This story follows the story of Sateal Emberheart following up to and during the Shattering
Chapter I[]
'Eastern Kingdoms, Quel’thalas, Silvermoon, Sunfury Spire; Six months before the second sundering of Azeroth
"What is it you want, Emberheart?” Magistrix Crisulias lent against her high-back chair which was one of six encircling the ornately carved table dominating the seemingly tiny room that the congregation of elven businessmen and nobles now held session. Narrow-eyed and perfectly alabaster in complexion the Magistrix glared meaningfully across the large table towards the large and overbearing figure of Sateal Emberheart. A man whose years had been visibly etched into the battle-worn and rough face. His green eyes blazed with annoyance at the fair woman sat across him. She took the time to notice the smallest of tiny details and the quirks of interesting individuals she often dealt with - this aging soldier was one of them - she noticed his constant furrowed brow, his clicking of his tongue against the inside of his cheek; as if he were suffering from a bad taste in his mouth. She noticed also the golden necklace with the black pearl attached to it he kept firmly held in his grasp when he believed no one was watching, or when visibly in deep thought, as well as how uncomfortable he appeared in formal wear. He ran a hand through his silver hair in almost complete silence, save for the odd disgruntled snort, or to answer a question. This time he offered both; a disgruntled snort for an answer.
"Well?” she pressed, much to the chagrin of her current political opponent. For weeks Magistrix Crisulias had been politically hounding Sateal at the behest and the pointed pressure of the four heads of their noble household and - strangely - the Magisterium itself. It mattered little to her, just another arrogant veteran to be pulled down from his high-horse. Allegations of corruption, crime and even high treason had passed the lips of these pure-blooded noble snakes and into the ear of the usually idle Magistrix. Her opponent stirred, a sign - she had come to realise - that he was preparing a retort.
“I want you to understand that the villainous and hawk-strider shit excuses for Sin’dorei surrounding you are pouring poisonous lies into your ears, you dull-witted Magistrix. Kim’jael. These morons have expressed nothing but jealously and content towards my family since we became an influential force within this kingdom centuries ago. They cannot comprehend that the hard work my father and brother put into our dragon-hawk business actually bore fruit, and that even these noblemen born with silver tongues lodged between their crooked teeth they still lack the mental capacity to step out of their own homestead to etch even a decent days work in a life they so arrogantly spend pompously filing their nails, and whining to equally useless and moronic Magistrix. Maybe that‘s what I want.” The fair woman barely batted a perfectly curled eyelash at this. She simply picked up her quill and scratched something onto the parchment in front of her. She knew how much he hated this. The man obviously sought to coerce regrettable words from others, just as she does to them. Failing to do so is understandably frustrating. In another place and time these two would get along well, very well, she realised.
“You step beyond your authority, Emberheart!” A slim placid man attempted to bash his closed fist onto the table in a display of refined rage. His eyes were wide with excitement, and his voice carried with it a whimsical note of effectuated discontent. "You k-know all too w-well…” he stuttered and stalled “…that - you and your family are traitors to the throne!” his voice raised in pitch and volume on the final three worlds, as if believing he had won over the invisible crowd. Yet no applaud was heard. The room remained in an embarrassed silence.
Sateal shuddered with visible annoyance. Containing himself he tented his finger and lent forwards upon his elbow, in an attempt to maintain an infuriatingly calm face; he finally spat towards the nobleman in a matter-of-fact tone “Knight-Master Sateal Emberheart.” he began “Blood Knight to the vacant Sun Throne and eternally loyal the Matriarch of my Order. If the world were so perfect that we take one another’s authority into account, you would refer to me by my full name and rank and remain silent in the knowledge that I could crush your head between my hands like a watermelon… should you attempt to remind me how far my authority stretches again. I have risked my life countless times in protection of this city, and now that Arthas lies in a pool of his own blood, and peace is on the horizon you seek to deem me a traitor? You‘ll catch me licking my dragon-hawks arse before the day comes I allow you to insult me and my family in such a way without consequences.” At this point the scarred soldier realised he was on his feet and leaning threateningly towards the now-cowering slim and placid nobleman. This was not helping his case. But the thought of putting the fear of death into the fool brought a pleased smirk to his face, before he sat back down.
“Do not pretend to be so untouchable, Emberheart. Each of us know where your loyalties lie. We have heard the rumours and the sightings. We have proof!” There was an agreed murmur amongst the four noblemen. An aged nobleman adjusted himself within his chair. His long silver beard dangled down to his chest which now puffed with the pride only a political killing-blow could bring. “Proof!” he repeated. Yet in his age he was not the type to retreat after such a blow, he wanted to twist the blade some. He brought a sheet of parchment up to his squinting emerald eyes “High treasonous dealings with the Alliance. Selling dragon-hawks, parting with our arcane guardian schematics, and forfeiting other secrets held close by the Blood Knight Order and the Magisterium.” he lowered the parchment and grinned impishly at the war veteran sitting opposite to him “You, and your family are traitors to our people, and your minds and bodies should be forfeit as a result.” Sateals chair clattered and rolled across the dark marble flooring as the blood knight rose to his full imposing height. One of the figures lurking in the nearby shadows of the room stepped out behind the enraged soldier and carefully reset the chair to its original position. Sateal waited a few moments as the chair slid and creaked into position behind him, his eyes wide and with a face red with rage his voice suddenly began to boom “I will slit your throat if you speak ill of my family but again, old fool! This entire conspiracy is farcical. You people have been presenting me with words like ‘traitor’ since the beginning of these meetings, yet you have nothing to prove these allegations! Do you think that words become fact if you write them down on a piece of parchment before my very eyes, and then read them out to me?!” There was an impatient silence as both the long-bearded nobleman and the slim placid nobleman blinked dull-wittedly at the fuming blood knight veteran.
Magistrix Crisulias raised her head from her paperwork and turned her attention to the final nobleman to her left. Athletically slim, blond and typically handsome for a Sin’dorei. He smiled pleasantly, and watched as Sateal sat himself back down and mumbled a brief thanks over his shoulder to the tall man in dark robes with black hair who had recovered the chair for him. “We do.” the blond-haired nobleman began, attracting the old soldiers attention, continuing once he had done so “We have proof Master Emberheart. Official records, sightings from neutral witnesses. We could bring them into the final hearing. We could ruin not only you, but your family, and their reputation. Unless you admit your crimes now. Only you - and you alone - would suffer as a result.” This news caused Master Emberhearts mouth to fall open, and then close, and then fall open yet again as he silently contemplated what he had just heard.
“I believe we have exceeded the time allowed for these gatherings, friends of Silvermoon.” the tall man in the dark robes announced neutrally to the five individuals sat around the table “I would ask you to leave the spire within the next hour, the Regent Lord has much to deal and contend with this eve, and he much prefers to confront such task in a relatively empty environment.” Sateal, the Magistrix and the noblemen rose from their seats. Their previous heated argument put on standby as they filtered out of the room and into the poorly lit extravagant halls of the Sunfury Spire.
“Ash’dan! Emberheart. We have something we must discuss. I would ask you to wait a moment.” the tall man beckoned Sateal over to him before folding his hands behind his back. His face and its features were almost entirely concealed beneath his suave hair style. The dull arcane light flickering in time to ambient humming which echoed through the lush dark crimson halls.
“What is it, Silversong? I’m quite tired, and more than a mite sick of this blasted place.” Sateal grunted familiarly at the man known as Silversong. The past week of almost constant meetings had clearly taken its toll upon his patience. Silversongs emerald eyes shone through the darkness, and - surprisingly - were not looking at Sateal, The blood knight followed his gaze over his shoulder, and at the long-bearded nobleman, before turning back towards the tall dark-robed man “It’s Winters Veil in a few months, you know.” he implied with a sneer of impatience spread across his face. “Of course it is, my apologies, Master Emberheart. Perhaps we can speak again another time. I do miss our drinking sessions.” he replied fondly with an understanding smile. Sateal noticed; that - only after the bearded nobleman had left the spire - Silversong suddenly became less hospitable. He raised his arm towards the same exit, indicating for blood knight to take his leave. Sateal felt far too tired and fatigued to take full note of this sudden change of heart, and was all too happy to depart with all due haste. “I look forward to it” he replied quickly and dryly over his shoulder as he turned on his heels to leave. The dark emerald eyes of the robed Silversong peering after him through the darkness.