to meld with the shadows and absorb their surroundings rendering them invisible to their victims. This was the one field Sauren had focused on fiercely and practised every day without fail. It was a trait in which it was extraordinarily easy to err, and it needed honing with pure dedication. In stealth, therefore, he knew he possessed an unprecedented skill.
He pushed himself away from the door frame and started towards the hall. On the way, he passed a brazier near the portcullis at the entrance to the grounds. Deftly, he dropped the note into the crackling heat.
The yellow and orange flames reflected in his deep brown eyes, their dance curling around the parchment turning it black until it disintegrated within the iron base. A satisfied grin crept over his mouth before he continued to the open doors of the dining hall.
As he passed under the lintel, Brett unexpectedly appeared beside him. Sauren could not disguise the fact that the human rogue had startled him and he took a couple of rapid steps backwards, colliding with one of the candelabras.
Brett quickly caught the boy by the arm and pulled him to the side while straightening the candelabra. Normally, within these walls, such an ambuscade was met with good humour, but on this night, in front of so many important guests, Sauren was sorely affronted to have been taken by surprise.
"Kindly think before such foolery!" Sauren snapped, smoothing down his waistcoat and jacket. He inspected the shoulders to ensure no wax or worse, burn marks had been acquired. When he turned his eyes to Brett he was infuriated more to find the human rogue smirking.
"What's got into your britches?" Brett said still looking amused.
Sauren straightened. With a concentrated effort, he relaxed. He chose his words carefully. Belore forbid that Brett should think he was being apologised to. "Tonight is not a night for such pranks, Brett. I would have thought you of all people would have understood that." He watched as Brett's grin started to fade.
Then he planted another foundation. "It is not fitting for our guests to see the guild's right-hand man make a fool out of his future guild master." Sauren casually glanced around the hall before turning his attention back to Brett. He forced his lips to remain tight as he noted the human's expression had changed dramatically.
Brett swallowed, took a deep breath then leaned in, so only the boy heard. "You may be guild master one day, Sauren, but you will be a conceited little bastard for life."
At that, Sauren did smirk. The normally placid man had foolishly attempted to place some boundaries of his own. After picking off some loose blond hairs which had settled on his jacket sleeve and discarding them in mid-air he turned and held Brett's stare. "For future reference, I may also produce an heir one day Brett, who will succeed me. Something, by the way, I think you and Mrs Hornsby should be focusing on before time runs out."
It took Brett Hornsby all he had not to react to that comment. He had tried, sometimes very hard, to warm to the boy.
Playing such tricks on him as he had done just then, he had tried to include him in fun games and exercises from when he was a nipper, as he had done with all the kids that ran around their respective homes in the city. Fair dues to the boy, he had participated readily enough, but there was just something amiss.
Even though his loyalty and friendship with Sa'themar was solid, Brett sensed a side to Sauren which he could only describe as dangerously unpredictable. The little swine now seemed to know his most private concerns. He knew without a doubt that his personal discussions with Sa'themar would never have been discussed at the Nightflame dinner table, but it niggled him to think that they had somehow reached Sauren's devious half-elf ears.
Many a time he had thought he was being unreasonable in his assumption about the lad and voiced so to Mary, his wife. She'd massage his tired shoulders and listen to him trying to rationalise his thoughts and feelings. All the while she smiled wistfully, believing his misgivings were all rooted in the fact that they did not have a son of their own.
Sa'themar arrived at their side. Sauren's demeanour changed immediately. "Father," he greeted, bowing his head with respect.
The guild master smiled at his son and placed a paternal hand on his shoulder. "Come, we have guests and a duty." He nodded to Brett then turned towards the base of the platform on which the main table sat.
There they awaited the human and dwarven nobility who had just passed through the portcullis. A large shimmering light source in the courtyard also heralded the arrival by portal of the high elves from Quel'thalas. Sa'themar straightened, nudging his son to do likewise. He then quickly glanced around the hall to ensure everyone else was standing in readiness to greet his royal guests, before returning his attention to the door.
Royal guards marched in and took their places at opposite sides of the doorway. More poured into the hall, their mail and plate armour clinking as they moved, before stopping just a few short yards in front of Sa'themar. There, they turned to face each other and made a unified salute slamming their lance bases on the floor. They adopted a rigid stance, awaiting their queen to enter.
Wearing a teal coloured gown and matching cloak, the graceful figure of Queen Lianne appeared at the entrance of the dining hall. She was indeed a striking and somewhat imposing woman, very much befitting of noble blood.
She was not however aloof, and with a radiant smile readily stretched out her hand to greet Sa'themar as she approached. He took it, brushing his lips against her rings, bowing deeply, his hair falling forward over his shoulders and almost touching the ground.
A small giggle sounded from behind the queen. She flitted her eyes to the side in warning but returned her gaze quickly to her host. "Good evening Sa'themar. It is wonderful to see you again."
"Your Majesty, you are most gracious and very welcome to the Crimson Blade."
He released her hand and stood straight again, his height dwarfing the woman without diminishing her regality. She leaned a little closer. "I for one, am most pleased that Terenas was unable to make it, and sent me instead. I look forward to this evening." She laughed quietly.
Sa'themar's soft laughter rumbled in his chest. "I would have insisted he bring you with him had he accepted, your Majesty."
She pouted then laughed again. "He would just have spoiled my fun, Sa'themar." Her smile broadened then her eyes turned to Sauren. For a moment she simply smiled at him, taking in his attire and poise. She had heard of but never met the boy. "And you must be..."
"Forgive me, your Majesty..." Sa'themar started. "This is Sauren, my son."
The queen held out her hand and the young boy greeted and addressed her in the same fashion as his father had. "Why, aren't you just a paragon of your father," she smiled. Sauren bowed his head again in response.
"He is the image of his mother, however," Sa'themar said proudly.
The queen continued smiling. "Yes, I can see it. He has Elmina's eyes and her complexion. But he is also very much a Nightflame, Sa'themar, there is no mistaking his heritage."
Sauren listened with growing agitation at being spoken of as if he was not present. He knew however that he should not dare display such annoyance in the presence of the monarchy. He was also, nonetheless, quite adept at making someone reconsider their method of address, regardless of who they were.
"Thank you, your Majesty, your words are most kind and flattering." He offered. "May I also take this opportunity to say that I am most honoured you have graced us with your divine presence at our celebrations." He bowed low although his eyes never left hers.
Sa'themar's eyebrows twitched and he glanced sideways at his son. The sentiment had not been from his tutelage, that had been entirely Sauren's own words.
Queen Lianne was unable to contain a small gasp. Sauren could not help but notice how her bosom heaved within the tight restraints of her corseted gown. "My, you are quite the gentleman, Sauren." Queen Lianne said in a rushed breath.
The boy straightened and gave one of his charming smiles, the perfect teeth on clear display. "You are too kind, your Majesty." He released her hand and took a step backwards.
The Queen seemed somewhat flummoxed and it was a tiny cough behind her which brought her back to the moment. She turned and beckoned the one who coughed.
Princess Calia emerged from behind her mother. The girl could be no more than ten maybe eleven years of age, but already with her blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, it was obvious she was destined to be a beautiful woman. She afforded the customary greetings, coaxed by her mother, but there was a coyness about her and she blushed profusely when both Sa'themar and Sauren spoke to her. She was quick to step back behind her mother once the introductions were over.
Queen Lianne stepped aside as a gruff voice grunted then cleared its throat.
From her left King Magni appeared. Next to the elves, he was positively tiny, but he was broad and without question, strong. Most of his red hair was pulled back and tied with a leather thong while two thick plaits hung either side of his ruddy face. The characteristic large nose sat above a moustache and beard which had been strenuously brushed and plaited, adorned with engraved rings that clinked like tiny bells when he moved his head.
This was a man who wore his armour with pride. It had been buffed to a high sheen and his fur mantle hung from one shoulder. There was no doubt if this dwarf charged you, you were not going to regain your feet in a hurry.
"Sa'themar!" he said brusquely and offered his hand.
The high elf shook with him. "Your Majesty," he replied.
"Ach, let's be done wi' the Majesties. Jist ca' me Magni, it's less of a mouthful."
"I would not wish to disrespect ..." Sa'themar began, but the dwarf king cut him off.
"Dinnae dae as I say and that will be looked upon as disrespect!" King Magni responded with a twinkle in his beady eyes.
Sa'themar smiled. "Very well, Magni. I bid you welcome to the Crimson Blade. Eat plenty and be merry."
The dwarf huffed. "Oh, ah intend tae! Now whar oo sittin'," he said before remembering to greet Sauren. He quickly shook the boy's hand and grunted a greeting. Sauren was not in the least bit offended, he instantly liked the king.
Magni led Queen Lianne and her daughter to their seats, while more Royal guards stood behind them.
Next to enter the dining hall was not the high elves as the hosts expected, but instead a lone figure with their face obscured by a large hood.
Sauren felt a tingle of excitement. Here was the mysterious night elf representative and Sauren was desperately trying to work out who it was as the figure started its approach.
A purposeful stride, with a confident posture. From beneath the cloak, Sauren could make out a glint of green armour and a sword in an elaborate scabbard. He noted the sigil on the breastplate. Then the puzzle fell into place. The answer it gave to his probing mind had a hard time registering the fact, however. This individual had been presumed dead for thousands of years.
Sauren looked at his father. The guild master seemed oddly uncertain of the advancing night elf. He had assumed at least his father had known who to expect. With a quick glance at night elf, gauging the distance remaining between them he whispered the question to Sa'themar. "Do you know who this is, father?"
Sa'themar looked at his son from the side then quickly returned his attention to the night elf. "Yes son, I know who he is. Though, few have met ..." His voice trailed off as the night elf came to a halt in front of him. The hooded figure offered an almost regimental bow. Sa'themar mirrored him. "I am honoured that you have chosen to join us..."
"I did not," a deep voice answered. "Time has chosen for me." He rounded his shoulders "And I was in the vicinity," he added with just the slightest hint of humour. He pulled his hood down. The elf was considerably older than Sauren had expected, for the night elves had been blessed with the gift of immortality by an aspect of the bronze dragonflight, Nozdormu the Timeless One. This elf, however, looked like age was finally catching up with him.
Sauren noticed from the lack of reaction within the hall few, if any, other than the smattering of night elves in the company, knew who this man was. He sensed also, it was how the man wanted it. Though why he would come to the Crimson Blade celebrations of all places if he wished to remain incognito puzzled the young boy.
His father wore a forlorn smile then turned to him. "Sauren, this is..."
"Commander Shadowsong," Sauren finished. For the second time that evening, Sa'themar was once more surprised by his son, but he tried not to show it in front of guests. Sauren bowed to the night elf. "It is an honour, Commander."
The night elf's silver orbs held the boys stare, then slowly he offered him the same polite bow. Sauren watched as he alighted the platform and went to sit beside Princess Calia.
Finally, the Quel'thalas delegates arrived in front of them. Dressed in the crimson and yellow colours pertaining to the Silvermoon insignia of the Phoenix, they looked every bit the affluent magic wielders from the land which harboured the powerful Sunwell.
"Old friend," Sa'themar said reaching for Belo'vir's arm. They clasped forearms in a warm greeting.
"It is good to see you Sa'themar, it has been far too long." Belo'vir enthused.
"Indeed, yet you have not changed."
The magus laughed heartily. "Oh, I can assure you I have. The years, however, have been good to you, I see. And a fine young son to show for it, too." He turned his eyes to Sauren who bowed in greeting.
This was the first time the boy had met the aspiring magus from Quel'thalas. He had to admit he seemed an affable man going by first impressions.
Belo'vir spoke again to Sa'themar. "I hope we will have some time to reminisce, however, for now, let me introduce you..." he indicated the high elf standing next to him.
The companion did not look as if there were many years between him and Sauren, though going by what he had allegedly achieved, he should have been considerably older. He had, what perhaps those of the female persuasion may consider, a handsome face, framed in light brown hair which he wore loose over his shoulders and back. His azure eyes were bright, alert and intelligent.
Perhaps this legendary Sunwell was also a fountain of youth, the boy thought, although he had not read any documentation to evidence that assumption. The man stepped forward and his smile was certainly charming. He bowed with a flourish to the two Nightflames. As he straightened, he tilted his head at Sauren, almost like an inquisitive child.
Belo'vir had deliberately waited until his companion had stepped forward and greeted his hosts. "This is one of the individuals responsible for creating our beloved Quel'thalas and Silvermoon City..." His companion smirked, obviously relishing the accolade. "This is Dar'khan Drathir."
Sauren and the young magus locked eyes. There was something of a quiet understanding passed between the two. Both recognising the need for more knowledge and power, which each craved. Sauren inclined his head to the young magus.
It seemed the evening might be more entertaining than he had first thought.