Kirin Tor

Duke was swamped, busier than a one-armed paperhanger, after laying out the Southshore Defense Line. He figured he'd be stuck in military pow-wows for the next week, hashing out the same old song and dance: which route the Horde would likely take, where they'd hit, and how to scramble the Alliance army to the hot zone faster than a goblin can count his gold.

You gotta remember, it was prime harvest season. Not every kingdom was Lordaeron, bursting at the seams with food reserves to feed its citizens for a year. For places like Gilneas and Alterac, it was a race against time. They had to kick the damn Horde out before their vital farmlands and ripening crops got trampled into oblivion.

But then, Duke got the boot.

Antonidas, being one of only two Archmages in the world, was a special kind of VIP in the Alliance. He wanted Duke to join a little tête-à-tête with the Kirin Tor Council of Six. The Kirin Tor Council was a whole different beast from the Council of Tirisfal, which Sargeras had so rudely dismantled. The Kirin Tor only ran the show in Dalaran, while the Council of Tirisfal was a global watchdog, focused on smacking down demons and keeping magic from going off the rails.

It was an invite Duke couldn't refuse, even if he wanted to.

"I've already pulled strings with the Commander-in-Chief for your leave," Antonidas said, his long white beard practically tickling his belly as he smiled at Duke. "My apologies, but the Kirin Tor Council is eager to meet you in Dalaran. I'm sure you're quite familiar with the portal system, yes?"

Duke nodded, trying to look knowledgeable.

Then, arcane energy, neat as a pin, spilled from Antonidas's hands.

Space Lock!

Arcane Energy Harmony!

Cross-space scanning!

Duke's eyes glazed over as he watched a string of minor magical feats. He stopped counting after the third one. Whatever, he thought, the system elf's got it all recorded. I'll pore over it later when I have a spare century.

When Duke stepped into the pulsing, purple-red portal – which opened and closed like a human breathing, and hummed with some truly bizarre arcane fluctuations – he instantly felt the chasm between his own magical prowess and Antonidas's.

Thanks to the system, Duke was already a force to be reckoned with, in his own humble opinion. But in terms of raw magical finesse, he wasn't just miles behind a Grand Magus; he was light-years behind even a Master Mage. Antonidas had barely flexed a muscle to conjure this portal.

Duke knew how to teleport, sure. But when he jumped through space, it was more like playing dodgeball, carefully weaving around unstable pockets and spatial cracks at warp speed, always opting for a long detour rather than risking a shortcut through a dodgy area.

Antonidas? Not so much. Except for those terrifying black hole-level anomalies, every spatial crack or obstacle simply evaporated before his magic, like dust before a broom. It was like Duke had to hike around the base of a mountain, while Antonidas just snapped his fingers and tunneled straight through it, in the blink of an eye. How could you even compare?

When it came to bending space to his will, this awe-inspiring old wizard was undoubtedly the top dog after Medivh kicked the bucket.

Duke could have teleported himself to Dalaran. His magic was strong enough for the job. But after successfully traversing that daunting distance, he'd probably be hugging the nearest toilet, battling a nasty case of magical motion sickness for a good long while.

Antonidas's teleportation, though? Smooth as silk. It was like Duke's pre-time-travel elevator ride – utterly mundane.

It was a truly magical feeling, stepping into Dalaran itself. If there was any place in the human kingdoms that screamed "miracle," it was Dalaran. This beautiful city, nestled south of Lake Lordamere, was a dazzling jewel, a perfect blend of wisdom, power, majesty, splendor, art, and mystery.

Lordaeron City, on the northern shore of Lake Lordamere, was beautiful in its own right, but it lacked that ethereal, otherworldly feel that Dalaran exuded.

Almost every human wizard in the world had, at some point, studied the arcane arts they'd learned from the high elves right here. The mysterious, elegant white towers, scattered throughout the city, stood as silent monuments to the wizards' wisdom, ambition, status, and raw power.

Antonidas had invited Duke during a time of war, so there was no time for sightseeing. Duke was whisked straight to the magic hall where the Kirin Tor Council held court.

The Kirin Tor Senate Hall was a truly bizarre space. Strictly speaking, it wasn't even part of Dalaran City. In a weird way, it was already in the airspace above it. If Duke's eyes and the system elf's altimeter weren't playing tricks on him, this place was a staggering 1,024 meters above Dalaran.

Low clouds drifted beneath his feet, and looking straight up, all he could see was a black, star-dusted sky, as if a giant hook had snagged it and hung it in mid-air. Only the twinkling lights of Dalaran City far below gave Duke any clue that he was still, technically, in Azeroth.

Not only did the view from the sky feel like flying in an airplane, but the very fabric of space seemed to shimmer and shift. Time-space fragments, churned up by some cosmic storm, made the view outside the windows flicker strangely. One moment it was drowsy and dim, the next, bright as the rising sun. Clearly, this wasn't your average scenic overlook.

Six council members stood on a massive metal ring, taller than Duke himself. If Duke wanted to look at them and talk, he had to crane his neck, and each person was positioned at a precise 60-degree angle. This setup immediately rubbed Duke the wrong way.

But what really got his goat was the council members' mysterious get-ups. Maybe it was meant to inspire awe in those being questioned. Outsiders could only see a purple turban embroidered with Dalaran's symbol and a massive cloak that swallowed the entire person. Things like body shape, face, even gender, were completely hidden by the clothes and magic.

What the hell is this? Am I here for a trial or something? Duke was fuming.

Antonidas, with the keen senses of a seasoned Archmage, immediately picked up on Duke's simmering anger. "My apologies," he said, "the Kirin Tor senators are all chosen in secret. Because we operate under a relatively democratic system, senators' votes on key matters directly influence national policy. To avoid any whiff of bribery, threats, or undue pressure, we all, save for myself as Speaker, receive outsiders in this manner."

But what really stuck in Duke's craw wasn't the secrecy; it was the look in those guys' eyes. In their gaze, he wasn't the Deputy Commander of the Alliance; he was just some lowly Archmage, a fresh-faced kid.

"Enough!" Duke roared, his voice echoing, causing all six councilors to visibly flinch. "I am not a mage from Dalaran, nor am I a prisoner here to be tried! Raise my chair! Take off your masks! Showing your true face is basic etiquette. If you can't even manage that, I'll turn right around and go home. The Alliance can beat the Horde without you, Dalaran!"

Duke's words were a punch to the gut, and several councilors immediately dropped their condescending airs.

But that wasn't enough for Duke.

"Please understand, our secret principle…" one began.

"Hmph!" Duke scoffed, a merciless sneer twisting his lips, broadcasting his utter contempt for their pretentious shadow play.

Duke knew exactly what these lawmakers were thinking. Why had the Kirin Tor Council invited him? To "exchange intelligence," they'd say. And sure, that was the main reason, but there were plenty of other fish in that barrel.

For instance, a covenant is a covenant, but once you're in the Alliance, can a wizard really be treated the same as some common knight? They probably figured putting pressure on Lothar, a warrior born and bred, would be too obvious and might not even work. So, they came for him, younger and more familiar with the arcane arts.

And then there was the elephant in the room: Karazhan. Dalaran, which had proudly claimed to be humanity's sole holy land of mages for thousands of years, was none too pleased about Karazhan popping up in the southern continent to steal its thunder. After all, it shook Dalaran's unique, transcendent status to its very foundations.

But Medivh was such a force of nature, Dalaran couldn't touch him with a ten-foot pole. Just because Medivh was untouchable didn't mean the Kirin Tor Council was helpless.

Thus, the Violet Eye was born. This was a secret organization established by the Kirin Tor to investigate Medivh and monitor his activities. It was a shadowy branch of the Kirin Tor Council that ruled Dalaran. Their mission: to keep a close eye on Karazhan, which was practically bursting with spatial cracks, and its master, Medivh. To put it nicely, it was to keep things from spiraling out of control.

To put it bluntly, if Medivh ever fell, they'd be first in line to pick his bones.

In fact, even Khadgar was originally a spy sent by the Kirin Tor to Medivh, but Medivh, being the generous sort, had taken Khadgar on as his apprentice.

In the original history, Khadgar not only wisely put down Medivh, who was possessed by Sargeras, but he also played favorites with his "mother's family," helping the Violet Eye haul Medivh's treasures and most precious books back to Dalaran by the cartload.

Sounds like Khadgar, as a loyal disciple, inherited his master's legacy and had every right to do as he pleased, right?

That's the theory. But considering Llane had practically bent over backwards, using the entire kingdom's resources to collect magic books for his good friend Medivh and build a new magic sanctuary in the south, Khadgar's actions were a pretty raw deal.

Khadgar, in history, was definitely a saint to the Alliance. But to Stormwind, which had poured its heart and soul into building Karazhan and stocking it with countless magic tomes, Khadgar was nothing short of a traitor. However, that Llane and Lothar were long dead in that timeline. The young King Varian had no one to complain to, and Stormwind lost control of Karazhan, so the matter was swept under the rug.

But now, Karazhan was firmly in Duke's hands.

Still want to muscle in, Dalaran? Not on your life!

That's why Duke was playing hardball.

Duke ignored Antonidas's feeble defense and spoke sternly, "I apologize, but I'm just a blunt instrument. I also possess a certain magical talent that allows me to see through appearances, right down to the essence of things. For instance, even as a mere magic apprentice, I figured out that Medivh was possessed by Sargeras. So, your so-called 'secrets' are about as useful as a screen door on a submarine when it comes to me."

The moment those words dropped, the entire Kirin Tor Council fell into a stunned silence. Disbelief was etched on the face of every single council member.

As a time-traveler with a system AI, Duke easily locked onto his first target. It was a being with the same magical signature as his own. Though the magic obscured much of the aura, the system elf could analyze it with just one glance at those eyes.

He stared at the figure on the left. "Hiding in the shadows will only bring shame to the name of Sunstrider, Prince Kael'thas."

Duke immediately heard a surprised gasp from under the man's mask, but it quickly turned into a low chuckle. "You are quite right, young Duke Edmund," the mage replied, his voice smooth as silk. "I personally find it rather rude for the Deputy Commander of the Alliance to be speaking to a shadowy figure."

With a quick, elegant hand gesture and a muffled incantation, the elven prince's disguise melted away, revealing his magnificent violet and gold robes.

As a high-class elf, Kael'thas possessed a face so handsome it was practically a work of art. His long, silky blonde hair, the kind that could sell shampoo ads, flowed over his shoulders, perfectly complementing his delicate features and sexy red lips. Duke figured one wink from him would have every girl who'd ever binge-watched a Korean drama before his time-traveling adventure ready to jump into a river for him.

Duke, however, hated his guts. Men, by nature, despise pretty boys who are more handsome than themselves. Don't ask why; it's just a universal truth.

Kael'thas, sensing Duke's slight disgust, showed a flicker of vigilance, but his impeccable upbringing allowed him to maintain his composure. "Is this better?"

"Much better, thank you," Duke said, then turned his gaze to the council member on his right. "What about the others? Shall I continue? Lord Krasus? Or perhaps Lord Kel'Thuzad, who's practically breathing down my neck?"

Krasus, the red dragon, and Kel'Thuzad, with his distinct necromantic aroma, were easier to distinguish than a lighthouse in a storm, thanks to the system elf's help.

With four of the six council members already unmasked, there was no point in the remaining two hiding. All the Kirin Tor council members, realizing the jig was up, dropped their concealment spells. They didn't know that Duke had no clue who the other two were. Duke wasn't from Dalaran; he had no idea who these two councilors were, not even a whisper in the history books. He wouldn't have known them even if they'd worn name tags.

After getting a good slap in the face from Duke, Antonidas waved a hand, and the surrounding scenery instantly morphed. It became a rectangular long table, the kind commonly seen at noble gatherings.

"Please, have a seat," Antonidas invited, taking the lead and settling onto an invisible chair.

The six councilors sat on one side, and Duke took the other. Since their statuses were now, ostensibly, equal, Duke didn't press his advantage further and engaged in a level-headed exchange of information about the Horde with Dalaran.

"You said the orcs' planet is Draenor?"

"They connect the two worlds through the Dark Portal?"

"This is bad news. We must destroy the Dark Portal if we get the chance."

"What? The Horde's warlocks are using forbidden demon powers that can drain the life out of humans, and possibly even raise the dead as undead? This is nasty stuff. We'll figure out how to deal with this."

After a series of intense exchanges, Duke was finally sent on his way by Antonidas.

Once Duke was gone, the six council members returned to their previous, formal setup.

"Well, what do you make of him?"

"The intelligence seems highly credible, and it aligns perfectly with what we've gathered. It's clear Duke Edmund wants to cooperate sincerely. The problem is, he's extremely wary of us in Dalaran, even bordering on hostile."

"Perhaps he knows Khadgar's true identity."

"Hmm…"

"The Karazhan issue can wait. The biggest problem right now is the orcs, who are hell-bent on wiping out the entire human race and all other intelligent creatures on this planet. I propose we form an additional mage group to join the fight against the Horde. This will require another councilor to lead it."

"Agreed!"

"Agreed!"

Three voices chimed in simultaneously: "Agreed!"

"That's a unanimous vote. Alright, who's going to lead it?"

"My apologies," Kael'thas said, looking a little embarrassed. "My identity is a bit sensitive, and my father hasn't given his approval yet."

"No worries. I'll go," Krasus offered.

Along with Kel'Thuzad, who had already departed, these two high-level mages with strangely intertwined destinies officially joined the fray of the Second War of the Dark Gate.

After Duke returned to Lordaeron, he received news: Dalaran was willing to send an additional mage corps to help, and the team would be led by an additional Kirin Tor senator, with absolutely no strings attached.

Lothar, upon hearing this, gave Duke a massive bear hug on the spot, nearly squeezing the life out of him.

"Uh, I actually… didn't do anything!" Duke protested, feeling a bit put out.

"Nonsense! Your trip was the greatest contribution to the Alliance! You don't have to say anything, I know it!" Lothar was so moved, he looked like he was about to burst into tears.

"..." Duke was dumbfounded, realizing that running to Dalaran, making threats, and putting on a show of being awesome had actually worked.

Thinking about the strong cards the Horde still had up its sleeve, Duke felt his side wasn't quite up to snuff yet. He was clearly back, and he wanted to watch the first generation of Templars undergo their magical transformation, oh, it was going to be explosive!

But then, one piece of news burst Duke's bubble.

Zjara's message: The murlocs were getting restless.

At that moment, Duke felt like a complete idiot. Honestly, the murlocs had always been Duke's private little kingdom. He didn't care about the wars to come, or the Scourge rampaging across the continent, or Arthas going full patricide and laying waste to everything. If things got too hot, he figured he'd just hide out in the middle of the ocean, become an island lord, and declare himself "Pirate King." At least he wouldn't end up a ghoul.

Now Zjara was telling him the murlocs were unstable?!

Duke took a quick breather, informed Anduin that there was some murloc trouble brewing in Southshore, and then teleported away.

There wasn't originally a teleportation point in Southshore. But as the successor to the celestial mage Medivh and a die-hard fan of high-mobility blitzkrieg, Duke had drawn a massive teleportation array in his temporary wooden house before leaving Southshore.

Right in front of Anduin and Admiral Daelin, Duke raised his hand, and countless blue runes floated from his palm, swirling in the air to form a series of spinning rune belts. A huge magic circle, more than three meters in diameter, spread out beneath Duke's feet, dazzling everyone. The next moment, Duke's figure was sucked into a small black hole and vanished from the palace lawn.

Daelin shrugged. "Mages are certainly convenient. When my little Jaina finishes her training, I'll have her play with me."

Lothar rolled his eyes. "Did you eat dinner last night?"

"Uh, sure. Why do you ask?"

"I just wanted to tell you that teleportation below the Grand Magus level is a nightmare. There's more than a 30% chance of kicking the bucket mid-trip. And even if you make it, you'll probably puke up everything you've eaten from yesterday to today."

"…" Daelin's face went a shade greener.

Duke reappeared in Southshore. The blinding magical light startled many guards, and Makaro's son, wide-eyed with excitement, happily ran over to greet him.

Duke sighed softly. The more power he gained, the more he realized his foundation was shaky. If he sent a few more people out, he'd have no one left to command his subordinates. VanCleef was off in the Westfall, Windsor was getting baptized in Stratholme, Macaro and Vanessa were still stuck in Lordaeron, Itana, whose father was a clerk, was now his internal affairs officer, and Daniel was still doing recon across the sea.

Duke wondered if he should find an excuse to recruit a couple more lieutenants to help him out.

Just then, General Tom Seamus, commander of the Griffin Legion, arrived with his guards. "Ah! Duke Edmund! Just in time! Your Naga said you were on your way back, and they've requested to come ashore." Llane hadn't returned to Southshore yet, and Bolvar was transferred away. General Seamus was the temporary supreme commander here. He was clearly on edge, but seeing Duke appear visibly relaxed him.

"Oh, Zjara. Ask her to come here."

Soon, Zjara arrived, flanked by two burly male Nagas.

"Master," Valla and the male Naga bowed in unison.

Duke deliberately spoke in the guttural language of the murlocs. "What's the ruckus? Are the fish-folk staging a rebellion?"

"No, Master," Zjara replied, her voice a low hiss. "The blind old one and several other murloc leaders have repeatedly demanded an audience with you, claiming a 'prophet' must speak with you. I couldn't stop them; tens of thousands of murlocs followed their 'request' en masse."

"You couldn't suppress them?" Duke was a little taken aback. The Naga's control over the murlocs was absolute, like a tiger effortlessly corralling a flock of sheep.

Duke stroked his chin. This so-called prophet sounds rather… interesting!

"My apologies, Master," Zjara continued, a slight tremor in her voice. "I dared not use excessive force. After all, I have yet to fully reclaim all the Naga forces on Hillsbrad Beach."

"Oh?" Duke prompted.

"There's a Naga clan called 'Thornspine' operating to the east of Southshore," Zjara explained, her body trembling slightly. "Without the assistance of the murlocs, it would be difficult for the current Angry Scale Clan to complete the master's tasks."

The longer she followed Duke, the more she realized how powerful and unfathomable he truly was. Zjara wasn't unintelligent. On the contrary, it was precisely her sharp intellect that allowed her to grasp Duke's true status and power. In Zjara's eyes, the hundreds of thousands of humans, nearly 100,000 troops, and fleets of over a hundred warships were all under Duke's direct influence.

Duke had issued an order: Nagas and murlocs were allied forces. Hundreds of thousands of humans had to obey. If murlocs harmed humans without reason, they would face severe punishment. But a few days ago, a Stormwind officer, in a foul mood, called a male Naga a "monster" and stabbed him. Duke's response? He ordered the officer to be publicly whipped twenty times in front of tens of thousands of people and Valla. Most humans accepted it, but couldn't quite wrap their heads around it. Only Zjara's loyalty quietly surged to its absolute maximum.

In Zjara's eyes, Duke was the de facto human king.

Zjara bowed, her voice urgent. "Master, I strongly suggest you appease the murlocs first, and then deal with the Thornspine Naga. After all, the Thornspine Naga also command a considerable number of murlocs."