Jaina

For Duke, it was just a happy accident, a cosmic alignment of good fortune. But for the Barov family, it was a lifeline, a gleaming beacon in their storm-tossed existence.

As if she had peered directly into the deepest desires of Duke's soul, after securing their ironclad alliance, Duchess Janis finally unleashed her secret weapon, a move so cunning it could make a goblin blush.

"It would be an absolute honor for my dear Ilucia to delve into the arcane secrets of magic under your tutelage, Duke," the Duchess purred, her voice dripping with honeyed sincerity. "I shall pen a letter immediately. Pray, deliver it to Ilucia when you arrive in the hallowed halls of Dalaran."

"Oh?" Duke's eyebrow arched, a flicker of genuine curiosity in his eyes. "Madam, do you possess a crystal ball? How did you divine my destination?"

Duchess Janis's lips curled into a self-satisfied smirk, a look that practically screamed, "I know something you don't!" She leaned forward conspiratorially. "I did hear whispers, you see, of a certain Archmage who, with a frosty flick of the wrist, dispatched over a dozen formidable orc assassins at headquarters and, in doing so, saved four kings from an untimely demise?"

Duke gave a casual shrug, a picture of nonchalance. "Indeed. It was a Tuesday."

"Well, I only know this," she continued, a mischievous twinkle in her eye, "that if it were my esteemed senior brother, Archmage Antonidas, even in his prime, he wouldn't have let the last grunt break through his ice field to get a cheap shot in. Not even if that grunt was a Warchief."

"And why, pray tell, do you say that?" Duke asked, though a sly grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. He had a sneaking suspicion where this was going.

"Because, my dear Duke," Duchess Janis declared, her smile blooming like a rare, poisonous flower, "at that time, he possessed one more top-notch Ice Circuit model than you." She took a delicate sip of black tea, her posture so exquisitely elegant, Duke half-expected to see a phantom, equally elegant, tail swishing behind her.

This, Duke realized, was where Janice truly shone. From the perspective of forging an alliance or deepening a friendship, the terms she had offered him earlier weren't just generous; they were practically a steal.

She and the Barov family were undoubtedly hoping to secure Duke as a powerful external ally, a big gun to call upon. But at this very moment, it seemed the Barovs weren't exactly desperate for Duke's immediate support. To some extent, this entire dance was a clever test, a way to gauge his character and commitment.

If Duke had balked, had played hard to get, then the coveted top-level Ice Circuit model would have remained a tantalizing myth, forever out of his reach.

But since Duke had, as he had, swallowed the bait hook, line, and sinker, it was a delightful bonus, a cherry on top of an already sweet deal.

Janice hadn't dangled this particular carrot during her initial request because she was too shrewd to let it devolve into a mere transaction. She understood that if she accepted the Barov family's 'gift' as a pure business exchange, she wouldn't have the moral leverage to call in a favor from Duke when the chips were truly down.

Once Duke pieced together her intricate little game, he found he couldn't hold a grudge. In fact, he rather admired her moxie.

This was the classic 'scratch my back, I'll scratch yours' approach, a dance as old as time itself.

And Duke, surprisingly, wasn't above playing along.

Besides, Duchess Janis was undeniably sharp, hitting the nail right on the head when it came to what he secretly craved.

"I had, in fact, already made arrangements with my senior brother Antonidas to pass on the Ice Circuit to Ilucia. As Ilucia's... honorary mentor," she corrected herself smoothly, "I believe, Duke, you should certainly assist Ilucia in her diligent studies." With a flourish, Janice summoned a servant, scribbled a hasty, elegant note, and pressed it into Duke's hand.

"My deepest gratitude, Madam," Duke said, a genuine warmth in his voice. He was practically vibrating with anticipation.

And so, armed with Duchess Janice's handwritten letter, Duke arrived in Dalaran, a city shimmering with arcane energy.

Unlike his last visit, which had been a clandestine affair under the cloak of midnight, this time Duke was making a rare, somewhat private appearance, but his star had risen astronomically. His magical prowess, once a whispered rumor among the northern nations, was now etched in the annals of Alliance history.

Duke was no longer just a promising young mage; he was a bona fide heavyweight, a man who had firmly cemented his place as the Deputy Commander of the Alliance. Thus, the welcoming committee was led by none other than Prince Kael'thas Sunstrider, one of the six formidable members of the Kirin Tor Council currently residing in Dalaran.

"Welcome, Commander Edmund," Kael'thas greeted, his voice as smooth as polished moonstone. It had to be said, at this point in time, Kael'thas was still the epitome of High Elven grace – gentle, elegant, and radiating an aura that made everyone feel like they were basking in a warm, spring breeze. He even shrewdly dropped the "deputy" from Duke's title, a subtle nod to his growing stature.

Everyone, from the lowliest grunt to the highest king, loved a bit of flattery.

This seemingly innocent slip of the tongue from Kael'thas was, in fact, a masterclass in exaggerated compliment.

"Haha, well, when you put it like that, Prince," Duke chuckled, a glint in his eye, "I almost thought Commander Lothar himself had finally arrived!" He parried the compliment with the precision of a seasoned duelist.

"Don't be so modest, Commander," Kael'thas countered, sensing Duke wasn't one to be easily swayed or played. He wisely chose not to try and drive a wedge between Duke and Lothar. Instead, he shifted gears. "In fact, many of Dalaran's most brilliant mages are utterly captivated by your spellcasting prowess. If you ever found the time to grace our city with a lecture or perhaps even a seminar, I'm quite certain a great many mages would flock to the Royal Mage Corps of Stormwind Kingdom, drawn by your formidable reputation alone."

"Oh?" Duke feigned surprise, though a spark of genuine interest ignited within him. "Wouldn't that be akin to poaching mages from Dalaran? A rather uncouth move, wouldn't you say?"

Kael'thas merely smiled, a picture of elven charm. "In Dalaran, all mages are equals, and all are free. The Mystics believe in fair trade, Duke. What if they choose to temporarily sacrifice a sliver of their freedom to explore a deeper, more profound magical world? Just as everyone is free to choose whether to join Dalaran's own direct mage cadre, Dalaran would hardly begrudge any free mage for joining the ranks of Stormwind Kingdom, or indeed, becoming one of your esteemed followers. What say you, Commander? Does the idea pique your interest?"

If Kael'thas's initial flattery had been a bit of a swing and a miss, this time, his proposal was a grand slam, tailor-made for Duke, hitting him right where he lived.

Free mages!

No need to train them from scratch, no sir! Just scoop up these talented, semi-finished products, polish them up for a year or two, and voila! You'd have a full-fledged mage corps. Even if they weren't exactly casting world-shattering spells, they'd certainly be enough to scare the pants off any invading Horde!

Duke was genuinely, profoundly moved.

This time, Duke's thanks to Kael'thas were heartfelt and sincere. "Kael'thas... ah, forgive me, Prince Kael'thas," he corrected himself with a slight, awkward cough. "Thank you, truly. I believe I will indeed find the time. But before I start recruiting, I'd like to pay my respects to Archmage Antonidas."

"Please, follow me." Kael'thas beamed, knowing he had successfully redeemed his earlier faux pas and well and truly won Duke's favor.

Logically speaking, as the Prince of the High Elves, Kael'thas could have simply given Duke the cold shoulder. He was royalty, after all.

But let's not forget why Kael'thas had come to Dalaran to study in the first place, and why he'd lingered for so many years, practically gathering dust and unable to return to Quel'Thalas. The unspoken truth behind his extended stay was the simmering power struggle between his father, the Sun King, and the formidable Silvermoon Council.

Having navigated the intricate customs and political currents of both the High Elven and Human worlds, Kael'thas had matured into a shrewd and calculating diplomat. Especially with Duke, the Alliance's shining new star, there was absolutely no downside to forging a strong rapport. Moreover, he felt a strange, almost inexplicable kinship with Duke, a sense of shared destiny, as if they were two peas in a very powerful pod.

Walking through the bustling, magic-infused streets of Dalaran, Duke felt a peculiar sense of wonder. This was Dalaran before its tragic fate, before it soared into the heavens as the fabled "Sky City." This Dalaran was vast, grounded, and steeped in centuries of history, its very stones whispering tales of ancient magic.

This breathtaking city, nestled south of the tranquil Lake Lordamere, was a vibrant tapestry woven from threads of wisdom, raw power, majestic grandeur, dazzling splendor, intricate art, and profound mystery. It was, without a doubt, the most luminous jewel on the entire continent, perhaps even the world.

Nearly every human wizard of note had, at one time or another, sought enlightenment within its hallowed halls, learning the intricate dance of magic from their High Elven mentors. The countless, elegant white towers that pierced the sky, scattered throughout the city, stood as silent testaments to the wizards' boundless wisdom, relentless ambition, lofty status, and formidable power.

If Duke hadn't already inherited the sprawling, enigmatic Karazhan, he might have seriously considered erecting his own mage tower right here, a monument to his own growing power.

Kael'thas led the way, a gracious host, pointing out every landmark and sharing anecdotes. As they rounded a corner, a vision of pure, radiant beauty approached them: a stunning blonde girl, her eyes sparkling with intelligence.

"Greetings, Lord Archmage Duke Edmund," she said, her voice clear and confident, extending a hand. "I am Jaina Proudmoore."