Back in Stormwind City, the very heart of the Stormwind Kingdom, the magnificent white marble floor of the octagonal royal reception hall gleamed, reflecting the pristine morning light of the rising sun like a polished mirror. The royal guards, holding their impossibly sharp halberds, stood straight as ancient pine trees, their polished helmets shining with an almost blinding intensity. Their eyes, sharp as a hawk's, their faces firm as carved stone, and their alert, unwavering gazes proved that they were ready to deal with any danger, from a rogue pigeon to a full-blown demon invasion. These were the elite, the cream of the crop, personally trained by the legendary Anduin Lothar himself.
From the moment the Royal Knights had been entrusted to his childhood friend, Lothar, their performance had never, not once, disappointed King Llane.
Twenty years had passed since he had ascended the throne at the tender age of 20, a lifetime of burdens and triumphs.
With a magnificent mane of black and brown curly hair, an angular face full of rugged, masculine charm, and a pair of eyes that were both friendly and undeniably majestic, Llane, now in the vibrant prime of his life, looked every inch the heroic king, a living embodiment of noble strength.
He sat upon his pristine white throne, edged with gleaming gold, the majestic blue lion flag of Stormwind, emblazoned with the kingdom's golden emblem, unfurling proudly behind him. Llane, the picture of regal composure, was engrossed in a report, his brow slightly furrowed in thought.
"The Pearl Route in the Westfall?" King Llane mused aloud, his voice a rich baritone, a hint of surprise in his tone. "The Apprentice Edmund Duke hopes to obtain the exclusive rights to this route he opened up? The validity period is 10 years... Anduin, I seem to have heard of this name somewhere? It's tickling the back of my brain." He tilted his head, casting his gaze towards his good friend and most loyal, most reliable minister.
Lothar, ever the picture of heroic perfection, possessed a handsome face, his eyes radiating a perpetual, unwavering determination. Every curve on his face, every chiseled line, seemed perfectly sculpted, a living, breathing interpretation of the word "masculine."
His long, black curly hair, reaching past his ears, would have looked a chaotic mess on anyone else, but on Lothar, it was merely another facet of his unique, rugged charm. Though both were undeniably handsome men, the biggest, and perhaps most humorous, difference between Lothar and Llane was their skin color.
Anduin, who had spent countless years training outdoors, battling monsters, and probably wrestling bears for fun, looked darker, healthier, and radiated an aura of robust vitality. Llane, on the other hand, with his endless hours spent indoors, poring over royal documents and attending endless council meetings, possessed a complexion that looked rather pale from a distinct lack of sunlight. He probably hadn't seen a tan in decades.
As King Llane's childhood friend, Lothar was also at the golden age of a man, that perfect sweet spot where youthful energy met seasoned experience. He was at the absolute peak of his powers, ready to conquer mountains, inspire armies, or, apparently, deal with eccentric wizards and their pearl routes.
Anduin Lothar took the report, his eyes quickly scanning the parchment, absorbing the information with the speed of a seasoned strategist. He nodded, a slight smile playing on his lips. "It is indeed him, Your Majesty. I just submitted a report to Your Majesty not long ago. Edmund Duke is the second magic apprentice with master qualifications in the history of our glorious nation, and was promoted to Apprentice wizard on the very day he entered the academy. He is a genius that only appears once in a century in our country! A truly rare and magnificent specimen! He also belongs to the Royal Wizard Corps, though I suspect he's far too busy conjuring hands to attend meetings."
Llane smiled, and there was a warmth in his smile, a gentle glow like the first rays of spring sunshine after a long, brutal winter. "If this Pearl Route is true," he mused, a hopeful glint in his eyes, "then our kingdom's future finances will be much, much better. Monsters are rampaging through Elwynn Forest, those pesky gnolls and their ilk, making it impossible to collect many taxes. You, my dear friend, have been constantly urging me to repair the crumbling walls of Stormwind City, and it seems... it seems the money has finally been found! Perhaps we can even afford a new coat of paint for the throne room!" He paused, a slight frown creasing his brow. "But I have a question, Anduin..."
"My Lord, you merely have to ask," Lothar replied, bowing gracefully, his posture impeccable.
"My internal affairs advisor," Llane continued, a weary sigh escaping him, "always told me that unless I spend half of the annual treasury income to support a fleet that is no less than one-third the size of the maritime powerhouse Kul Tiras, I can forget about conquering the sea. And yet, this Edmund... how can he possibly guarantee the safety of a route?"
"It's not explicitly stated on the application, Your Majesty," Lothar admitted, a rare flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "But I will personally check it out. Perhaps he has a very persuasive way with sea creatures."
Llane flicked the report with his finger, a gesture of casual dismissal. "I admire this pioneering young man, Anduin. He has initiative, and clearly, a flair for the dramatic. If he can bring stable tax revenue to the kingdom every year, I can only charge him a paltry 10% tax. A mere pittance for such a service! Well, Lothar, please help me warn those blind, grasping fools in the noble houses. I don't want to see the young seedlings of the kingdom, especially the ones sprouting gold, destroyed by their greed."
"I understand, my Majesty!" Lothar declared, placing his hand on his shoulder in a gesture of solemn promise, and then stepped back, ready to carry out his king's bidding, even if it involved threatening a few dukes.
Duke, meanwhile, was blissfully unaware that he had attracted the joint, rather intense attention of none other than King Llane himself and the legendary Anduin Lothar. He was currently lounging on a deserted island off the coast of the Westerly Wilds, a picture of serene, multi-handed contentment, quietly listening to Zjara's report.
The female Naga chief, Zjara, seemed to have adapted to her new, rather subservient role with remarkable speed. Her humble and compliant attitude, a stark contrast to her previous regal demeanor, made Duke feel utterly comfortable, almost like he was royalty himself.
"Master," Zjara began, her voice a soft, respectful murmur, "we have, as per your divine instructions, collected over 3,300 pearls of various kinds. This includes a magnificent 31 of the most valuable Golden Pearls, each one shimmering like a captured sun, and a respectable 125 Black Pearls as dark and mysterious as the deepest ocean trench. Do you wish us to transport them all onto the ship at once?"
Duke waved a dismissive hand, a gesture of almost divine nonchalance. "That's not necessary, Zjara. Just leave one tenth here. I want to do... hunger marketing."
Zjara blinked her multiple eyes, her serpentine brow furrowing in confusion. "Hungry for what, Master? Are the murlocs not feeding you adequately?"
Duke sweatdropped internally. "Forget it," he muttered, rubbing his temples. "This is something that you won't understand even if I tell you. It's a human concept, a very advanced human concept. However, you must remember this: the three murloc tribes closest to Stormwind City must not be conquered. Only ships bearing my personal, magical mark can be sent to escort them. The trading point will be set here on this island in the future. When humans land on the island, you can leave a single, well-behaved male Naga as a handover point. Make sure he doesn't try to eat the humans."
"Understood, my Lord," Zjara replied, though a flicker of confusion still danced in her eyes. The Master was truly... eccentric.
"You step back first," Duke commanded.
"Yes, Master!" Zjara bowed deeply, then slithered away, her scales shimmering in the sunlight.
In the distance, three small cargo ships, looking like bathtub toys against the vast expanse of the ocean, slowly came into Duke's sight.
As far as his keen, wizardly eyes could discern, in addition to the familiar, burly figure of Makaro, there was an utterly unexpected figure gracing the bow of the lead ship.
"Huh?" As the ship drew closer, Duke knew that what he saw was not an illusion, nor a mirage induced by too much raw wasabi.
Standing regally on the bow, her blonde hair neatly tied back in a dignified bun, was a lady. A truly dignified and noble lady. She wore a water-blue dress that seemed to shimmer with the very essence of the sea, looking like a creature from a different world entirely, a stark, almost comical contrast to the rough-and-tumble Makaro and the young sailors, who were clad in dirty shirts and even dirtier shorts.
A 30-ton boat didn't require a special, fancy dock, and it wasn't a major issue to beach it. When the tide was about to recede, the newly hired, slightly terrified captain skillfully drove the boat onto the sandy beach. This way, after loading the precious cargo, the boat could be easily launched back into the sea when the tide inevitably rose again.
Almost as soon as the boat scraped to a halt, the lady, with an almost unladylike burst of excitement, leaped off the bow, landing gracefully on the sand.
This middle-aged lady was not, by conventional standards, a beauty. She had a pair of slender eyes that seemed to constantly roll around under her relatively flat forehead, missing nothing. Her eyebrows were slightly raised, giving her a perpetually inquisitive look, and her eyes, though clear, possessed a shrewd, calculating glint. Her small nose was pointed and perfectly straight. One could tell at a single glance that she was a person of formidable, very independent personality, a woman who probably ran her own empire.
But she possessed a unique, almost magnetic temperament and an undeniably keen sense of touch as a businesswoman. Her dignified, ladylike demeanor, despite her sharp features, made you feel oddly comfortable, as if you were in the presence of someone who knew exactly what they were doing and could probably make you a fortune.
She walked quickly towards Duke, her steps purposeful, and then, with the practiced grace of a true noblewoman, she curtsied deeply.
"Greetings, I suppose you are His Excellency Edmund Duke?" she inquired, her voice crisp and clear, like the chime of a perfectly struck bell.
"My name is Duke," he replied, a hint of surprise in his voice. "May I ask who this distinguished lady is...?"
"I'm Jones," she announced, a confident smile gracing her lips. "Elizabeth Jones. The one and only, premier jewelry processing supplier in all of Stormwind. I heard, through the most delightful whispers, that you have a rather... substantial number of pearls. I believe, Your Excellency, that we can have a most pleasant, and exceedingly profitable, cooperation."
Duke didn't know an Elizabeth Jones. But he knew, with a sudden, chilling certainty, that there was an Isabel Jones who would become the jewelry processing supplier of New Stormwind City in the future. This was either a very convenient coincidence, or history was about to take a very interesting, very lucrative detour.