Chapter 688

Chapter 688: The Magic Inn

As Jesse exited the Violet Citadel, he felt liberated.

The fortress was guarded by complex magics, runes, and spells. Once he realized the Kirin Tor weren’t friendly toward him, the arcane energy grew more oppressive.

Jesse wondered why the archmage Kel’Thuzad wasn’t waiting inside, especially since he had pushed Jesse to go on that "recon mission" at Grim Batol.

Jesse guessed that with Deathwing gone, Kel’Thuzad lost his main ally and should keep a low profile.

Greed was waiting at Dalaran’s biggest inn—the Magic Inn. Jesse planned to meet him first, then visit the Grand Library with the ring from Antonidas.

Hurrying down the Violet Citadel steps, he thought about the Feast of Winter Veil.

Delayed by King Varian’s summons and issues at The Slaughtered Lamb basement, Goergette got them there about ten days faster than a boat. So Jesse and Greed arrived on time as agreed with Vereesa, a week before the feast.

Jesse figured Vereesa might not come early since she likely had things to handle in Quel’Thalas, so waiting a few days in Dalaran was fine.

"Jesse." "Uh?"

Jesse looked down the steps and saw the elf woman waiting below.

She wasn’t in her usual ranger gear and dark green cloak but wore a light purple Quel’Thalas gown, looking more like a mage than a Farstrider.

"A guard said you went to the Violet Citadel, so I came to find you," Vereesa said, brushing her silver hair and eyeing her outfit. "What? Don’t you recognize me in new clothes?"

"You look lovely, V."

Jesse glanced at the magically enchanted sheer fabric on her shoulder and felt he’d wasted his time at Larson.

"I’m not used to this outfit," Vereesa admitted. "Sylvanas gave it to me. She said I should dress nicely for Lordaeron."

"You told her?" Jesse asked.

"Of course," Vereesa said.

"Everything?"

"Yes."

"What did she say?"

"Ask her yourself."

"……"

"Scared?"

"Not at all." Jesse cleared his throat. "So tonight, want to do something she won’t know about?"

"We can’t do it outside this time," Vereesa whispered.

"You think I need it outdoors?" Jesse chuckled.

"Who knows what weird stuff you do with that demon?" Vereesa’s voice turned icy.

"Don’t bring her up; escaping was hard," Jesse sighed.

Vereesa laughed softly. "Where’s Greed?"

"The Magic Inn."

"Let’s find him; he’s waited long enough!" Vereesa leaned on Jesse, then frowned at the cloak in his hands.

"What’s this? It smells like…"

"The stench from Grim Batol that day," Jesse said.

"Exactly," Vereesa replied. "I meant to say that."

Jesse explained, "A red dragon messenger gave it to me, V. A cloak of black dragon hide and scales, enchanted by the red dragon, so the magic feels tangled."

"A red dragon messenger in Dalaran?" Vereesa asked.

"Yes," Jesse said. "Vaelastrasz. He speaks for the Red Dragon Queen, reporting on Grim Batol."

Vereesa asked quickly, "What about Master Krasus?"

"I don’t know," Jesse said. "I described the dream Deathwing told me about to him. He thought Krasus might be trapped in Blackrock Spire, so he planned to check the situation."

"Doesn’t that mean no one can help you…"

As Vereesa spoke, an arcane servant drifted past nearby—a vaguely humanoid magical creature. Masters skilled in arcane magic sometimes summoned such beings to serve as assistants for work or magical experiments.

Could these servants be eavesdropping on passersby?

Having grown up in Quel’Thalas and frequented Silvermoon City, Vereesa knew these arcane constructs well. "Let’s continue this inside the Magic Inn," she said. Jesse nodded.

True to its name, the Magic Inn’s main hall resembled the lower levels of a Wizard’s Sanctum more than a tavern or lodging. Self-illuminating arcane candles floated throughout the space while enchanted brooms trailed guests, erasing fresh footprints. Instead of foodstuffs or ale barrels, rows of oak bookshelves lined the walls.

Jesse purposefully pulled out a volume titled *The Journey of Alterac and Frost Magic*. To his surprise, it documented frost magic’s early development in Dalaran rather than serving as a blank prop.

Greed sat beside a bookshelf flipping through a book, his expression impossible to read—neither clearly serious nor bored. Only when Jesse and Vereesa sat beside him did the dwarf look up.

"You’re reading magic texts now?" Jesse asked.

Greed showed Jesse the book—filled entirely with elven script Jesse couldn’t decipher. "Know what this says, little elf?" Greed asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Quel’Thalas banquet etiquette," Vereesa answered, resting her chin on her hand.

"Sounds dead boring," Greed grunted, shoving the book back. He turned to Jesse. "What did Antonidas tell you?"

Recalling the Lord of Dalaran’s demeanor, Jesse frowned. "Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned… Deathwing contacting me. He thinks I suspect members of the Kirin Tor Council."

"You never said anything about traitors," Greed countered. "Why’d he jump to that?"

"Because before I went to Grim Batol, only the Kirin Tor Council members knew," Jesse murmured. "Hinting someone leaked to Deathwing directly points at one of the six. I got reckless—Antonidas’s reputation made me trust him, but…"

"Dalaran’s Dalaran," Greed shrugged.

Vereesa nodded. "Can I help? When we reach Quel’Thalas, I could contact Prince Kael’thas."

"Tell *him*?" Jesse stiffened.

"I won’t voice suspicions," Vereesa clarified. "Just that Deathwing knew about your Menethil Harbor trip before you told anyone and tried harming you with black magic. If Antonidas grasped the implication, Kael’thas will too."

Had Jesse not been an otherworldly traveler, this might’ve seemed wise. But memories of Kael’thas Sunstrider’s future pacts with demons and the Burning Legion—whatever his motives—made entrusting him unthinkable.

"Let’s await Vaelastrasz’s report," Jesse said. "Red Dragons feel more reliable. Besides, as Kirin Tor Council, Kael’thas might protect his own like Antonidas."

"True," Vereesa conceded. "The Sun King already resents his constant siding with Dalaran."

"If the dragons delay, we’ll approach Kael’thas. That’ll be your task, V."

"Understood," Vereesa smiled.

"Pity dwarves lack mages," Greed shook his head. "Could’ve helped you, Jesse."

"Don’t Dark Iron Dwarves have plenty?"

"Bastards barely count as dwarves!" Greed muttered. "Speaking of—Jesse, did you tell Vereesa I’m returning to Aerie Peak?"

"You’re not coming to Lordaeron?" Vereesa asked.

"Lordaeron to Aerie Peak wastes time, little elf."

"Today’s the ninth of December," Jesse noted. "How long to Aerie Peak?"

"Two-three days with Goergette. I’ll attend the Feast of Winter Veil banquet that night but leave early—departing seventeenth or eighteenth. If I rush to Lordaeron afterward…" Greed calculated, "I’d reach you around the twentieth."

Vereesa cleared her throat and said, "My Ranger Lord promotion ceremony is on December 23rd, Greed. If you still want to attend, you’d best finish your drink and fly straight towards Quel’Thalas…"

"Confirmed?" Greed and Jesse both looked up and asked simultaneously.

"Confirmed," Vereesa declared. "From now on, I’ll no longer be Quel’Thalas’s Ranger Captain, but Quel’Thalas’s Ranger Lord! That’s that!"

Greed shouted towards the innkeeper, "The best wine in Dalaran! First, bring a glass for everyone at this table!"

Vereesa smiled. "I wish you could’ve seen their expressions when they heard about Grim Batol, especially Sylvanas. Even her mask-like expression couldn’t hide her shock. That alone satisfied me more than stabbing Teron Gorefiend’s throat myself."

"But what made me happier was gaining you." She leaned against Jesse’s shoulder. "That’s what matters most."

Jesse smiled too. Greed cleared his throat. "There’s still one more person here, you damned pair! Drink up quickly." The cellar-aged Dalaran red wine was undoubtedly the most renowned vintage in the magical city. Jesse couldn’t tell it apart from ordinary red wine, and even if he could, its taste and texture were utterly eclipsed by the sheer joy of the three being together.

The Magic Inn’s guest room was far more beautiful and refined than the dormitory Jesse had been assigned in the Wizard’s Sanctum. He even felt it was more exquisitely decorated than Malin’s study, except for lacking so many books.

"If the ceremony’s on the 23rd, we’ll likely only stay one day in Lordaeron before leaving. The journey from the royal city to Quel’Thalas… is quite a distance."

"Don’t worry, Jesse," Vereesa said. "We won’t be walking. After leaving Lordaeron, we’ll return to Dalaran. Dragonhawk knights here can fly us to Quel’Thalas. So we can even stay a few extra days."

"I can ride a dragonhawk?" Jesse asked.

"Compared to a real dragon, a Dragonhawk is nothing much, right?" Vereesa replied. "Of course you can ride one."

"So I get to ride one after all," Jesse said, sounding slightly smug.

"What?" Vereesa asked.

Jesse touched the golden magic lamp base on the table. "Remember in Redridge? I asked if I could ride a dragonhawk? You said impossible."

"You remember wrong. I said outsiders weren’t allowed to ride," Vereesa lifted her arm. "So, are you an outsider, Jesse Seso?"

With a snap of Vereesa’s fingers, a blue flame erupted without warning from the lamp base beside Jesse, brightening the room considerably.

"Shouldn’t we turn the lamp off now?" Jesse asked.

"Last time was too dark," Vereesa said. "This time, I want to see you clearly."

Jesse tossed his coat aside, walked to the bed, and gently pushed the elf onto the pillows, kissing her forehead. The smile vanished from Vereesa’s face as she took a deep breath.

"In Quel’Thalas, I thought of you every night, Jesse. I was jealous of that Sayaad. Damned jealous, jealous enough to want to stab her throat."

"Next time we see her," Jesse murmured softly.

"She’ll be thrilled," Vereesa said, staring into Jesse’s eyes. "That’s the most infuriating part."

They both chuckled simultaneously. Jesse slowly slid his hand downward. As his fingers traced her lower abdomen, Vereesa suddenly gasped.

"Could you…" she lifted her eyes, "…kiss it again?"

"You like that?" Jesse asked.

Vereesa nodded.

Jesse slowly lowered himself, burying his head between Vereesa’s thighs. The elf shuddered, arched her back, and clutched the lavender bedsheet… "Jesse…" she pressed hard against the pillow, asking breathily, "Don’t you… like this?"

"What?" Jesse lifted his head.

"I don’t know…" Vereesa lowered her gaze to meet his. "I can feel it… you seem a bit… unhappy. Am I imagining it?"

"Magic perfume," Jesse chuckled. "Not even shadow can touch my mind, Vereesa. This little magic… it’s really…" Vereesa flushed crimson, burying her face sideways into the pillow. "I should’ve realized."

Jesse added, "But the real reason is… I don’t like perfume. I like *your* scent. Pity."

"You…" Vereesa mumbled, then gasped sharply.

"Ah! Hmm…"

"Jesse, now… come in."

Jesse moved up, kissing her lips as he pressed slowly forward. The elf gradually closed her eyes, her lips tightening. "It’s hot, Jesse."

"Uncomfortable?"

"No. Hotter…"

Jesse buried his face in her sweat-dampened shoulder, nuzzling her cool silver hair and kissing her ear. The elf clung fiercely to her lover’s shoulders, her muffled moans escaping as she finally lost the battle to contain her voice…