Arrens and Briarthorn refined their abilities together, each one writing up notes and guides for the handling of specific demonic entities. Over the course of two years, they had amassed a rather impressive library of How-To guides with regards to shadow spells, fire spells and the summoning and use of various demons.

Arrens had just finished penning his latest piece of work titled “Summoning Infernals: How to Get the Best Bang for Your Buck.” Letting the ink dry, he pushed himself away from his desk. “Old friend, I believe that’s the last of the summoning manuals we’ll need.”

Briarthorn, who had been curled up near the hearth after a long night spent writing himself, said, “Excellent! I’m afraid you’ve learned everything I can teach you for now. In fact, I’d wager that you could certainly handle yourself against any foe now, demonic or not!”

“You give me too much credit,” said Arrens. “Regardless, I’d be at a complete loss if it were not for your help. How can I ever repay you?”

Briarthorn chuckled. “Payment to me would be trying to convince the masses that warlocks are not all ‘doom and gloom’ and that, for the most part, we have no desire to take over the world or flood it further with demons. Tell them we’re useful tools in the eradication of the Burning Legion or any other foe that stands in our way. More importantly, use your knowledge to teach those that wish to learn the ways of the warlock.”

Arrens rubbed his chin and sat back in his chair. “Perhaps a school? Not one necessarily dedicated to training only warlocks, but rather a school dedicated to training the Alliance as a whole. I might be able to put a staff together that could train the students in combat arts and how to better gain the advantage in a fight using the tools of each available member.”

“A fantastic idea, Master Arrens!” exclaimed Briarthorn. “Where would you locate this school?”

“Stormwind, I think,” said Arrens. “The king has recently returned. And if I position myself correctly with him, I believe I can convince him of its usefulness. I’ll simply tell him its to train Alliance forces against fighting the Horde. His hatred of the Horde is well-known, if not well-placed.”

Briarthorn responded, “True. But who can blame him? He was a prisoner of theirs for so long, there’s bound to be some unresolved hatred. The man needs a doctor. A head shrink, actually.”

“Indeed. But I believe I can use his bias to also get his blessing. And if I can do that, there should be little in the way of opposition to the school’s opening. Except, maybe, the mages. Though I may have a little pull with them as well from my days in Dalaran.”

___________________________________________

Arrens felt a tap on his shoulder. He was still in the Purple Parlor in the newly-refurbished Dalaran located but a stone’s throw from Icecrown Citadel. How long had he been there? It felt like days. Weeks, even.

“Sir, would you care for another cup of coffee?” asked the waitress that had interrupted his reverie.

He clearly hadn’t been there that long. Odd. He had basically relived most of his life in his mind. This work business is starting to get to me, he thought.

“No, thank you. I believe I must be going.”

With that, he made his way to the Silver Covenant and portaled to Stormwind. Entering the halls of his newly-opened Stormwind University, he sat in his office and began filling out paperwork that seemed to consume most of his time these days.