On Wednesday, classes at the Falthrien Academy in Quel'Thalas were temporarily suspended. Leylin was given a day off.
Grand Magister Belo'vir told him that the mages of the Silvermoon Council were to repair the numerous runestones erected in southern Quel'Thalas.
The situation had changed, and these runestones, abandoned for nearly a century, needed to be maintained to function.
The reason for this was not only the growing infestation of the Amani trolls in Zul'Aman, but also the orc hordes invading the human kingdoms to the north.
Preparing for the worst was something the Silvermoon Council excelled at. These runestones could channel powerful arcane energy, creating a purple arcane barrier in the sky to repel invaders from Quel'Thalas.
Such powerful spells had also appeared in Dalaran, but that was a story for another time.
Leylin had left Silvermoon City early in the morning. Today, he would return to Malden Orchard to recruit some long-term workers to tend the orchard and inform the red-haired mage that he would be putting his novels and comics on hold.
It sounded sad, but Leylin preferred to become a powerful mage.
Arriving at Dawnstar Village, Leylin brought out his personal dragonhawk. Miss Seraphina, the dragonhawk caretaker, told him to simply sit still on the dragonhawk, then gently stroke its forehead and tell it the direction.
This simple method immediately gave Leylin a taste of flight.
Quel'Thalas was always bathed in the warmth of the sun, but under the dragonhawk's rapid flight, Leylin felt a chill radiating from his abdomen and neck.
Astride the dragonhawk, he raised his left hand and effortlessly cast a constant heating spell. This spell allowed a mage to wear only his mage robes even in winter.
Compared to the warriors and knights, whose faces were frozen and their noses dripping with snot, the mage's handsomeness was far superior.
Leylin's sense of direction wasn't so much a matter of knowing the map well as a matter of knowing the map intimately.
The real world was vastly larger than the game world he'd previously explored, with vastly different environments and architecture. However, place names were unchangeable. Leylin knew exactly what the town he was overlooking was called.
Crossing the mountains that separated Tirisfal Glades from Quel'Thalas, Leylin entered the territory of the Kingdom of Lordaeron.
North of Tirisfal, where the sea breeze prevailed, beneath the dragonhawk lay the Agamand Mills. This served as Lordaeron's agricultural processing center.
Controlling the dragonhawk's planned flight path, Leylin soon saw a small town. It nestled within a valley.
It wasn't called Deathknell Town yet, and it hadn't been ravaged by the plague. The people of Lordaeron lived happily as usual.
He found an open area in the woods beside the town and landed. Without a leash, the dragonhawk followed Leylin obediently.
The nearby residents, busy with their farmwork, all fixed their eyes on the young human. What creature was following him?
From time to time, a few brave children would come forward to stroke the dragonhawk's feathers. Leylin didn't refuse them, but this only made the dragonhawk a little unhappy.
Perhaps she was a beautiful girl and didn't want to be petted, Leylin thought to himself as he listened to the dragonhawk's low roars.
However, the thought immediately faltered. "Then what about me riding her?" Dirty!
Leylin shook his head and hurried into the town.
The town had a church, a market, and gardens—just like any other town outside Lordaeron, it had all the necessary amenities. Entering a two-story building near the market, it served as a sort of labor organization.
In Lordaeron, not every citizen owned their own land, farm, or caravan. Many did not. To survive, they relied on this kind of means to earn a living.
Before, when the harvest was in full swing and the soil was being reclaimed at Malden's Orchard, his mother and Leylin would come here to find laborers to help with the orchard maintenance.
Pushing the door open, an elderly man wearing a pair of reading glasses walked in, holding a well-worn parchment book.
Hearing the voice, he stood up, adjusted his glasses, and squinted as he spoke, "Malden Orchard, Sol's son? I'm old, so that's all I can remember."
Leylin smiled and nodded, saying, "Yes, Grandpa Lawrence, my name is Leylin. I was here last year, too."
"I remember. Are you still here to recruit workers?" Lawrence expertly flipped through the roster on the bookshelf and continued, "How about the old guys from last year?"
Those two simple, middle-aged men? A year had passed, but his memory was still clear. They were the ones who did the soil renovation work last year.
"No problem. Here's a key to Malden Orchard, and this is the deposit. Once you find them, just let them take over the orchard, Grandpa Lawrence." Leylin had great trust in the townspeople.
During his time in Silverpine Forest, Leylin came into contact with many of the ordinary farmers he shared his life with. Their philosophy was simple: without war, without disease, with a piece of land, life could continue.
Lawrence had placed the gold coins in a package and drafted an agreement.
Lawrence's organization was considered an official organization in Lordaeron, and its agreements were legally binding. After signing his name, Leylin bid Lawrence farewell.
Leaving the town, Leylin, using the speed of his dragonhawk, quickly arrived at the Malden Orchard.
He withdrew all his savings over the years and calculated the total to 3,000 gold coins. Before he went to Silvermoon City to study magical constructs with Grand Magister Belo'vir, Leylin had thought this sum would be enough for a lifetime of leisure.
Now, it was just the price of a few purchases of magical construct materials.
As the sun set, a distinctive knocking sound echoed on the wooden house. The red-haired mage pushed open the door and entered.
"Leylin, how's the comic manuscript coming along?" Rhonin asked.
"I'm a mage in Quel'Thalas now, so comic book work is going to be tough." Leylin replied.
Surprised, Rhonin exclaimed, "A mage adept from the Elven Kingdom? Did I hear that correctly?"
To prove his point, Leylin casually cast [Dragon's Breath], using his spell mastery. After days of training in magic, Leylin's Dual Specialization Mastery had become even more proficient, significantly increasing the range and power of Dragon's Breath.
The red-haired mage was completely convinced. His eyes glazed over, and he scratched a handful of his fiery red hair, bewildered. "I've never seen such bizarre magic working? Is this a spell mastery?"
As the future leader of the Kirin Tor, even without the immense power he would later possess, Rhonin could clearly see the spell in Leylin's hand.
"Yes, a spell mastery, Dual Specialization Mastery," Leylin said with a touch of pride.
"My God, you're a freak. Do you know how long it took me to master a single spell mastery?"
"How long?"
Rhonin frowned, holding up four fingers.
Embarrassed.
"Four months!"