So, victory. The snake is frozen, we are alive. From above comes the roar of explosions, accompanied by the ceiling shaking. Those are the hunters, using explosives to break through the defenses and come to our aid. Fortunately or unfortunately, we solved that problem ourselves. And I'm thrilled!
Venidan and I were screaming, and I'm not ashamed. I think she isn't either. Well, Veni is used to such things, so she expressed her joy much more modestly, but I took advantage of my age. I can afford it, especially since the occasion was more than successful. I hadn't felt such an adrenaline rush even once in two lives. The attack on the village didn't even come close to reflecting what happened. No. Back then, I had my mother as insurance, and there were survivors in the village. I didn't doubt I would get help, one way or another. The situation, except at the very end, was quite frightening but at the same time controlled. In the worst case, I would have fled, and I don't think a Troll could have stopped me.
But when you are in the darkness of a dungeon (literally darkness, no holes or light sources) fighting a giant snake—and I mean a truly massive snake—it is a completely, absolutely different matter. And there is no help to be found (I wasn't sure we'd even get out; the snake could have reached me anywhere). In short, it's dark, cold, wet—water was still a factor—and in front of a giant boa, it's terrifying. You feel like you're about to be devoured, and that feeling of "there won't be a second chance, strike" is amazing. Especially when it's all over.
I can repeat it: I was scared, but I regret nothing. Victory, the monster is defeated, the heroes triumph—well, almost. And even the cold and damp aren't so bothersome anymore.
And we won! WE won! We won, you stupid dead reptile! The snake is dead, there it lies, about halfway frozen into the ice, dead and huge! Even now, it's a very imposing statue in honor of a giant snake.
"DaVi, give us some light, let's look around," Venidan requested.
It's a bit dark here, of course, even for me. The torch the Dwarf brought is more of a hindrance than a help. Fortunately, magic contains many domestic spells, like that light-ball. They are often learned just in the process of living because they are all around you. The situation is generally the same as with magical self-levitation: not the simplest spell, but among mages, it's fashionable not to walk, but to levitate. Should it be surprising that if not everyone, then many use it? I suppose not.
"I'll make light now. Light!" A glowing sphere soared toward the ceiling. "We have an hour."
The snake, now illuminated, looks even more stunning. The ice plays in the light, part of it crushed into powder. This makes everything look brighter and more shimmering than it actually is. Though the snake is still terrifying. If you think about it, it's not that huge on its own; it's just that I'm a Midget. But in this case, that changes nothing.
The light didn't make this hall feel more lived-in. The cobwebs hadn't gone anywhere, nor had the look of a stone room where everything that could rot, had. Of course, the statue, the sacrificial altar, and our icy installation liven up the room quite a bit. But they don't solve the problem of desolation. No loot chests or anything of the sort are visible, but perhaps there is a storage area somewhere here.
"Excellent, let's look around," the Mgalekgolo remarked, scanning the room. "This place doesn't look like the nest of such a beast. There must be something else here."
Venidan approached with curiosity, poked the snake with a knife, and then, unexpectedly for me, began climbing up the boa's carcass. Eh? Ah, her knife was still stuck in the creature's eye. Right, that makes sense. But the fact that her camouflage gear would get filthy does not.
"Veni, aren't you going to get tired of washing off the blood?"
Climbing onto the snake's head, she turned around.
"Are you going to give me a new knife?"
I snorted, tightening the strings. This wasn't a standard cone of cold; it had to be shaped correctly. The ceiling shuddered; dust and stone chips rained down on us. I can't see what's happening up there, but it's not hard to guess. Several of my golems are up there, which means the Mgalekgolo will join us very soon. Without the giant boa, they'll be calmer, with more room to maneuver. In the meantime, I could try to tease Veni, since the opportunity had presented itself.
"Watch, a trick. One, two, three, and... steps!" I exhaled ice, straining the strings. "You could have just asked me to do that."
It turned into a perfectly serviceable ice staircase. One of the perks of being a Mage: some spells have both combat and civilian applications; many people just don't think about it. I immediately sat down on the steps to tease her and demonstrate the reliability of this piece of furniture!
"Slipped a little, no big deal."
Venidan laughed.
"Yeah, I see. You do what you want, but I prefer it this way. More reliable."
Fine, I'm levitating, and that's great. Venidan snorted, and I waved her off. Alright, time to get to work; we didn't fly here just to stare at ruins, at least I didn't. Now we'll find out what valuables can be hauled out of here. We have a harsh medieval society here: whatever you can scavenge from the enemy is yours. And if someone disagrees, you settle that yourselves. Obviously, time and water have done their work; there's no talk of clothing. But some metal items, crystals, and Enchanted objects are quite capable of surviving even this environment.
"Fine then, I still have to find a trophy for the Magister. Let's see..."
And then came the shakedown of the room, the reunion with the others, and stories by the campfire about how we took down that snake. What a rush! There's something amazing about everyone talking at once, telling how we did this, and it did that! And then we did this! And then like that!
In the process, I noticed that Heming hardly spoke, leaving the most interesting part of the story to us and only adding technical details. They even poured me a little Dwarven beer!
By the way, we found the snake's lair. A level higher than we thought. There were no piles of bones or anything; snakes swallow food whole rather than picking it clean. Though from the "back end," mangled armor elements and other junk came out, fit only for smelting. Disappointing, frustrating, but expected.
And then morning came. No, not with a hangover; I didn't drink that much, though I was very thirsty. Generally, I've noticed a trend: when we arrive somewhere, everything annoys me. But once we've won, it's actually quite alright. I'm even slightly sad that in twenty-four hours the Magister's flying transport will return and we'll head home. And this is a great opportunity for one more task that cannot be delayed.
Naturally, I'd need to leave the camp and settle a few organizational matters. I wasn't sure if the Magister had made an arrangement with the Mgalekgolo, but it was necessary to inform them, as well as agree on the safety of the cargo. There shouldn't be any major problems with the latter; just close the crate and that's it—it's quite reliable. That being the case, upon entering the tent where we had lived these past few days, I asked:
"Hey, Veni," she turned around, "do you think we could walk to Stratholme? Like we planned."
She chuckled, greasing her knife.
"Want to see how the humans live and listen to rumors about sudden diseases and evil cultists? Sure, I'm in. Only, what are we going to do with the container?"
That could have been a problem if these were ordinary mercenaries. But I had thought about it; after all, the container holds an assembly machine and a supply of mines. Of course, it's assumed my share won't be gutted, but one can always solve the issue radically. Set the mines to attack upon opening the container. I can lift the order from the outside; after all, it's my spell placed on them. Anyone else will face failure and an explosion—no business poking around and touching other people's things.
"We'll leave it in the camp; when we fly out, we'll pick it up. I'll settle it with Heming."
No sooner said than done. Heming agreed to watch the crate for a couple of days, and he accepted our departure without issue. And so, two Elves set off through the forest toward the city. Everything is going according to plan, which is always pleasing.
As a result of looting the Troll complex—previously unrobbed because of the snake—I managed to understand a lot about the structure of humanoid golems and gather some good stuff too. Yes, I practically performed autopsies on them, recording the movement of the strings. I even managed to reactivate one to see how it would move and work. It turned out well; I now have a better understanding of how to make a transformer-golem. And of course, we gathered all sorts of junk from them.
Mostly various magic crystals, magic dust, and materials crystallized by magic over the decades. The Troll statue in the tomb was an inactive golem, and we dismantled it with pleasure, breaking it down into elements.
At the same time, I received a lecture on Dwarven golem-building from Monty's wife. Useful information, even if mostly general. Pure theory, a few explanations, nothing even resembling a corporate secret. But it's more than I had yesterday, so no problems there.
As it stands, Dwarves use both Mechanics and magi-tech. Nothing stops them from having helicopters and tanks in their army, positioned on the same Battleground in a mass... Anyway, let's skip that. The point is there will be helicopters, golems, and tanks, and magic golems. The Dwarves compensate for a lack of magical potential by enchanting elements using runes.
The same metal statue, but unlike the Elves, it has a different version of the control construct. Runes carved directly onto the golem's body, infused with magic. Yes, just like on the parts of their mechanisms. Unfortunately, without a Dwarf Mage, I won't be able to learn those specific runes, but now I know a little more about the possibility. A control scroll is certainly more universal, but runes can be carved or machined directly onto the product. And what is that? Automation.
Plus, runes have other advantages. For example, if I try to assemble a mechanical array (a modular golem that can reassemble into what I need), installing runes on each element of the structure will be easier. Plus, runes mean many weak points, whereas a scroll or crystal is just one. Which is a plus for survivability.
The problem is that to implement all this, I need a teacher with the necessary knowledge. And that will likely be a Dwarf. And the chances of meeting one in Quel'Thalas, let's be honest, are near zero. This isn't just bending metal anymore; these are the secrets of clans and families. They don't share that with just anyone. And I need it. Anyway, I'll add it to the list of things I'll do when the opportunity arises.
Monty's wife generally approved of my mechanical combat golem—the combat sphere style—but advised against making a magical weapon; the Mana consumption is too high. I agree with her on that; to build a magical Droideka, you need a truly serious power cell. And yes, what we obtained will only be enough for a sphere with conventional weapons (it wasn't for nothing I poked around the Troll golems; they have exactly the crystals that can be inserted into stone, wood, or anywhere else). I might even be able to assemble a new staff and golems. After the Dwarven woman's refinements, I essentially have a finished blueprint for creating a folding combat sphere.
And all these crystals and blueprints are gathered in the container, so I have no intention of leaving them. If necessary, I'll escort it on foot. But the second high-priority item I need as soon as possible is flying transport. When traveling between cities can take days, flight is the solution. I can levitate myself or the container; pouring in more Mana and casting flight on something of that size is well within my power. The problem all this time has been the base. A ship, a container, or a house—something that will actually fly. Again, an important problem, but I'm not sure how to solve it yet. I didn't draw Mechs for nothing; that's a smaller and simpler option.
So, having finished preparations and said goodbye to the Mgalekgolo, we headed toward Stratholme. Scarcely had we left the camp when a raven, black as night, landed on a tree branch and spoke in a human voice. Well, an Elven one. And a quite familiar one, containing slight notes of irritation.
"Are you going somewhere, ladies?"
We nodded. I'm the one speaking; after all, he is my teacher, and I'm the one who wants to go to Stratholme.
"Yes, Magister. We want to see the humans. The mission is complete; when we return, we'll need to pick up the container with the trophies. Golem crystals, snake fangs, and some other ingredients."
The raven croaked and answered us with his voice:
"Fine, we'll pick it up. Do you need money?"
Wow. I didn't expect him to just agree like that, so I was momentarily stunned. But Venidan wasn't.
"You even have to ask, Magister? Of course, yes."
Well, that's one less problem. And now, to Stratholme! Naturally, "now" turned into several hours of a brisk forced march just to reach the road, and then more to reach the city along the road. We arrived at the location well after lunch, though we had set out in the morning. And that was with me using levitation on Veni so she wouldn't get tired, so we didn't have to take breaks at all. It's quite exhausting, but I only exhaled when the white walls of Stratholme appeared ahead.
"They've set themselves up quite well here."
"Agreed."
Even from here, it's a fairly bustling city. There is traffic; wagons are going into and out of the city; peasants are bringing goods and leaving. Ordinary daily life of, say, the seventeenth century. And yes, besides the desire to learn about the Cult of the Damned, I have a purely personal interest here. I want to see how the humans live, walk around, and gawk. Well, why not? This is literally a medieval city where people live by medieval rules. Who would turn down a tour of such a place? I wouldn't either. As soon as I saw it, it was like a Second Wind opened up. Everything is so real and interesting!
The first impression is quite positive. Having listened to the Elves and read the books, I was seriously expecting to see a "Planet of the Apes" style uprising here. Not directly, but in our books, comparisons of human and Elven achievements were in favor of the Elves ninety-five percent of the time. On any subject. Appearance, architecture, culture, women, Magic Achievements (though humans aren't so bad there), military successes.
But it's not all that bad, at first glance. The city is quite tidy and cohesive. It doesn't have that soaring arched style—whatever it's called. Everything is low, squat, heavy, monumental. The heavy stone blocks and log trusses look crude but neat. You can see that people live here.
They work in the fields, play, or help the adults. We passed several farms, and no one paid us any attention, busy with their work. In the end, I won't say they have it all bad. Crude—yes. But not bad.
True, the local peasants aren't beauties, for the most part. The lack of proper medicine, hard labor, and alcoholism take their toll. These people are likely younger than they look. But they don't look that terrible. Again, not as bad as I actually expected.
A broader jaw, making many of their heads look more like pears. Generally a broader body, arms, and legs—squatness—which makes the humans seem more square. The clothes are quite crude by both twenty-first-century standards and Elven standards. Often patched, but I can't say they are torn or dirty. Again, a perfectly normal situation for a peasant who works hard and doesn't have access to the benefits of modern civilization.
They ride in carts or walk; they work in the fields. Interestingly, no one spoke to us; moreover, a clear space of about two meters immediately formed around us. And they whisper, trying to understand what "nobility" is doing here and why they're trekking on foot. However, after the cook, I expected such a reaction. He told me quite a bit about such things. About how clothes, home, and appearance are the first signs of class. For Elves, the gradations are slightly different, though we have that too. Obviously, we look better than the locals, which has an effect.
We reached the city quite quietly, without incident. The road is packed dirt but not stone; they only laid stone in the city. They let us inside without a problem when our turn came. Yes, there was some crowding at the entrance, but we had no cargo, so no problems arose. It's a good thing we didn't drag the container with us; that would have raised a lot of questions; the Guard is vigilant.
Well, they asked a few simple questions: "where from," "where to," "how long do you plan to stay," and let us go in peace. And here we are, inside. We passed through the Guard without trouble; they took the "guests from Quel'Thalas" calmly, even informing us:
"A whole team of your Priests arrived here the other day. If you hurry, you might still meet them."
Priests? Perhaps they are here on Order business. Or maybe not; apparently, when the Cult started making everyone's life miserable, the Priests arrived to help. It's not a given they'll tell us what's happening, but we can try.
"Veni, what do you think?" I asked quietly in Elvish.
She gave a crooked smile, looking around.
"I wouldn't live here. But since we're here, let's look around."
Well, again, it's not all that bad. The streets are wide enough and not exactly dirty. Houses up to three stories, made of wood. Mostly two-story. Of course, the peasants use horses, and they poop, so the smell here isn't the pleasantest, but again, it's not all that bad, though still "ew." I can agree, I wouldn't want to live here, but as a tour, it'll be interesting.
Venidan suggested:
"I think we should split up; unfortunately, there's not much time for proper reconnaissance. Let me go to a tavern—you look too wealthy—and you walk around the city and listen. We'll meet at sunset and see what each of us found."
I don't think we really have other options. I still hope that an event as massive as an epidemic will find resonance in the hearts of the peasants. It's unlikely they'll want to be frank with just anyone, but we can try, right?
"Good idea, let's do that."
So I found myself alone in Stratholme and set off to wander the streets without any particular goal. Just hanging around here and there and listening to conversations, gawking at everything.
From the inside, the city is the same combination of wood and stone, and strong but crude people. Traders shout, beckoning buyers. The clatter of hooves and the noise of human speech, somewhat coarse and not always understandable. There is a bit of a smell; after all, sewage in the city is a relative thing and not of the best quality. Smells of food and booze from the nearest tavern, some nasty stuff being sold in the stall opposite. Plus the fact that the people around me continue to keep their distance, as if they are wary. This hinders information gathering quite a bit.
For the sake of listening, I even found a moment and cast Invisibility on myself. But it didn't help much; people discuss everything under the sun, plus in a crowd, it drops too easily from accidental bumps. On the other hand, I did come across some useful information. Though I realize Veni will find out much more. Picking out something useful from the conversations is quite difficult, given that I'm interested in literally everything.
"...the harvest will be good..."
Not it.
"...they keep coming and coming from Gilneas, what's with them..."
Worgen are there. Werewolves, that is. If I remember correctly, the situation was only stabilized by the Night Elves after the third wave, when they managed to bring the curse under control. Until that happened, the local residents suffered from night raids by crazed werewolves. But that's not it either.
"I'm telling you, it's a witch!"
Thanks, I wish you'd go jump off a bridge too.
"...all ale, ale. Need more wine..."
Not for me either.
"What are you doing here, young lady?" a stern male voice thundered in my ear.
I jumped and, on pure reflex, sent an icicle toward the sound, causing a dead silence to fall over the street. Literally, all dozens of voices fell silent at once, plunging the square into absolute silence. Because I had just realized WHO I had sent the icicle at.
At a massive Paladin, covered in steel and gold, with a hammer glowing with the blue light of runes. He stepped back slightly, causing the icicle to ricochet off his armor and fly into the sky.
A second later, recognition set in. Without a helmet, by the shape of the pauldrons and the weapon. This wasn't just any Paladin and not just any hammer. To quote Illidan: "You are not prepared." And here, I won't even argue. I was supposed to run into Arthas. Perhaps cross paths with him while they were hunting Orcs and the Cult of the Damned. I just don't have a strong enough argument to persuade Uther. Not to mention we are in the middle of a city; raising a panic is not the time.
And yes, I didn't expect him to be here. What is he even doing in the city? Do they have a base here, or did he come to get information from the locals? I have no idea. How poorly timed. Alright, let's say hello and act according to the circumstances.
"Uther the Lightbringer, I presume?" I greeted in an unexpectedly high voice, trying with all my might to figure out what to do. And admiring him in the process. "Glad to meet you, though it turned out somewhat unexpected."
This is a two-meter-tall tank of a man with an incredibly huge hammer in heavy armor made of scale-like chainmail and plate; the left pauldron is gold with a winged design; the right is ordinary but covered in blue cloth embroidered with gold. A massive book is at his waist; in his left hand is a hammer with glowing runes. A classic fantasy sledgehammer, weighing a couple of hundred kilos. Dark hair with gray, a beard (not long) and mustache, eyes glowing blue. And also, he's a damn tank whose arms are thicker than my legs.
The man looks down at me, making me want to sink through the pavement. I could slip away through the sewers from there.
"Indeed, lady. And you?" This giant composed himself, casually brushing frost off his pauldron.
Meanwhile, the crowd, still quiet and silent, gathered around us. Alright, time to surrender.
"Davilinia, a Mage's apprentice, sir. S-sorry, reflex. I didn't expect to meet you here."
I was already preparing to levitate or blink, but the Paladin sharply and very quickly, yet gently, placed a hand on my shoulder.
"No need to rush, Lady Davilinia. In the end, you still haven't answered my question. At your age, it's too early to be so far from Quel'Thalas. Without companions. These are troubled times; walking alone is simply dangerous."
I'm in deep. Oh well, it seems they won't kill me yet. Though the way he's acting... Ah, right. I look like a pipsqueak to him. All that's missing is "are you lost, dear." Tsk, how poorly timed. I didn't try to play the offended innocent, nor did I try to act like something serious. With my dimensions, it would look ridiculous anyway. I simply replied:
"My partner and I participated in a hunt for a lizard in the Troll ruins, Sir Uther. Together with the professional hunters of Mr. Nesingwary. We are being picked up tomorrow, and we decided to take a walk through the human city before returning. Is that already forbidden? Forgive me, I didn't know."
The Paladin chuckled. And he spoke in a deep, slightly raspy voice.
"I see. And where is your partner? I assume she is somewhat older than you, yes? Then why aren't you with her? And yes, these lands are troubled; wild Orcs have been seen in these lands. You are likely too young and didn't experience the war, but believe me: Orcs are extremely dangerous. Not to mention the disease that can strike even an Elf. You and your companion should not leave the city. It would be better to return to Quel'Thalas."
I quite sincerely shrugged.
"She'll be here soon; no need to worry about me. Either way, my teacher will pick us up tomorrow, and we'll leave the city. We're fine, Lord Uther, thank you."
I'm trying to be as polite as possible and hide my irritation, and I don't seem to have made any major mistakes. After all, he's a Human and I'm an Elf—different schools, different jurisdictions. Only, so far, it's not helping. This kind mentor, capable of bending metal with his fingers, had no intention of walking off into the sunset.
"I believe I know best how one should behave in a human city. Follow me; you're lucky, there are other Elves present in the city. Keep up," and glancing at the gathered crowd, he added, "there is nothing to see here, let us through."
The last part was said so promisingly that I'm almost certain—he's quite the sadist in training too. The crowd parted like the ocean before Moses, leaving a two-meter corridor, even better than the one I had. And we walked toward the wealthier stone houses.
Venidan joined us about three minutes later, quietly trying to whisk me away. It didn't work. The Paladin noticed her instantly, and when I confirmed that she was indeed my companion, he delivered an entire monologue on the harms of alcohol at a young age. And Veni's phrase:
"I'm on the job, needed to hear what they'd say," clearly didn't convince him.
The Paladin led us through the city, not forgetting to moralize to both of us. In the monotonous voice of an experienced priest, raising his voice just enough to be heard and persistently enough that it was impossible not to listen. And he absolutely doesn't let us get a word in or ask a question.
"When the time comes to ask, I will tell you. For now, the best you can do is remember the lesson learned, listen, and study diligently."
People around us are staring, following us with their eyes, but keeping their distance.
Where are we going? To the castle. A real, medieval castle with turrets, white stone walls, red tiles on the roof, and guards at the entrance. They, seeing us and the Paladin, stood at attention.
However, Uther didn't lead us deep inside, handing us over to an Elf Priestess. It seems these are the very Elves.
"Met them in the square. The elder abandoned the younger and secluded herself in a tavern. The poor child was left all alone. Look after them; I must go. His Highness will be expecting a meeting, and I have already lingered too long."
It was like an electric shock. His Highness—that's Arthas. Have we missed all the best parts, and is the confrontation with the Cult about to begin? And I have no time for preparation! I thought I'd have a couple more years, and here's this mess! Right, I need to say something quickly.
"Lord Uther!"
The man stopped at the exit, partially turning around.
"Do you have something to say, lady?"
I nodded. Whatever, if I don't make it, at least I'll try to influence things this way.
"I would recommend that when making difficult decisions, you think not only about what is right. Но and about the consequences. There might truly be no choice, and a decision will have to be made. In the end, it's easiest to do something foolish when you're alone."
The Paladin turned around fully and looked at me questioningly:
"What is this about?"
I tried to smile as wide as possible.
"Just a thought. Maybe it'll help."
In a certain sense, it did help. Comrade Uther, before leaving, demanded that the Guard hand us over directly to the Magister, with an escort. He even threatened to bring up the icicle in case of disobedience.
"I hope you will listen to me after all. It is not safe here now."
What a bust. At least Venidan found some information. Which she shared when we were placed in a room, fed dinner, and left alone, with orders not to leave the room. Venidan sat right on the table, I on the bed, and the Rogue began:
"In short, your suspicions were confirmed. There is a certain particularly persistent disease that has been going around the region for almost a year now, which is why problems with grain are brewing in the cities. Everyone is waiting for the harvest with a vengeance but fears there will be less grain than needed. And that means fewer taxes for the nobility, who will be dissatisfied and who will squeeze the peasants harder. I managed to find this out without trouble; the tipsy locals have a lot of talk about their grievances."
I nodded. That makes sense, and later, when a large amount of infected grain appears on the cheap, it will be bought up instantly. The Cult of the Damned wins. Everyone else is in deep.
"I don't know what to say, Veni, whether it's good or bad. Good that you found it, but bad that I wasn't wrong. When the grain hits the market..."
"It'll be bought up instantly before the price goes up," Veni agreed.
"Exactly," I sighed, realizing we are late. Too late. "And the Cult of the Damned?"
The Rogue nodded.
"That's more complicated. As you understand, no 'Cult of the Damned' exists," I nodded; that was expected, "but various rumors are going around. I managed to hear about salvation from death and problems. But those are just rumors; as you understand, no one was in a hurry to be frank."
I sighed.
"Hmm, not much. Oh well. We'll work with what we have."
The guards indeed escorted us out of the city the next morning. And the Magister picked us up. Both us and the container, setting a course for home.
And in my head, ideas and blueprints are spinning, blueprints and ideas... And time is running out.
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