Working in Stormwind: A Warcraft Isekai

It was a little past ten in the morning, and the sun still hadn’t climbed very high. Small boats carrying stone and lumber crowded the canals. Workers were reinforcing the banks, and Jess slipped across a temporary wooden bridge they had put up for the job.

The Mage Quarter lay ahead. This district in the southwest of Stormwind was one of the best-preserved parts of the city, along with the Dwarven District and the eastern districts. Even from a distance, Jess could see the Wizard’s Sanctum, the place where the portal stood in the game.

The top of the tower rose above the trees and rooftops, reaching high into the sky. It stood alongside two other landmarks: the spire of the Cathedral of Light, still under construction in the north of the city, and the towers of Stormwind Keep, home of the royal family near the harbor.

People said the Mage Quarter had survived because the mages had left behind countless terrible curses and magical traps, keeping the orcs and ogres from charging in and tearing the place apart.

But Jess didn’t buy it. If those mages had enough power to put up a barrier that could stop an army of ogres, Stormwind wouldn’t have fallen in the first place.

The leader of the ogre clan that had captured Stormwind was named Cho’gall. He wasn’t the savage brute most people pictured when they thought of ogres. Even back on Draenor, he’d shown his intelligence and mastered many kinds of magic, including the power of prophecy.

An ogre as learned as that would never pass up a treasure trove of historical knowledge and magical tools. Jess figured Cho’gall must have ordered his forces to leave this place as intact as possible. That was probably why the district had mostly escaped destruction.

Jess made his way through the shaded streets and alleys beneath overhanging roofs, passing a few old-fashioned shops and houses. Soon he reached the grass in front of the spiral staircase leading to the Wizard’s Sanctum.

The smell of earth and paper hung in the air. The warm, damp weather added to the feeling that he’d walked onto a school campus.

Now and then, young people who looked like mages, dressed in pale purple or blue robes, glanced his way. Jess looked down at his own clothes: a linen shirt and pants with the legs rolled up. He looked no different from the workers repairing bridges outside. In a place that felt so much like an academy, he certainly stood out.

But he didn’t feel particularly awkward. Had everyone here shown up for the first time in silk robes, carrying books of magic and runes?

He asked a few apprentices reading by the roadside where Edan Marin lived. When he got there, he found several young men around his age already waiting outside the door.

They were neatly dressed and had the look of people who spent plenty of time with books and not much time doing hard labor.

Jess, on the other hand, had spent years working around the Trade District and Cathedral Square, or taking jobs out in Elwynn Forest. Even in this fairly damp part of the world, the sun had left his skin reddish and the lines on his hands deep.

He was lean, too. A build like his might have been popular in the twenty-first century, but it wasn’t much admired here.

Most people who could afford to study at a school of magic came from comfortable families that didn’t have to worry about food or clothing.

Learning magic wasn’t something that paid off quickly. Ordinary families tended to favor skills that could bring in money sooner.

And most magical institutions in the Alliance were influenced by noble connections and merchants’ investments, making it even harder for children from ordinary families to get in. Jess had learned that lesson back in Lordaeron.

When he was little, he’d wanted to become an apprentice at the Royal Academy of Arcane Arts in Lordaeron’s capital. His parents had been willing to support him. But an institution with a name like that clearly wasn’t meant for ordinary townspeople like him. He’d been turned away again and again.

As for Dalaran, the city of magic far away on the southern shore of Lake Lordamere... Dalaran might have welcomed any human or elf interested in magic, but by the time Jess was old enough to enroll, the Dark Portal had already opened.

Rumor had it that orc warships were nearing Hillsbrad Foothills, and advance forces had entered the wide forests south of Dalaran.

His father had been called back to duty and his mother had to look after the farm. For a child barely over ten to make a long journey alone, crossing all of Silverpine Forest from Tirisfal Glades... even three heads wouldn’t have been enough for the orcs to chop off.

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

As he approached Marin’s front door, Jess could faintly hear people talking inside. He tried to listen so he could prepare for the interview, but couldn’t make out a word.

The wooden door suddenly swung open and startled him. A young man stepped out, looking disappointed. Apparently, his interview hadn’t gone well.

“Next,” called a deep, middle-aged voice from inside.

Jess looked at the others waiting nearby. They just stared at him. Nobody answered Marin’s call.

“Is anyone there?”

“Yes, Mr. Marin.”

Jess gave the cowards watching him a look, then went inside and shut the door.

“Please call me Master Marin.”

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Edan Marin looked up as he spoke. He appeared to be in his forties or fifties. His brown-gray hair was thinning, and the beard he’d deliberately grown reached down to his chest. He looked a little unkempt.

“Yes, Master Marin,” Jess replied respectfully, then dropped onto a stool beside the desk.

Marin glanced at him, adjusted the long griffin-feather quill in his hand, and asked, “Your name?”

“Jess Seso.”

“I don’t know that surname.”

“I’m from out of town. Lordaeron.”

“But you don’t sound like you’re from the royal capital of the Menethils.”

“My mother is from Brill. I spent most of my time growing up with her.”

“Which town?”

“Brill. A town in northern Lordaeron.”

“Ah... Brill, Brill. I’m not used to the way you pronounce it. I know Brill. A beautiful place. That building in the center of town, the one that looks like a small chapel, is quite memorable.”

Jess could tell that Edan Marin didn’t care about the chapel-like building in Brill’s town square, or whether Brill was beautiful. He said it all without changing his expression. It was just his usual habit of being polite.

“Where did you graduate from? The Menethils’ Arcane Academy? The university at Stratholme? Have you been to Dalaran?”

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

“Ah.”

Marin set down his pen, placed both hands on the desk, and looked at Jess.

Jess knew that look by now. This interview was going badly.

“Then why did you apply for this assistant position? You don’t quite meet my requirements.”

“For the money,” Jess said.

“Very honest, Mr. Se...” Marin glanced at his notebook. “Mr. Seso.”

“But I would prefer someone with at least a basic education. It would make communication much easier, since working for me is bound to involve some rather complicated matters... I’m not looking down on your background. I’m sure you’ve done a great deal to help rebuild Stormwind, and for that I must offer you my deepest respect.”

“You could ask me a few questions, Master,” Jess said. “I think I can do the job.”

“All right.” The mage glanced toward a bookcase not far away. “Tell me about the Kirin Tor. You do know what the Kirin Tor is, don’t you?”

“Which part?”

“Anything you like. Or just explain what the Kirin Tor is.”

Edan Marin leaned back in his chair, looking ready to enjoy the show.

“Understood.” Jess took a deep breath. “The Kirin Tor is the council of mages in Dalaran, led by the Council of Six. It’s one of the most powerful groups of elite spellcasters in the world. Historically, the Kirin Tor stayed away from everyday politics, but later became Dalaran’s ruling body. It’s maintained a friendly alliance with Silvermoon City in Quel’Thalas for over two thousand years. Elves have served on the Council of Six, too, such as Kael’thas Sunstrider, the blood elves’...”

“Wait.”

Marin interrupted him. He frowned and thought for a moment.

“Prince Kael’thas is no longer on the Council of Six? When did that happen? And what are these ’blood elves’? Did you mean sin’dorei? Sin does mean blood or bloodline in Thalassian. Sin’dorei originally means descendants of a noble bloodline, though you could translate it as ’elves of blood.’ That isn’t how we should understand it, of course. In fact, I have no idea which translator’s book you got that from...”

Jess realized he’d accidentally mentioned things that hadn’t happened yet. Fortunately, the old mage had already found an explanation on his own.

“Come to think of it, is the Kirin Tor really over two thousand years old? I didn’t realize it had existed since the founding of Dalaran.” Marin stood up and went to the bookcase. He pulled out a purple book marked with an arcane eye and flipped through it.

“Hmm... Yes, the Kirin Tor was indeed formed in Dalaran’s early days.”

He nodded, held up the book, and asked, “Have you read this? The History of the Kirin Tor and Dalaran?”

“I’ve read some of it,” Jess said firmly, although this was the first time he’d ever heard of the book.

Marin put it back, coughed, and returned to his desk. After a moment’s thought, he suddenly asked, “Let’s talk about dragons. Dragonkind. I’m very interested in them. For example, do you believe dragons really exist? Or are they just a rumor spread by the orcs to frighten the Alliance armies?”

“Of course dragons exist,” Jess said. “A lot of people have talked about red dragons burning and raiding their way along the coast of Hillsbrad Foothills.”

“You’re from Lordaeron, correct? Have you seen a red dragon yourself?” Marin asked. “Did you come here with the refugees from Stormwind?”

“I haven’t seen one in person. I’ve only seen the wrecks of ships burned by red dragons.”

“Red dragons are evil and violent.” Marin nodded. “Best not to see one for yourself.”

As someone who knew the game’s lore, Jess understood that red dragons were terrifying magical beasts, but also guardians of life. Their queen, Alexstrasza, protected all living things on Azeroth.

The proud red dragons had become slaves and mounts of the orcs only because the orcs had captured Alexstrasza using an ancient, evil magical artifact: the Demon Soul, which held the power of all the Dragon Aspects.

By making the queen suffer, the orcs forced the red dragons to fight for them. Even now, the Red Dragon Queen was still being held under the power of that terrible artifact deep in the Wetlands to the east, in Grim Batol, the cursed and abandoned dwarven city.

Jess knew all that. But he wasn’t sure what Marin had meant. Did the mage truly believe red dragons were evil, or was he testing Jess to see how much he knew about them?

“Um, Master...”

Jess spoke carefully. Marin’s eyes opened a little wider and his lips parted, as though he were waiting for something. That confirmed Jess’s guess.

“There seems to be another reason why red dragons fight for the orcs. Before the Dark Portal opened, there were very few cases of red dragons going out of their way to attack human or elven towns... Most of the time, they kept to themselves.”

“Then, Mr. Seso, what do you think is behind their violence?” Marin pressed eagerly. Jess could hear his excitement.

The Demon Soul wasn’t something an ordinary citizen should know about. Even many of the Kirin Tor’s elite mages believed it was nothing but an ancient legend.

Jess couldn’t reveal such shocking, forbidden knowledge. He could only shake his head.

The mage wrote something in his notebook, then said, “Mr. Seso, thank you very much for coming. We’ve been talking for quite some time now, so let’s stop here.”

Jess still felt dazed when he stepped out of Edan Marin’s house.

If he’d told the mage more of what he knew about red dragons, the assistant job might have been his for sure. But he’d have been taking a serious risk. People would know he possessed information someone of his age and background had no way of learning.

It would be one thing if an ordinary friend or passerby found out. Most people knew a few strange country tales passed from mouth to mouth, and nobody would think much of it. But this man was a mage.

Jess let out a long breath. Better not draw too much attention to himself. If people learned he could predict the future, nothing good would come of it.

The thought even made him worry that the bronze dragonflight, which watched over time, might suddenly appear beside him and kill him with some strange spell.

After making sure he hadn’t triggered some kind of timeline crisis, he wandered around the Mage Quarter for a while. The gardens and quiet atmosphere helped him calm down.

As for the interview, they hadn’t discussed pay, the actual work, or much about what Jess could do. He probably hadn’t gotten the job.

Better to accept it and stop longing for things that weren’t his.

Since he was already here, he might as well ask around for other jobs. If he applied to enough places, surely someone would hire him. Even hourly work would do. He couldn’t afford to be picky now.

At two tailor shops, the owners’ faces immediately soured when they learned he was looking for work rather than buying clothes, and they sent him straight out. One of the owners was even from Darrowshire, but treated him worse than the people at Duncan’s shop. So much for helping someone from back home.

Then a tavern sign in an alley caught his eye.

The Slaughtered Lamb.