Chapter 702

Chapter 702: The Gate of Magic

The Eastweald region was a vast forest dotted with farms and small villages between the woods and great rivers. As the Dragonhawk soared over these settlements and roads, Jesse saw wagons, merchant caravans, travelers, and patrolling cavalry everywhere.

Based on tales he’d heard since childhood, Jesse always considered Eastweald more prosperous than Tirisfal and Hillsbrad. The royal city likely became Lordaeron’s capital due to historical reasons rather than present significance.

Peering southward, he noticed a modest town where several rivers converged—that must be Andorhal.

Ursula had tasked him with finding a Sayaad Demon in Andorhal. After departing Quel’Thalas, he’d meet the Dark Iron Dwarf there.

The Dragonhawk flew northeast, stopping at night at a Farstriders’ outpost perched on a high ridge deep within the forest—a High Elves’ station. Exhausted and nearly asleep, Jesse was abruptly roused by Vereesa.

Two moons hung overhead, his only solace being a Mana Potion.

Though Jesse wasn’t a High Elf and the potion’s effect would be limited, he appreciated their generosity. They’d casually given him a potent Mana Potion that did sharpen his focus.

At dawn, the Dragonhawk approached a valley dotted with watchtowers. A canyon path snaked through distant woods, Lordaeron’s blue-and-white banners fluttering across the slopes. Closer inspection revealed fortress walls and church spires hidden among trees and valleys.

This sizable fortress-town rivaled Andorhal in scale, dwarfing Goldshire entirely.

Flying past its southern flank denied Jesse a full view, yet the location suggested it was Hearthglen. Such settlements were common across Eastweald—the very reason Lordaeron stood as humanity’s mightiest kingdom.

By late afternoon, the Dragonhawk neared a great river. Jesse struggled against drowsiness, lulled by the beast’s rhythmic sway.

Beyond a pine forest, an expanse of white-walled, red-roofed structures suddenly unfolded.

A majestic bridge spanned the broad river. Massive gates, statues, winding streets, plazas, towers, and a crimson-spired church emerged, all framed by fluttering blue-and-white banners…

The sight jolted Jesse awake—he nearly mistook it for Stormwind!

This city matched the rebuilt Stormwind’s grandeur, complete with sheltering mountains and a distant port. Unlike Stormwind’s harbor though, ships here navigated a cliff-lined fjord to reach the Northern Sea—the narrow waters separating Lordaeron from Northrend.

"Stratholme."

The dragonhawk knight gazed leftward, murmuring the name.

Here stood Stratholme: capital of Eastweald, Lordaeron’s second city. Before Stormwind’s reconstruction, it ranked among humanity’s greatest settlements.

Jesse had long yearned to visit his father’s birthplace. Overland travel from the royal city or Brill proved far harder than this Dragonhawk journey.

The game’s simplified models paled against this living panorama. Surveying the magnificent harbor city, he couldn’t fathom its future fate—years of burning ruin under The Scourge Legion.

Stratholme’s appearance signaled their proximity to Quel’Thalas. As Lordaeron’s northernmost city, Eversong Woods would soon emerge.

In the game, Eversong Woods’ southern reaches became the blighted Ghostlands after scourge corruption. But decades prior, despite Orcish fires, the land remained untainted. Jesse eagerly anticipated seeing pre-invasion Quel’Thalas.

The Dragonhawk landed at a High Elven village nestled in Stratholme’s northeastern foothills.

"Our journey ends at Quel’Lithien," said the dragonhawk knight, helping Jesse dismount. "The Farstriders will guide you to Quel’Thalas’ gates, Jesse Seso."

"My thanks," Jesse nodded.

The knight straightened with a slight bow. "Anu’dorini talah," he wished in Sayaad Language.

As the knight tended to the Dragonhawks, Vereesa approached. "That phrase makes an excellent start for learning Sayaad, Jesse."

"Anu’dorini talah," Jesse repeated softly. "It echoes the farewell we heard from elves at Feathermoon Stronghold."

Vereesa cautioned, "Remember—don’t mention that in Quel’Thalas."

"Understood," Jesse replied in Sayaad Language.

"That will do," Vereesa confirmed in the Sayaad Language before switching to Common. "Once Greed arrives, we can enter together."

Jesse nodded, gazing up at the elven treehouses. This place reminded him of Quel’danil, though it appeared far simpler than Quel’Thalas’ stronghold in the Hinterlands where they fought Forest Trolls.

Suddenly, a gryphon’s roar echoed from above. Jesse immediately recognized that voice! It was Goergette!

"Greed?" Vereesa followed his gaze. "He’s here already?!"

"Jesse! Vereesa!"

The dwarf leaped down the elven stone stairs from the high slope, several steps at a time, landing before them. "Finally! I couldn’t bear another day here!"

He glanced at the two Dragonhawks that had just landed. "So you *did* ride Dragonhawks! Why so late? The wait was agony! I flew here the morning after the Feast of Winter Veil, expecting *you* to be waiting for *me*!"

"We stayed in Lordaeron a few extra days," Jesse explained. "My parents weren’t ready to leave for Stormwind to see the new house yet, Greed. I wanted to spend more time with them."

"Ah, I see," Greed scratched his beard. "Well, that’s a fair reason."

"You should have come to Lordaeron with us, Greed," Vereesa said.

"Why?" the dwarf asked.

Jesse looked at Vereesa curiously. She continued, "Coming to meet the king with us… seeing a Wildhammer dwarf standing before the throne… those nobles wouldn’t have dared spout such nonsense."

"What did they say?" Greed asked, looking between them.

"They suggested I go study at the Holy Light Church," Jesse said wryly.

"Isn’t that a good thing?" Greed laughed, clapping Jesse on the back. "Brother Jesse! Has a nice ring to it!"

"But the king sent him to the church because they don’t think a hero who uses Black Magic is a *true* hero," Vereesa added.

"What?"

Greed’s eager expression froze solid.

"What kind of reason is that… Those kings should thank my hammer can’t fly that far! This is exactly why the Wildhammers wanted nothing to do with the humans down below after the Dark Portal! Even before the War of the Three Hammers, when dwarves saw magic as a curse, King Thaurissan and his mages used it against the ice trolls ambushing in the snowy caverns, protecting Dun Morogh’s people. We still called him a great leader!"

Here, Greed coughed and fell silent. Everyone knew what happened next: King Thaurissan and his tribe’s magic soon brought unparalleled "doom" to all dwarves, proving the old belief that "magic is a curse" true.

After resting a night in Quel’Linth, the elves prepared Striders for their two guests at dawn, ready to guide them into Quel’Thalas.

Jesse mounted a dark-brown Strider. This High Elf mount stood much taller than the ostriches he remembered, and felt far steadier than he’d expected.

High Elf mounts seemed exceptionally calm. Both Dragonhawks and Striders were more comfortable than gryphons or horses. Jesse wondered if this Sunwell-nurtured race had magically altered these beasts.

Led by two elven knights bearing long spears, the Strider train left Quel’Linth, heading north along the pine forest road.

This was the northernmost tip of the Eastern Continent. Lordaeron’s royal city was bitterly cold, already blanketed in snow before Jesse arrived. Yet here, there was no sign of snow. Jesse even spotted broadleaf trees typical of the Kingdom of Stormwind on the hillsides.

Moreover, the weather grew noticeably milder the further north they went.

The wind sweeping down the valley ahead made Jesse feel a prickle of danger. He knew it was just his ingrained wariness from the overwhelming Arcane energy, not that the energy itself held any malice.

The Sunwell…

As its power washed over them, Vereesa took a deep breath, relaxing as if finally freed.

Deeper in the valley, the group soon reached a beautiful cobblestone road. Magical street lamps lined the path, glowing with a faint blue Arcane light even in daytime.

Near noon, a magnificent white gate adorned with golden filigree appeared in the distance. Above it, the golden phoenix standard of the Sunstriders fluttered like a living firebird.

The gate itself stood as magnificent as a palace. Jesse could only imagine what Silvermoon City itself would look like.

Before the gate stood elven mages in robes of gold, white, and blue, holding golden staves, their gaze fixed on the approaching group.

They called out commands in an unfamiliar elven tongue, halting the riders. Several mages kept glancing at the two non-elves among them.

Vereesa spoke to them in elven. The mages nodded. "Hey, what’re they saying?" Greed whispered, leaning in.

"I don’t understand," Jesse replied.

The dwarf glared. "Didn’t you learn their language when you got here? Or did you slack off again?"

"It’s only been a few days!" Jesse protested. "How could I learn enough to understand *that*?"

"Sayaad’s gotta be easier than Demonic, right?!" Greed hissed.

"Shh," Jesse raised a finger.

The exchange was brief. When it ended, Vereesa gave Jesse a reassuring gesture. Though uneasy, he let it pass.

The mages bowed respectfully to Vereesa, then moved among the riders, observing the group while murmuring indistinct spells.

Their eyes held far less warmth than the Farstriders’ in Quel’Linth. Perhaps their duty guarding Quel’Thalas’ gate demanded sternness. Or perhaps this was the elven kingdom’s true face to outsiders.

Yet, nearly every mage paused to stare at the Blue Dragon sword on Jesse’s belt.

As the "inspection" concluded, one mage addressed Jesse in Common: "Summoned beings from the Twisting Nether are forbidden beyond the runestones north of the Elrendar River. This is Quel’Thalas’ law. The Ranger Lord should have informed you."

He glanced pointedly at the pouch on Jesse’s belt. "I know," Jesse said immediately.

"Good," the mage stepped back slightly. "Welcome to Quel’Thalas, Dragon Slayer Jesse Seso."