[center][h3]The Violet Citadel, Dalaran[/h3][/center]

[hr]
"Lady Amama," a young elf called gently from the door outside the Magus' study. 
The young woman knocked on the door and opened it expecting the wrath of her Mistress for interrupting her studies. Beautiful and graceful the young woman flowed across the room. She had been an orphan found by her father while fighting the Scourge. When her father returned home, the girl and other survivors as well. That was how she became Amama's maid. She had also become Amama's friend when they were in private. 

Amama stood looking out the window of the Violet Citadel at the Magus Commercial Exchange and the people coming and going. Buying items - potions, rings, and spells and some learning from tutors. It was decades ago that she had made that trip and looked at the Violet Citadel in awe. Here was the seat of magical power and some of the best mages in the world. Through hard work, she had earned the right to study with the Kirin Tor and then to wear a Violet Robe. 

War was coming as it always did. She could always tell when her father would go off to fight. The signs were there as they were in Dalaran. It amazed her how many nobles, generals, and diplomats came to see the aid from the magus of the Citadel. 

"There is a new bottle of wine," her maid said. This got Amama's attention. She turned from the window to looked the girl with a smile. 

On the desk lay a silver dagger that Amama had spent months working on. The engraving was flawless. The gems simple and well set. The dagger felt warm and light to the touch. Her enchantments were fire and wind. The dagger could burst into flames when triggered and be thrown and travel at high speed. 

She had made the dagger as a prototype for a sword to fight the Scourge. Fire was her weakest element and why she had been working on the prototype. 

Amama took the girls arm and headed for the dining table. 
"Did I ever tell you that transmutation is the highest form of magic?" She asked her maid. 
"Out that window people are trying to turning gold into power," She continued. 
She had told her maid this for years new. 

Walking out into the main room, Amama headed for the table, dinner, and the wine. She noted that extra plates had been set out in case of company. 

Amama's rooms were nice, but small in Elven standards. It was a sacrifice she was making for her art.