[Adrien] The Meeting

The room was a familiar place to Adrien Crowe. A fireplace and chairs, the very same that he and his friend had sat in hundreds of times. A teaset sat neatly between he and his guest, though it was not the one he was most familiar with. An older man sat comfortably across from him, cup in his hand and smiling pleasantly. A ranking official of the Dalaranian mageocracy, his superior. The situation, however, was far from comforting.

"It's been a long time, Adrien, but I think I've finally pinned it down." The teacup came to the man's lips and he took a slow sip, watching the red-head carefully.

"And what is that?" The room was quiet. A long pause fell between them.

"I found the warlocks." The internal shock was not evident on his face, nor in his body language. The man across from him leaned forward excitedly, eager to tell Dalaran's ambassador all the details of his findings. It was an expression Adrien had seen many times before, and he already knew the direction the conversation was going to take. He took a sip of his tea regardless, and smiled as if it were something to be happy about.

"Have you? Do they really exist down there? I've heard stories."

"They do, and I've finally got the proof. Mind you, I haven't told the council yet. It's only a matter of time, however. Dirty magics they are, Adrien, and I'll be pleased when the existence of it is finally wiped out of our city."

"I'm deathly curious about this proof. The only thing I've seen in those sewers is a few giant rats."

"It's Varlisse." Still no reaction from the red-head. Every move was planned, and well executed.

"Vince? Chancellor, you're attempting to pin a man who can hardly cast a fire spell. You saw his examination scores." Adrien smiled, nearly snarking at the thought. The older man didn't appear amused, however. The lines in his face became more prominent. His age and wisdom were showing. His greying eyes narrowed, and a pronounced frown made its way across his features.

"That's exactly the point, Adrien. He can't cast fire spells because he's practicing something far more dangerous. It's difficult to hear, since as I understand you're a friend of his. However, the proof is all there." Adrien tilted his head like a confused cat, well-trimmed eyebrows furrowed in mock disapproval.

"I still think you're on the wrong track, chancellor."

"We planted a spy to follow him. There's an entire community down there, Adrien! They're practicing together, like some damned cult. Shadow magics, fel magics... It's amazing how much they've managed to hide all these years, right under our noses. Took a page right out of Kel'thuzad's book, he did."

Adrien's eyes squeezed shut. "Please don't compare him to such a madman, Chancellor."

"As soon as I tell the council, we'll be sending our battle mages to put them down."

"Isn't that a little--" The red-head began to rush his statement but the older man put a hand up, looking as serious as ever.

"You know as well as I do the laws in practicing the dark arts within our city."

"But killing so many-- Who did you send?" Adrien sighed, concern growing on his face.

"Hardly important." The man waved a hand, putting his teacup down and rising to his feet. "I must be off, Adrien. I should've told the council first, but I thought you should hear about it." Adrien made no motion to follow him, no motion but the slow migration of his eyes, watching the man's back turn to him, waiting for him to touch the door handle.

"I can't let you do that, Chancellor." His old fingers stopped just short of brushing the metal, curling backwards. He only turned around far enough to examine the expression of the one who'd addressed him. There was a darkness in Adrien's green eyes, a shadow that was unfamiliar to the man.

"You have no jurisdiction over this decision, Crowe." The old man turned around, shoulders square.

"Jurisdiction or none, you won't be leaving this room." The red-head set his teacup down after a long sip. The official stood baffled, a mix of confusion and anger over the sudden words that were far too bold not to be taken seriously.

"You're overstepping yourself, Adrien." The old man gritted his teeth, hands clenched lightly. "Why would you chose to defend such horrible ideals? What right do you have!" He nearly cried out the last word. His hand lashed out towards the door to leave, and the result caused him to cry out in agony and crumble to the floor. To chance a look back at the ambassador was something he wished he had not done.

"Is it not obvious, Chancellor?" The pain was excruciating, and the expression upon his acquaintance's face caused the man to pale in terror and a horrible realization of who he had trusted his most precious secret with. What was once a calm and friendly face now sat a cold, calculating gaze, a chilling, apathetic smile.

"I can't have you harming my students, you see." His voice was as sing-song as ever, though void of its emotion. "You failed to mention the name of your spy, if I recall correctly."

"How.. how could.." How could he not have known? How had this gone on for so long under his nose? Why was he in this room with a warlock, stunned into the ground? Instead of a life flashing before his eyes, his mind clawed through years of memories, years of being fooled into believing the person who stood before him was harmless, friendly, selfless, and something he never was. The pieces couldn't come together quickly enough, and the world outside would never hear his curled screams, forced confessions. Nor would they see the bloody mess that lay lifeless or the red-head who casually stepped over it with his fingers pinched at the bridge of his nose.

"Vincent." The tiny hearthstone relayed its message to the appropriate ears. The fingers that held it trembled.

"Yes, dear?"

"Please let Mister Denwald know what we do to spies and traitors when you hold your next class."

"Is that who it was? Who'd have thunk it."

"I'd like to have tea when you get the opportunity as well."

"You're the boss."