2. This Ark Is Not So Cold

Diakm Zastins... Forget it, let’s just call him “Dick.” Given his “personal circumstances” were a bit too real, he no longer minded this nickname with its many connotations. After all, what man would despise a nickname that’s basically a compliment every time it’s called?

It’s the same for Eredar. This is a nature shared by all males!

In any case, Dick had just relayed information to his “old headmaster” Archimonde in writing, and it wasn’t something he’d invented himself.

Even though he knew clearly how the coming history would unfold, the details happening deep within the grand narrative could never be conjured from thin air—especially when facing someone as shrewd as Archimonde, one of the elites of Argus.

In fact, Dick could roughly guess why Archimonde had chosen tonight to show up.

On one hand, he wanted to obtain firsthand information on the Awakeners’ cult from this “deep-sea” operative. On the other, if things went awry, there was a high probability that Dick would be silenced by Archimonde himself, his “old superior.”

The logic was simple.

In any society with order and normal moral values, sending a spy to collect evidence of one’s mentor’s crimes would be an unbearable stain on the reputation of an academic leader like Archimonde.

No matter how much one cloaks it in “turning toward the light” or “putting righteousness above family,” it doesn’t change the essence of the act. After all, if you always use your own people as stepping stones, who would dare to build anything significant with you?

And besides, his mentor’s social standing was far higher than his own!

So regardless of the purpose behind sending the spy, once the matter was exposed, all the prestige Archimonde had painstakingly built up through years of acting and disguising would vanish overnight.

He had always been careful about these matters—perhaps because his own rise to power as “Headmaster” hadn’t been exactly spotless either.

As a student of the Illuminator Sargeras, he’d once angled for advancement by shamelessly currying favor—practically fawning over Sargeras at every opportunity. Only after his sycophancy pleased the mentor did he earn the principalship of the Arcane Academy, the most prestigious post among arcanists. Only by being diligent and truly gifted was he considered a successor by the Illuminator.

The underhanded things he’d done in his early years to climb the ranks were still brought up by his colleagues in private. If another scandal like a spy incident broke out, Archimonde would be beyond redemption.

Right now, he was only a mid-to-high-level official in the Eredar political scene; “building prestige” was essential.

Given all this, Dick, though appearing weak, was in fact extremely tense. He knew that if he slipped up even once during tonight’s conversation, he wouldn’t live to see the next sunrise.

As for hoping Archimonde would show mercy...

Are you joking?

Did you misunderstand what the name “Archimonde” stands for? In the future history of this starry sea, this name is practically synonymous with betrayal, ruthlessness, madness, and genocide!

“Diakm, I know you’re tired, but you must tell me everything you’ve seen now. This is important! It matters not only to us, but to the tens of thousands of students at the Arcane Academy, and even to the entirety of Eredar civilization!

The conflict between the holy light faith that emerged a thousand years ago and our ancient arcane traditions is growing ever more intense. As the leader of the casters, I must acquire fame and power to guide the arcanists through this conflict with reason. As a follower of the Light, you must also hope to see less bloodshed, right?

This Awakeners’ coup is critical to our plans. Dealing with the paranoid, fel-maddened Sargeras is for the good of both sides!”

Archimonde had made a decision, but did not act hastily. Instead, he sat back down, and, with utmost righteousness and gravity, said to Dick:

“That’s why I must know every detail before deciding our next move.”

Dick picked up his pen again, but Archimonde shook his head and said:

“This can’t be left as evidence. I’ll cast a mind spell to allow us to communicate directly. It will put you under pressure and worsen your injuries, but you know as well as I do that it’s necessary.

Are you ready?”

What could Dick say to the question of this blue-skinned schemer? Refuse? Don’t be silly—he hadn’t even been given the option.

He could only force himself to rally, watching as Archimonde flipped open his spellbook, elegantly and precisely channeling arcane energy into a cluster of swirling runes in his palm, which he then pressed to the protagonist’s brow, sending the magic inside.

Dick reacted instantly.

A translucent screen flickered before his eyes:

[Foreign power detected... Tracing energy path... Identified as: Arcane Power—Mental Magic System—Advanced Mind’s Eye!

Notice!

Caster is probing your memories.

Do not worry, “Veil of the Beyond” is active! The caster “Archimonde—Legendary Arcanist/High Sorcerer” cannot access what he should not see.]

With this message, Dick felt a “gauze” settle over his mind, concealing the things best kept hidden. He was aware of an intangible force sifting through his memories like invisible hands.

But only the memories belonging to “Diakm” could be touched. Those deeper in Dick’s heart were entirely beyond the reach of even an archmagus like Archimonde.

He didn’t resist the probing—instead, he presented himself with complete candor, asking internally:

“Headmaster, do you intend to immediately report Sargeras’s sinister coup to the Council of Two?

I think you must! From what I’ve gathered in the Awakeners’ cult, those arcanists bewitched by Sargeras have already mastered evil fel magics. They are secretly summoning demons from across the stars in their domains, viewing it as a new breakthrough in the arcane arts.

It’s poison in the veins of Eredar civilization!

Sargeras is mad!

He’s no longer the wise, visionary leader of the arcanists—he’s become a slave to fel, ready to turn his followers into the same and offer our homeland to that dreadful dark god he calls ‘the Benefactor’...”

“You know quite a lot—no wonder they call you ‘Dick’!”

Archimonde praised him via the mind link:

“If you weren’t a statesman, you’d make a fine detective in Mac’Aree. Choosing you as my eyes was the right call. I’ve seen the lists in your memory tallying supplies and conspirators, and the identities of the Awakeners’ cultists placed in key posts around Mac’Aree.

That’s more than enough to prove his plot.

You’re right!

My mentor Sargeras has set foot on a path that threatens the world. We must tell the esteemed Exarch Velen and resolute Warlord Kil’jaeden at once.

But not yet!”

“Hm? Why not?” Dick asked in surprise. “Headmaster, isn’t it right to try and prevent disaster before it happens?”

“Because we have no strong evidence to accuse Sargeras, Dick.”

Archimonde, having seen what he wanted, replied patiently to this straightforward “warrior”:

“Right now, all we have is your testimony. But Sargeras’s reputation on Argus is unmatched. He is the closest anyone’s ever been to becoming an ‘Elder Sorcerer.’ I once measured Sargeras’s skull myself—others thought it was flattery.

But they don’t know—the Illuminator’s cranial structure really is at least ninety percent similar to the relics left by the Elder Sorcerer.

He is truly gifted, possibly the next Elder Sorcerer!

He is the undisputed leader of Arcanists on Argus. Even Velen and Kil’jaeden can’t override him. That alone means any accusation we make without evidence could backfire on us.

For matters this grave, Dick, testimony alone is not enough. We must have physical evidence!

Those ledgers you saw, the irrefutable documents, the artifacts arcanists use to communicate—we need to collect them.

But I’ll handle that.

You, our crucial witness among us ‘defenders of civilization,’ must rest now. When I have the evidence, you’ll accompany me to the Council to lay out the case before both Exarchs.

This can’t be rushed, nor can it be delayed. Hm, it won’t be easy, but I’m up to the task.”

“Indeed, you are the wisest Eredar I’ve met. You have the blessing of wisdom. Even if the Illuminator hadn’t seen your worth, you would have accomplished great things.”

Dick flattered him quietly over their mental link:

“Frankly, I always thought being headmaster of the Arcane Academy was a waste of your talents.”

“Oh?” Archimonde looked at him in surprise, his tone playful. “Then what position do you think I should hold in our world?”

“Of course... the leader of civilization, the Grand Exarch!”

Dick explained earnestly:

“Resolute and bold Kil’jaeden is the champion of the defenders and warriors—a living symbol of Eredar courage and strength. Everyone says that under the guidance of Mercy and Valor, the Eredar will walk proudly among the stars.

Merciful and noble Velen, though once an exemplary arcanist, has grown increasingly devoted to the Light in recent years. We followers of the Light believe it’s only a matter of time before Exarch Velen becomes a priest; then, he’ll represent our people’s new faith.

But if so, the symbol of wisdom he once embodied will be vacant!

It is unthinkable that such a vital quality in our civilization should have no champion. I admit, Sargeras as Illuminator did deserve to be the third Exarch, but he’s lost his mind, grown too old, and fel corruption has made him a fool.

But you are still young!

You have a brighter future than Sargeras. If Sargeras falls, then you are the undisputed leader of the arcanists—the very embodiment of Eredar wisdom!

Doesn’t that qualify you to join the Council as the third leader, alongside Mercy and Valor? Even I, a coarse warrior, understand this. Don’t you recognize it yourself?

Forgive me for saying so, but your greatest flaw is your humility! Sometimes you’re too conservative, focusing only on your duties and the welfare of our people, not realizing you should seek higher office to make the most of your talents.

Therefore...”

Dick, a bit agitated, clenched his fist and declared:

“Give the order, Headmaster! At your command, my defenders and I will become your sword against darkness, striking down Sargeras and his madmen. We cannot allow a band of lunatics to plunge our glorious civilization into darkness.”

“Insolence!”

Archimonde stood abruptly, ending the mind link.

He sternly rebuked Dick:

“How can you tempt an upright, honest arcanist into the vile whirlpool of power? Whether I join the Council to serve the cause of civilization is for the Eredar people to decide, and the decision rests with the two Grand Exarchs. It’s not for straightforward, brave souls like us to concern ourselves with.

Besides, I am very content with my current post!

My only wish is to care for the students of the Academy, to steer them from Sargeras’s path. And your judgment of Sargeras is too harsh.

Dick, I understand your rash loyalty, but you mustn’t so lightly pass judgment on a decorated arcanist leader! Sargeras’s contributions to Argus and the Eredar are beyond us. We must always hold him in respect. But you’re right—the greater one’s light, the more catastrophic the fall into darkness. We must act before this foolish and absurd coup becomes a disaster.

You’ve been through enough tonight, child. Rest now. I’ll have someone sent to heal you. Don’t wander—stay here for now.

If you are to be a sword against darkness, be sheathed until the crucial moment.”

Though Archimonde’s words denied it, his eyes sparkled with pleasure. While he did harbor such ambition, being “urged” by a loyal subordinate was a delightful feeling.

That satisfaction, combined with tonight’s important news, made him all the more pleased with Dick. Bringing this orphaned boy from Krokuun to the capital of Mac’Aree had been the right choice. He’d worked diligently for years, and always delivered on his assignments.

Especially this time—the intelligence Dick risked his life to obtain was enough to secure the upper hand.

Perhaps, when he ascended to the Council as the “embodiment of wisdom,” he should grant Dick a reward worthy of his efforts.

After all, rewarding merit is an essential skill for any ambitious man.

With this thought, he prepared to leave.

But Dick rose, waving a hand to signal he had more to say. Archimonde glanced at him, reopened the mind link, and heard Dick say:

“I suspect I may have been betrayed, Headmaster. Otherwise, there’s no explanation for the assassination attempt on me tonight. It’s not that I don’t trust your other followers, but the risk of a traitor is real.

Therefore, I request to select my own security detail here. It’s not that I distrust your arcanists, but—”

“Quite right,” Archimonde narrowed his eyes.

Dick’s ambush after leaving the Awakeners’ headquarters was certainly abrupt—there was no doubt a traitor was in play! Sargeras’s influence among arcanists was terrifying. Even as headmaster, Archimonde couldn’t be certain he didn’t have Sargeras’s spies among his own staff.

This assassination was likely Sargeras making a show of force, to push Archimonde into choosing whether to join the Awakeners’ plot.

The Illuminator still valued his star pupil, insisting on including him in even a coup.

To be honest, Archimonde felt a twinge of guilt toward his mentor for this, but it quickly vanished.

He was, after all, a creature of power; before power and ambition, anything could be sacrificed.

“Can you find someone trustworthy?” Archimonde asked. “With your situation, you need someone above reproach.”

“That’s why it can’t be an arcanist, Headmaster. All the Academy’s arcanists grew up idolizing Sargeras. Their admiration gives them ample reason to betray us.”

Dick coughed, answering mentally:

“The defenders must be chosen!

We warriors have never been valued by Sargeras—he sees us as dullards. Our faith in the Light and adherence to the naaru’s strictures means he doesn’t see us as wise, and more importantly, the conflict between Light and arcane traditions, as you described, means he won’t bother to win us over.

My second-in-command, Maldren, is my confidant! Over the years we’ve worked well together. He doesn’t know I serve you, but he’s upright and a native of Mac’Aree, and his family is powerful and well-known in the capital.

If Sargeras’s coup really happens, his family would be in danger. I’m confident I can win him to our side!”

“Maldren—I know that man,” Archimonde said. As headmaster, he oversaw the Academy’s extensive bureaucracy, so he knew all the key figures. On hearing the name, he nodded and commented rather critically:

“Defender Maldren is indeed a ‘model’ Light-follower—possessing all the finest qualities: loyal, honest, rigid, dutiful, full of righteousness but lacking flexibility.

He’ll do.

I’ll have the Academy guards summon him. But is one man enough?”

“Have you forgotten? I myself am a senior defender, Headmaster.”

Dick mimed drawing a sword, full of confidence. “Tonight I was only bested by a cowardly ambush. In a fair fight, Maldren and I could handle assassins several times our number. Besides, even Sargeras wouldn’t dare cause chaos openly on your turf.”

“Hmph, he certainly wouldn’t.”

Archimonde grunted, offered a few perfunctory words of reassurance, and, escorted by a few arcanist guards, left quietly into the night. The “safe house” in the Academy’s corner fell silent.

Only then did Dick let out a long breath.

His back was soaked with sweat.

Partly from physical weakness, and partly from relief at surviving Archimonde’s presence. Once is more than enough for surviving by licking someone’s boots.

He didn’t believe he’d ever come to a good end. If Archimonde succeeded in his coup and was promoted, Dick would be silenced to keep secrets buried.

If the coup failed, things would be even worse—Sargeras, now utterly mad, would lead the Awakeners in offering Argus to the Dark Titan. Then everyone could joyfully line up to join the Burning Legion, collect fel stipends, and enjoy a delightful life of destruction.

The best outcome would be escaping with old Velen on a naaru ship, spending millennia as a fugitive until all ambition was worn away and he became a coward who only knew how to hide.

But even such a humble ending would require Dick to pull every string to get a spot on the ragged ship bound for the stars—a ship for beggars and wanderers.

For a security captain, the best way to contact the highest Exarch was probably via a message in a bottle; the worst, by hoping Velen got a prophetic vision before bed.

He’d have to gamble everything!

Dick lay back on the bed, closed his eyes to rest, and, like Archimonde, made a dark decision that night.

He would do everything in his power to change the course of history—not just for Argus’s lasting peace, not just for the future of the Eredar. Such reasons rang hollow. He preferred honesty: this was for his own future!

So he wouldn’t have to end up licking a demon’s backside just to survive.

Luckily, the timing was on his side, giving him ample room to maneuver.

Most importantly, those meddling “time police,” the bronze dragons, had no authority over Argus. This was twenty-five thousand years before the “official history” of the Dark Portal. The guardian dragons were still busy fighting the “War of the Ancients” with their wild kin.

That left Dick with all the freedom he needed—just a little courage, cunning, and luck, and he might really defy destiny.

So, what next? Where to begin?

He pondered, racking his brains for every historical detail that might not recur on this timeline.

He thought until his head spun, but found no complete plan.

Ah, well. For now, sleep.