3 – An Aberrant Dreamer
The abundance of premium food with exceptional quality wines and ale made for a very pleasurable start to the evening at the Crimson Blade headquarters. Blended with some humorous, compelling and often stimulating conversations, it all bespoke a successful grand opening.
Loud chatter and raucous laughter erupted from some of the guests in the hall. The culprits would glance up to the top table as if seeking reassurance that their behaviour was not offending the royal presence within the hall. No recriminating looks nor words of warning were conveyed and so the atmosphere remained relaxed and free.
Serving staff made sure there was fare aplenty for the guests, replenishing empty platters and goblets alike.
It had been at Sa'themar's insistence that they too partake of the celebrations, for they, in his eyes, were as much part of the guild as any of the trainers, advisors or administrators were. The staff, therefore, worked a rota basis so that they too could enjoy the festivities, a separate table for them having been allocated at the edge of the hall.
A young woman, dressed in simple staff attire made to sit at the table with some of her colleagues when one of the male occupants at a table close by shouted her name.
She looked up, blushed furiously then went to sit beside her co-workers. She budged up along the end of the bench, trying to hide behind one of her friends. With a furtive glance over their shoulder at the man who had tried to grab her attention, she promptly lowered her head again and started placing some food on her plate from the available platters.
Laughter erupted from the others at the table opposite along with some playful shoulder slapping of the man who had tried to capture her attention. The woman's cheeks were rosy, her silver eyes avoiding the table of rogues.
A cheer rose as one of the men swung his legs over the bench and stood up, facing the woman. She sneaked a look from under her lashes. Her head slowly came up. She was clearly surprised, for the man who shouted her name was not the one who approached.
This one was an elf, like her. He tugged his tunic down and straightened the fabric of his jacket. Nervously, he ran his fingers through the sides of his hair, clearing stray strands away from his face. He looked almost as awkward as the woman did. His colleagues relentlessly egged him on, laughing and cheering.
He turned to them, his face showing annoyance. Enough! he mouthed at them. Silence befell the rogues. For a moment. Then they were stricken with small guffaws.
The elf sighed heavily, then moved forward until he drew to a halt beside the woman. He bowed deeply and spoke to her, holding out his hand at the same time. Whatever he said, the woman seemed to like it. Her hand rose and accepted the rogue's gallant gesture. He bent low and brushed his lips across her knuckles.
His colleagues all applauded. The two elves grinned at them then turned their attention back to each other.
A pair of brown eyes watched the exchange with mild irritation from the top table. Tossing a rib on his plate, Sauren picked up his napkin and dabbed the corners of his mouth. He had noted the woman's change in reaction once she realised it was her own kind who was interested in her. She had been mortified when she thought it was the human who wanted a dalliance with her.
It seemed the old prejudices abounded, even within other races. Or perhaps she simply did not find the human attractive. Sauren grinned a little to himself and his initial mood lifted as he thought about it more. The human, athletically built as he was, would still have been dwarfed by the female elf. It would have been a comical coupling if nothing else.
If he were totally honest, other people's preferences for a mate did not bother him. It was only when that bigoted attitude was cast at his own family that he vehemently objected.
His eyes drifted over the room, absorbing every interaction between guests. To his recurring annoyance, he found he was particularly drawn to those engaging in affectionate conduct. He leaned on his fist, disgruntled with himself.
The capacious opportunity afforded this night to glean information on persons of import -tactics, strategies in covert operations, tips on devious deeds was preposterous; yet, here he was inexplicably drawn to the amatory behaviour of a handful of those present.
Their soft laughter, tender glances, coy smiles, the not-so-secret brushing of fingers on table surfaces drew his eyes. There was little he did not see. But there much more he did not fully understand.
He also noted those in the room who were displaying parental affection to their youngsters. Not that there were many present, but those who were going to be permanently based at the guild had their offspring in tow.
So, it was not just the raging hormones of a young boy that made him observe all these exchanges, but also that of one who was often unbearably lonely. He did not know from where this feeling of emptiness came, but it often plagued him, had done from when he was a young boy.
His thoughts turned inward and he found himself thinking of his mother. He had not known her, but he sorely wished he had. She had died shortly after giving birth to him. For many years his father did not speak of her either; his silence containing the pain of losing the only woman he had ever truly loved.
It had taken Sauren's disobedience that finally made Sa'themar open up about Elmina. A keen collector of art, his father had, over the years, acquired many beautiful paintings, some of which he had specially commissioned.
Most were landscapes, a favourite being those of his homeland, Quel'thalas, or amazing creatures found throughout Azeroth.
Some, however, were of ancestors, all handed down through the years and others were of existing family surviving somewhere in Azeroth; all, he later found out, were too occupied with their own dramas to be remotely interested Sauren and his father. They nonetheless adorned the walls of the Nightflame home and from an early age, Sauren learned to appreciate the many artists whose brushes had so skillfully created such detail and beauty.
One day, when his father was away from home, Sauren had been passing the doorway to his father's study. It was a room Sauren was not permitted to enter. On this occasion, however, a housemaid was busy doing her chores within and curiosity bested him so he stole quietly inside then hid behind the heavy drapes at the large window.
When he heard the soft click of the door closing he ventured out from his hiding place. He froze momentarily as he then heard the loud clunk and scrape of the key locking the room. He was trapped now. He knew it would not be long before voices calling his name would sound through the halls and rooms, but he doubted anyone would think to check the study, at least not to begin with.
He sensed he would be in there for quite some time so he decided to do what he came in to do; snoop.
Glass display cases were lined along two of the walls. Within was an assortment of collectables, memorabilia – blades of varying size and design; coins made of copper, silver and gold with strange symbols and persons no doubt of high importance embossed upon them. Trinkets made of exotic metals, some with exquisite gems lay in regimental lines. He wondered if they were magical or merely ornamental. He wished he could have picked them up but the cases were locked and he knew not where the keys were kept.
He moved forward towards his father's desk. It was kept immaculate, the leather surface unmarked; probably just as good as it had been the day it was made.
Bottles of ink and quills were arranged in a sectional silver box. Wax blocks and a signet bearing his father's family coat of arms sat next to them. A tray on one side of the desk held some parchment while yet another contained official-looking letters and documents.
Even then the young Sauren knew they would not be the super secret ones which his father kept locked in a hidden alcove behind one of the paintings in his bedchamber.
Sa'themar was unaware that his son practised stealthing about the house. Granted Sauren was not actually able to achieve that then, but, having overheard the accounts of some of the business colleagues his father had invited to their home on occasion, he liked to pretend he could, as if he was one of them; a rogue. He was, though, very adept at finding places to hide.
A sensation at the back of his neck, like he was being watched, had the boy suddenly rooted to the spot. His little heart was pounding, nervous that his father had somehow entered unheard and was standing behind him glaring down at his blond head, furious at his disobedience.
Nervously, with his eyes cast down, he turned slowly. He was bewildered when he didn't find a pair of leather-booted feet in his sights. The feeling of being watched however had not left him. Lifting his head, his view travelled along the floor and into a darkened recess. He gulped, panicked that he had not noticed this as he'd circled the desk. His eyes continued up the far wall. Then, his breath caught in his throat.
Sa'themar had returned home earlier than expected and after frantically searching the house, shouting accusations at the servants and slamming doors in panic, he found his son.
The housemaid who had been cleaning the study bumped into Sa'themar as she ran into the room behind him, apologising profusely for not having noticed the boy entering earlier.
The high elf merely raised his hand to silence her, then softly, over his shoulder asked her to leave them.
She caught sight of Sauren, sitting cross-legged on the floor staring into the recess, his little face tilted up, full of wonder. She clasped her hand to her mouth, a tear escaping, trickling over her cheek before she then turned and left the room.
Once Sa'themar heard the click of the door closing, he stepped carefully towards his son.
At the age of five, Sauren saw his mother for the first time. There on the wall in the recess, lit by a candle on a tall ornamental stand at either side, was a portrait of a human female. Her long brown hair was draped over one shoulder, falling over the bodice of a beautiful white gown, embroidered with golden thread.
She stood in front of a latticed archway which was adorned with roses in pale, pastel colours. Her large eyes were like Sauren's, warm mahogany and her smile, though subtle was unmistakably his also.
Sauren had never felt so safe in his short life until that moment. There was something which reached out from that painting, something he knew was meant only for him. He could feel the love she would have showered upon him had she lived.
When he heard the soft footfalls approaching from his left, he lifted his eyes to his father. They were brimming, threatening to spill at any moment. Sa'themar struggled to contain his own tears. He opened his arms to his son. "Sauren," he said, his voice breaking with sorrow.
"Sauren." Again more purposefully. "Sauren!"
Jolted back to the present, the sixteen-year-old boy blinked then bowed his head. "Forgive me, father."
"Me'doreu thenoam, da'dort,"* Sa'themar replied. He was not angry with his son, he had merely needed to get his attention.
Sauren smiled appreciatively then shifted in his chair. "What is it you require of me?"
Sa'themar gestured behind Sauren. Turning, the boy saw the young magus standing. A curious expression on his face, Dar'khan waited in polite silence until Sa'themar explained. "Perhaps you would give Dar'khan a tour of the guild grounds? I am sure sitting at a table of elders is not exactly entertaining for you younglings."
Sauren raised a quizzical eyebrow, glancing in the direction of Princess Calia. His father grinned and shook his head. "I think her being alone with two young men would be frowned upon."
"Some of the guards could escort us." Sauren suggested.
Again his father smiled. "The girl is too painfully shy, and I think she would be uncomfortable out of her mother's company."
Sauren nodded and carefully pushed back his chair. He bowed to Commander Shadowsong who returned the gesture with a mere nod of his head. He then approached Queen Lianne. "I hope you will excuse us for the time being, Your Majesty, it has been requested that I give the magus Dar'khan a tour," he smiled, bowing once more.
Queen Lianne was noticeably impressed by the young man's manners. She had warmed to the boy, finding him utterly charming. "Think nothing of it young master Sauren. We will hopefully enjoy your company again when you return."
He chanced a look at the young princess, but she ducked behind her mother's arm when their eyes met. Before he left the table with Dar'khan he afforded another bow, this time to king Magni who simply gave a curt nod with a grunt as he rammed some boar meat into his mouth and washed it over with a generous swallow of ale. Sauren tried not to grin.
He gestured for Dar'khan to step ahead of him and the magus obliged in a flamboyant manner. As they made their way to the doors Sauren's eyes drifted over some of the guests one more time; his earlier reverie still lingering in his thoughts. Once they were outside in the courtyard, however, the young magus drew all of Sauren's attention.
"Well now," Dar'khan began, swirling around so his cloak buffeted high around himself, settling slowly to cover his slender frame. Sauren looked at him with a high degree of incredulity. "I do so hope you are not going to bore me with showing me rooms full of books, paintings, armour, lavish furnishings and the likes," Dar'khan concluded.
"Then what else, pray tell, do you think there is to see?"
The magus offered a sly smile. "Come now, young master Sauren," he mimicked the queen's tone. Sauren's eyes darkened at the slight. "Material things are of no consequence to me, I can create what I wish as I am sure you have been made aware."
It did not take long for Sauren to decide this loathsome individual would never be considered a friend. However, he did recall that it had been said he would be a worthy ally and as the two things did not necessarily go hand in hand, he thought it prudent to hear what the supercilious young man had to say. "Then please, do enlighten me."
Dar'khan's mouth curved into a pretentious smile. "I have an affinity with those who are, how shall I say... prone to engineering their path in life with an unprecedented skill."
Sauren smirked. He crossed his arms and leaned back against a supporting pillar for the overhead walkway. "Is that merely self-descriptive, or an attempt at flattery?"
Dar'khan laughed haughtily then leaned in. "Why, both of course."
Sauren couldn't keep a small laugh at bay. "And just how have you arrived at that conclusion?"
"You fit my criteria as a potential ally in shaping the history of Azeroth."
At that, Sauren laughed heartily. The magus eyed him with a degree of lassitude. "You are a truly aberrant dreamer, Dar'khan, I will give you that. Every living creature will contribute somehow to the history of our lands. So step down from your pompous pedestal, for you do not own the monopoly of creation. You may have shaped Quel'thalas and given the High Elves a home which warrants the title of being the Quel'dorei Jewel of the North, but constructing bricks and mortar whether it be by manual labour or through magic, is still just that; bricks and mortar."
He waited for a response. Dar'khan crossed his arms too, then raised one and cupped his chin in his hand. Silently, he studied the young blond in front of him. "You are correct, of course," the wily magus replied. Sauren was caught off guard; he had not expected him to admit that his notoriety played a vapid relevance to the lofty ideal he had voiced earlier. "You look surprised, Sauren."
The half-breed took a moment to compose himself. "Surprised? Merely intrigued, Dar'khan."
The magus made a show of looking around the courtyard, taking in the buildings, the towers, the stables. "All this will be yours one day, yes?"
Sauren's eyes narrowed just slightly. "One day, yes." He wondered where the flamboyant magus was going with this. He pushed himself away from the pillar and with hands clasped behind his back, circled Dar'khan.
"I know that you intend to serve justice to those who have shamed you." The magus said matter-of-factly.
Sauren controlled his reaction to this news. The jury was still out on Dar'khan Drathir, so he would tread very carefully. "I will not insult your intelligence by accusing you of childish fabrication, nor shall I admit to such a tenuous connivance. But also, do not dare to besmirch my acumen by thinking you can make me bend to your will."
"Is that what you think I am trying to do here?" the magus feigned effrontery. Sauren could not help but smile. Dar'khan smiled back.
"I think you are devious, that is for sure, and perhaps not quite as clever as you think you are. Make no mistake Dar'khan, I am no fool. In my few years in this world, I have learned much and I will not allow anyone to make a fool of me or my family. You would be wise to take heed."
In a theatrical flurry, Dar'khan wound the red cape around his body, and he protruded his chin in a somewhat bombastic manner. "I am capaciously warned then Sauren Nightflame. I do so look forward to future meetings with you."
Sauren inclined his head and waited for the magus to step forward. After he had reached the doorway to the dining hall, Sauren followed. He watched as Dar'khan resumed his seat next to Bel'ovir and slowly he made his way back to his.
As he sat down, he heard the dulcet tone of Queen Lianne. "Glad to have you back, Sauren. You may entertain me now." She turned her blue eyes towards him. There was a look in them he was unfamiliar with, yet strangely, his body responded in its customary fashion of these days when in the presence of a beautiful woman.
He glanced away and nervously draped his napkin over his lap before reaching for his goblet.
He may have handled the deceptive magus well enough, but a queen with a lecherous look in her eye would require completely different tactics.