Daughter of Azeroth

63 | YOUR PRESENCE IS UNWELCOME

Wynn was right, though Idira was too new to the politics of the Academy to appreciate the implications of the changes, there was no doubt the shocking development within the Council had spread through the Academy like wildfire, fuelling gossip and speculation. Jaina has abandoned the Kirin Tor. Vol'jin betrayed the Alliance and left Varian to die. Khadgar's the new Leader. Members of the Horde allowed to remain in Dalaran.

At breakfast, Idira learned not only had the Alliance lost their king in the battle, but Vol'jin, the Warchief of the Horde, who had reminded her so much of Unambi, had succumbed to his own grievous injuries soon after he named his successor—Sylvanas, Queen of the Forsaken.

Across the mess hall no one ate. Instead, the space seethed in a susurration of whispers and murmurs as little clusters of various races gathered around the tables, their voices rising as they argued, the groups breaking apart and reforming into new ones, reminding Idira of bubbles in a pot of boiling water.

Throughout the room, accusing looks flew back and forth as friendships ended and backs were turned. The students milled together, split, reassembled, and split again, taking new sides, forging new allegiances, the division between the races of the Horde and the Alliance becoming more and more striking as the minutes ticked by. It seemed Jaina's version of the story had been seized upon by the apprentices and trainees of the Academy with something akin to religious zeal, making rumours and lies the new currency in trade. Idira kept her eyes on her bowl of porridge and said nothing, realising she might be the only person in the room who had seen the battle first-hand, and who knew the ugly truth: they were all going to die if they didn't put aside their prejudices and fight the true enemy as one.

A fight broke out near the front of the mess hall. The tutors dining at the top table watched the outburst, their eyes cold, as though enjoying the sight, doing nothing to stop the fight, spectators at a gladiator ring. In the narrow space between the student's tables and the head table, a male night elf and an orc tussled, dragging and pulling at each others' robes, their blows glancing and weak. The orc shoved the night elf away, his chest heaving from exertion.

'I thought you were my friend!' he spat, his eyes glowing with contained magic. 'You would believe these lies? We lost our leader, too!'

'Our king would still be alive if your people hadn't abandoned him!' the night elf shot back, rubbing his wrist, sulky. 'But your people ran away, like cowards. You talk of strength and honour, but in truth, you have none!'

At that, the orc roared and rushed at the night elf, barrelling into him, the force of his attack sending them both crashing into one of the tables, knocking several other students aside, the porcelain dishes smashing against the stone-flagged floor. The pair continued to tussle, though they were terrible at it, not really doing any real harm to the other, both of them looking ridiculous. If the situation hadn't felt so dire, Idira would have found the sight funny.

She leaned over to Wynn. 'Isn't anyone going to do anything?' she asked in a low voice, glancing at the tutors watching the hapless fighters, some of them continuing to eat, bored.

'Probably not,' Wynn shrugged. 'As far as I can tell, the Alliance tutors pretty much have the same opinion, so maybe they like watching us fight about it, since they can't.'

'But if Khadgar says we are to work together in the war against the demons, why aren't they supporting his order?' Idira asked, raising her voice to be heard over another crash, as the pair knocked over a bench and tumbled onto the floor, crawling over each other, struggling to be the first to have the other in a choke hold, both of them failing and, at least in her opinion, utterly embarrassing themselves.

'As if!' Wynn snorted, rolling her eyes, 'the Council is so far removed from us, they may as well be on another planet. The only one who takes any interest in the Academy is the Archmage Modera and that's only because Margot is her niece, and whatever Margot tells her is never questioned. It's been like that for years from what I hear.'