BEYOND THE SETTING SUN
A Warcraft fanfic by Alfbie
Disclaimer: Based off the characters and events of the Warcraft universe, copywrite by Blizzard Entertainment and alliliates. I make no profit from this story.
Chapter 1 – A Way of Life
One and a half years before the fall of Quel'Thalas to the Scourge.
Written in Katlayna's point of view
Priestess Liadrin,
It is with great enthusiasm that we have accepted your apprentice, Katlayna Lightsong, to extend her studies within Lordaeron's Church of the Light. Her exceptional skill in the healing arts and healthy enthusiasm of the Light's Virtues, along with the recommendations of you and the Bishops of Quel'Thalas, has assured us that she will make a wonderful asset within our ranks and will grow to be a fine priestess of the Light.
Accommodations in Lordaeron are currently full. If Sister Katlayna still wishes to study as a holy priestess, she will have to do so in our Stormwind church. If this suits her, please respond to this letter promptly. Space has been reserved for her if she chooses to accept.
Congratulations and kind regards,
Archbishop Benedictus of the Holy Light
I stood off to the side of the small chapel as the wedding ceremony unfolded, hardly paying attention as I read the well-crinkled letter for probably the thousandth time since Sister Liadrin presented it to me months ago. The priestess, my mentor and guardian for as long as I could remember, droned on and on at the altar as I silently read, her voice echoing against the tall stone walls and high, vaulted ceilings of the church. A large crowd of elven citizens sat amongt the pews listening, most only pretending to look interested. Our humble little church, nestled in the heart of Silvermoon City, the only one of its kind, hosted many weddings under the blessing of the Light this time of year, almost every weekend. This particular wedding was no different than any other, Sister Liadrin reciting the gospel more by heart than from the Holy Book, I struggling to look attentive.
The bride's gown was gorgeous--she was a beacon of shimmering-white beauty, her carefully pinned blonde hair glossy and full atop her head, her cheeks rosy, delicate jewelry adorning her neck, long elven ears, and arms. Her radiance almost rivaled that of our Queen's, and I wondered if holding a union under the blessing of the Light was so important an indication of good social standings to spend a small fortune on looks alone. Despite her elegance, she looked a bit uncomfortable, occasionally shifting her weight from one foot to the other to relieve the pressure her beautiful yet impractical shoes bore on her feet, wiggling in her dress ever-so-slightly to try to relieve the itchy tug of lace against her skin.
I felt a little grateful to be in my robes--a dull white and silver, formal enough to wear in almost any occasion, plain enough to not draw unnecessary attention to myself. There was no mistaking, from my drab appearance alone, that I was a member of Silvermoon's only small and humble church of the Light – a church that produced some of Azeroth's best healers.
Despite my inner praise of practicality over appearance, I couldn't help but feel that slight tug of envy upon looking at the bride. Though I kept my deep red hair loose around my shoulders, probably my only good asset, it never bounced and shone like that of the bride's. I never did anything special with my hair, did not wear makeup, and did not own a single nice dress; I never had the time or the money to fret over such things. But I was a young woman, after all, and what woman did not dream of her wedding day--to be the center of attention the entire day, the most beautiful girl in the room, pampered and spoiled to capacity, the envy of all that had yet to experience what she had? I suppose this must be why traditional weddings of the Light such as this were becoming such a popular fashion amongst quel'dorei society of late--our ceremonies were overly flashy, stuffy, and too bloated with the illusion of a high-class event. To Quel'Thalas, getting married in a church of the Light was merely another way to show off status, to establish one's bragging rights in society. No guest in this room actually followed the Light, and that I felt disgusted over. The religion was exploited for fashion, status, and a tool for those that wished to take from the Light nothing but the ability to heal. To most high elves, the Light was in no means a way of life.
Suppressing a sigh, stifled by the very constrictiveness of the air, I moved along the rows of pews to the back of the church, grateful that I had the option to escape for fresh air when the guests did not. As a member of the church, I had enough excuses to protect me from the ongoing boredom of a wedding. Besides, I needed to leave anyway--I still had to finish packing for my long and trying trip to Stormwind.
I swallowed back my fear as I slipped emotionlessly out the side door into the yard. Just thinking about moving so far away made me homesick--I had known no other place other than Silvermoon. What would living amongst humans be like? I could not express my fear of the trip, though--fearing the unknown would just make me a hypocrite against a faith full of unseen events and unexplainable reasons. Besides, the trip was entirely to strengthen my faith. Thinking about living amongst the dwellings of an original house of the Light, to study amongst human clerics, the original followers of my faith, excited me enough to deal with the fear and face the long trip ahead. I knew that after spending some time in Stormwind, I would come back a better priestess, and therefore a better person.
The yard was gorgeous, a product of quel'dorei attention to detail and fondness for outdoor beauty, even amongst us stuffy followers of the Light. Lush green grass covered the expanse of the land, not a single weed to be found in its turf, the yard decorated with large bushes of aromatic purple, blue and pink flowers. Willow trees and oak trees hung over this expanse, drawing soothing shade and a more relaxed atmosphere. The leaves of these trees shimmered in the sun, hazy rays of light breaking through their canopy, the slight breeze adding an almost whimsical value to the place. I loved coming here at times when the yard was quiet and empty to catch up on my studies. The place never ceased to relax me, holding so many fond memories of when I was a little girl playing here.
I grew up at this church, an orphan blessed enough to be found and raised by the patrons here. I don't remember my parents, didn't know how I came to be an orphan. All I knew was the church, and all the people bound to it. Unlike most of the others who came and went with the seasons just for training in the healing arts, the Light was my life, the church my home.
Today, however, my tranquil yard had become marred with tables covered in heavy white and gold cloth, several burdened with pots and trays of various food stuffs. Servants worked over last-minute preparations for the soon-to-be wedded couple and their party. Places were being set with very delicate-looking gold and white plates, wine glasses that I was sure were made of real crystal, and other such things. The mouthwatering aroma of heated food lingered in the air, the last of the decorations being fastened in place, extra seats being drawn out, imported plants in enchanted, hovering pots being arranged just so. A small band of harps, lutes, drums, violins and flutes was busy setting up, the sounds of the band tuning ringing lightly in the air. The couple had fallen for the whimsical beauty of the yard and wanted to hold their reception here.
I resisted a frown as I weaved around these busy people in the direction of the large stone dormitory on the other side of the yard, where most of us of the Church resided. My quiet, serene yard had turned into a spectacle of sorts; I did not care to see all of these people here, especially those that were not faithful to the Light. But part of the Light's philosophy was to welcome everyone with open arms and kindness, so I could not turn them away, could not turn my nose up in the air in reaction to my displeasure of faithless citizens taking advantage of what I held dear. This intense, overprotective nature I had of the Light, thus my extreme exclusiveness of people, was one of the things I was to abandon the familiarity of home to mend.
I turned my head to the side as I moved, observing the many chefs apply the finishing touches of their food, not really paying attention to anything else. I knew the yard so well--I could move so confidently around here.
My confidence, however, misled me, as I roughly bumped into something, hard and cold--metal, the force of the contact sending me a few small steps back. A covered tray full of food on a small, light table clattered to the ground, the noise echoing throughout the space. Sliced bits of fish garnished in some sort of creamy sauce spilled at my feet, settling into the grass. I snapped my head up, mortified, eyes wide as I scanned the area surrounding me. Everyone had paused from their work, staring at me and the spilled contents, some in shock.
I could feel my cheeks heat with an intense blush, undeniably embarrassed over the situation. I knelt down, grabbing at the plate and cover, cringing at the sharpness of everyone's stares on me as I tried to figure out what to do with this runny mess, and all the grass-tainted food.
"Oh, no!"
Someone knelt beside me and I glanced to see a male elf pick frantically at the bits of food in the grass, dressed in the stark white attire of one of the chefs, his long blonde hair tied back messily but effectively at the back of his head. He appeared around my age, probably one of the assistants here, his looks and appearance none out of the ordinary. He seemed horrified as he scooped up bits of food with his hands and dumped it on the tray beside me. The fish was crushed, all of it covered in dirt and grass. The food was certainly ruined.
"I-I'm sorry," I managed, overcome with guilt, as I helped him clean up the mess. "I wasn't watching where I was going. I'll do whatever it takes to atone for my foolishness, I--"
"Duskfall!" We both paused to look up at a strikingly beautiful woman with shoulder-length brown hair tucked back behind her ears, also dressed in the plain white clothing that marked her a chef. "The ceremony's over; everyone will be outside in a few minutes." Her voice was stern, giving me the impression of her superiority amongst the chefs, but her eyes brimmed with worry, sweeping from him to me to the mess in front of us.
The other chef sighed and gritted his teeth. "Get the ingredients for the sauce ready right away, Sylann," he ordered, his voice firm, as he continued to clean up the mess. "I want no complaints from the others. Everything needs to be ready by the time I make it back to the kitchen."
The woman nodded. "Yes," she replied crisply before turning on her heel and scurrying away.
I paused my work on the spilled food, so stunned I was by this elf's surprising commanding presence, confused by who the true head chef was. Then I remembered what I was here for in the first place and dived back into picking bits of fish from the grass, feeling absolutely miserable.
"If you want to help," he commented a few moments later as he stood up, and I blinked, realizing that he was referring to me, "then come with me."
I sprang to my feet as he started to move, glancing down at the grass in front of me. Aside from the now glossy appearance of the sauce-covered grass, the area was very clean, not a speck of food to be found there. I blinked again, surprised at how quick and thorough he was with his cleaning, then trotted to catch up as he headed towards the side of the church, tray of spoiled food in hand.
He was taller than he first appeared, standing almost a head above me. He moved at a brisk pace, so full of energy, as I almost had to jog to keep up. He weaved in and out of servants franticly applying their last minute touches to the yard, the tray of spoiled food and its contents seemingly glued to his fingertips as he balanced it all expertly with one hand, raised high above his head to be able to easier slip through the throngs of people as they worked. I occasionally bumped into someone, not as graceful and sure of my body's equilibrium as he was, muttering apologies and flashing glances long enough to assure myself that my clumsy body hadn't ruined some finer detail of a project. The other elf dumped the contents of the spoiled food in a nearby trashcan while walking by, his movements fluid enough that he did not falter his step in doing so.
Finally, we entered the church, sweeping around the back hallway to the hot, stuffy kitchen. It was tiny and modest, suitable enough for simple clerics like us, and thankfully almost empty as most of the chefs and servers were outside awaiting the wedding party. An assortment of various ingredients surrounded a small bowl on the thick, wooden table, awaiting us.
"Pull up your sleeves and wash your hands," he ordered as he dipped his own hands into a basin of soapy water. He washed them quickly, snatching a towel to dry them off as I tried to keep up with his movements.
He bent forward beside the table to a rather large metal basin filled with ice, plunging his hands into it. He rummaged around for a second to pull out a large, plump fish, about the length of his forearm, slapping it on a spotless cutting board.
"What's your name?" he asked, pausing to look directly at me, leaning on both hands flat on the table.
"Uh, Katlayna," I managed to answer, a little flustered at how suddenly direct he was.
The chef nodded. "Those ingredients there," he motioned to the array of spices and such on the table beside me, "mix them together to make the sauce. There should be enough of everything to make one batch, so you don't have to worry about measurements."
I stared at him, flabbergasted. I had never really cooked anything before. I wasn't trained to be a housewife, hostess, or anything of the sort. I was trained to be a priestess, too much in love with my studies to bother taking interest in anything else, including cooking. It had gotten me in many arguments with some of the clerics here in the past – basic life skills were important, according to them. However, I wasn't good at anything not directly related to the Light, did not have the drive to waste my time with such things. Why did I have to cook now when there was a perfectly capable chef standing right in front of me that could do it instead? I certainly was not going to be the cause for this wedding party's ruined meal! "I can't do this!" I protested, glancing at the contents on the table warily. "I don't know the slightest thing about cooking and--"
"Just do it!" His voice was stern, crisp, harsh enough to kill my words in my mouth. I simply stared at him, wide-eyed, as he stared right back, his gaze boring into mine. "There's no time to argue, just mix everything together and stir. I would not give you such a brainless task if I didn't figure you could do it."
I narrowed my eyes and glared back at him, certainly not liking being told what to do, but he held his gaze steady, unrelenting in his request. Finally, I sighed, grabbing the small block of butter, soft from the heat of the room, as I looked away. I couldn't help but blush despite my dark mood, probably due to my anger.
I watched him from the corner of my eye as I began mixing herbs together with the flour. He grabbed a large knife from the assortment of them mounted carefully on the wall in front of us, a boxy, menacing-looking thing. A butcher knife, perhaps? I knew very little about cutlery. Without hesitation, he swung the blade down, cleanly chopping off the fish's head with one stroke. I jumped from the force and noise of the movement, almost spilling the tiny pitcher of water I held to pour with the rest of my ingredients. He, however, did not even blink.
He chose another knife, much smaller than the first, with a narrow blade, and began the process of skinning and deboning the fish into fillet strips. I had watched fish cleaned and prepped for consumption by clerics here before--the task was always messy and time consuming, scales and bones everywhere, and never much actual flesh would be left from just one fish. But this elf...Duskfall as he was referred to earlier, was an expert with the knife, cutting under the skin on the bottom-side of the fish as though it were butter to a heated knife, his aim impeccable as he slid the fish smoothly across the stilled blade, removing as little of the flesh under the skin as possible. I almost forgot my own task as I watched in amazement him clean and debone the whole fish in a couple of minutes, then grabbing another knife to slice the body of the fish down the middle in half, and then into smaller, bite-size pieces, removing more bone as he went. What a talent he was at prepping fish--I had never seen such efficiency in doing so! I turned back to my own task, trying to remind myself that he was a professional, this was his job, therefore I shouldn't be at all surprised by his performance.
The sauce mixed well, taking no time at all to blend, and I could catch hints of vinegar in its aroma.
"Looks finished," he murmured as he snatched the bowl right out of my hands, dipping a tiny spoon into the mixture.
"Hey!" I protested in surprise as he brought a small sample of the sauce to his lips to taste.
"It's suitable, good." Using a different spoon, he poured half of the sauce into another bowl. "Clean up the mess around us quickly and grab a clean tray from the back," he ordered. I obeyed without protest, seeing it pointless to argue. We were almost done anyway.
By the time I had finished cleaning the fish skin and bones, had put the dirty dishes away, and fetched a fresh silver tray, he had the sauce-covered fish in a large, long-handled frying pan, hovering over our wide, shallow fire pit in the center of the kitchen to cook it. This set up of an open, chimney-less fire in the middle of a simple yet organized kitchen was common in our country of Quel'Thalas, the room enchanted to keep the place smoke-free. He pushed the fish around in the pan with a spatula, the combined force of the sounds of sizzling fish and the delectable aroma it gave off making my stomach grumble to be filled. I had yet to even have breakfast. He moved away from the fire, the fish cooked just enough to sear the edges, and dumped it in the rest of the sauce, using the spatula to mix it together as it cooled. He then instantly got to work arranging the bits of fish into tight, layered circles on the tray I provided. I tried to help as best as I could, my half of the circles sloppy, his efficient hands placing his fish in place perfectly the first time with enough time to nudge my pieces a bit to be more presentable. With that task done he snatched the towel from the table, quickly wiping off his hands and tossing it to me to do the same. He sprinkled crushed bits of something green onto the bits of fish to make them look more colorful, then loaded the tray onto his hands.
"Come with me," he ordered as he moved briskly towards the doorway. I followed, glancing briefly out the window to see the newlywed couple and their guests spilling into the yard, choosing their seats amongst the dressed tables. Just in time!
I followed the chef to the doorway as he pushed it open with his foot, sunlight flooding into the room all at once. I squinted against the sudden brightness, the chef just a silhouette against the light of the late summer morning.
"Ready?" he muttered to me.
I nodded, though his back was to me, making my gesture ineffective.
"Thank you," was his reply, though I was certain he did not see me nod. Then he turned to flash a smile at me before confidently striding across the yard to where the rest of the food awaited.
I paused at the doorway, his quick grin still flashing in my mind. Such a radiant smile, and so very warm! I hoped no one could tell I was blushing as I moved to join him, angry at myself for being so easily flustered over something as insignificant as a man's smile. It was not the first time a man had ever smiled at me. What was so different about his smile?
"Thank you all for coming," the groom gushed in a clear, loud voice as I made my way around the tables of seating guests to stand beside the chef. A few female voices in the crowd squealed in response to his voice, and it took everything I had to resist rolling my eyes.
The groom was all smiles, a very attractive elf with shoulder-length dark hair, a perfect, chiseled body, and the radiant face of a god--sharp nose, square jaw, cleft chin, straight, white teeth, pouty lips, large but hard blue eyes. I had seen him before--he was the son of Silvermoon's chief of armed forces, his house well-respected among Quel'Thalassian society. Too many times had I heard the other sisters of the church gush over beautiful Ostus Sunstorm with looks that could make any woman swoon. Well, almost any woman. Too busy I was in my studies of the Light to waste my time fawning over a man that would never give me the time of day. Well, perhaps he would if I were willing to offer what he often sought after in women. I cared about my studies and my faith too much, however, to waste time spreading my legs before a pretty face of someone who wouldn't even know so much as my name the next day. But this was Ostus Sunstorm, a man that, until almost a year and a half ago, was never seen in social get-togethers without a woman on each arm. Most of my fellow sisters had occupied his company on at least one occasion, but they were all merely students of the healing arts, with all the time and freedom to spend with men like Ostus. Despite being easy on the eyes, I held no interest in him. Besides, I could never be so shallow as to fall helpless to a handsome smile.
Duskfall's grin of earlier flashed through my mind, and I pushed it stubbornly from my thoughts.
Ostus's blushing bride clung to her new husband's arm with pride. It was clear that she was happy with her catch, and wanted everyone to know about it. In a way, I was glad Ostus was finally marrying and settling down, though a year and a half's worth of moaning and whining from the other sisters about why he couldn't have chosen one of them was getting quite tiring. One big advantage to getting out of Quel'Thalas--I would not hear anyone waste their thoughts on Ostus again. I hoped humans weren't quite so ridiculous when it came to matters of the heart. Still, though, I wondered what kind of woman his bride must be to get promiscuous Ostus Sunstorm, of all people, to settle down.
The chef and the other servants stood behind the large table full of very tasty food, the delicious aromas making my stomach growl. Each servant stood straight and attentive, hands behind their backs. I studied them, wondering if I should follow suit or simply stand as I was, since I wasn't a caterer, server, or any other working merchant like they were, but I suspected I was still indebt to the accident of earlier.
"Go help serve drinks," came a whisper and I glanced up to find the chef looking at me from the corner of his eye. He motioned with a slight nod of his head towards a wine bottle in front of me on the table.
I frowned, not wanting to wander from table to table serving alcohol like some bar maid, but I complied, knowing how foolish my mood was. This was nothing like a bar, and I was in no means dressed the part of the chambermaid. So off I went, pouring wine into crystal glasses from table to table along with a few other servers while the groom gave his enthusiastic speech about this joyous occasion. I tuned out most of his words, not caring for what he had to say-- I've heard it all before anyway. This was not the first fad-laden wedding of the Light I had seen here, and wouldn't be my last. It was all the same.
Eventually the bride spoke, then each of the wedding party one by one. I only half-heard them all, too busy serving wine while my mind wandered elsewhere. I still needed to finish packing. When would I be relieved of this duty to do so? I also hoped Sister Liadrin was not expecting me for something. I was around only as extra help for the wedding in case it was needed, but still... Being here bored me, and if I wanted to be a server I would have chosen that lifestyle instead of an apprentice priestess! I could feel my tolerance of this grow thin, though I kept a welcoming smile plastered to my lips.
Then I heard his voice. My focus was drawn to it like a magnet, as though no one had spoken a word until him. His voice smooth and clear, I couldn't help but pause to look up. Why was the chef speaking anyway? He was just a servant! Usually they did not join in on these wedding reception speeches.
"As the groom's best friend, I was originally chosen to be the best man at this wedding," he began, holding himself in confidence as he spoke.
Best friend of Ostus Sunstorm! I knew Ostus was popular, with a large social circle, but I never knew any details of his friends. Hardly holding interest in Ostus himself, why would I listen to gossip about his silly friends? Besides, such details were often overshadowed by how perfect and coveted Ostus was. Now I wondered what kind of person would make a best friend of a wealthy, charismatic, obnoxious, womanizing socialite anyway. At least it explained why I'd never seen this chef's restaurant cater at any other wedding here before.
"At first I accepted, honored at the title," the chef continued. "But then I decided that it would be much more honorable for Ostus and Giselle if I instead catered to his wedding. My finest work, the pinnacle of my skill, the fruits of Ostus's support and faith in me over the years is finally presented on his wedding day. I have never been more proud, and I have ensured only the best food in this memorable occasion. Here's to Ostus and Giselle, and for what is sure to be a long, happy life for them!"
"Damn straight!" Ostus quipped with a handsome grin as people clapped in response, tipping his already half-drained wine glass slightly in the chef's direction. I could hear women in the crowd titter over Ostus' expression. "You always know how to please a crowd, Barian!"
Barian. I looked at the chef with renewed interest, as though knowing his name would somehow change his appearance in some way. It didn't, of course, but I couldn't help but stare anyway. I wondered if he was as obnoxious as the groom--he certainly was confident about his food!
"Um, priestess?" came a whisper. I looked down to see a seated guest raise his wine glass to me, patiently waiting for it to be filled. I had stood there gawking at this Barian for so long I had forgotten I still was not done serving guests. I apologized, snapping back into focus, pouring a generous amount into the guest's glass to compensate for the wait. I continued forth, listening to Barian's words as I did so.
"Please come up and sample our food. Eat as much as you like; there's plenty to go around. Enjoy yourselves and thank you for coming."
I frowned, expecting, for some reason, a more profound speech from the groom's best friend, something more interesting and unique than it was. Why would I care anyway? I shook my head in agitation as someone else began to speak, tuning out the words as I did before.
The talking ended as I finished my rounds, people lining up at the tables as I returned to my original position beside Barian to return the empty wine bottle.
"I hope I was enough help," I commented, probably more curtly than I had wanted, as I set the wine bottle down. "It was nice to meet and work with you, Barian Duskfall. Now, if you'll excuse me, I—"
"Help serve the guests," was his comment as he passed a pair of tongs to me.
I frowned displeasingly at them as I grasped them in my hand, but did not argue. "Fine, I'll help serve the guests, but afterwards I must go and attend to my own duties."
Barian didn't respond to me, instead smiling at a hungry wedding attendant being picky in deciding which mouthwatering piece of lynx roast to have. I ignored my stomach's protests once again as I served the guests the display of colorful vegetables laid out before me.
The line seemed endless as I served guest after guest. It never seemed this crowded in the church! I was certain more people had arrived since then, probably to take advantage of the free food, dancing, and wine.
I sighed, forced my frown into a smile, and continued to serve until finally the last guest sat back down with a plate full of food.
Finally! I thought to myself as I discarded the tongs on the table. I looked around, not seeing Barian anywhere while others began tidying up the food tables. I decided it best to just escape unannounced this time, not wanting to find myself with yet another annoying task.
Smirking to myself for giving Barian the slip, I turned around to leave and almost bumped into him carrying a large stack of dirty serving trays. I gasped in surprise, startled and grateful that I did not knock something over this time.
"Where do you think you're going?" he asked casually, as though asking about the weather.
I narrowed my eyes at him. "To do my job," I answered, which consisted of packing, and probably cleanup at the alter for tomorrow's sermons.
"There are still dishes that need to be collected, and they all need to be washed. Our dishwasher didn't show today, so we need someone to take care of that."
What, again? And not even a thank you. I seethed, tired of his rude, pushy nature.
"Do I look like a servant to you?" I pressed heatedly, under my breath so as not to cause a scene amongst the guests. "I am a priestess of the Light in one of the most prestigious, well-respected churches in all of the Eastern Kingdoms! I have my own tasks to complete today! I am sorry about the food I knocked over earlier, but I'm sure I have more than compensated for that right now! I have no time to be your lackey! Now, excuse me, I must leave."
I stood there, fuming, satisfied that I had finally said my peace as I glared up at the chef.
He stared calmly back at me, raising an eyebrow questioningly. "So I guess that means you'd rather pay the cost of the food you wasted by so carelessly running into it?"
I tilted my head up triumphantly. "Sure."
Barian narrowed his eyes at me, squaring his shoulders as though mentally prepping himself for a challenge to fight. "The fish is a rare species of salmon that exists only up here in the North Sea," he began, anger edging the calm tone of his voice. "They are most suitable for eating during the time they swim inland via the rivers to spawn, but they must be caught at the mouth of said rivers when the flesh is just right. Not very many can be caught or else there'd be no salmon left, and there aren't very many to begin with. Therefore, the fish you so haphazardly knocked onto the grass is considered a delicacy, and a favorite snack within House Sunstrider. The sauce, though very simple to make, contains rare herbs found only in the farthest regions of the continent, therefore they cost a fortune to import. It's the herbs that put the price tag on our native delicacy. Ostus, the groom and my best friend, paid a lot of money to have this appetizer, and others, served at his wedding. I also did, out of my own pocket, partly because Ostus is my friend and partly because House Sunstrider had been sent in invitation to attend this wedding and I had hoped someone from there, even a mere representative, would show up and taste my hard work. But, of course, no one from House Sunstrider is here, not surprising I guess considering the bride is only the king's cousin's son's latest girlfriend's best friend and royalty would not be caught dead in a shabby backyard wedding such as this, but Ostus could not afford a more glamorous wedding and I'm a fool but that is beside the point. Someone that does the tasks you've done so far normally is paid 40 copper an hour. The appetizers you ruined, which ihad/i to be one of the most expensive trays here, costs 700 gold just by itself. My coin bag is feeling pretty light right now, so by all means, if you're volunteering to pay for the food, I'd be most appreciative."
I simply stared at him, flabbergast, as he stared calmly back at me. 700 gold! I had no idea the fish was so expensive—to me it was just a giant, smelly animal and the herbs were just crushed and dried bits of leaves from somewhere. "I-I cannot pay that bill!" I stammered. "I'm only a priestess."
Barian frowned, extending his heavy load of dishes to me. "Then you know where the kitchen is. There's a tub of hot, soapy water already waiting for you. All you need to do is get started."
I could only glare, knowing that I had lost my argument here, and took the stack of trays from him. I gasped at its weight and staggered towards the church.
"How do you church people say it," Barian remarked, "ah yes—Light be with you." And with that, he walked away, leaving me fuming and defeated.
TO BE CONTINUED…
A/N
Chapter trivia!
* Liadrin and Archbishop Benedictus are both NPCs in World of Warcraft.
* Benedictus is a priest trainer found in Stormwind City's cathedral – he also holds a lot of lore.
* Liadrin is Lady Liadrin – formerly a paladin quest giver in Silvermoon City. Currently she is the NPC that periodically shows up in Shattrath to inquire and lament with A'dal on the future of the sin'dorei. She was the first blood elf paladin (blood knight), and the first to turn her back on the Light to use to her will by taking advantage of the captured M'uru's power.
* Sylann is also an NPC. She is the cooking trainer found in one of Silvermoon City's inns.
* "House Sunstrider" is referring to the royal family, meaning that Barian wishes to someday cook for the likes of Kael'Thas Sunstrider (the Tempest Keep and Magister's Terrace boss). At this chapter's point of the timeline, no elf believed Kael evil (and I'm sure Kael wasn't "evil" then). I'd like to think of him as the elven prince his people hardly knew – he spent more time studying in Dalaran than actually taking practice in ruling his country.
* Everyone else mentioned are characters of my own creation – Katlayna, Barian, Ostus, his bride, etc.