Chapter 641: Master Duke (Part Three)

In the shimmering halls of Azeroth, Duke stood, utterly astounded.

To be Ronin's mentor?

The very prospect seemed incongruous!

Though in the arcane realm, age matters not; respect is given based on knowledge. If one's rank is lower, regardless of age, honorifics are due. Yet, a youthful figure of seventeen mentoring someone in their twenties... the very image was...

And this was Ronin!

A figure who, in history, was a paragon of perseverance. A mage of remarkable repute, Ronin, who despite no significant lineage, had harmoniously attuned himself to almost god-like powers in the arcane arts!

Should Duke accept Ronin as an apprentice, he felt as if his integrity would crumble like ancient ruins.

However, even Duke had long ceased to believe that he was a man of unwavering moral fiber.

Whispering to himself, Duke pondered, "Having saved Lothar, taking Ronin under my wing seems only natural, doesn't it?"

Nonetheless, appearances needed to be upheld.

With genuine sincerity, Duke spoke, "Ronin, we've intertwined our fates and faced death together. Personally, I admire you. Though I possess achievements that could resonate across Azeroth, age places us close, and I may not be wiser. Do you truly wish to be my disciple?"

Ronin appeared a tad ill at ease.

Duke's words resonated, yet what of it?

Duke's achievements were as the brightest stars, blinding all mages:

A prodigious sorcerer at seventeen.

Defeated the Burning Legion's chief, Sargeras.

Saved countless citizens of Stormwind.

Whisked away fifty thousand elite troops on an ice ship overnight.

Became the Alliance's deputy commander at sixteen, leading armies across the vastness of Lordaeron, annihilating millions of orcs.

Slain the Blademaster chieftain and defeated powerful warlocks.

Saved the Dragon Queen Alexstrasza and outwitted Neltharion.

Despite having adventured with Duke, Ronin was acutely aware that the figure before him was a living legend of the Alliance.

Placing a hand over his heart, Ronin bowed deeply, "No, Lord Marcus is too modest. Your valor rivals Uther the Lightbringer, who charged against two hundred thousand orcs with only twelve knights. Your wisdom could illuminate the starry skies of Azeroth. I, Ronin, genuinely wish to study under Lord Marcus, to learn about life, wisdom, and the mysteries of magic!"

Such words... surely weren't Ronin's own concoction!

Had Ronin been this eloquent, he wouldn't have offended so many in his past.

Duke's gaze darted to Krasus, the humanoid red dragon beside him, who flushed deeply, feigning innocence.

Panicking, Ronin hastily clarified, "No, Lord Marcus, do not blame Lord Krasus. I consulted him, fearing my own words might err."

Krasus laughed, "Do not underestimate our Alliance's great hero, Duke! His magnanimity is unparalleled. No matter his achievements, without such a character, he would not have garnered the approval of so many kings."

Following Krasus's gesture, Ronin indeed saw high officials from the nine major kingdoms, all conversing amiably. What brought them to this private gathering?

Their presence transcended mere benefits; it was a testament to their acknowledgment of Duke Marcus.

For a brief moment, envy flashed in Ronin's eyes. He turned and bowed deeply to Duke, "Lord Marcus, please accept me as your disciple. While I may never match your heroism, I hope to someday stand beside you as a grand sorcerer!"

"Very well," Duke consented. "But addressing me as 'Lord Marcus' feels distant. From now on, simply call me 'Master Duke'."

"Understood, Master Duke!"

Witnessing the renowned Ronin become his disciple, Duke felt a thrill, an ephemeral lightness in his steps.

Once Ronin departed, Alleria, clad in evening attire, teased, "Duke, is taking Ronin as your disciple truly so exhilarating?"

Vereesa chimed in, "Indeed! While he shows some uniqueness in arcane magic, he doesn't seem exceptionally brilliant. Shouldn't true prodigies have manifested their prowess early on?"

"No, no, no!" Duke waggled a finger mysteriously, "Instead of doubting, you should trust my judgment."

Regarding judgment, the Windrunner sisters smirked. Duke's track record was impeccable. Even bringing along Marian during the rescue of the Dragon Queen wasn't a mistake. Given how Duke subsequently outmaneuvered Neltharion, perhaps he had foreseen this outcome from the start.

Duke wasn't certain if he could groom Ronin to his potential.

Historically, the young trio of prodigious mages: Khadgar, Ronin, and Jaina. One had lost his way, one seemed overshadowed, and the last was still a blossoming figure.

Silently, Duke lamented, "It's the world's doing!"

After the Second War at the Dark Portal, Duke felt that perhaps the world hadn't changed as much as he'd thought. But as the transgressor meddled and caused ripples, events took a peculiar turn.

Elsewhere, Dalin and Llane seemed engrossed in conversation, with Anduin joining in.

Observing their animated exchange, Duke felt a foreboding sensation, as if the trio had mischief in mind.

Suddenly, three imposing figures approached in unison.

Swiftly, Duke pulled Ronin forward as a buffer, "Ah, gentlemen, what brings you here together? Allow me to introduce my new disciple, Ronin, who possesses an immense talent in the arcane."

Taken aback by the arrival of three dignitaries, Ronin was momentarily stunned until a discreet nudge from Duke prompted him, "Greetings, King Proudmoore, King Llane, and Commander Lothar."

Lothar's booming voice was the first to congratulate, "A disciple, eh? I trust your judgment."

Yet, Llane's gaze seemed to silently chide Duke.

Confused, Duke pondered, "What did I do?"

Dalin's eyes sparkled mischievously, "So Duke, you're taking on disciples now?"

"Is that an issue? I am, after all, respected as a master sorcerer," Duke replied defiantly.

Dalin smirked, "Of course not, I highly acknowledge your prowess. Since you're taking on a disciple, why not also consider a prodigy in frost magic?"

"Who?" Duke regretted his query instantly, already knowing the answer.

"Ah, Jaina, come here," Dalin beckoned his daughter.

Duke grimaced, as if plagued by a sudden toothache.

The golden-haired young sorceress, elegantly clad in blue and white, gracefully approached.