Lor'themar didn't believe the news when he first heard it.
He had known Dar'Khan Drathir for millennia, and while the man was always prideful of his work and capabilities, what magister wasn't to one degree or another, never in all his life did he think the man capable of such treachery.
Was treachery even a strong enough word to denounce his actions?
Heresy?
Insanity?
The last time he had a conversation with the man, beyond pleasantries at a party, was a mere decade ago!
Just a decade.
Too short a length of time for someone to change so drastically; without obvious scars to show for it.
The Farstrider did not know what was worse, that Drathir was all these things long before these recent events, or that the signs had always been there and Lor'thmemar didn't see it. Maybe he had seen it but excused it away as lingering trauma from their shared captivity in Amani territory?
It seemingly took the magister walking into the Convocation with the intent to kill the entire Convocation for everyone else to see it as well.
But after Liadrin sent word of their former friend's betrayal, he set out to see how disastrous the situation was. Something he was already preparing to do, but now with even greater urgency.
With all the information Dar'Khan could have given the human invading them, all the defenses and plans he could have fed his new dark master…
He flew his dragonhawk over the devastated and blighted lands, leaving his troops in Silvermoon to prepare for the inevitable assault to come; his own forces seemingly the only rangers to arrive in good order to defend the capital.
Rather than abject silence, he received a constant flow of news from refugees, soldiers, and others he encountered; normally after saving them from throngs of monsters and other damnable beings.
The tales were mostly the same: cities devastated, populations raised from the dead, armies smashed and scattered, with the only regions relatively unscathed along the eastern coastline, the dead seemingly having no care for anything beyond the path to Silvermoon itself.
He also heard that General Windrunner was preparing a new line of defense near a town named Fairbreeze. It seemed as good a place as any to head towards, if for no other reason than to be directed towards a greater objective than aimlessly wandering about.
But when he arrived, he found nothing but a dead settlement littered with corpses. There had been a battle, that much was obvious, and going by what he found it couldn't have occurred more then a few days prior.
While he found no sign of the General or her forces, he was not willing to write her off as dead yet. It was said that when the undead claimed a settlement, they picked it clean of the dead; bodies were a valuable material for a force led by necromancers.
Since the bodies still laid where they fell, it implied that the General won her battle but had to withdraw.
The question was, to where?
His only leads were the fresh tracks leading out of the city towards the Eversong. Bipedal, marching in good order, all the signs of either the rangers with the General or soldiers who escaped.
Either she went in that direction, or those he found would illuminate him as to where they believed she was.
So he flew, his heart ached at the sight of the once beautiful forests reduced to rotted woodlands, and quickly found the 'where'. A settlement, its walls manned and gates sealed, the kingdom's banners still fluttering along the battlements, and mounds of corpses piled before them in makeshift pits.
His arrival atop the walls, clearly alarmed the guards patrolling them.
"M-My Lord?" a ranger he landed near greeted him, stunned by his sudden arrival. He gathered himself quickly enough, saluting the Ranger-Lord. "Lieutenant Sintor, my Lord."
"At ease," Lor'themar nodded. "Do you know where the Ranger-General is?"
"The General?" he processed the sudden question, then nodded. "Yes. Of course my Lord. I believe she is still recovering from her inquiries."
"Injuries?" The only thing that kept him from overreacting was the prior word 'recovering'.
"Yes, my Lord. She lost a great deal of blood from her duel with that human leading these creatures. Her trollhunter retinue was cut down to the last, and she's only still with the living due to the actions of the magistrix."
"Who?" The magistrix? He'd seen no sign of the royal army in Fairbreeze. A strangler?
"Magistrix Dawnguard, who is also in command of the forces here in Fyrestone," the ranger explained, though Lor'themar didn't recognize the name. "With our position in Breezewind compromised, we followed the magistrix here. That was two days ago."
Theron processed the information, "Who's the ranking Farstrider here?"
"With the General incapacitated, Captain Flareray is in command."
"And where would I find him?"
The ranger pointed to the highest tower in the settlement. "With the magistrix up there. It's where the mage holds her war council, though I'm afraid I'm not privy to the details."
"No worry, I shall ask them myself," with a nod to the man, Lor'themar directed his mount towards the tower in question.
On his way, he noted the dizzying amount of makeshift barricades below him, little more than piles of furniture in some cases blocked off streets. Curious, but ultimately irrelevant.
He landed at the building's entrance with all the fanfare a Ranger-Lord's arrival comes with. Looks and pointing by the common people, mixed with surprise and deferance by soldiers and rangers both.
When he informed the handful of servants who scurried out to meet him of his intent to meet the magistrix, they were less than helpful. Constantly attempting to get him to conform to 'protocol'; to wait until he had been properly announced before being allowed entry into the magistrix's council.
Theron had neither the time nor patience for magisterial theatrics.
He marched through the building without care for the calls for restraint the servants heaped on him. The look of shock on their faces as he tracked mud through the cleaned halls, the sight of his gloves still coated in dried gore from the handful of times he abandoned his bow for his blade, their words and language becoming more insistent as he trekked up to the tower's peak.
Protocol? Procedure? Decorum?
"Do you really think I have the time for this farce," he grunted, growing tired of the constant baying. In a less stressful time, he would have at least 'entertained' their suggestions.
But now? With their homeland in flames?
He eventually reached a large door guarded by a soldier in full plate. The man ignored the servant's calls to bar Lor'themar until they 'at least clean his boots', knocking twice on the door before opening it for him.
The room was 'normal' as magisterial studies go. Only rather than servants silently standing along the walls, there were soldiers, officers, and rangers all huddled around a long central table littered with documents and maps, with a single figure at the far end; the magistrix he assumed.
She looked…younger than he thought she would; no older than five hundred he reasoned. Both her hair and attire were unkempt, with what looked like the onset of dark rings under her eyes.
Whatever conversation was underway before his arrival quickly quieted down as he was 'noticed'.
Staring, the magistrix blinked her eyes as if to make sure her sight was not being deceived.
"I'm sorry but are you Lor'themar Theron," the magistrix mused aloud, seemingly surprised to see him.
"Correct," he agreed, acknowledging the salute by the rangers in the room with a curt nod before turning his attention back to the mage. If she knew who he was, that saved him some time. "And apologies for being blunt, but where is the Ranger-General recovering?"
To say seeing Lor'Themar Theron wasn't on my Bingo sheet for the day would be an understatement.
I even had to check my eyes a few times to make sure it wasn't my exhaustion playing tricks on me. Getting a grand total of four hours of sleep over the course of several days tends to do that. Dismissing the meeting, I led the ranger-lord to the not-banshee Sylvanas.
I was just happy to finally see someone who was 'higher rank' than me that I could just give command to.
Sylvanas was sequestered into her own room, which I think was the previous lord's bedroom, and had her under twenty-four hour watch. The healers parted when Lor'themar approached her bedside, kneeling to check her over himself. Sure, her face was drained of all color, bandages zig zagged her torso, and only the faintest raising and falling of her chest to indicate she was even alive, but she was alive.
I still remember the panicked calls and faces of everyone in Fairbreeze when I appeared before all those rangers with their bloodied, near dead, leader. They did what they could, first aid and all that, but she needed an actual healer. Deprived of a leader, I suggested that the rangers come on over to Fyrestone than defend the ruins of Fairbreeze to the last.
Not only did it have the added benefit of getting Sylvanas as far away from Arthas as I could reasonably hope, but I was pretty sure a healer was in Fyrestone.
And so it was!
I had the role, honor, privilege(?), of personally getting Sylvanas to Fyrestone ahead of everyone. While rangers could travel fast, I was faster thanks to liberal use of Blink. So I grabbed her and teleported the two of us in a hopscotch manner across the 'no man's land' between the settlements.
And wasn't that an experience.
Not because I ran into any issues, it was actually smooth sailing without any interruption, but because of Sylvanas herself. Halfway through, she starts thrashing around like an eel to such an extent that I almost drop her to the forest floor. And even after she calmed down, she just started rambling names to herself, her sisters, Nathanos of all people, and some guy named Lirath where the one repeated the most.
When I arrived in Fyrestone, the healers claimed it was a miracle she was even holding on by the time I dropped her bloodied mess of a body off.
Once and a while, I did hear that she went into some sort of nightmare/hallucination thing, but beyond that, she was completely unresponsive.
But she was still alive.
I had done it.
Or I did something at any rate…
If only the sights of literal corpse mounds didn't take away from the sense of victory.
"You have my thanks, magistrix," the ranger finally spoke up, clearly satisfied with the state of Sylvanas, "Not only for saving one of Silvermoon's finest, but a friend as well."
"Just doing my little part," feeling a tad awkward from the sudden praise.
"As do we all," he agreed, though probably not for the same reasons.
I quickly looked around, the healers were gone, the guards were outside, leaving just me and Lor'themar in the room. It was now or never I guess.
"So, there's something I need to tell you before we go any further," I waited for the door to close before starting.
"No need, I am aware of how precious the situation is," he completely misunderstood what I wanted to say. "The situation is deteriorating equally fast everywhere else."
"Yes...I mean, there's that, yes, why was it getting harder to speak the longer I drew this out? "But I was more thinking about the fact that…," I mumbled the words out. I had practiced them so much, so why was it so hard to say them!
"I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"
"I said I'm…um…" she broke eye contact, wringing her hands. "I'm…not actually a… magistrix."
"...pardon?"
"I'm not a magistrix," I repeated, trying to keep some form of eye contact with the ranger, but failing. "I'm just…pretending to be one."
"...pretending?" I couldn't quite make out what his tone was suggesting. The best I could work out was something akin to confusion. I swear I could hear a penny drop from how quiet he went.
"Yeah, well, you know, maybe not pretend in the 'I told them I was one' sort of way," I clarified, wondering now that I was finally saying it outright, just how hard should I rip this band-aid off. "But more like 'no one asked me if I wasn't' sort of way. Like a white lie, or a lie by omission. You know?"
"...I'm sorry, what are you trying to say, Lady Dawnguard?"
"Okay, I did, sort of, say I was a magistrix to get people to listen to me initially that Darth Khan was going to betray the kingdom of the undead."
"You mean Dar'Khan?"
"Yeah him," I nodded. "I just said I was one since no one listened to me that Dar'Khan was a traitor earlier. So I borrowed some clothes from a friend to 'look the part', you know, dress for success and all that. And well things just sort of… escalated from there."
Oh dear I was rambling.
"Escalated?"
"Well, I mean, what else do you call all of this," I gesture around us. "Taking command of forces, leading them into battle, organizing defenses, all of it? I mean, seriously, I am just a student. I should not, in any way, be here right now."
He was quiet for a moment, no doubt processing the insanity of what I just said. I was pretty sure I wasn't about to get imprisoned for my stuff, I did save a not insignificant amount of people, but I was also pretty sure that this was probably going to go on my 'permanent record' or whatever magisters use to record questionable things.
"So you… didn't save the general?"
"Oh, no, I actually did do that. Lost a bunch of my teeth taking a fist to the face, but nothing a little healing couldn't fix," I ran a thumb over the area of my jaw that got messed up real bad from that. After I got Sylvanas to the healers, they had a look at me. Let's just say growing teeth back in a matter of minutes is not the most comfortable feeling.
"Then I am not sure I understand," he frowned.
"Okay, let me say it like this," how do I explain this? "I have no idea about the things all these people are asking me about."
"Things?"
"You know, about logistics, and supplies, and wounded, and manpower, Things. They go on and on, and I'm just sitting there nodding while most of the stuff went over my head," I start pacing a little back and forth, just bleeding off the nervous energy as best I can. "I mean, look, I can barely play chess, and they're expecting me to organize all this shit, with the lives of everyone on the line?"
"So you're saying you did…nothing?"
"Just about," I shrug. "The best move I made was just letting others do what they think is best… Oh sorry, 'delegating'. I delegated the overall defense of the Fyrestone to people who actually know what they're doing. I mean, that makes sense right?"
"That is what a leader tends to do," he countered, clearly not understanding what I was trying to get at.
"No, I mean, all I did was tell people to do their jobs," why was this so hard for him to grasp? Or maybe it was just the way I was saying it?
"So," Lor'themar tried to process what I told him. "If that's the case, who was the one who ordered the civilians to build all those barricades I saw in the streets?"
Oh I knew where this was going…
"Okay, yes I actually ordered that myself," I cut him off, predicting where this question was going. "But before you say it, I do know they are useless. If the walls are breached, the undead aren't going to stop because they tripped over a table or found a bunch of crates in the middle of the street. At best, they'll buy a second or two."
"Yet you ordered them to labor anyway?"
"Well of course I did," I defend myself. "You've seen the streets, they're packed with starving, scared, aimless people. Most of them lost everything when their village or town was sacked by the undead. Some only have the clothes on their backs and what little they could carry to their names. And in the constant flood of bad news, real or fake, it's a breeding ground for depression and hopelessness! "
"And you solved that with barricades?"
"What I did, or tried to do, was give them the illusion of having some control over their lives," I explained. "Every barricade they set up gives them the belief that their labor has made this town just that much more secure. Every scrap of metal they gather is another sword between them and the hordes of undead, every bandage they prepare could be the difference between life and death for a soldier protecting them. Or at least that's what they think. Better than everyone just sitting on their hands doing nothing, or worse, panicking."
"Then I must ask again, Lady Dawnguard, what are we even talking about?" Lor'themar questioned. "You did what you could with what you had."
Oh for the love of!
How was this so fucking hard for him to grasp that I had no fucking clue what I was-
The ringing of bells interrupted our conversation; an alarm that the undead were making a push against the walls.
I look out the nearby window towards the direction of the alarm. Sure enough, a sizable horde of monsters were rushing through the dead treeline. Rangers, mages, and other soldiers readied themselves to repel the attack.
The defenses there were more than sufficient to deal with an attack this size, intellectually I knew that. Maybe if I was still in that stuffy meeting, talking in circles for a few hours about how fucked we are right now, I could put it out of my mind.
But that was the wall Noly ought to be patrolling right now…
"Mind giving me a hand with that," I asked, "we can finish this conversation afterwards."
"Of course," he agreed, "not that I really see a point in going on more about whatever high standards you think you failed-"
Before he finished his comment, there was a mighty roar that shook everything in the building and a lance of fire bathed every undead creature before Fyrestone in a brilliant shower of flames. I doubt any of the creatures even had time to scream in pain, they simply vanished into clouds of ash.
A large, reptilian creature, weaved from the ashy clouds above and dove in for another run, bathing the ground in flames as brilliant as its scales.
A dragon.
A red dragon.
Well that is… different.
Unexpected even.
And going by the surprised look on the ranger, he felt the same way.
"So, I guess he's not with you?" I watch the dragon land atop an abomination, its sheer weight cursing the monster. A mighty claw smacked a host of skeletons apart, it let loose more streams of fire towards the ghouls that swarmed it.
"No," he watched the draconid. While on alert, the ranger was not 'on edge' at the sight. "Though it doesn't surprise me a member of the Ruby Flight was drawn to the devastation brought upon the land."
"Or maybe telling them the Scourge are the Legion's agents got them off their scalie asses," I mumble, knowing full well how little they helped the world in 'canon'.
"What was that?"
"I said it's good to see them helping against the Scourge," I smoothly replied. "I just wonder why he's here though. Specifically, Fyrestone rather than Silvermoon."
"I guess there's only one way to find out," Lor'themar moved to the nearest window and opened it.
"Wait, isn't it a little high up to jump-" he was already out before I finished my sentence. Gracefully parkouring his way down, jumping from rooftop to rooftop to reach the gate where the dragon landed.
That answers that then.
Scooting myself to the edge of the windowsill, my legs handing over the edge, I blinked across the roofs in a rough approximation of the ranger's movements.
He arrived before me, staring at the mighty dragon as it finished off the last of the undead in sight with a victorious roar.
I saw Noly by the front of the slowly gathering crowd, the redhead as flabbergasted at the sight as everyone around her.
"Should we do something?" I heard her comment to no one in particular, looking side to side to see the others' reactions to the dragon.
Blinking down to ground level, approach the wyrm and clear my throat to get the dragon's attention. All the while hoping my draconic wasn't too bad.
"Um…thank you for the assistance," I gave him a weak wave. Even knowing that red dragons were friendly and all, or at least not dickish, it was still a little nerve wracking seeing a massive fire breathing lizard looking down at me with teeth as long as my arm. Well technically I have met a pair of red dragons before, but one was in his elf guise and the other was a whelp, very different from a dragon in their 'natural' form.
The large creature turned and stared at me, blinking, then gave what I assume is the reptilian equivalent of a sigh.
"Oh for the love of…" The dragon replied in Thalassian. It was female judging by the feminine pitch of her deep voice. She angled her neck to look me in the eyes, or as much as a dragon could do to someone on ground level."What are you doing here, dear?"
"Um, fighting for my life?" Was this a trick question? "I'm Syllia, by the way."
"Yes, yes, I know who you are, Syllia," the dragon seemed to roll her eyes in annoyance. "Honestly, I leave you alone for a short while and you end up waist deep in this muck."
"Uh, how do you know me?" I immediately mentally kicked myself, since it was obvious Krasus told this dragon about me. Thought that still didn't explain the familiarity she was clearly implying.
"By all that is… you really don't know?"
"Don't know what?"
The dragon, again, rolled her eyes and groaned. Within seconds her bulky frame was engulfed by a blinding light, when it vanished, the great wyrm was gone and a average sized red haired elf woman was in her-
…
Oh…
…oh.
"There we go," Sitristra crossed her arms, amused by my reaction. "Everything out in the open, no more misunderstandings."
"But I thought…" wait, Siristra wasn't a dragonsworn, but an actual dragon!?
"Later," she promised, turning her attention to Lor'themar who had watched this all unfold. "I suppose you know why I'm here, Ranger-Lord?"
"I don't," the ranger looked at the devastation Siristra wrought, "but I welcome your help regardless. Are you here on behalf of your queen? Does the Life-Binder plan to take to the field in defense of Silvermoon?"
"I'm afraid not, sadly," the dragoness shook her head. "My queen is preoccupied with matters in Northrend, and will be for the immediate future. And while I did come at the head of a small group, we are too few to truly tip the scales of battle in your favor.
"But couldn't you all just fly in and burn Arthas?" I cut in, it seemed simple enough to me.
"If he wasn't surrounded by untold thousands of undead at any given time, then yes," she bit her lip in frustration. "And if that wasn't bad enough, if any one of us falls it would only be to the… detriment of the defenders."
'Because we would be raised as undead dragons' went unsaid.
"But while we're not capable of open battle against the horde, we can, and will, protect the refugees fleeing the undead Scourge," she explained. "With the undead mostly pressing against Silvermoon, we can easily defeat the small bands that have broken off in pursuit of survivors; such as I just did."
"But that's not why you're here," Lor'themar reiterated his previous question.
"No, it's not," she admitted, glancing at me then back to the ranger. "I came for Sylvanas Windrunner. I have been asked to see her safely to Quel'Danas, by the instruction of your King, Anasterian. He wishes to question her as to the state of your people's defenses."
"That might be difficult," I rub the back of my neck.
"Why would that be-" then she realized it. "What happened?"
"Athas happened," I grumble. "He nearly killed her, when I brought her here she was a mess. She's recovered somewhat, but hasn't woken up yet."
"I'm sorry, but you brought her here?" Siristra(?) questioned, with an expression I knew all too well. "Please, pray tell, why were you, my dearest, sweet apprentice, in the middle of a warzone?"
"Well…I…"
"What was that? I couldn't quite hear you?"
"Well…"
"Excuse me," Lor'themar cut in, "while it might be out of place for me to comment on this, I believe the magistrix has done a perfectly reasonable job given our current circumstances."
"The magistrix?" Siristra looked at me, processed what the ranger said, and gained a mischievous glint in her eyes with the tiniest hint of a smile on her face.
Oh no…
"I am not denying she most likely overstepped her rank, but the fact remains that General Windrunner is only alive right now thanks to the intervention of Lady Dawnguard," Lor'themar 'defended' me, clearly not understanding at all what I was trying to tell him earlier!
"Well, in that case," the dragoness hummed to herself, in the same way I have seen her do a hundred times before when she was pretending to think something over. "I suppose her actions can be overlooked, this time."
"But I…I," Do not encourage him! I was trying to set him straight!
"Still, I ought to take Lady Dawnguard along to Quel'Danas as well," Siristra(?) decided, beckoning me forward.
"Wait, just like that?"
"Just like that," she agreed. "The situation here is probably stable enough for you to leave, especially when at the invitation of a king. So come along, no doubt he'll probably want to hear from you as well." She turned back to the assembled soldiers and rangers, "and if one of you could fetch the Ranger General as well, that would be appreciated. I'd rather not have to reach in and grab her out of whatever room you have her in."
Lor'themar nodded, and ordered one of the nearby rangers to do just that. "I'll take her by dragonhawk. It'll be faster than you flying her, no offense, of course."
"Oh, I am offended," Siristra(?) gave a mock 'gasping' expression. "But you are also right."
"With any luck, the Sunwell can accelerate her healing and she can return to the fight," with a nod, the ranger let out a high pitched whistle, and a large dragonhawk responded flying over to him.
So, I guess this is-
"Wait!" A new voice called out. Noly squeezed and maneuvered around the crowd and raced over to me. "I'm going too!"
"Noly," I started before the redhead, the new redhead, cut me off.
"Oh no, none of this 'Noly stay here' crap," She argued. "Last you raced off, you fought that evil human guy leading the undead. Sure you saved the general, but what happens the next time you do something stupid and no one's there to help you?" .
"Noly, that makes no sense-"
"I think it makes perfect sense," Godamn it Sitristra(?). "One should never turn down offers of help if they don't have to. I thought I taught you as much, Lady Dawnguard. More than that, she could offer an insight to the king of Fairbreeze's state before you arrived to rescue them. You were in Fairbreeze before my apprentice arrived, yes?"
…she was never going to let this go, was she?
Before I could even reply, Noly was already talking again.
"Yep," the girl nodded feverishly, Lor'themar seemingly agreeing with this as well given his expression and lack of disapproval. "And don't worry miss… lady… your dragoness," the girl fumbled through what to call the woman. "I'm a ranger too, so I'll be able to pull my weight no problem."
"...trainee," I whisper to myself.
"That's no problem. And please, call me Siristrasza," the dragoness grinned, showing off a fang or two that she let slip in her guise.
Noly was about to reply, but then seemingly realized something. "Wait,I have to get Birdy!" The redhead looked back and forth between us and the town. "I'll be right back."
The dragoness tilted her head at the sight of Noly racing back to town, "who is 'Birdy'?"
"Her dragonhawk chick," I answered.
"Ah."
A silence descended upon us as we waited for both Noly and Sylvanas to appear, all under the curious eyes of all those around us.
"So…" I tried to break the 'ice', looking Siristra(za)'s way, speaking in her native language as a way to avoid 'eavesdropping'. "You're a… dragon?"
"I always have been, Syllia," as if to emphasize the point, her eyes flashed between their 'normal' cerulean hue to a draconic slit pupil.
"..."
"..."
"... so wow, you're really good at hiding in plain sight, you know that."
"Syllia, my guise's surname is 'Everflight'. Ever-Flight. As in Dragonflight."
"I've heard weirder names…"
And wasn't that the truth.
"Red is my dominant color," she ran a hand through her hair. Was it even hair if it was her guise form? "Both in hair, makeup, and attire."
"...lots of people here wear red and gold,"
I cross my arms. "I've told you the times I've been blinded by those sorts of outfits."
"My building is covered in the iconography of my flight."
"... people can be obsessed about things,"
I shrug, not meeting the woman's eyes. "You could have just been obsessed with dragons. Or a dragonsworn."
"I taught you unaccented draconic…"
"How am I supposed to know that your draconic doesn't have an accent?"
"Why do I get the feeling you're just saying that so I drop it?"
"...why are you being so difficult about this?"
"...because I feel really, really,"
REALLY, "stupid right now for not seeing it in hindsight." I always considered myself above average intelligence, but right now I was considering knocking myself down a few points from this whole debacle.
"You are a bright girl, Syllia," the red wyrm/woman commented, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Bright, but dense, stubborn as a mule, lackadaisical to an almost detrimental extent, childish at times…"
"Why don't tell me how you really feel…"
was this some sort of reverse psychology thing?
"There's nothing wrong with being a child," she insisted. "Or young. You'll have decades to smooth out your edges, and centuries to temper your eccentricities. If you were a thousand, acting like you do right now, I would think you are an overgrown woman child. But you're not a thousand, or even a century. You're barely in your twenties."
'More like forties…'
I mumble to myself, though I was actually having a hard time remembering what my exact age was when I died the 'first time'. It's so stupid. How can I remember things as important as my home address from back then and other stuff, not to mention all this Warcraft lore, but not my age?
"Or think about how much you can accomplish in life if you're already a Magistrix at such a young age," the woman teased me.
While I mused about this, grumbling at her teasing, Noly returned.
"Okay, ready!" The ranger had her dragonhawk resting snuggly under her cloak like a baby. The chick's head arcing around back and forth the girl's chin, innocently taking in the sights and sounds.
Not long after, Sylvanas was carried over to us by a pair of rangers to Lor'themar's care.
Siristra(sza) transformed back into her dragon form, letting me and Noly climb atop her her scales and 'spikes' on her back were arranged in such a way that the two of us had something to hold onto.
The Ranger-Lord flew away the moment he secured Sylvanas. But before we took to the sky, an idea flashed in my head.
"Wait, Siristra, can we just have a quick stop before we head over there?"
"Syllia, this is hardly a leisurely flight," the dragoness countered.
"I know, but it'll be quick. There's someone I just have to let know I'm okay."
"Syllia…"
"It's on the way to Quel'Danas. I'll be in and out, two minutes. Three tops," I ask pleadingly."Please."
The dragon mulled it over, then sighed, "where exactly is this person?"
"Careful, that stuff's worth more than you!" Amiria swore to herself as another crate fell over, breaking everything valuable within. "What did I just say?"
"S-sorry ma'am."
"Just hurry up," Amiria hissed, passing the rest of her people packing up their belongings and valuables. "I refuse to stay here a moment longer than necessary!"
She poked her head out the front door and frowned.
It's the end of the world out there!
The sky was blacked out by soot and ash that snowed back down, the air smelled like burning and rotting corpses, screams and sounds of battle echoed across the emptied streets, and there were monsters starting to appear inside the city!
They had been smashing themselves bloody against the walls for days now, but it seemed like they had finally figured out a way in. Walking corpses, spider things, and other unholy abominations. Not in any large numbers, yet, but they had been steadily increasing in numbers since the early morning.
Even before that they were hurling hunks of rotting meat over the walls as some sort of artillery. One chunk splattered to the ground not far from her home. The smell alone made her almost throw up her small breakfast.
Spells were raining down from on high, flying monsters crashed into the ground dead fettered with arrows, and no incursion seemingly lasted that long until the creatures were cut down by soldiers. Spell and steel against blood and bone.
While she'd left her home a while ago, making sure to only take her most valuable things she kept in a small chest under her bed when the fighting initially started, even her current location at the brothel was no longer safe. A distance from the walls it might be, but she already had to put down a spider monster that tried to eat one of the working girls.
While the hole it came out of was filled, and being watched, the girl in question had been catatonic ever since; just staring at the bite marks on her arm.
The undead were being put down, but not nearly fast enough. From the few looks she got of the battle from her spyglass, it looked like they were about to fall. All that remained of Silvermoon's vaulted defenses was a thin red line of plate holding off an endless sea of corpses and corpsers.
It was hardly the 'last' line of defense, most of the army had been drawn back from the walls deeper into the city. More barricades along main streets, more lines of defense to block off undead or funnel them into killing fields, and hastily established bastions in key buildings for glorious last stands.
She has no doubt it will be quite a sight for all those people on ships or on Quel'Danas, a front row seat to the death of Silvermoon.
For her part Amiria was packing up and leaving.
Screw the kingdom, she was going to live!
As was her daughter.
Syllia…
She might not have heard from Syllia in over a week, but she just knew the girl was alive. She was out there, maybe alone, maybe not, in the midst of all this, but still alive.
Honestly, Amiria could not tell if it was her motherly instinct from a connection that made her know this, or if this was just a coping mechanism by her mind to fool itself into ignoring the very real reality of the situation.
What made her girl so special to survive while so many others died? Beyond being her daughter…
Survivors flooded in for days, even after the gates were sealed, but that trickle ended days ago…
She had to be.
She had to be…
If not, then what was the point of-
The building shook as something hit the roof; something large.
Was it another corpse slamming into the rooftops? Or was it something worse?
"Damn it!" Amiria slammed the table, frustrated by how fast everything was moving. She checked her pistol to make sure it was loaded."Right, we're moving now. Forget everything not packed up! One of you come with me to make sure whatever's out there is actually dead-"
There was a flash of light, in the midst of the room and a voice.
"Fuck!"
Syllia?
"Who puts a crate in the middle of a room!" Low and behold, appearing from thin air, nursing her shin. She was a mess, haggard, tired, bruised, but alive.
Amiria holstered her pistol as she watched her daughter shove the furniture aside as before quickly noticing the audience her arrival had attracted. "Oh… Hi mom."
"Syllia?" she asked, as if not believing her own eyes. "Are you.."
"Yeah, Mom I'm," she rubbed the back of her neck, "I'm a… I'm okay."
She was about to pull her girl in for a hug, the building shook again, heavy, lumbering sounds reverberating across the structure. It brought Amiria back to reality, drew her pistol and marched her way outside to see what it was.
"Wait, wait, wait!" Syllia grabbed her arm. "It's fine. They're with me," Syllia abruptly stated, holding her hands out in a calming motion.
"'They're'?" Amiria questioned, her gun still drawn, painfully aware of the sounds on the roof. Lumbering and massive
"Look I know what it sounds like, but everything is fine. Nothing to worry about." the girl sheepishly looked to the side, mumbling to herself, "...this probably wasn't the best place to land."
"Land? But you just teleport here."
"Mom, I can only teleport really short distances," the girl chuckled. "So to get back I had to hitch a-"
CRASH
"Ride here…"
Right out the window, she saw it.
It was a dragon.
A bright, red, dragon with rows of razor teeth and claws larger than a grown man. Its reptilian eyes bore down at her, as if judging. Its fall shattered the establishments windows, letting in plumes of dust and soot from outside.
Amiria was prepared to pull Syllia behind her but then she saw a lone figure clinging to the dragon's back, waving.
"Hi mom!'' Was that…Noly on the dragon's back? "Oh, and hi Aunt Amiria! Are you guys okay?"
"Noly, what in the name of all that is holy are you doing on that!" The girl's mother pushed aside the others who stood dumbstruck by the sight, the woman's concern for her child overriding her fear of the creature. "Get down from it before you get hurt!"
"It's fine mom! Siristrasza wouldn't let that happen!" the girl patted the dragon's neck.
"That is correct," the dragon spoke, or she assumed it did at least. The beast's voice was deep but with an audible feminine lilt. "Rest assured, while time is short, I would not take unnecessary risks while flying."
"That's…I…" the woman was at a loss for words. "How…"
"I would also recommend for your own safety, that you all head deeper into the city. The undead are making a concerted push against the walls and I am not sure how long the defenses will hold." the dragon advised, looking towards the walls. The dragon's gaze lingered on Amiria longer than the rest, as if judging her, then turning to Syllia. " And Syllia, keep your conversation short, we must leave soon as well. Remember, this is a time sensitive matter."
"Time sensitive?" She looked towards her daughter for an explanation.
"Yeah Silly, we shouldn't keep the king waiting!" Noly interrupted, much to Syllia's grumbling.
"The King?"Syllia sheepishly met her gaze. "Why are you meeting the king?"
"Noly," the dragon turned its head back to address its passenger, "I don't believe that information was meant to be known."
"Well, I mean, we're going to Quel'Danas. It's kind of obvious. Who else would we be going to see?"
"No one knew where we were going."
"Oh...shit," the redhead looked as if she wished to slink into her attire.
"...you're not going," Amiria grabbed onto her daughter.
"Mom…"
"Don't 'mom' me. You rush off into the jaws of death and now you're about to rush off again?!" And leave me?
"I have to do this, mom."
"You don't have to do anything."
"Then I want to do this," Syllia stated.
Amiria wanted to keep arguing, to pull Syllia with her and leave all this nonsense of dragons and kings and undead behind them. But she already tried that before, and the girl slipped from her arms in a flash of light. She doubted it would be any different this time if she pressed the matter.
"I…," emotion threatened to overwhelm her. "How will you even find me after this is all…over?"
"Mom, you'll probably have to find me," the girl then grinned. "But don't worry, while I am very subtle, I can also be very unsubtle when I want to be."
Amiria registered her daughter's words, then started laughing.
Syllia...subtle?
"Hey it's true!" she defended herself. "Once everything is all said and done, I'll make the biggest scene imaginable. So big, so grand, you'll know it's me, and that I'm okay."
She kept laughing, pulling her daughter in for a tight hug. If she was not laughing, she would be crying seeing her daughter off again with no guarantee of her return. No matter how much her mind told her otherwise, no matter how many parents probably heard the exact same thing from their children only to never see them again, she actually believed her.
Heh….
Motherly instinct…or coping mechanism?
"I'll be fine, trust me," her daughter reiterated, returning the hug. When her daughter finally pulled away, Amiria let her. "Please."
"Okay…" she finally relented. "Just... no heroics please. And come back alive."
"...I can promise coming back alive, no comment on the heroics though," the girl flashed her a smile, then blinked away from her arms.
She gave Amiria one last wave before taking flight on the dragon's back.
As her daughter disappeared in the clouds of ash, Amiria centered herself. Bottling up all those emotions that flooded out of her, joy, relief, pain, worry, all of it into the back of her mind. She needed to stay focused.
She looked back to her people, most still dazed by what they just saw. "What are you standing around for! I said we're leaving!"
The Magister's Terrace was eerily calm.
You could see the devastation from the shoreline, hear the chaotic sounds carried over the waves, yet there was still a tranquility in the air that I just couldn't wrap my head feeling that all the chaos was 'over there', no need to concern yourself.
The only thing I could think of that could cause this was the Sunwell. While anyone could feel the Well's influence from anywhere in the Kingdom, Quel'Danas was drenched in its energies. Even with ashy clouds darkening the sky, I could still feel as if sunlight was on my skin.
I'd thought my first interaction with Magisterial decorum would have prepared me for how blisteringly fast someone can be made 'decent' to see their social superiors. My robes were changed out for what felt like the third time in a week, proper shoes, I was even offered gloves that I declined, and then ushered into an honest to god waiting room.
When the door opened, I spotted Lor'themar walking out; meaning Sylvanas got here alright. He gave me a quick nod before rushing off to do…something. Probably oversee the defenses if I had to guess.
A courtier bid me and Siristra(sza) forward, while eyeing Noly to stay put. We exchanged quick looks before the doors shut behind me.
The dragoness and I were led down a long corridor, constantly flaked by royal guards, until we reached a massive set of doors.
They opened to reveal the personal study of the King of the High Home, Anasterian Sunstrider, surrounded by a small cabal of guards and courtiers.
The first thought that popped into my mind was just how old Anestairan was. Like really, really old. Graying hair, wrinkles all over. In spite of that, there was a burning fire that made him seem a century younger.
"Lady Siristraza, you've returned. I am pleased your task to find the General was a-" the King stopped short when his eyes laid on me. I couldn't tell if it was in confusion or disbelief.
To be fair, a very reasonable reaction to having some kid walk in who's been claiming to be a magistrix; even if he may not know that bit yet. Maybe he was the first person to immediately see through my 'disguise'?
"Success? Of course," Siristra(sza) either didn't notice, or care, about the king's abrupt cut off. "Lady Windrunner is in the hands of your healers I assume?"
"...yes," he nodded, tearing his gaze from me to give the dragoness his attention. "You have my thanks. With any luck my personal apothecaries, and the Sunwell rejuvenating properties, will see to it that she's back on her feet in a matter of days."
"We're not gonna have a few days," I mumble, craning my neck to see the burning Eversong across the water. "Maybe a few hours…"
"Pardon me, Lady Sitristrasza, but why is… she here," he eyed me with a strange expression.
"Well I assumed you'd want to meet the one responsible for saving Lady Windrunner," the dragoness smiled.
"...she saved her," he questioned. "This is the Lady Dawnguard Lord Theron spoke of?"
"Indeed," she let a hint of pride fill her words. "My apprentice is also the only reason most of your magisters are even still alive right now."
"I'd heard Lord Coldwater was responsible for bringing the traitor into custody," I felt like hiding from the sharp eyes now squarely on me.
"And guess who alerted the Lord of the traitor in the first place?"
"...thank you for bringing this to my attention, Lady Siristrasza," his words were careful and deliberate. "Now if you don't mind, I would like to converse with the… girl in private."
"No problem at all," the dragoness smiled, "I'll remain on the Isle for a time if you require anything else." Giving me a quick pat on the shoulder, she
Anasterian looked to his guards and couriters, "...leave us."
They complied, quickly seeing themselves out. The doors shut, leaving me alone with the king of all Quel'Thalas.
And it was…awkward.
He ran his fingers along the desk in a rhythmic pattern, his expression bereft of any tells to what he was actually thinking. Best I could tell was that he was seething about something, or taking a measure of me.
And the silence between us dragged on.
One minute.
Two.
Three.
Yeah this is pretty awkward. I can only imagine what is going through his head right now. Probably wondering 'why the hell is there a kid in front of me'.
After four minutes, I decided to take the plunge.
"So," how does one break the ice with a king? "I think I should explain a few things before we jump to conclusions. I promise everything will make sense, but I need to preface a few things first."
He continued to stare at me, then sighed.
"This goes well beyond your usual theatrics," the king commented, as if trying to calm himself. "But I shouldn't be surprised. Why should I expect anything different from you?"
…
…what?
AN: Oh dear. Awkward conversations inbound!
Next chapter will be the first half of the Sunwell Arc! (Sunwell is a two-parter!).