(2025-06-06) Heavy Reading

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Author:	OzmaAsimov
Summary:	As the Battle for Wyrmrest Temple rages, Arric and Gwenivene find a moment of peace to chat about literature, magic, and the maternal relationships of nobles.
Rating:	T for Teen

Arric Falrevere wanders through the lower floor of Wyrmrest Temple, which is currently reasonably quiet, as its brave defenders have just defeated the most recent wave of Twilight cultists and elementals.

Tagging along at his heels is a red Lashtail hatchling, and perched above keeping an eye on him is a massive condor. He frowns at the underside of his leather coat sleeve, which has been slashed from underarm seam to elbow.

"HNNNNGH!" A high-pitched grunt cuts through the camp noise and distant din of battle. "Come ON! HNNGH-OOF!" Gwenivene Whittle lands squarely on her bottom on the temple floor after losing her grip on a large, wooden trunk which refuses to be moved.

Arric startles and rushes over to her. "My stars, are you all right, Miss?" As he gets closer, recognition lights his face. "Miss Whittle, isn't it? What has happened?" He offers her a hand up.

Gwen peeks up from under her enormous hat, her freckled cheek red with embarrassment. "I fell," she explains unhelpfully, taking the offered hand. "Thank you. It's just this trunk. I brought it in by portal, but the draconid who helped me move it just dumped it here, and I need it over there with the camp supplies." She forms a little pout. "It's too heavy."

"I'd be more than happy to help you, Miss Whittle. I suppose as wondrous as magic is, there are a few things that require simple, brutish solutions. I'll get one end of it, and keep it low so most of the weight falls my way, hm?" He moves to inspect it.

It's a simple wooden trunk with a hinged lid, but rather large — about 4 feet long by 2 feet tall…and indeed, heavily weighed down by whatever it is carrying. "Oh, gosh, you're a dream! Thank you. Um…Arren, was it?"

"Arric," he says. "Lord Arric Falrevere, from Kul Tiras. We met in the Stormwind Library. You were researching elemental portals?" He grabs an end of the trunk and tests it. "What is in here?" he laughs.

"Oh yes! Arric! Lord Arric. Sorry, m'lord." She blushes in renewed embarrassment. "Anyway, yes, the library…and this is a library, too! I brought books. You know, to give people something to focus on when they aren't fighting. I think it's just as important to exercise the mind as the body."

"How very thoughtful! What sort of subjects does your little library contain? Anything a non-mage might benefit from?" He carefully braces himself, then heaves the end of the trunk as high as he can, rotating it so that it's almost standing on end. Rica scurries out of the way and hides as Arric turns the high end around toward her. "Steady this while I lift the other end. I'll try to be quick."

Gwen nods, holding the high end in place. "I tried to bring a variety. There are adventure stories, romances, history books…I think even a cookbook or two. I did try to avoid anything too warlike. That didn't seem like a very useful escape."

"Oh, splendid," Arric says, moving swiftly to grab the other end. "Now where exactly do you want it?" He looks up at her attentively.

Gwen gives a little grunt as she hoists her end, even with the weight distributed mostly toward Arric. Strength is not her strength. She gives an indicative nod of her head. "There. With the quartermaster."

Arric carefully keeps his end low, crouching slightly to make it even lower as he sees Gwen struggling. His face reddens slightly, but he does not complain, and safely transports the heavy trunk to the desired location, setting his end down carefully and then moving immediately to help Gwen with hers.

Gwen is just about to lose her grip when Arric comes to the rescue. "Oooh, mustard burps!" She winces, rubbing her hands where the metal handle had dug into her skin. "Guess I should've packed a few smaller trunks. Thank you, m'lord. You're a lifesaver!"

Arric smiles. "Happy to help. Just remember, miss, that even light reading does not travel particularly well in great quantity. But now we must open this treasure chest, hm? And see what gems it contains."

"Light reading." Gwen ducks her head in a giggle. She kneels to unlatch the trunk and lift the lid. The books inside are tightly packed, though a few on top have been tossed loose. "Are you a reader, m'lord? I never did ask you what you were doing in the library."

"At the time I was looking up books on engineering, a new pastime of mine. Gnomish engineering, to be specific. But I do enjoy a good novel. When I was a boy, it was the next best thing to playing with friends, when my friends were busy. Friends of the imagination, as it were."

"I agree wholeheartedly." Gwen bobs her head enthusiastically. "A good book can be a wonderful companion. You know, if you're interested in gnomish engineering, I might be able to get some good book recommendations for you. My master — Jocoza Sparkwire? — she's not only Azeroth's greatest mage, but a very talented engineer, too."

Arric's eyes light up. "And the Captain of Cobalt Company! I'm with Cobalt myself, in case you don't recall. I was advised to seek her out on engineering matters, but I imagine she must be terribly busy. So I've been making do with lessons from personal friends and what books I can find in libraries. But I'd be most grateful if you could point me to some intermediate titles - most of the ones I've found in the library cover topics I'm feeling comfortable with, and I require further challenge."

"Well, if you need a reference, I am her apprentice." Way to brag, Gwen. "At the very least, I can ask her for some recommendations. I fear engineering is one science I have only the most rudimentary knowledge of. You could say I focus more on theory than applied science. Except where it comes to actual magical application."

"Her apprentice!" Arric repeats, suitably impressed. "What must that be like? She's rather a legend, isn't she?"

Gwen absolutely explodes with pride. "She is! She's the smartest and most gifted mage on Azeroth…or beyond! And you'll never meet anyone more compassionate or thoughtful. She's just…wonderful." She sighs wistfully.

"How did you come to know her?" Arric asks curiously as he begins to carefully look over the book selection.

"It was a warlock, believe it or not." Gwen sighs softly. "I met Calduin by chance, and I suppose I got to talking about my old master, Archmage Purdwick. I don't mean to disparage Master Purdwick, but…I don't think we were a good fit."

Arric lifts up a couple of books to see what's underneath, stacking them neatly aside. "Oh? How so?"

"I can be…a bit clumsy, I suppose?" Gwen sighs. "I think Master Purdwick just ran out of patience for me. Mostly, my days were spent on menial tasks, and he constantly said I wasn't ready to learn advanced magic."

"I was getting frustrated, and Calduin suggested I might be better off with a different teacher. He was with Cobalt Company, and he arranged a meeting for me with Jocoza."

"And the rest is history!" Arric says with satisfaction. "I imagine you've surpassed this Purdwick fellow by now." He spots a pirate novel and picks it up, opening it to scan the first few pages. "Oh, I've read this one," he says. "But I don't mind reading it again if there's nothing else that calls to me."

"Oh, golly," Gwen blushes. "I'm no Archmage. But…I do think I can say I've thrived under Jo's tutelage. She's such a good teacher."

“A good teacher makes all the difference,” Arric agrees, setting aside the pirate novel and continuing to search through the small library Gwen has brought. “You know, I’ve recently been called upon to do a bit of teaching, myself. It’s something I enjoy very much, when I am confident in my knowledge of a subject. Do you have any students of your own, yet?”

"Me? Oh, golly noooo, no no no." Gwenivene chuckles, shaking her head. "I hope one day I can be as talented as Jo and pass on what she's learned. But I'm still just a magic baby." She hesitates, perhaps some part of her knowing just how untrue that statement is. But she quickly pivots, "What about you? What are you teaching? Some engineering, perhaps?"

“Speech, actually!” Arric says. “When I found myself stranded here and in need of ways to fit in a bit better, I had to rid myself of my Tirasian accent. In the process I learned a great deal about enunciation and so on, particularly the Stormwind nobles’ style of speaking. There’s a young woman who wishes to fit in a bit better in Stormwind society, and so I’ve offered to help her speak in a way that won’t draw quite so much attention to her origins.”

"That's so kind of you. I've sure felt like some people look at me funny when my Westfall accent comes out. But I guess mages aren't expected to be as proper as nobles are." Gwen picks up a few books, perhaps just to have something to do with her hands. "I admit I'm pretty curious — how did you end up stranded in Stormwind? It's not like we get a whole lot of Kul Tirans coming through."

“Depending on how you look at it,” says Arric, “it was a stroke of either incredibly good luck or incredibly bad. The mail stopped coming from the mainland not long before they cut off all travel back and forth entirely. I have a dear friend here that I was very concerned about, and I was also anxious to hear news of the war against the Lich King, and so I took it upon myself to sail here when the mail stopped. Unfortunately, by the time I got it in my head to go back, there were no longer any ships returning there.”

Gwen's lips form a sympathetic pout. "I'm so sorry. It must be hard being separated from everything and everyone you knew. Did you at least find the friend you were so worried about?"

“I did indeed! Our reunion was ever so pleasant. She’s here now, somewhere, fighting with the 7th Legion. You know the Fallons, I presume? Or know of them, at least? She’s the daughter. We’ve been friends since we were small.”

"The Fallons, like the Admiral and the Duchess?" Gwen smiles, nodding. "I mean, I don't know them personally. But yeah, they're pretty well known now. He's in the House of Nobles!" She informs him of this as if he wouldn't know. "That's pretty impressive for someone from Kul Tiras, I think. Anyway, I'm so glad you found your friend. I hope it feels at least a little like you've got a bit of home here now."

He smiles warmly. “It truly does. I miss my sister terribly, but then I suppose I did for a while anyhow after she married. Truth be told, I was rather lonely in Kul Tiras, and since I’ve come to Stormwind I’ve made all manner of interesting new friends. Gnomes… draenei… mages…” It almost sounds like he finds all of these things equally exotic.

Gwen beams at him as she trades out the books for a couple new ones to look over. "That's wonderful! I'll be your friend, if you like. I doubt I can be as interesting as a gnome or draenei, but I think I'm a pretty good conversational companion, at least!"

“Ah, how presumptuous of me,” Arric says. “I’d assumed we were friends already! Otherwise I’d never have moved such a heavy trunk for you.” He laughs and gives her a little wink to reassure her that he didn’t really mind. “And of course you are endlessly interesting. You know magic. Perhaps that’s commonplace in Stormwind, but where I come from, it’s beyond remarkable. Most of what I know of it is from novels like these–” He holds up a romance featuring a swooning sorceress in the arms of a paladin on the cover. “And if the ones featuring Kul Tiras are any indication, I suspect the arcane theory is not what you would call accurate.”

The sight of the painted sorceress, her robes nearly falling off of her lithe form, turns Gwen's cheeks bright red. "Ah…heh…no. Those kinds of books…um…they take a whole lot of liberties. And I wouldn't say mages are commonplace in Stormwind." She puts on an expression of faux-offense before breaking into a grin. "You really don't have magic in Kul Tiras, though? I can't even imagine that. What do you do if you need to open a portal somewhere?"

“Well, we have magic, of a sort,” Arric says. “The tidesages and so on. But that’s almost more like what you call shamanism. And there are a few mages, but they’re… rare, and not really what you’d call… trusted. We don’t have a school for them or anything of the sort. That’s why the Proudmoores sent their daughter to Dalaran to study when she turned out to have talent. And now, well… she hasn’t done much to boost the reputation of mages there.” Arric winces slightly.

Gwen blinks in apparent surprise. "Jaina Proudmoore? But…she's regarded so highly in the Alliance." She hugs a book on thermodynamic thaumaturgy to her bosom, cradling it like a security blanket. "What could she have done to upset her own people?"

Arric just… stares at Gwen. “I’d have thought… you being so well read… are you not a student of recent history?” He shakes his head, not waiting for her to answer; clearly she doesn’t know! “She sided with orcs against her own father, the Lord Admiral of Kul Tiras. Our king, essentially.”

Gwen visibly cringes. He's not wrong; she pays far more attention to ancient history and scientific research than current events and politics. "The orcs? But…how can that be? She's a hero of the Alliance." She clutches the book even tighter, her face tightening up in a way that might suggest she's about to be ill.

Arric lays a hand on her arm soothingly. “Well, she was friends with Thrall,” he explains. “They worked together to save Mt. Hyjal and so on, from what I understand, and I think she was trying to respect his people. It’s… all rather complex, I think. For all her father knew, the orcs that had killed his son were now holding his daughter hostage. And… for whatever reason, she simply stood aside - even helped the orcs, they say - as they slaughtered her father and Alliance forces. And somehow despite our service to the Alliance, the Alliance didn’t particularly seem to care about our loss. Which was why we left.

“As for what was in Lady Jaina’s mind… I think it’s possible she simply didn’t understand the reality of war. That she was naive, rather than heartless. But the war was going to happen regardless, I’m afraid, and all she did was turn her people against her. And lose her father. It’s quite tragic, really. But there are songs about her back home. Not… good songs. She is something of a villain, to my family, to the Fallons. The Fallons and I wouldn’t openly oppose her in Stormwind - at least, I would not - as she has the king’s ear and is powerful in the Alliance, but… yes. She is… not well loved by my people.”

Gwen's lips form into an increasingly pouty pout as the narrative unfolds. "How awful. What a terrible position to be in. You must be right; she was naive. She had to have thought she could avert war. But…to be caught between that idealism and one's own family…." Gwen shudders at the thought. "Light willing I'll never be in that kind of situation. I really don't know what I'd do." Only then does she seem to fully realize the hand on her arm, glancing down at it and offering a warm smile in return.

Once he sees that she’s all right and not about to lose her lunch, Arric courteously removes his hand from the lady’s arm and smiles back at her. “And how -” he hesitates, grimacing slightly. “Goodness. I am almost loath to ask, given the nature of events in Azeroth the past decade or so, but curiosity compels me: do you have a family? How are they these days, and are you still close to them despite your rise through the ranks of magedom?”

The subject of her family seems to brighten Gwenivene's mood considerably. "They're very well! It's just me and my parents. But they're still in Stormwind. Papa used to drive a cart doing deliveries around the kingdom, but with what I make now he's been able to retire. After Deathwing came to the city I tried to convince them to move to Dalaran with me, but I think the idea of a floating city unnerves them a bit." She chuckles softly. "They're still farm folk at heart. It was hard enough to leave Westfall. Leaving the earth itself behind is probably asking too much of them. Plus…" she sighs and gestures vaguely skyward, where Deathwing still circles above his attacking army, "…this is all uncomfortably close to Dalaran. I think I'd feel just awful if I'd moved them here only for this to happen."

“Oh, Tides, no, that would be horrid,” Arric agrees. “But I’m pleased to hear that Deathwing gave them a miss when he attacked Stormwind. Their home is undamaged? What part of the city do they live in?” If his expression weren’t so amiable and warm, he might seem a bit nosy.

"They have a little place in Old Town. It's quite charming, really, if a bit small." Gwen shrugs. "But they've never been the type of people who want much for themselves. They're even talking about leaving the city now that Papa's retired. It's always been a lot busier than they prefer. They'd like to go back to Westfall, but things are still too chaotic there." Gwenivene tilts her head curiously at Arric. "What of you, my lord? Do you live in the city as well?"

“I have a little patch of land not far outside the city, in Elwynn Forest,” he says, saying the Forest part, as no native generally does. “It didn’t have an owner, and there was a rundown cottage and some half dead apple trees, so I got it at quite a bargain. I’ve been fixing it up since I arrived. I’ve got some sheep now, and the trees are recovering, though it’s not self-sustaining yet.” For a moment he looks a bit stressed. “I’m hoping if I get some of the plum Cobalt Company jobs, it will be a bit easier to finance the project.”

"Aww, that sounds lovely. I'd always wanted to have apples on the farm, but Papa said we couldn't afford to hire the labor it would require for harvest season. Not to mention the years of growing an orchard. I was too young to understand why that was an issue." Gwen gives a little shrug. "We did have some sheep, though." She giggles softly, "Every time I've polymorphed something into a sheep, it makes me think of our little flock. Anyhow, I'm sure you'll be able to pick up some good work through Cobalt Company. Gosh, they've grown so much. They get oodles of business now. I remember when I first joined it was still a pretty small operation. It's amazing how fast things can change."

“Dizzyingly fast,” Arric agrees. Rica, who had ducked into a safe hiding spot when heavy objects started being dragged around, scampers back to Arric’s side, and he reaches down to give her a gentle scritch on the top of the head. As he does so, he notices once again the long tear in the underside of his leather coat sleeve. “Say, I don’t suppose you’ve got a needle and thread with you?” he asks. He lifts his arm up to wordlessly explain why he’s asking.

"Cheese and crackers! Are you alright?" Gwen grimaces, peering at the tear. "It looks like something tried to take your arm off. I'm afraid I don't keep a needle and thread with me. I never was much use at sewing, except maybe darning socks." She waves to the nearby quartermaster to whom they have delivered the books. "Say, have you got any sewing supplies for a soldier's wounded jacket?"

“Only stitching I had was the kind for flesh,” says the quartermaster, “and I’ve sent that on to the medics already, sorry.”

“It’s fine,” says Arric. “It’s not as though the coat is bleeding. I can have Mrs. Chespin fix it when I get home.” Very optimistic, for a guy who’s helping take on the Aspect of Death.

Gwen sighs in relief, much more dramatically than necessary. "Just so long as you're not bleeding. Mrs. Chespin works in your household, I take it?"

“Yes, Admiral Fallon introduced us. She was one of several Hillsbrad refugees he was seeking work for, and I was happy to find her a position; I had Gerda already, but she refuses to do laundry for some reason. Mrs. Chespin brings her children to work with her, and they truly brighten up the place. She wears the baby in a sling; it’s so charming. I’ve never seen a mother so close to her children, but I suppose that’s the more common way of doing things?”

Gwenivene's freckly face goes all pink with glee at the very thought of a baby. "Awww, that's so cute!" She chuckles at Arric's comment. "I suppose so. Wait," she sobers, "are you saying you aren't that close to your mother?"

“Oh, well, we get along well now - or did last I saw her - but I was mostly raised by our nurse Wynna, Ti– Light keep her. Mother took a bit more interest in me once I was being schooled and so on - she has a great interest in geography and history and enjoyed talking with me about my lessons. But I would say the majority of noblewomen don’t spend much time with their children when they’re small. Which seems a shame, to me; that’s when they’re most irresistible.”

A concern grows deeper on Gwen's face, until Arric reassures her that he finds the little ones irresistible. "I can't even imagine not wanting to keep my children as close as possible for as long as possible. I thought that was just maternal instinct. But…maybe not?"

“Not being a mother myself, I couldn’t say. But I imagine–”

Gwen doesn’t get to find out what Arric imagines, because a horn blasts, and someone yells, “Incoming elementals to the west! Need reinforcements!”

Arric grabs the rifle resting a short distance away and gives a sharp whistle, and the massive condor perched above comes soaring down to rest on his shoulder. At his heels, Rica scampers in anticipation.

“Do excuse me,” Arric says, cocking the rifle. “We shall have to continue our conversation another time.” With that, he follows the small stream of people pouring out of the temple to the west.

Gwenivene sets the book in her arms neatly back into the trunk and closes the lid. "Back to the fray, I suppose," she says, nodding, then touches her fingers to her forehead, invoking a spell. The Eye of Dalaran flashes briefly above both her and Arric, sharpening their mental acuity. The young mage is right on Arric's heels, more arcane energy gathering around her hands as they march back to battle.