The portal closed behind him, sending him to his destination. It was risky, the game she played, but the reward she would reap from such a diversion was worth the danger. He had been surprised by her pulling him to the private chamber where she had once resided in Dalaran. She almost never came here unless she needed guaranteed privacy. It was impenetrable except for certain magickal means, which she had several proofs against.

He opened up there, and spoke of his plans to serve her. It caused her difficulty to keep her expression plain, but she found herself nodding along when he made allusions to her character. It was more than she could have hoped for. The chance meeting had brought him to her, and proved to her that this one was slated to be hers.

Sitting at her desk, she opened the bag of her new purchases. Reagents and a few bottles of wine for Nax, several packets of seeds from the greenhouse and a crisp blank book were her prizes. With a whisper of her fingertips against the spine, this new book opened to the first, blank page. Pen materialized out of thin air and began to record her words as she spoke them softly to herself.

Running into the Chieftain was an unusual surprise. The Lounge is a quiet place most nights, and to see him drinking alone without armour was perplexing. He grumbled a little about vacation and relaxing, but his posture betrays him. Something troubles him deeply enough to find venues that make it impossible to question his thoughts. Gleaning any information directly has become more a challenge in recent times.

Is he loath to accept the mantle of Chieftain again? I cannot question his weakness, should he have any. He is mortal, and as I have discovered of late my kind is as flawed and mortal as if we were still living. There can be no judgments here, between both living and dead. The limitations of the mind still shackle us all so long as we reside upon Azeroth. There will always be forces that push us to the brink of madness, to gaze upon its form and suffer for doing such.

He was speaking to Erend, and I was pleasantly surprised to have another chance encounter with the tactician. Later, it became clear to me that Erend was investigating whom I served, but I move forward too quickly. The Lounge became more populous, and a Tiger entered, Frostshard was this one’s name. Fortunately he was not there for me. I should have inquired to Lily’s health, but I am uncomfortable around many tauren still. Despite the perfume of death, this one was still tauren.

The undead were gathering in force, it seemed. Not long after the Tiger entered, Vassali, Novina’s subordinate, entered and began to converse affably with the Chieftain. This had the appearance of relaxing the orc, and this in turn reassured me. I think Erend noticed the subtle change as well, and requested my presence to escort him around the city. This was not his city, and I have never liked it. Too many of privilege are here. I have always been frustrated by the superiority many mages feel to those that cannot control magick.

When we walked, we spoke freely, but guarded against the many who might listen to such topics as two Fosaken might bring up. It was then that he expressed a need to find somewhere we could converse in earnest. That was when I took him here, to my old apartment.

I used to think it small and typical of any apprentice, but now I see it with new eyes. It is palatial compared to my current abode. So many books to study! Too much writing to accomplish! We spoke of the cramped coffins of the barracks in Undercity that non-mages are forced to dwell in. They ensure many of us never sleep anymore, nor have time to just simply exist and enjoy such existence.

I am beginning to dislike my kind again. There is a subtle war being waged to bring us under control and cultivate our angst. Not living in the city, I miss much of it. Many choose to leave, but many more are subject to it. The more I can keep from such a fate, the better.

Starting with Erend will be a challenge. Nax dislikes him on principle. The jealousy will be difficult to maintain, but I require this one’s input for further conquest. I think that so long as Mister Norville keeps to his game, and I to mine, we will encourage my love to place his misguided emotions elsewhere.

The night is getting late. I can tell, despite the lack of windows in this room. Nax will be home, waiting. Impatient and angry, he will melt when I show him his presents. I was, after all, upon a shopping errand here. I will mention the conversation with Erend, and that he desires to serve us. We will see how much his personal preferences will get in the way of my plans, and what I will have to eventually do to ensure we are victorious.

With a second trace along the spine, the pen hovers and disappears and the book closes, sealed tight. Dropping it back into her shopping bag, the magus opens the portal home, putting on the face of battle she knows will come. The smile in her eyes borders on the edge of sincerity.