Emmy Malin stared at the man in front of her, seething with anger. About two months ago, it was him—the very same man—who had tricked her in Stormwind.
He had made her spend a silver coin on a worthless piece of malachite.
A single silver coin wasn't much. For a mage apprentice, it was barely even a loss. But it was the deception that mattered. She had just helped him out of kindness, and this was what she got in return.
That night, she tossed and turned in her dormitory, unable to sleep. She examined that piece of malachite over and over again, confirming countless times that it was nothing more than a genuine piece of junk—not even worth a few copper coins.
Ever since then, the image of that detestable man had lingered in her mind, impossible to shake.
Disheartened, she had been sent to Dalaran by her father, the archmage Malin.
Here, no one knew her. No one knew she had once been a foolish apprentice who got scammed out of a silver coin by a worthless stone.
She shut herself inside the library, day after day, studying arcane tomes and practicing spells that demanded extreme concentration.
Her mentor said she was improving quickly, praised her as exceptionally talented.
She thought her mind had become calm enough—like still water.
But at this moment, that calm state shattered. Unable to hold back, she let out a sarcastic remark:
"Oh? Isn't this the farmer's son from the countryside of Stormwind? The poor wretch who worshipped the Arcane Sanctum since childhood, dreamed of becoming a mage, but was too poor to afford tuition, couldn't find anyone to recommend him, and kept running into dead ends everywhere?"
Allen stood frozen in place, his expression turning wonderfully complex.
Were those the lies he had made up back then? He had certainly fabricated plenty, but how could this girl remember them so perfectly? Word for word—even the tone was flawlessly mimicked.
"I'm sorry, miss," he coughed lightly, trying to make his gaze appear more melancholic, "but I believe there may be some misunderstanding between us."
Emmy looked into his eyes and, all at once, her heart softened.
That's right… maybe he really had been in a difficult situation. So difficult that he had no choice but to deceive me.
After all, it was just a silver coin…
Stella immediately jumped in to defend her benefactor. She nodded vigorously, her small blue braids swinging back and forth.
"Yeah, yeah! Benefactor is a noble young master of the Prestor family! How could he possibly be a farmer's son from Stormwind? You must have made a mistake!"
Allen reached out and grabbed Stella by the back of her neck, lifting her straight up.
You little money-losing disaster, why don't you just tell her my full name while you're at it?
Stella flailed in midair, her short legs kicking wildly. "Ah! Benefactor! Brother Allen! Let me go! Let me go!"
Emmy froze for a moment, then her anger flared up again.
So he's a noble? Then my pity was completely unnecessary.
Her gaze lingered on Allen's face for a moment longer, and suddenly she seemed to recall something.
"Oh? Your name is Allen Prestor?" Her tone carried a hint of surprise. "The Alterac noble who worked with King Varian to solve the Montmorency family massacre case?"
Allen nodded.
It was clear that Emmy had been in Dalaran for some time now—her information was still stuck on newspapers from a month ago.
Now he was the great hero who had slain Teron Gorefiend and saved Stormwind!
At the same time, in the throne hall of Stormwind Keep—
Varian Wrynn slammed the proposal onto the ground. The parchment bounced twice before rolling down the steps.
"'I hope Your Majesty will associate with the virtuous and distance himself from petty individuals—especially those who like to meddle with dangerous magic.'"
He repeated it word by word, each syllable squeezed out through clenched teeth.
He raised his head, his gaze sweeping over the nobles below the steps, who stood silent as cicadas in winter.
"You might as well be more direct—who exactly is this 'petty individual who likes to meddle with dangerous magic'?"
...
In the sewers, Emmy's tone softened slightly compared to before, but she hadn't forgotten that she had been scammed.
"Give me my money back."
Allen spread his hands, his expression as innocent as a newborn lamb.
"Miss, what happened before was all a misunderstanding. In business, how can you call it a scam?"
"You used a worthless piece of malachite to trick me out of a silver coin."
"That was a fair trade—mutually agreed upon." Allen remained completely unfazed. "If you really think it wasn't worth it, I can always throw in some additional help."
Emmy looked at him warily.
"What kind of help?"
"First, tell me why you're here."
Emmy hesitated for a moment.
"I discovered that Dalaran seems to have some kind of cult. They're researching… dark magic." She paused, suddenly realizing something. "Wait a second—why am I telling you this?"
"Are you here to investigate?" Allen didn't answer her question.
Emmy blinked.
Allen shook his head, his gaze sweeping over her dirt-stained mage robes, her messy hair, and her thin figure standing alone in the sewers.
"Look at you. If you hadn't run into me, you'd be dead for sure. You came to investigate a cult without even changing your clothes—aren't you afraid they'll suspect you're a Kirin Tor mage and target you? And you're acting alone too. Sooner or later, something's going to go wrong like this."
Emmy froze for a moment.
"Huh? But this organization is recruiting mages."
A cult that recruits mages. Allen's brows furrowed slightly.
"What are you investigating? It wouldn't happen to be related to this symbol, would it?"
He pulled out a folded piece of parchment from his chest and unfolded it. On it was drawn a bleeding eye.
Emmy's face filled with shock.
"How do you know about that?"
"Looks like fate brought us together." Allen tucked the parchment back into his chest, a smile curling at the corner of his lips. "Let's treat that silver coin as a deposit—I'll help you investigate."
"Alright…" Emmy nodded instinctively, then suddenly snapped back to her senses. "Wait! What deposit? Who agreed to pay you anything?"
"We've been tracking this from Stormwind all the way here." Allen's tone turned serious. "We suspect this organization is closely connected to Teron Gorefiend."
Emmy's expression changed.
"What? Teron Gorefiend came to Azeroth?"
Stella popped her head out from behind Allen with a grin.
"More than that! Teron Gorefiend has already been killed by us!"
It took Emmy a moment to process that information. She had only been away from Stormwind for a little over a month—what exactly had happened during that time?
Her gaze moved back and forth between the three of them: this smiling con artist, this bouncing little Gnome, and the silent, resolute paladin who had not said a single word the entire time.
You three? Killed Teron Gorefiend? This scammer and this little Gnome?
In the end, her eyes settled on Morgan, lingering there for quite a while.
That taciturn paladin, gripping his longsword, stood with a steady posture and a piercing gaze.
That weathered face practically had the word "justice" written all over it.
Yeah, this one looks reliable. He looks like someone who could kill Teron Gorefiend. The other two were probably just cheering from the sidelines.
"Alright." Allen rolled his wrist. "Where are they? Let's go pay them a visit."
Emmy quickly stopped him.
"Wait, wait, wait—they've got a lot of people gathered right now. You're at least somewhat passable as a mage, but what about your two companions? They look way too suspicious!"
Allen glanced at the two of them, and suddenly his eyes lit up. He snapped his fingers.
"I've got it."
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