The discussion about the akandor ended for the moment; the irascible Fandral hoisted Farodin up like a chick and strode out of the council hall.
'What are you doing? A mighty Archdruid behaving so crudely, I...'
'Shut up! Keep babbling and I'll toss you to the Fal'dorei for breeding! It's your own mess, after all.'
Farodin: '...'
Watching the now-subdued Farodin being carried off, Andreas fought back a smile and moved to the next agenda item.
'Next, the development of The Hidden Path. Shandris, if you please.'
'Yes.'
Shandris gave a brief introduction. 'The Hidden Path was founded three thousand years ago. Its founder, Namuria Lin-Song, believed the Burning Legion would one day return to Azeroth. The order's purpose was to watch for—and stand against—the Legion.'
'After its founding, Namuria recruited many of our finest rangers. They even earned the blessing of the eagle demigod Eonhar and built a camp in Highmountain; many Highmountain Tauren joined as well.'
Andreas nodded. 'I've looked into it. After the Cenarion Circle, The Hidden Path is the second worldwide order, gathering the best hunters and rangers.'
Glancing at Maiev and Tyrande, Andreas said solemnly, 'I intend to back The Hidden Path strongly, to make it a model—recruiting top hunters regardless of faction or race, ready for whatever crises may threaten Azeroth.'
Tyrande voiced no objection; Maiev likewise supported the order's expansion.
Andreas's backing was not for the order alone. He meant to send a signal.
Any organization that stays strictly neutral, avoids politics, and strives to safeguard Azeroth will have the Night Elves' support.
The Cenarion Circle's success showed that such single-class, unofficial bodies could help every government train and manage talent.
Even Fandral, ever wary of outsiders, had to admit that after Tauren and treantkind joined, the Circle's growth had accelerated.
Andreas planned to honor the goodwill Rezan had left behind by inviting Zandalari druids into the Cenarion Circle, but the proposal had stirred controversy and no consensus yet. After the two weighty topics ended, Andreas left first; he couldn't stand Tyrande's expression that said the whole world owed her money.
'Should I gift her a bunch of Taba'labi bananas? Or drag Malfurion out of the Dream for a break? Her mood's sabotaging everything...'
Back at Moonshadow Manor, Aurora was still training under Celeste's watchful eye.
Today's drill was focus. Letitia stood before a huge drum, pounding away, looking rather delighted.
Aurora had to complete spells while being distracted by Leticia's racket—no easy task for a first-time battle-mage.
'Aaaah! I can't take it anymore!'
Driven mad by the off-beat drumming, Aurora raked her hair, then lifted her robe hem and chased Leticia while Celeste sighed in resignation.
'What kind of noise is that? At least give it a rhythm!'
Leticia dodged nimbly, sticking her tongue out. 'A steady beat wouldn't train your focus!'
Strictly speaking, Letitia was over seven millennia old, yet time had left no mark on her.
Appearance aside—immortal Night Elves never change unless scarred—she still possessed a child's heart after millennia.
She joked and pranked all day, playing with the much younger Aurora without the slightest generation gap, seeming years younger than the equally ancient Celeste.
Though Aurora had asked for rigorous combat training, she came from an artist's background; Leticia's deliberate arrhythmic drumming triggered her OCD past endurance.
'Sigh...'
With a soft sigh Andreas snapped his fingers; vines burst from the ground and trussed up the running pair.
If his daughters worked so hard, their father could hardly stand idle.
Even agile Leticia couldn't dodge Andreas's Shadow Vines, let alone rookie Aurora.
Celeste smiled mischievously, stepping up to pinch their cheeks while they were helpless. 'At your age, still acting like brats.'
Compared with Leticia, Celeste had matured—her youthful shyness fading into regal grace. A single smile could make young men walk into trees.
Celeste had weathered many storms. After her father Dath'Remar, her brother Dath'Nath had ruled Quel'Thalas, dying of age soon after the Northrend war.
Power now lay not with Dath'Nath's son but with his grandchildren.
That son, the third Sun King, had wretched luck.
He reigned just as the Amani Trolls ended their civil strife; during a frontline morale visit a Forest Troll ambush landed a voodoo curse, killing him in his prime.
The current Sun King—Anasterian, Dath'Nath's grandson—is the fourth.
Young Anasterian took the throne before two hundred, and ambitious nobles seized much royal authority. The Silvermoon Council's power eclipsed the crown.
As Anasterian's only surviving elder, Celeste sailed east and thrashed every councillor from Speaker down, warning that Sunstrider authority was inviolate.
Over seven-thousand years old, Celeste had never wed—unlike the perennially childish Leticia who simply refused to grow up. Celeste had long since given her heart, though the one she chose had yet to answer.
Releasing the vines, Andreas watched the pair of 'toddlers' tumble together while Celeste tried to mediate, and sighed softly.
'Time I gave her an answer... Wonder if Shandris will make me kneel on a washboard tonight for asking.'