On the final day of the observation period, the Silvermoon Council’s liaison arrived at Windrunner Spire treaded in morning dew.
He delivered a formal document bearing the Council’s seal into Aralil’s hands, exchanged a few perfunctory pleasantries, and hurried away.
Aralil unrolled the parchment, calmly scanning the words.
After reading, he did not set it down immediately, his fingertips lingering on the signature for a moment before folding the document and handing it to the adjutant beside him.
“Send it to Northridge, to Alleria.” In the great hall of Northridge Camp, Alleria received the document.
Spreading it across the long table, she read through it quickly.
Then, taking the document in hand, she turned and walked toward Hawksbill’s quarters.
Hawksbill took the document, scanned it in a glance, folded it, and tucked it under the corner of his desk.
The room’s narrow window faced the circular training ground, the shutters propped half-open.
Through the window, he saw Li Fan practicing in the ring.
*Thwip.* A crisp twang rang out.
The hemp rope severed instantly, and the iron disc slammed to the ground with a heavy thud.
Li Fan stepped forward, tied the rope anew, and retreated to the firing line without a hitch in his motion.
News spread quickly through the camp.
When Alleria crossed the camp’s center holding the sealed document, everyone saw it.
Without a single word spoken, all understood what it signified.
Firas was the first to react.
He was sitting on a roadside stump adjusting his bowstring when he caught sight of Alleria passing by.
His hands paused.
Stowing his longbow, he rose and walked toward the ring.
Li Fan had just completed a shift in stance.
The string hummed, but the rope was only half-severed.
Frowning slightly, he nocked another heavy arrow.
Looking up, he found Firas already standing before him.
The two locked eyes three paces apart.
“The thirty-day observation period is over,” Firas said, his voice still carrying its familiar pride.
“You passed.
From today onward, you can officially remain in Quel’Thalas.” He paused, regarding the human before him with a complex gaze.
“Don’t embarrass us.” With that, he turned and left, his pace a bit slower than usual today.
Li Fan tossed the iron disc aside, his tone steady.
“I won’t.” At lunchtime, the aroma of seared meat drifted through the mess hall.
Li Fan carried his earthenware bowl toward a corner.
Halfway there, Hawksbill strode out from the kitchen.
Holding a small wooden platter, he set it down heavily beside Li Fan’s bowl.
On the platter lay four braised, tender ribs—the largest, meatiest cuts from the kitchen today.
Without a word, Hawksbill nudged the wooden platter half an inch forward and turned to leave.
The entire mess hall fell dead silent.
Tanner and Karan exchanged glances.
Karan lowered his head, shoveled a mouthful of rice, and whispered, “The instructor…
gave him four pieces today?” Tanner swallowed hard.
“When was the last time he gave anyone four ribs?” “…As far as I can remember, never.” Li Fan sat in the corner, picked up a rib, and took a bite.
“These ribs seem a bit saltier than usual today,” he remarked casually.
Sitting across from him, Firas snapped his head up.
“You get four free ribs and have the nerve to complain about the seasoning?” “Just telling the truth.
What’s wrong with that?” “…Suit yourself.” Firas could not be bothered to argue and lowered his head to eat.
Yet he clearly failed to master his expression; a nearly imperceptible smile surfaced at the corner of his eye, vanishing within two seconds.
Shifting slightly, he deliberately avoided Li Fan’s gaze.
In the afternoon, Li Fan was organizing his quiver beside the ring.
Alleria passed along the corridor carrying several battle reports, not having come specifically for him.
Li Fan stood up, retrieved a folded piece of parchment from his pocket, and handed it over.
“During patrol today, I noticed that the left ward node on the old breach damaged by the Amani on the southeast pathway wasn’t fully aligned.
In another three months, the mana web in that spot will naturally loosen.
I suggest arranging for high-ranking rangers to recalibrate it in advance.
I’ve noted it down in the terrain logs.” Alleria took the parchment, flipped to the marked page, examined it closely, and closed it.
“Very clearly written.” Tucking the log into her files, she turned to leave.
After a few steps, her pace slowed slightly.
“Good work.” The words were faint, dispersing into the afternoon breeze.
By the time Li Fan looked up, she was already far away, her crisp footsteps receding down the flagstone path until disappearing around the corner of the corridor.
Li Fan slotted the heavy arrows back into his quiver and did not follow.
At dusk, across the clearing at the edge of the northern woods, the sunlight slanted low.
The setting sun filtering through the canopy dyed the moss on the ground a warm, deep green, starkly different from its daytime chill.
Li Fan loosed his final set of practice arrows.
Walking forward, he pulled the heavy arrows from the wooden target one by one, stacked them neatly, and slid them into his quiver.
Lively footsteps sounded from behind, far brisker than usual.
“Li Fan!” He turned.
Vereesa came jogging over from the camp, a radiant smile gracing her face.
“I heard you passed!
Does that mean you can stay at Northridge permanently from now on?” “Yeah.” Vereesa smiled brightly, her eyes curving into crescents.
Reaching behind her, she produced a small cloth bundle and shoved it right into Li Fan’s arms.
“For you.
Brought it from home.” Li Fan unwrapped the bundle to find several pastries inside.
Though not exceptionally delicate, they were arranged neatly, clearly chosen with care.
“It’s not smoked meat that can save your life in the snowy mountains, just something from our kitchen,” Vereesa said, looking away with forced casualness, though her eyes were earnest.
“Still, it tastes better than those rock-hard rations of yours.
Now that you’re at Northridge, you won’t have to get by on hardened smoked meat anymore.” Li Fan carefully wrapped the bundle up and said gently, “Thank you.” “You’re welcome.” She took a few steps away, then stopped and looked back to wink at him.
“By the way, I can consistently hit the sixty-meter target now.” Without waiting for Li Fan to reply, she quickened her pace and ran toward camp, her long silver-white braid swaying behind her before quickly vanishing into the twilight woods.
Night fell.
When Li Fan entered the armory to return his maintenance tools, Hawksbill was walking out of the storage area.
The two brushed past each other in the narrow aisle.
The instructor did not stop, merely fishing something out of his pocket, pressing it firmly into Li Fan’s hand, and continuing his stride outside.
Li Fan opened his palm.
It was a brand-new Shadowwing Squad identification insignia.
Crafted from ordinary metal, the front was engraved with the Northridge Camp ranger emblem, while the back bore a serial number unique to him.
When he looked up, Hawksbill was already far down the hall, his gravelly voice floating back from the corridor’s end: “Get your ass out to training tomorrow morning.
Three discs at once.” Li Fan held the insignia quietly.
Cool to the touch at first, it gradually absorbed the warmth of his palm.
He reached into his pocket, where another insignia rested.
That one was a relic from thirty years ago—an ancient design with edges oxidized by the passage of time.