Chapter 771

Chapter 771: Time to Start Saving Again

Jesse Seso, I didn’t know when this letter would reach you, but I hoped it arrived on a clear morning.

I’d received your letter and was glad you’d finally gotten into the habit of writing to me—that was huge progress! But I was sorry to say the trip to Kalimdor might take a while longer.

As the new Ranger Lord, I needed to lead patrols in eastern Eversong Woods for the next month. I couldn’t leave my post until Lord Lor’themar Theron took over.

Still, I’d spoken with the Reliquary and confirmed a mission to Winterspring. If that suited you, I’d head to Stormwind to meet you right after finishing patrols.

Included a small gift: a "Sorrow" blossom found in the pack of a Forest Troll I’d slain myself.

These flowers sometimes grow around Amani Troll burial pits. Long ago, many believed Quel’dorai agony from torturous deaths nourished these sorrowful blooms—hence the name.

They were once thought ill-omened, but later we discovered they brew powerful purification potions when mixed with icecap grass, curing sicknesses and breaking curses.

Born in trolls’ dark places, yet they became key tools for Farstriders against Amani voodoo. It reminded me of you.

(May peace soothe your heart, my love.)

Ranger Lord of Quel’Thalas, Vereesa Windrunner.

“Alumenar, Mal, Alan.” Jesse murmured Vereesa’s Sayaad blessing above her signature.

Lake Everstill’s breeze carried early warmth as he sat on the bridge railing, letter in hand, gazing at Stonewatch Keep atop the distant mountain. Clear weather meant no mist blurred the keep’s outline—a rare sight. Today he’d meet Edwin VanCleef, Mason Guild leader, per Erlan’s arrangement.

Days earlier, Jesse had visited Storm Altar to confirm Kallez remained stable under the warlocks’ watch, then waited in Lakeshire for VanCleef.

He checked his pocket watch—still early.

A sudden gust swept off the lake. He clutched Vereesa’s letter and the purple-gold flower tucked inside, preventing them from blowing away.

When the wind stilled, he unfolded the pages again.

After learning of Demon Fall Canyon from SI:7, he’d immediately sent word to Quel’Thalas via the Wizard’s Sanctum’s Elf Mage. He’d avoided naming locations, only stating his Kalimdor journey was confirmed with solid leads.

“Sorrow Flower” was its Sayaad name; Common Tongue called it more plainly—Plague Flower.

Before the Scourge Legion ravaged Lordaeron, this bloom was rare. Sprouting from necrotic plague, it was rarer than Grave Moss—explaining why it only grew near cursed troll burial pits.

He understood why Vereesa sent it: she hoped he’d thrive from darkness to fight darkness, like this flower.

Yet he also sensed her lingering fear—that darkness might consume him, or that she’d lose him.

This flower held her wishes.

All Jesse could do was strive to honor her trust, and everyone’s. Standing, he looked south along the bridge and spotted a young man approaching.

Under thirty, Matthias Shaw’s age, he had a strong build. His simple white shirt and loose gray linen trousers contrasted with untamed black hair and skin reddened by sun. Though dressed like a struggling laborer, he carried himself with odd pride—educated, like a fallen noble.

Noticing Jesse’s gaze, the man eyed his ring and extended a hand. “Edwin VanCleef. You must be Master Jesse Seso? Pleasure meeting you here.”

Jesse shook his stone-calloused hand. “Correct, Mr. VanCleef. Erlan briefed you?”

“Tower of Ilgalar.” Edwin nodded toward the lake. “One of Stormwind Kingdom’s four Mage Towers. Repairing such a landmark is our honor.”

In the game, VanCleef always hid behind a red mask. Studying his face now, Jesse found it a bit disappointing—especially compared to legends like Varian Wrynn or Arthas.

Admittedly, matching Arthas—who made maidens across seven kingdoms swoon—was unfair. Among regular folk, VanCleef’s lean intensity held a harsh handsomeness, befitting a relentless fighter.

Perhaps Jesse’s foreknowledge colored his view.

“Growing late, Master Seso,” Edwin said. “If we don’t ride now, we won’t reach the keep before dark.”

“Then we’d best move.”

VanCleef’s directness surprised Jesse, who’d planned a Lakeshire inn meal. The man seemed indifferent, focused solely on the tower.

They rode toward Stonewatch Keep, VanCleef silent throughout. He ate in the saddle, only nodding when he caught Jesse’s glance.

Bypassing the keep, they took the forest path to Tower of Ilgalar, arriving just before full dark.

After tethering their weary horses below, Jesse glanced up and remembered: two Felhounds still patrolled inside. He needed to hide them before Edwin entered.

“Wait here,” Jesse said. “Let me check first. Gnolls occupied this tower—traps or magical residues might linger. Haven’t returned in weeks; better confirm it’s safe.”

VanCleef waited outside while Jesse entered. Dust motes danced in amber light from shattered windows as he sighed deeply.

*Scritch-scratch.* Felhound claws scrabbled on upper floors. Jesse barked in Demonic: “Hide! Deep as you can—don’t let anyone spot you!”

The skittering sounds retreated upward and silenced. Jesse emerged. “All clear, Mr. VanCleef.”

Edwin followed him inside, scanning the stairs as they climbed.

Jesse outlined his needs: clearing the ground floor’s center, installing wall ladders, reinforcing upper levels with magic-resistant stairs and walls, and preserving the tower’s original magical flow.

VanCleef showed no surprise—expected, since the Mason Guild had built Mage Towers for Kirin Tor. Jesse’s requests were tame by comparison.

At the summit, VanCleef examined the damage before eyeing the rooftop Magic Stone. “Stormwind’s rebuilding is nearly done. We’ll assign skilled craftsmen here. Full renovations to your specs… will cost between two hundred and two hundred fifty gold.”

Jesse kept his expression steady, refusing to buckle before the guild leader.

Though cheaper than Nethergarde’s Pit Lord-blasted tower, the sum still crushed him. His savings were under sixty gold—five already spent on dwarf repairs for his canal-side home, the rest earmarked for Kalimdor travels.

*Would Vereesa’s Reliquary mission pay like Dethmoora’s eighty-gold haul?*

“Let me… ahem… consider it,” Jesse said.