Chapter 3

Dangerous Knowledge

Stefan felt rich juices flow into his mouth as he sunk his teeth into the bear flank. Swallowing it with gusto, he cut away another slice before regarding Iyana thoughtfully.

"I suppose," he answered after a moment. Iyana, chewing on a piece of bear in the corner of her mouth, frowned.

"You suppose? What's not to like about it?" she questioned.

"Well," he started, cramming bear into his mouth and gnawing hungrily, "I don't know if we can afford it all, Iyana. That's a lot of gold pieces you're talking about. The beach-house alone would cost three high-priority bounties."

The Elven woman took a sip of the red liquor, then, leaned forward, propping the side of her head on her hand and looking sideways at him, glitter dazzling her eyes. In response, Stefan groaned and ran a hand through his hair.

"You're still convinced we're on a treasure hunt?" It was more of a statement than a question.

Iyana nodded in reply.

"Huh," was all he could add, sipping on the wine.

They finished dinner minutes later, making small talk but never bringing up the subject of their newest journey. Stefan was certain that the artifact Rok'Roham had in his possession was a key of some sort, as Bolvar and several scholars had determined was a very probable possibility. He further believed that it hid a dark secret, or perhaps a certain piece of ancient lore that Sargeras wanted to bring his plans for Azeroth's future into fruition. Iyana, on the other hand, believed it concealed a great treasure trove of the Nerubian ancients. As they walked along the barren path in Felwood, their conversation turned to the strange relic once again.

"Tell me again, what makes you so certain about it?" asked Stefan.

"Much of the Nerubian language is derived from Elven. You see there," she pointed toward a spot on the relic, which Stefan swivelled about in his hands to look upon. "In my people's tongue, a symbol closely resembles this, and it stands for 'great wealth', or 'immense power.'"

Though it was quite obvious there was a connection, Stefan didn't like it. He didn't like how driven Iyana had become after noticing this resemblence several weeks before. There was a gold-lust in her eyes that he had seen in many a Dwarf, which was bad enough. But a Night Elf?

"Why do you obsess over it so, Iyana?" he asked.

"What?"

"The treasure. If we knew it existed, no doubt you would pursue it?"

"Of course!" she exclaimed.

"And if there was no treasure?"

She paused.

"We should return to Stormwind," he finally said after an awkward silence. "This treasure-lust will end up doing you harm."

"Oh, Stefan! You're being irrational," she sighed. "Here, come."

She pulled him by the hand toward a stump, and slid onto its edge. He took a seat next to her and began to dig into her dark pupils. He was glad to see the lust gone, replaced with genuine concern.

"Alright, Stefan. What's the matter?"

"I have a feeling something bad will happen because of this sudden thirst for wealth. You are only accompanying me on this journey because there is a possibility of riches," he replied.

She giggled, failing to hold it back. Her shoulders shuddered slightly, and beyond Stefan's mild feeling of hurt, he couldn't shake how cute she looked.

"You've got it all wrong!" she managed through a fit of laughter. "But I do owe you an explanation."

"Damn right," he sternly answered. It took all his attention to keep from reddening with embarassment. He wasn't quite sure why he should feel so, but he did.

Iyana let the giggles die away. Then she returned Stefan's own resolute gaze with a pleasant, soft look, placing her hands on his. "Stefan Dreis, I think I am in love with you. What we have, what we share...it's something special. Romance amongst the races isn't something you see with every passing of the sun and moon. So you know it's special. Very special."

He felt his heart flutter. She was right.

"It is because of this that I will remain at your side. I believe what we have can last a lifetime. This means that whatever you set out to do, I'm going to be right beside you, running the gauntlet right with you. If it means traveling the the ends of Azeroth, perhaps it is destiny," she said. She grinned slyly. "And if it means picking up a bit of money along the way, who am I to complain?"

Stefan felt ashamed. To think that she would put wealth over all? Absurd. He was a fool blinded by jealousy, that a gold piece could win her heart.

"Stefan, I'm yours," she said, leaning in to place her head on his shoulder.

"And I yours, Iyana," he replied, embracing her. "Forgive me."

She smiled. "You're only Human."

"Good one," he muttered. They laughed.

---

The sun had long fallen below the horizon. Vineus had returned to his place on the stool, his head buried a pile of books, stopping only briefly to light a candle. It illuminated a small bubble around his desk, leaving the rest of the lore-house in darkness. He had grown used to the company. The ages of knowledge piled high all around him was more than enough for the old Gnome. He sometimes found himself talking to his old, leatherbound friends, but quickly realized how absurd it seemed. Still, he was sure that taking the job in the first place was far more nonsensical.

"Of course!" he shouted into the darkness. He read the line over once more, checked the script again, and read the translation another time through. He ran it through his head, listening as the syllables connected so perfectly. The story it told was a profound one. He would have to write it down for Stefan and Iyana. His excitement only increased as he realized he had correctly remembered the Night Elf's name. At least, he was sure he had.

"Ink and quill! Ink and quill!" he muttered to himself, leaping off the stool and scurrying into the backroom once more. He returned a moment later, the tools in hand. He leapt back onto his seat, and prepared a fresh roll of parchment. As he licked the tip of the feather, he heard the door bell jingle. At this hour?

"Good even--Err, good morning? Either way, couldn't you read the sign? Closed for the night! Important research!" he mumbled, remembering what he had discovered. "Yes! Very important!"

A figure shifted about in the darkness. It came close to the light, though not nearly enough for Vineus to make out who it was. He squinted into the darkness, to no avail.

"Stefan? Is that you? Or Iyana? Hah! I did it again! Two for two," he said, returning to the scroll. He dipped the quill into the ink bottle, and was about to begin when whoever it was waiting in the gloom emerged into the light.

It was hooded. More like wrapped in a tangle of robes. It's form was barely recognizable. He looked his visitor up and down, trying to discern what on the face of Azeroth it was. Vineus eventually gave up with a defeated sigh, taking off his thick lenses.

"If you don't pardon me saying, what in Uther's name--Whoa!" he suddenly exclaimed as he noticed a rather large outcrop protruding from the newcomer's rear, one that was so obvious that he didn't require his glasses to see it.

"Is that treatable?!" he asked, astounded.

At first, his visitor didn't answer. But then the robes fell away, and Vineus suddenly shouted as too many arms than there should have been reached out toward him, clawing and tearing at his chest and face. He tried to push the assault away, but the thing leapt over the counter, toppling him and his pile of books. They came tumbling down in a heap, and Vineus heard a strange squeal as his attacker was probably stunned by an overly-informative book of lore. Without his spectacles and legally blind, the Gnome searched with his hands across the floor.

That's when he felt it. The tips of his fingers danced along the book's rough cover, and in a moment he knew he had grabbed the right one. Luckily, it was still open to the subject he had been digging for all night. He grabbed a handful of its pages, then threw his other hand up to defend himself as his attacker pressed the assault once more.

This time, his assailant was much more brutal. He felt his clothes tear. A talon ran across his face, ripping open a cut on his cheek. Another tore a deep groove in his stomach, and Vineus grabbed the wound involuntarily. Then it felt as if one hundred barbs were driven across his throat in quick succession. With a sudden gasp he realized it had become nearly impossible to breath. At the same time, he felt the weight of his assassin lift, and the faint trace of a shadowy figure disappearing from view. A moment later, and the door bell jingled once more. Silence followed. He was finally alone.

The light of the fallen candle had begun to fade. Or so it seemed. Vineus knew what was happening. He searched with his free hand weakly, running his fingers along the hard wooden floor he had grown accustomed to after so many years. He touched something wet. For a moment he thought it was his own blood, but then he noticed how cold it was, and the familiar smell. He dipped his index in the fluid, and began to drag the finger across the floor.

A minute later, the light faded from Vineus Bobblegrind's eyes, and his death sigh echoed in the empty room. The endless rows of librams looked on in silent recognition.