Chapter 640

Chapter 640: Don’t Think You Can Escape

Jesse returned to his seat and rubbed his face, admitting that punch had been quite solid.

Noticing his expression, Vereesa whispered, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have hit you that hard.”

Jesse shook his head. He wasn’t upset about getting punched; facing these two familiar faces—one looking on with amusement and the other radiating sharp concern—had melted away the crushing loneliness that had plagued him. Yet it left him deeply conflicted.

They had no idea what he was doing or who the enemy was. Could he really lead them into Grim Batol, letting them face Deathwing’s threat unprepared?

But he reconsidered: Krasus had forbidden him from telling others precisely because Deathwing’s spies lurked everywhere. Revealing anything risked alerting the dragon.

Jesse’s own silence stemmed from two fears: worrying others, and dreading that Greld or Vereesa would stubbornly follow him into peril meant for him alone.

Now, facing them, both reasons felt hollow.

Deathwing knew not only his movements but also Krasus’s plans against him—even sensing his thoughts and feelings.

With Vereesa and Greld here, slipping away from Menethil Harbor to Grim Batol was impossible.

He couldn’t evade Vereesa in the Wetlands. Even as a "half-trained tracker," she surpassed Night Elf sentries. If determined, she’d catch him within days—maybe less, needing no sleep.

“Time to explain everything, eh?” Greld demanded.

“You’ll regret hearing it,” Jesse warned.

Greld’s eyes flashed. He lunged across the table, smacking Jesse’s forehead hard enough to make his vision swim…

…Still better than Vereesa’s punch.

“Looks like you need more beatings,” the dwarf grumbled.

“Stop!” Jesse clutched his head. “I’ll talk!”

He glanced at Vereesa. The ranger’s ears twitched at his words. Her curiosity was plain; Jesse knew she cared too much to pretend otherwise.

“Grim Batol.”

“Knew it!” Greld thumped the table, turning to Vereesa. “See? Kirin Tor only schemes against our Wildhammer homeland!”

“I heard Kirin Tor suspects Deathwing remains in Azeroth,” Vereesa said. “Hiding in Grim Batol, guarded by Dragonmaw and Blackrock Orcs? Did they send you alone to confirm this?”

“Deathwing?!” Greld hissed, glaring at the elf. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

Vereesa retorted, “I only overheard Sylvanas and the Grand Magus discussing it. I wasn’t sure of the details. Besides, if I’d said Jesse might hunt Deathwing, would you have come?”

“Why not?” Greld snapped. “Think I’m a coward?” Vereesa mumbled, “Hard to say…”

The dwarf growled, “Pointy-ears, spouting nonsense you don’t understand?”

The elf slammed the table, reaching to claw his mouth. Greld grabbed her wrist, twisting for her ear—but Vereesa’s longer arms seized his beard first…

Jesse coughed. Both froze, remembering their dire topic, and released each other, retreating to their seats.

“For Mosa’s sake,” Vereesa whispered. “I’ll leave you alive.”

Greld smoothed his braided beard, spat, and shot Jesse a look.

Only then did Jesse notice the bruises covering Vereesa’s arms and Greld’s neck and face. They’d clearly brawled before.

The tavern swelled with patrons crowding walls and windows, drinking and shouting. Chaos filled the hall, though Jesse’s corner stayed relatively clear.

“Not Deathwing,” Jesse lowered his voice. “We seek the Red Dragon Queen. Kirin Tor believes orcs hold her captive in Grim Batol. They tasked me.”

Here, he braced for the black dragon mark’s trial.

“Master Krasus hopes I can rescue her, if possible.”

Masking truth as falsehood was unfamiliar, but Jesse knew lying well—he’d even fooled emotion-reading Sayaad Demons. He prayed Deathwing dismissed him as a love-drunk warlock craving only immortality and power, too insignificant to scrutinize. That might ease the suffocating pressure.

Krasus needed handling too. He and Kirin Tor neared unmasking the Alterac noble Daval Prestor, soon storming his manor.

Deal with him. Leave me be.

That’s a true red dragon; I’m just a shadow-dwelling warlock, harmless.

“That’s it?” Greld scoffed. “I’m a Second Orc War veteran! Among living Wildhammer dwarves, my orc-fighting skills rank top—and don’t mention Redridge! That orc wasn’t normal. Point is, hiding this ‘orc hunt’ insults me!”

“I’ve always regretted missing the Orc War, Jesse,” Vereesa added. “Killing Death Knights and Amani Trolls allied with the Horde didn’t satisfy my rage. And now, after the Dark Portal… I’ve more reason than Greld to join you.”

Greld snapped, “Know how I got my name, little elf?”

“How?” Vereesa asked.

“Only Jesse knows.” Greld gulped beer, burped. “My father named me Grimbati Sifelus. Tell her what it means.”

“Heart of Grim Batol,” Jesse answered.