The Windrunner family's territory lay to the west of Quel'Thalas's southern forest. Here, the woods, nourished by the Sunwell's magic, shimmered with a golden hue, appearing exceptionally sacred and magnificent. Golden-red leaves rustled softly as a gentle breeze swept through, and sunlight filtered through the layers of foliage, creating warm patches of light that seemed to caress the travelers on the path and the small animals in the woods. Elven figures occasionally emerged from the trees; their villages and estates nestled peacefully nearby. Even faint singing could be heard in this tranquil forest—beautiful ballads sung in the ancient Thalassian tongue.
Arthas noticed many elven children observing him, this somewhat different "human," with curious eyes. Most of the Quel'dorei were slender and tall, yet Arthas stood taller than most elves, and his robust physique exuded more power than theirs. Coupled with his handsome face and extraordinary demeanor, he was quite striking. This physical presence was a result of years of rigorous training, the nourishment of extraordinary power, and the hidden secrets within the human bloodline itself.
Humans in this world were not ordinary creatures. In a sense, they were the direct creations of the Creator Gods, only now afflicted by the evil curse of the Ancient Gods. Yet, Arthas wasn't repulsed by this so-called curse. Perhaps this was one of the few positive outcomes the Ancient Gods had inadvertently brought to life on Azeroth. It was precisely because of this curse that emotionally rich organic life was born, allowing him to truly experience his own existence. He felt that if not for these seemingly useless emotions, Azeroth might not have survived repeated disasters and catastrophes.
Lost in thought, Arthas heard Sylvanas's voice call out, "Prince Arthas?"
"I'm listening, milady."
"There's no need to be so formal. Perhaps our mutual titles make us uncomfortable. We are, after all, comrades who have faced life and death together," Sylvanas said, feeling quite favorably towards Arthas. "May I call you by your given name?"
"Of course, milady."
"Then in return, you may also call me by my given name. If you find it too long, you can just call me Sylvanas."
" Lady Windrun—uh, Sylvanas, milady." Arthas was a little unaccustomed to directly calling Sylvanas by her first name. He knew that this address was mostly reserved for Sylvanas's close acquaintances.
"It's Sylvanas" Sylvanas corrected Arthas's address earnestly. "Don't worry, my sisters and friends all call me that."
"Alright, Sylvanas, if you like," Arthas said, seeing that this lady quite enjoyed the more familiar address.
Sylvanas nodded contentedly, a smile gracing her face—the name Sylvanas brought back fond memories of when she and her elder and younger sisters were just children, and they had called her that too.
"Arthas, I rarely interact with humans, because to be honest, I don't particularly like you. After all, my sister, Alleria, was tricked away by Turalyon." Sylvanas still held a grudge about this; in her view, if her sister hadn't fallen in love with Turalyon, she wouldn't have entered the Dark Portal and subsequently vanished without a trace.
How could Arthas possibly respond to this? Should he twist the knife further and say that her younger sister was probably now involved with Rhonin, the human mage from Dalaran? That would just be asking for trouble, so he decisively avoided responding to Sylvanas's words, simply listening quietly as she spoke.
"But after meeting you, I've started to think that there are reliable people among humans. Now I somewhat understand why Alleria went with Turalyon," Sylvanas assessed the young and handsome Prince Arthas. "Speaking of which, that Marshal truly resembles you. You are both handsome, and both Paladins." Arthas sensed danger—Don't lump me in with that Turalyon fellow! I have nothing to do with him; we're not even close! I was just a child when he tricked your sister away!
"Actually, I don't understand why my sister fell in love with a human, Arthas. You know, there's an insurmountable gap between humans and elves." Arthas, of course, understood this perfectly. The lifespan of humans, except for powerful mages, was at most a hundred years, but for elves, a hundred years felt no different from one or two years for humans. When your beloved ages day by day, and finally returns to death forever, while you remain youthful and beautiful, this is an unbearable pain for any devoted lover.
Therefore, although Quel'Thalas had no explicit prohibition against elves marrying humans, almost all elves had heard warnings from their elders. This was one reason why Sylvanas said she would not fall in love with a human.
"Alleria always said I was too slow when it came to emotions, but I just feel that instead of spending that useless time enjoying love, it's better to practice shooting another arrow." Sylvanas looked at her smooth fingers—her physique ensured that even constant archery wouldn't leave calluses.
"I don't know what Lady Alleria thinks, but I believe you might be the most suitable person for the position of Ranger-General," Arthas looked at the road stretching ahead. "At least I can feel that you deeply love your people and your country, which is why you are stationed at the border day in and day out, solely to protect this peace and tranquility."
Sylvanas smiled noncommittally. She indeed deeply loved her kin and the land of Quel'Thalas. This was the main reason supporting her long-standing struggles with the Silvermoon Council. Additionally, she didn't want the Farstriders, whom her family had trained for Quel'Thalas, to be ruined by the indifferent mage lords.
"Arthas, the Windrunner Estate is just ahead. I've invited some subordinates and old friends. Don't worry, this is a semi-private banquet; there won't be any of those nauseating councilors." Following Sylvanas's guidance, Arthas saw exquisite and unique elven architecture, meticulously manicured gardens, and the most striking feature, a magnificent tall spire built against a cliff.
"That must be Windrunner Spire, right?"
"Exactly. The view from up there is excellent. Our banquet will be held in the open-air garden on the lower level of Windrunner Spire," Sylvanas began to introduce her home's every detail to Arthas. "Over there is a tulip field. I remember my younger sister had a sudden whim to have it built about sixty years ago."
"What an enchanting place. I've rarely seen an estate of this scale in Lordaeron," Arthas couldn't help but exclaim. The heritage of human nobles was still far inferior to families with thousands of years of elven tradition. After seeing the Windrunner family estate, he even wanted to build one in Lordaeron. Unfortunately, most of the good land in Tirisfal Glades had long been parceled out to various lords or nobles. Even as Prince Arthas, it would be difficult for him to find an empty plot that could rival the scenery of Quel'Thalas, let alone spend a fortune to build such an estate.
Hearing Arthas's praise, Sylvanas blinked, seemingly having thought of something, and she spoke to Arthas. "Come, I'll take you on a tour first. Although the view below is excellent, you must go to the top of Windrunner Spire to truly understand what real beauty is."
"With pleasure."
Led by Sylvanas, Arthas passed through luxurious courtyards, grand corridors, and inhaled the fragrant tulips. After several turns, he finally reached the very top of Windrunner Spire. It was now sunset, and the sun was slowly sinking into the Endless Sea. Its golden afterglow dyed the entire ocean a brilliant golden-yellow, merging with Quel'Thalas's golden coastline. The sea breeze brushed Arthas's face, and he felt the fatigue from his travels over the past few days vanish, leaving him much more refreshed. The circular observation deck offered views not only of the sea to the west but also the forest to the east. Arthas saw many elven villages scattered gracefully throughout the forest. In this beautiful sunset, he once again heard the melodious High Elf music.
Sylvanas also quietly gazed at the scenery visible from Windrunner Spire—even after thousands of years, she had never grown tired of the view. Unconsciously, she vaguely saw Alleria and Vereesa standing beside her, as well as Lirath held in their mother's arms. Alas, time had passed, and the past was forever the past. Now standing beside her was a human Prince Arthas, the young paladin Arthas.
Sylvanas sighed—Sister, what should I do? Little sister, are you doing well in Dalaran? The situation in Quel'Thalas is not good right now, and I'm starting to feel overwhelmed… But I must protect it, even if it costs me everything. In the long disputes, she had long lost all trust in the councilors of the Silvermoon Council. She now hoped to find a turning point for Quel'Thalas through this foreign Prince Arthas, in her own way.