The silver tray shook into the arcanist's hands, causing the cups of tea to clatter lightly. Droplets of the amber liquid flew past the container, but Magister Syldan Runeheart did not say anything. It was undeniably better that the other man did not use magic while being at such fragile state of mind and body alike. Pretending that he saw nothing, he instead inclined his head and wore a kind smile as he regarded Avarel Trueflight.
"Thank you for the warm beverage, moonberry infused tea has always been my favourite. And..." He made a pause in order to lift the cup to his lips, taking a gentle sip. "Is this honey that I am tasting?"
The arcanist nodded. Under the Magister's gaze, he clumsily found his way back to his seat, behind the wide desk that separated the two. Trueflight's office within the Spire was nowhere as impressive as that of Runeheart's, for their difference in rank was clear, in spite of the two sharing an age difference of just half a decade. Syldan's noble status guaranteed a spot among the more skilled mages of Silvermoon, while Avarel had not managed to rise beyond the title of a simple arcanist. He had once possessed great wit and insight; with those skills and the blessing of Lady Ravenfall, he had been appointed as the coordinator of several spies. So regardless of how small his office was, how lacking in quality the furniture and how little sunlight leaked through the single, small window to the left, in this very room matters of great importance had taken place.
But now, all that Magister Runeheart could see was the ghost of a man sipping tea with great difficulty without caring to repay any compliment, as a fine demeanour would demand. Avarel Trueflight had clearly been deeply affected by the attempt on his life and the death of Ethalis Emberdale and his guards. The man was twitching and shaking constantly. His clothes were filled with creases and his brown hair was unkempt. Braver men could have called him a corward, but living among spies for so long made the increase of paranoia in the arcanist quite natural. And still, it pained Syldan to see his childhood friend take such a turn.
Trueflight only took his eyes from the Magister in order to look at the corners of the room. For once more, Syldan pretended not to see. He lowered the cup and smiled, expecting Avarel to do the same.
Eventually, he did. It was a miracle that the cup, in the way it lended on the desk, did not douse the surface with tea. The arcanist hurried to balance the item with his unsteady fingers. "Forgive-... Ah. Forgive me. How can I help you, Magister?"
It was a sad display and in spite his intentions, Syldan could not hold back any longer. "Are you certain it is wise for you to be away from home and rest, old friend? It has hardly been a week since you returned to us."
Avarel simply dismissed the matter with a wave of his hand. "I... Am fine." he stuttered. After he tried to hold the tea cup again, but saw that his hands were only good for catastrophe, he pulled them against his chest, where they could harm nothing. "It is simply the tests... The interrogations. They have been... Ah, somewhat taxing."
Magister Runeheart nodded. Of course he was aware, for he had taken part in what arcanist Trueflight spoke of. After weeks of absence, an envoy from Orgrimmar had returned the lost blood elf, claiming that he had been found in a village of Feralas, caught in the nets of a Tauren. He had been raving back then and when he returned home, his condition had not been any better. When he fell to the hands of the Magisters, including Syldan's, the first thing he had uttered was the death of Ethalis Emberdale and the fact that a spy was among them.
Interrogations had come immediately after for the frail arcanist. They were not only reduced in questions; several Magisters and inquisitors took turns in investigating the poor man's mind in order to make certain that his report was true, as well as to find a hint of who the unknown spy might be. As it happened, Emberdale had not managed to disclose his name, only a male identity. With the rise of the Old One after the events of Nazjatar, mercy was not a luxury the Spire could afford to even one of its officials, but Trueflight had not complained.
It was also in that way that they had been informed about Ashfury, the girl Emberdale wished to save so much. Yet with her location unknown, the Spire could do little in that matter.
Syldan lifted his chin slightly, as if that would allow him to observe the arcanist with greater accuracy. Avarel was not looking at him, but the corners of the room for once more. The Magister sighed. "I take it you have been informed regarding our decision for the girl?"
Trueflight nodded, without taking his gaze from the shadows. "Mercy and aid to one of our own should she prove to be innocent, for she will be regarded as such." he muttered. "Imprisonment and interrogation to locate Ravenfall should she prove to be an accomplice."
Magister Runeheart nodded, though he soon arched an eyebrow. "Well?" he asked. "You fought for this. I thought the outcome would please you."
"It does." he hurried to mumble, looking at Syldan for a moment. "No, no, it does naturally. It simply surprises me."
Syldan nodded, feeling his forehead crease lightly. He sat back on his chair, legs crossed beneath his robe. "We do not know the girl and she will still have to prove her innocence. If she can even be helped. And yet we damned agent Emberdale in a fate worse than death... By the Sun, we have damned more than just her."
"Guilt lingers?" Avarel asked, though his face could tell how familiar he had lately been with the painful emotion.
The Magister nodded. "It would be a chance of retribution." It was he who now waved his hand dismissively, before turning towards the window casually. "It was a lengthy conversation for there are several who do not see it that way, but the decision has been made. Though can you blame them really?" A sigh escaped his lips. "They are afraid. I think you might know a thing or two about that."
He stole a glance of the nervous arcanist, finding him looking down at his trembling hands. It was clear that he was itching to move, perhaps in order to suppress his emotions. It was not long until he did just that. Clumsily, Avarel pulled his chair back and stood on his feet unsteadily, holding onto the bookcase behind him.
"We are not in a good place." the arcanist admitted breathlessly, shaking his head in despair. For a moment, Syldan could not help but wonder if Trueflight would finally break, since he did not seem far from tears. "Ever since my return, I have been asking and searching and being subjected to questioning myself and I have no indication as to where Ravenfall might be, or who his spy might be among us. Absolutely nothing."
"Avarel." the Magister spoke softly. They were not colleagues for a moment, but old friends. "You demand too much from yourself. I understand that the situation is crucial, but it has only been a few days. Let us appoint someone else to the case, or at least an assistant. My archivist perhaps, Kelieren Alendis. He was Lady Ravenfall's-..."
"No. No." Trueflight spoke firmly, holding onto the bookcase for balance. His eyes found Syldan, suddenly fierce. "No one. We cannot let this spread any further. We do not know who to trust."
"Avarel, you are being-..."
"My life could be in danger, Syldan!" he burst in a manner that no one should to a Magister. And still Runeheart was willing to forgive it. He simply nodded and let the arcanist continue. "It was a miracle that I escaped with my life and yet who knows what might happen next? Does Ravenfall know that I am aware of a spy being among us? Does the spy know? Will they seek to end my life? Or for all I know I might end up like the Ashfury girl for that matter!"
He shook his arm so suddenly, that he almost fell. Syldan rose from his seat in case assistance was needed, though the physical distance between them would not allow it. Nor did Trueflight fall. He found the bookcase for once more and took a deep breath.
"Avarel." Magister Runeheart tried to reason. "No one is going to harm that. Only we and you know-"
"And what if the spy is one of you?" he asked with flashing eyes.
Syldan frowned. "Careful." he warned, but the other man did not listen.
"How can you know? How can any of us know? How can we know anything?"
The Magister slowly nodded. He thought of approaching the arcanist, but it was perhaps not the best idea while Avarel was in that condition. "You are afraid." he spoke carefully. "I understand that. However, I need you to remain rational. You are home now, you cannot be harmed. Ravenfall is neither almighty, nor can he turn the entire Spire against you. We will protect you." After a pause, he added. "You trust me, yes?"
Trueflight looked at Syldan for a long time, his face suddenly worn and nearly deprived of the youthful appearance most Sin'dorei retained. Eventually, he nodded. So did the Magister.
"You will not be harmed." he stated confidently. "We simply need to focus on the investigation further. We are willing to offer any required resources for the matter, but first you need to rest and find the man you used to be."
With a sigh escaping his lips, Avarel nodded and stepped back to his chair. He quite literally collapsed on the seat, holding his forehead. "You are right, I... I am in dire need of clarity. Forgive me."
Syldan merely shook his head. "There is nothing to forgive. You have been tested greatly and I understand. We understand. Mercy is not something we are strangers to, nor do we aim to show it to Ashfury alone. Get some rest, then return to the case with your great determination. Can you do that?"
The arcanist nodded gently. "I will." he croaked weakly.
"Good." The Magister praised. "Now, you may not wish Alendis to assist you in the investigation, but at least allow him to assist you in the rest of your work, unrelated to Ravenfall and Ashfury. That way your work load will be reduced."
For once more, Trueflight nodded. "Fine, but not yet. Soon." he uttered. "I will summon him when he is truly needed."
"Suit yourself." Syldan spoke and eagerly returned to his seat. His eyes did not leave Avarel. "Is this about Emberdale? Agents die and you are not to blame. Unfortunate as it is, it happens. All we can do is continue with the knowledge she has bestowed upon us."
The weary elf nodded, though the thought did not seem to ease the burden on his shoulders. He reached for his cup and brought it close to his lips. "At least allowing me to drink this to her memory."
Magister Runeheart raised his own cup in response. "To agent Emberdale, a rare, loyal Sin'dorei."
Avarel joined him. "To this unfortunate situation coming to an end."
They drank in silence, not daring to exchange a great deal of words after all that had transpired. It was with a heavy heart that Magister Runeheart eventually left Trueflight's office; once the arcanist walked him to the door, he still suspiciously inspect the hallway, before shutting the door.
"To this unfortunate situation coming to an end." he repeated, wondering where the kind-hearted archivist could be at this hour.
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