It was a little after ten in the morning, and the sun had not yet fully risen. Small boats carrying stone and timber crowded the canals while workers reinforced the embankments. Jess slipped across a temporary wooden work bridge.

The Mage Quarter lay ahead. Situated in southwestern Stormwind, it was one of the best-preserved parts of the city apart from the Dwarven District and the eastern quarter. Even from a distance, Jess could see the Wizard's Sanctum—the location of Stormwind's portal in the game.

Its spire rose high above the trees and rooftops, answering the still-unfinished spire of the Cathedral of Light at the city's northern end and the towers of Stormwind Keep, the royal seat near the harbor.

Citizens claimed that the Mage Quarter had escaped destruction because the mages had left behind countless terrifying curses and magical traps that kept the orcs and ogres from storming in and burning the place down.

But as Jess saw it, if those mages had possessed enough power to raise a barrier capable of stopping an entire ogre army, Stormwind would never have fallen.

The leader of the ogre clan that captured Stormwind had been Cho'gall. He was no mindless savage like the ogres of popular imagination. He had displayed remarkable intelligence even on Draenor and mastered many forms of magic, including the power of prophecy.

An ogre sage like that would never pass up a treasure house filled with historical knowledge and magical instruments. He must have ordered his forces to preserve as much of it as possible. That was likely why the quarter had survived largely intact.

Jess made his way easily through shaded lanes and alleys sheltered by overhanging roofs. After passing several old-fashioned shops and homes, he reached the lawn before the spiral stairs leading directly to the Wizard's Sanctum.

The scents of soil and paper lingered in the air, while the muggy, damp weather lent the quarter a campus-like atmosphere.

As he walked, young people who looked like mages in pale purple or blue robes glanced his way from time to time. Jess looked down at himself: a linen shirt and trousers with the legs rolled up. He was dressed no differently from the laborers repairing the bridge outside, and he did look out of place in such a scholarly setting.

Still, he felt no particular embarrassment. Had everyone here arrived for the first time dressed in silk and clutching tomes of magic or runes?

After asking a few apprentices reading by the roadside for directions to Eden Malin's residence, Jess arrived to find several young men around his age already waiting outside.

They were neatly dressed and carried an unmistakable air of book learning. One look told him they had rarely done physical labor.

By comparison, Jess had spent years working around the Trade District and Cathedral Square or traveling into Elwynn Forest. Even in this relatively damp region, the sun had reddened his skin, and the lines on his hands were far more pronounced.

He was lean as well. That kind of build might have been more appealing in the twenty-first century, but it was not particularly admired here.

Generally speaking, people able to study at a school of magic came from prosperous families who never worried about food or clothing.

Studying magic was not a path to quick results. Ordinary families tended to steer their children toward skills with more immediate returns.

Worse still, most magical institutions in the Alliance were shaped by the connections and investments of nobles and merchants, which limited opportunities for common families. Jess had learned that lesson painfully in Lordaeron.

When he was very young, he had hoped to become an apprentice at the Royal Arcane Academy in Lordaeron's Capital City, and his parents had been willing to support him. But the name alone made it obvious that the institution was not meant for common townsfolk like him. Every attempt ended with the door shut in his face.

As for Dalaran, the magical city on the southern shore of Lordamere Lake... Dalaran might welcome any human or elf interested in magic, but by the time Jess reached the proper age for admission, the Dark Portal had already opened.

Rumors said orcish warships had approached the Hillsbrad Foothills and that advance forces had slipped into the vast forests south of Dalaran.

His father had been recalled to service, and his mother had to look after the farm. For a child barely over ten to travel alone from Tirisfal Glades, cross all of Silverpine Forest, and make the long journey south, three heads would not have been enough to lose along the way.

By the time the war ended, he was nearly eighteen.

As he approached Malin's front door, Jess could faintly hear voices inside. He tried to make out the conversation and prepare himself, but could not catch a word.

The wooden door suddenly flew open and startled him. A young man emerged wearing a disappointed expression; his interview had apparently gone poorly.

"Next," called the deep voice of a middle-aged man from inside.

Jess glanced back at the others. The waiting applicants merely stared at him, and no one answered Malin.

"Is anyone there?"

"Yes, Mr. Malin."

Jess answered while glaring at the cowards waiting to watch him make a fool of himself. Then he turned, entered the house, and shut the door firmly behind him.

"Please call me Master Malin."

Eden Malin looked up as he spoke. He appeared to be in his forties or fifties. His brown-gray hair was already beginning to thin, while the beard he had deliberately grown reached all the way to his chest, giving him a somewhat untidy appearance.

"Yes, Master Malin," Jess said respectfully, then dropped onto a nearby stool.

Malin glanced at him, twirled the long gryphon-feather quill in his hand, and asked, "What is your name?"

"Jess Seso."

"I have never heard that surname."

"I am from out of town—from Lordaeron."

"Yet your accent does not sound like that of someone from Menethil's capital."

"My mother is from Brill. I spent most of my time with her."

"What town?"

"Brill, a town north of Lordaeron."

"Ah... Brill. Brill. I am not accustomed to your pronunciation. I know Brill. A beautiful place. The central building resembles a small chapel and leaves quite an impression."

Jess could tell Eden Malin did not care about Brill's chapel-like town hall or whether the place was beautiful. He spoke those words without expression, out of nothing more than habitual politeness.

"Where did you graduate? Menethil's Arcane Academy, or the university in Stratholme? Have you ever been to Dalaran?"

"I... ahem." Jess cleared his throat. "I only studied at a church school in Lordaeron."

"Ah."

Malin set down his pen, rested both hands on the desk, and looked at Jess.

Jess knew that attitude well. This interview was probably doomed.

"Then why have you applied for this assistant's position? You do not quite meet my requirements."

"For the money," Jess said.

"Very honest, Mr. Se..." Malin glanced down at his notebook. "Mr. Seso."

"But I would prefer my assistant to possess at least a basic education. It would make communication much easier, as the work here will inevitably involve certain complications... I do not mean to disparage your background. You must have contributed a great deal to Stormwind's reconstruction, and for that you have my deepest respect."

"You could try asking me a few questions, Master," Jess said. "I believe I can do the work."

"Very well." The mage's gaze drifted toward a nearby bookcase. "Tell me about the Kirin Tor. You do know what the Kirin Tor is, I hope."

"What aspect would you like me to discuss?"

"Anything. Or simply explain the concept of the Kirin Tor."

Eden Malin leaned back in his chair as though settling in to enjoy a spectacle.

"Understood." Jess took a deep breath. "The Kirin Tor is Dalaran's council of mages. Governed by the Council of Six, it is one of the world's most powerful organizations of elite wizards. Historically, the Kirin Tor remained aloof from ordinary politics, but it later became Dalaran's ruling body. It has maintained a friendly alliance with Silvermoon in Quel'Thalas for more than two thousand years. The Council of Six has also had elven members, such as Kael'thas Sunstrider, the blood elven—"

"Wait."

Malin interrupted Jess's lengthy explanation. He frowned and considered something for a moment.

"Prince Kael'thas is no longer a member of the Council of Six? When did that happen? And what are 'blood elves'? Did you mean the sin'dorei? *Sin* does indeed mean blood or bloodline in Thalassian, while *sin'dorei* originally means descendants of a noble bloodline. It could, of course, be translated as elves of blood, but that is not how the term should be understood. In truth, I do not know which translator's work gave you that interpretation..."

Jess realized he had carelessly mentioned events that had not happened yet. Fortunately, the old mage had already explained the problem away for him.

"Come to think of it, has the Kirin Tor truly existed for more than two thousand years? I had not realized it was already present when Dalaran was founded." Malin stood, walked to the bookcase, and pulled out a purple-bound volume marked with an arcane eye. He leafed through it.

"Hmm... The Kirin Tor was indeed formed during Dalaran's earliest years."

He nodded, waved the book in his hand, and asked, "Have you read this? *A History of the Kirin Tor and Dalaran*?"

"Parts of it," Jess said firmly, though this was the first time he had ever heard of the book.

Malin returned it to the shelf, coughed, and went back to his desk. After sitting in thought for a moment, he suddenly asked, "Tell me about dragons. Dragonkind fascinates me. For example, do you believe dragons truly exist, or are they merely a legend spread by the orcs to intimidate the armies of the Alliance?"

"Of course dragons exist," Jess said. "Many people have spoken of red dragons burning and pillaging along the coast of the Hillsbrad Foothills."

"You are from Lordaeron, correct? Have you seen a red dragon with your own eyes?" Malin asked. "Did you come here with the refugees from Stormwind?"

"I have never seen one in person, only the wreckage of ships destroyed by red dragonfire."

"Red dragons are vicious and savage." Malin nodded. "Best that you never see one."

As a transmigrator familiar with the setting's history, Jess knew that although red dragons were terrifying magical beasts, they were also guardians of life. Their queen, Alexstrasza, protected all living things on Azeroth.

The proud red dragons had become the orcs' slaves and mounts because the orcs had used the Demon Soul to capture Alexstrasza. That ancient, evil artifact held the power of every Dragon Aspect.

The orcs used their queen's torment to force the entire red dragonflight to fight for them. Even now, the Dragonqueen remained imprisoned by that dreadful artifact in the distant eastern Wetlands, deep within the cursed, abandoned dwarven city of Grim Batol.

Jess knew all this perfectly well, but he could not determine the purpose behind Malin's statement. Did the mage truly believe red dragons were evil, or was he deliberately testing Jess's knowledge of dragonkind?

"Uh, Master..."

Jess ventured the words cautiously. Malin's eyes widened slightly and his lips parted, as though he were waiting for something. That confirmed Jess's suspicion.

"There seems to be another reason red dragons fight for the orcs. Before the Dark Portal opened, there were very few cases of red dragons leaving their homes to attack human or elven settlements... Most of the time, they kept to themselves."

"Then, Mr. Seso, what do you believe is behind the red dragons' savagery?" Malin pressed eagerly. His excitement was plain in his voice.

The Demon Soul was not something an ordinary citizen should know about. Even many elite mages of the Kirin Tor firmly believed it was nothing more than an ancient legend.

Jess absolutely could not reveal such astonishing, forbidden knowledge. He could only shake his head.

The mage wrote something in his notebook. "Mr. Seso, thank you very much for visiting. We have been speaking for some time, so let us end here."

Even after leaving Eden Malin's home, Jess remained dazed.

If he had told the mage more of what he knew about the red dragons, the assistant's position might have been his. But doing so would carry tremendous risk. It would reveal that he possessed knowledge no one of his age and station could possibly have obtained.

If an ordinary friend or passerby learned something like that, it might not matter. Most people knew a few garbled country legends, and common folk would not find it too strange. But the man in question was a mage.

Jess let out a long breath. Better not to draw too much attention for now. Nothing good could come of others discovering that he could foresee the future.

The thought even made him worry that the bronze dragonflight, guardians of time, might suddenly appear beside him and crush him with some bizarre spell.

After confirming that he had not triggered any temporal crisis, Jess wandered around the Mage Quarter for a while. The gardens and quiet atmosphere soothed him.

As for the interview, they had never discussed wages, the actual work, or much about Jess's abilities. It had probably failed.

All he could do was temper his expectations and stop grasping for things beyond his reach.

Since he was already here, he might as well ask around for other work. If he applied everywhere, something would turn up eventually. Even hourly work would do; in his current situation, he could not afford to be picky.

Two tailor shops scowled and drove him out the instant they realized he was looking for work rather than buying clothes. One of the owners even came from Darrowshire, yet treated him worse than Duncan's shop did and offered no fellow countryman a chance at all.

Then the sign of a tavern down an alley caught his attention.

"The Slaughtered Lamb."