A Nerubian's Journey
Chapter 68.5

Author’s Note: First part written mostly by Kishida from the discord with edits from me. Second part written by Imspinnennetz.

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The Hall was in shambles. Magister Alerea Autumnburn sighed heavily as she surveyed the damage caused by the High Elf delegates in response to the slanderous remarks made by the other visiting academics. It was completely warranted, of course. There was no way that her ancestors could be…those barbaric savages!

Even so, the damage was extensive and the Kirin Tor was adamant that all damages must be paid for by the Thalassian embassy, to which she was attached as resident Magister-Doctor of History and Precedent.

“Magister!” Came a commanding and noticeably unfriendly, yet familiar voice from the slightly less charred entrance to the hall. “The Ambassador demands your presence, now!”

With an expression on his aristocratic face cold enough to chill an iceberg, High Magister Ren'atar Lighthaven stormed into the ruined hall, beelining straight towards her.

“I have been ordered to assure your presence, Magister, as this debacle has caused a diplomatic furor big enough that the King himself is considering issuing a state apology!”

Alerea blinked dazedly as she cast a cleansing spell to banish the stains from her clothes and the plaster from her coiffed golden hair.

“King Sunstrider? Apologize to the younger races? Whatever for? They should apologize to our ancestors and our people! These blinkered fools insult our people with their remarks! They denigrate us and isolate us politically and economically to cozy up to those cunning nerubian bugs after centuries of alliance and goodwill, no less!”

Her vehement exclamation echoed across the hall, causing the construction mages working in the ruined hall to pause in their work and regard the indignant Quel'Dorei with palpable unfriendliness. At a gesture of dismissal from Ansirem Runeweaver, they resumed their work. The Archmage motioned subtly towards the exit and with a curt nod, turned back to his work with a look of veiled irritation for Alerea.

Ren'atar was taken aback for a moment by her venomous reply. Then, with a visible effort, restrained his reply and moved to stand beside her. With a gesture, he prompted her towards the entrance. “After you, Magister Autumnburn.”

Once they exited the halls, High Magister Lighthaven leaned toward her and spoke in a furious whisper, “I would thank you to keep such things to yourself while you are outside our embassy, Magister. The position of the Sun Throne is not as favorable as it once was among the humans.”

Alerea looked back at the High Magister with open confusion. She had heard whispers that their people’s diplomatic situation had been growing worse in recent years, but she didn’t know the specifics. “How so? I admit that I’ve noticed some… hostility in recent times, but the younger races have always been unpredictable. It hardly seems like something to worry about.”

High Magister Lighthaven sighed with exasperation as he began to explain. “After the war, there are many among the humans who say that Quel'Thalas does not fulfill her debts nor help her allies in their time of need. That doesn't even begin to touch upon the messages our commercial factors have been sending about the impending termination of favored contracts that provide the funding for your department, among others.”

As they came out of the dim hall into the bright sunshine falling onto the smooth cobblestone streets of Dalaran, Alerea's eyes widened as she beheld the armed squad of Spell-Breakers waiting on either side of the entrance. Their armor shone in a dazzling glow, and their arms were held precisely at the ready forming a corridor to an austere carriage drawn by a matched pair of white hawkstriders, embossed with the seal of the Sunstriders.

Am I under arrest? For this? What in the name of the Sunwell is going on here? Alerea thought amid a wave of rising panic.

“Do you see now what you've gotten yourself into, Magister?” High Magister Lighthaven continued, glaring at her furiously. “As the most visible face of the opposition to the theory of races, the embassy has received complaints about you from the diplomatic corps of at least three other nations! With this stunt today, they’ve been given more leverage to extort concessions from us. By the Sunwell, Azjol-Nerub even has the audacity to ask for logging permissions in Southern Eversong for a nerubian navy, of all things! I won't even mention the offers they're making to our enchanters to emigrate.”

Alerea stared at him in disbelief as they passed through the corridor of armored figures and entered the carriage for a short trip to the embassy. “You're joking. The woods are sacred to our people. The King couldn't possibly be considering such a step.”

At this, the carriage started forward with a bump, and the squeak of wheels on cobble was the only counterpoint to the High Magister's silence.

“Things are bad, Alerea,” said High Magister Lighthaven, his voice growing somber. “While you've been playing Magister-Doctor in halls and manors and hiding in the library reading musty old books, the power of Quel'Thalas has been reduced to near irrelevance, thanks to the arrival of Azjol'Nerub. We failed to deliver when the younger races were counting on us, and lost their trust. I wasn't supposed to say anything, but you're going to be reassigned because of this. I'm sorry.”

The carriage rolled to a stop in front of the embassy as Alerea stared at the High Magister with growing horror.

“That's our cue. Let's go,” said High Magister Lighthaven, his expression almost regretful.

—

Ambassador Laedra Dawnsinger stood behind her desk with her hands clasped behind her back in military fashion. As Alerea entered the room, High Magister Lighthaven dismissed the Spell-Breakers, who closed the fine mahogany doors of the office with a soft click.

“Well Magister Autumnburn, do you have anything to say for yourself?” Ambassador Dawnsinger said after a moment of tense silence.

Squaring her shoulders, Alerea looked at her and said in her most formal tone, “I stand behind my beliefs of history, ma'am. However, I apologize that my actions have led to this juncture. I was not cognizant of the damage that I was causing while discussing what I believed as a dry historical matter.”

Ambassador Dawnsinger smiled wryly, “I actually believe you, Magister, but I have no choice but to send you home. Prince Kael'Thas has interceded somewhat on your behalf, so you will maintain your rank and titles, but you will be reassigned wherever the need is most pressing. Do not expect the Prince to protect you again, as even his influence is not inexhaustible. You are to report to Silvermoon immediately to receive your next assignment. I bid you good day, and wish you good luck in your future endeavors.”

Without another word, the Ambassador gave a gesture of dismissal before absently sipping on a goblet of everwine and turning to look out the window.

Once Alerea and High Magister Lighthaven left the room, Ambassador Dawnsinger sank into her plush window seat with a sigh. Her roving eyes drifted to her desk, where a detailed drawing of a fierce, one-armed troll warlord lay partially buried by a sheaf of reports.

“You'll certainly need it…”

—

The Magister's Court was as stunning as usual, Alerea noted as she stepped into the foyer of the glimmering edifice that held her new superiors office. As she headed into the section of labyrinthine offices belonging to the Foreign Department, she noted that it was just the right mix of daunting and arrogantly decadent.

With the ease of long practice, she threaded her way through the halls crowded with rushing aides and scribes. Alerea dodged a book of law falling off a shelf, a pot of ink drifting over to a scribe’s desk, and an improbably large hat with the name ‘REEVUS’ in bright embroidered letters shooting down the corridor at breakneck speed. After a few more minutes of bobbing and weaving, she arrived at a fine door bearing the placard reading ‘Magister-Commander Sedania Truecloud, Bureau of Banditry’ in small gold letters.

Bracing herself, Alerea opened the door and looked upon a cluttered office filled with the accumulated files and bric-a-brac of centuries of work and a fine, tough battered wooden desk at which the M.C., a harried-looking Elf with the beginnings of wrinkles upon her face and shoulder length scarlet hair, scribbled madly upon a sheet of parchment with an enchanted quill, while glancing at a thick tome filled with small, densely packed text.

“Ma'am, Alerea Autumnburn, Magister-Doctor, reporting per orders from Ambassador Dawnsinger.”

The furiously writing quill clattered on the desk as Commander Truecloud froze in surprise before responding. “Damn it all, Magister, can't you remember how to knock? I'm too old for unsolicited frights.”

“Won't happen again, ma'am,” Alerea quickly reassured. “However, I was told to report to you for an assignment. May I ask what that will be?”

Commander Truecloud gazed at her, “I know who you are and why you're here. So don't worry about standing on military protocol. You'll strain yourself trying. You've been assigned to the bureau because you screwed up big time, but you have powerful friends that would cause problems were you dismissed. Am I right so far?”

Alerea hesitantly nodded in assent.

“Swell. Now that the dragonhawk in the room has been exposed, we can move onto the heart of the matter. Are you here to work and mend your reputation through accomplishments or are you just here to ride a desk until your friends at court can fix the mess you made and get you out of here?”

“I'm here to fix my mistakes, Commander,” Alerea said in a tone that sounded more confident than she actually felt about the matter.

Bandit Bureau? This is the only place I could be sent? I'm a historian and an academic, not a soldier. I haven't even cast anything more involved than a cleaning spell in decades! What's the use of my rank and titles, if my ears are decorating some vagabond raider camp's medicine Tent?!

“May I say, Commander, that you're rather more direct than most I've met in the Service.”

“It's the job, Autumnburn. Despite being a vital part of the nation's defense and having several major prominent leaders among our number, we remain perpetually short of personnel who are capable or willing to contribute. When you're a dumping ground for problem children, you have to be upfront about what you expect.”

Truecloud leaned back in her heavily upholstered chair and motioned for Alerea to sit as she fished through a gnome-high stack of parchment.

“Since you're willing to help us out, I've got just the job to earn you some favor with the Service again.”

She handed Alerea a sheaf of parchment, and with a few hand gestures, conjured a small illusion of a grizzled Troll of unusual size that was missing an arm.

‘Zul'Jin, the main unifier of the Forest Trolls in the recent war against the Horde. Powerful, intelligent, a dangerous tactician, and skilled in raiding warfare. We thought he was out of the picture after Halduron Brightwing brought him back in chains and at our mercy. We were wrong.”

Pausing for effect, she continued, “A few months ago, he somehow managed to escape from a secure containment facility run by the Farstriders, evaded all pursuit, and took both himself and his tribe south. Near the border with Stormwind, he managed to slip away from our scouts.”

“Then the trail is cold? I don't see how I could be of much use to you. I'm a historian, not a detective,” Alerea said quizzically.

“No, you're definitely not, but here is where your certain rather politically compromising views lend a hand. You have extensively studied damn near every piece of history written on the subject of the Quel'Dorei, going back to the First, to prove your points on our creation. You can use that knowledge, especially as it relates to the Troll Wars, to get inside the mind of Zul'jin and his tribe in order to predict their movements,” A feral smile spread across Sedania's face. “Also, the savage left some of his buddies behind in that facility including high-ranked warriors, some of his riders, and even a senior witchdoctor, I hear. I get the feeling that if you press the right ancestral buttons, one of them might give us the information we seek and save you a lot of guesswork.”

Not setting the bar high, are they? How exactly does one intimidate an eight foot tall Troll killing machine with a Candlefire spell? Threaten to burn his nose hair? Alerea, oh you damn fool, why did you have to go all gung-ho ‘I'll do my part’ when she offered you a nice, cushy desk…

“You place a lot of faith in a clerical assistant, Commander, but I will do my best if it means I can go back to academia after I locate this Zul'Jin creature for you.”

“Locate? Oh no, Doctor. Your job is to bring him back dead or alive after all. Otherwise you might spend the next century or two with me filling out requisitions and filing receipts, while your career dies a slow death and your name becomes an academic footnote.”

Alerea went white as a sheet and an electric tingle coursed down her spine, causing Commander Truecloud to bark a mirthless laugh at her reaction.

“I see you understand me now. Good. It'll help keep you focused on your assignment.”

A knock sounded at the door and Command Truecloud was quick to tell them to enter.

A slender elf in the garb of the Farstriders entered the office and saluted the Commander smartly. “Ranger Brightwalker, reporting as ordered.”

The Commander nodded towards the ranger, “This man will be your guide and tracker on this assignment. Also going with you will be a priest and a Spell-Breaker, who will join you at the facility. You will kit yourself for combat and depart this city tomorrow morning. You are dismissed, Magister Autumnburn.”

With a nod towards them both, commander Truecloud returned to her work, quill scratching once more in a ferocious tumult of activity.

—

Alerea slumped in her finely upholstered chair within the Autumnburn family compound. It was a classical example of High Elven architecture, dripping with decadent silks draped over fine rosy marble colonnades on the outside, and on the inside, fine, comfortable furniture dominated alongside warm wood floors. However, the cherished tapestries and familiar paintings failed to give joy to its preoccupied occupant.

The past few days began to feel like weeks, Alerea thought as she reluctantly stood in front of her full-length mirror and began to brush her fine golden hair free of its constricting coiffure.

I never dreamed that it would come to this. An Autumnburn, disgraced before the crown, banished from court, and sent on a wild goose chase I most likely will never return from.

Her almond-shaped sapphire eyes gazed back tiredly from behind a veil of golden strands, and with efficient motions, she swept her hair back into a simple ponytail and secured it. She stood from her chair and walked across the bedroom, stepping over dusty tomes and piles of tightly rolled scrolls bound in fine indigo ribbon, to a mannequin dressed in a royal blue robe that shimmered where it caught the light. Steelsilk, fresh from the nerubian weavers, light as a feather and woven about with the finest enchantments of the quel'dorei.

She had accepted it hesitantly from the bureau armorer along with a wickedly sharp mithril knife and a reinforced ash staff mounted with a clear crystal orb. It both alarmed and comforted her that she would require such armament, but it wouldn't do to chase a monster like Zul'Jin with nothing but hard words to take him on. Turning away from the mannequin, she extinguished the candles and magelight with a snap of her fingers and crawled into her bed with a sigh. The new day would come too soon for her liking.

Vizier Hud’rek sighed as he finally finished reading through the last report from the mountain of paperwork. He did not know how Vizier Krivax could manage to read through and respond to all the diplomats so quickly. He was going to recommend that the Foreign Outreach Division employ more secretaries once the delegation from Kalimdor returned to Azjol-Nerub.

He was just writing down the notes on the proposed tram line through the Eastern Continent when Initiate Krukzax, one of the new diplomats trained by Vizier Krivax, walked into the room.

“Vizier Hud’rek, the delegation for the meeting with the draenei is ready.”

Acknowledging the young initiate, Vizier Hud’rek stood up from his cushioned seat to head over to join the delegation. He looked at the initiate’s clothing and appearance with some amusement. Initiate Krukzax, like many of the new hatchlings in the Foreign Outreach Division, had started to use bright red carapace wax in imitation of Vizier Krivax’s bright red carapace. As a result, Initiate Krukzax’s natural dark blue carapace now looked purple under bright lights.

“Summarize the information gathered by the Circle of Viziers on the draenei,” Vizier Hud’rek tested Initiate Krukzax as they made their way through the corridors of Azjol-Nerub.

“Draenei are a society of Light Users who landed in Draenor approximately two hundred years ago,” Initiate Krukzax replied, fidgeting with his fingers as he attempted to recall the information. “The Horde attacked them and destroyed their cities, before they invaded Azeroth. Malygos has recently teleported the survivors with their crashed trans-dimensional ship to the Borean Tundra.”

“Well done,” Vizier Hud’rek said as they approached the rest of the delegation in the portal room. “During the meeting, you will take notes for me and act as my secretary. The High King will make the final decision on any agreement with the draenei after meeting with Prophet Velen.”

Once they arrived in the portal room, Vizier Hud’rek began to introduce the key members of the delegation to Initiate Krukzax.

“Paladin Anub’Rekhan of the Guardians of Nerub is joining the delegation to discuss any matters related to the Light,” Vizier Hud’rek said, motioning to the massive glowing spiderlord.

“Indeed, I intend to learn more about the Light related abilities used by the draenei,” Anub’Rekhan rumbled. “I have felt a sudden surge of the Light ever since they were teleported to Northrend.”

“Do you think that the transdimensional ship used by the draenei operates using the Light?” interjected a Vizier wearing a silk bandolier full of tools and artifacts.

“Vizier Trizok from the Technology Research Division will be joining us as well,” Vizier Hud’rek murmured to Initiate Krukzax, while Vizier Trizok continued to talk excitedly on the topic of ‘magical rune engines’ with occasional wave of an artifact for demonstration.

Conversation amongst the nerubian delegation died down at the smell of cooked lobster wafting from a spatial bag held by a nerubian weaver.

“Chef Sash’mi will be providing a buffet during the meeting with the draenei,” Vizier Hud’rek said, suppressing his sudden wave of hunger. “She is a pioneer in the preparation of seafood in Azjol-Nerub.”

When she realized that most of the nerubian delegation were focused on her, Chef Sash’mi quickly closed the spatial bag with embarrassment. Vizier Hud’rek laughed as Initiate Krukzax surreptitiously wiped his mandibles.

“Welcome everybody,” Vizier Hud’rek announced as he moved to the front of the room. “We will proceed via portal to Outpost Dragonwatch overlooking the Borean Tundra. At the outpost, we will meet with High Priestess Ishanah and her entourage who will represent the draenei.”

I hope Malygos does not show up to the meeting, Vizier Hud’rek thought to himself as he made his way through the portal.

—

Initiate Krukzax readied his quill and paper as Vizier Hud’rek, Paladin Anub’Rekhan, and Vizier Trizok settled down on one side of a wooden table at Outpost Dragonwatch. The draenei delegation led by High Priestess Ishanah had arrived a short while ago.with her entourage from the shiny mountain that had recently been teleported into the Borean Tundra. According to the reports from the scouts, the shiny mountain was the transdimensional ship Genedar.

Initiate Krukzax was excited as the High Priestess Ishanah sat down on the other side of the table and prepared to start taking the minutes of the meeting.

“Welcome to Northrend,” Vizier Hud’rek started formally after activating a translation artifact. “Today, I hope to establish the fundamentals of a trade and cooperation agreement between the draenei and the Kingdom of Azjol-Nerub.”

“I thank you for your greetings,” High Priestess Ishanah said serenely. “May the Light shine on our discussions.”

Anub’Rekhan’s ever-present glow pulsed at the statement as Vizier Hud’rek replied, “I have been informed that as refugees from Draenor, your primary concerns right now are food and shelter.”

High Priestess Ishanah nodded and said, “My people would be grateful for any assistance from Azjol-Nerub. What can we offer in return for aid?”

“I have felt the arrival of your people and your transdimensional ship in the Light,” Anub’Rekhan answered thoughtfully. “I can sense that you yourself are a powerful Light user. The Guardians of Nerub and I would like to learn techniques and abilities used by your people.”

“The Technology Research Division is also interested in touring the transdimensional ship Genedar,” Vizier Trizok chimed in excitedly before reigning himself in.

Initiate Krukzax knew that the Vizier would much rather tear the ship apart piece by piece and study every part of it in depth. Thankfully, Vizier Hud’rek had made it clear to the overzealous researcher that such a thing was definitely not on the table. They were hopeful that even a quick tour would be enough to learn from such an impressive creation.

“High King Anub’arak is also interested in any knowledge of the threat of the Burning Legion,” Vizier Hud’rek interrupted to take back control of the conversation. “In return for the cooperation on research into the Light and activities of the Burning Legion, Azjol-Nerub is willing to offer building materials like stone, refined metal ingots, and silk canvases for construction of new housing.”

While the High Priestess considered her response and talked to her entourage, Initiate Krukzax hurriedly finished summarizing the minutes of the meeting so far. Vizier Krivax had always emphasized the importance of concise and precise reports in his diplomacy lessons.

“We are willing to cooperate with you on understanding and wielding the Light,” High Priestess Ishanah replied. “I believe that some of our information on the Burning Legion is dangerous and corruptive for ordinary nerubians. We will only exchange information on the demons with your paladins.”

After Anub’rekhan nodded in acquiescence, she continued, “I will discuss with Prophet Velen about supervised tours of the Genedar to Viziers of the Technology Research Division. However, you must understand that the ship is currently acting as our home and the offices of our government. The Viziers will only be allowed to enter certain portions of the ship.”

Negotiations continued for some time as they managed to reach preliminary agreements. Eventually everyone began to grow a bit hungry and one of the diplomats suggested that they take a short recess for lunch.

Initiate Krukzax started to drool as Chef Sash’mi entered to announce that the lunch platters were ready.

As the plates of butter poached lobster, steamed clams, crab cakes, Jormungar steak, and shrimp pancakes were placed on the table, Vizier Hud’rek mentioned with a visible restraint, “Our people are generally insectivores. However, the Foreign Outreach Division has prepared a lunch of primarily seafood for you and your entourage. Chef Sash’mi is particularly skilled at preparing the lobster and crab meat.”

Hiding her amusement at the nerubian’s sudden hungry looks, High Priestess Ishanah replied, “Thank you for arranging lunch for today’s meeting, and I am certain that the food will be delicious.”

Conversation halted as everyone ate. Initiate Krukzax tried to politely take small bites of the crab cakes and shrimp pancakes, but ended up inhaling most of the meal. The High Priestess opened her mouth to continue the discussion before realizing the futility of engaging with the nerubian delegation while food was still on the table.

Once the platters were cleared off the table, Vizier Hud’rek said with an embarrassed tone, “Apologies for some of our manners. We nerubians are particularly fond of shellfish and clams.”

“We would be interested in trading for food with Azjol-Nerub,” High Priestess Ishanah said. “Since our people do not enjoy insects as food, we are primarily interested in grain, meat, and seafood.”

“Azjol-Nerub has the most extensive portal network on Azeroth,” Vizier Hud’rek replied thoughtfully. “While we can supply large quantities of fish from the nerubian and tuskarr fishing fleets, grain and meat would have to be imported from the Eastern Continent. The Foreign Outreach Division can offer access to the portal network for trade in return for trade goods.”

High Priestess Ishanah nodded, “We have received several missives from the Church of the Holy Light in Lordaeron. If your portal network extends to the Eastern Continent, we would like to send our delegation to meet with them as well.”

“If you wish to travel through Azjol-Nerub to access the portal network, you must be made aware of certain threats on Northrend,” Anub’Rekhan replied in a serious tone. “Areas containing sleeping vrykul are currently off limits to any outsiders. Furthermore, as Light users you are certain to be aware of the Void corruption from a facility in the northeastern region of Northrend.”

Initiate Krukzax took out a map of Northrend from his spatial bag and offered it to the draenei with Vizier Hud’rek’s approval. Vizier Krivax had always insisted on being prepared with detailed maps during diplomatic missions to prevent confusion.

The meeting was suddenly interrupted when a nerubian sergeant entered the room and said, “Chef Sash’mi has noted several large lobsters on the coast of the Borean Tundra.”

Initiate Krukzax mused, I wonder what they would taste like after grilling with some spicy worm powder…