Chapter 801

Chapter 801: The Unusual Customer

“How did you figure that out?” Jesse asked.

Greed pointed at the pouch, stammering, “Look at this skin texture, these markings… It’s monstrous! That witch doctor murdered a dwarf to make this pouch! Those goblins ought to toss her into the sea for shark food! I’ll kill her myself!”

“Greed,” Vereesa warned. The dwarf glanced around, noticing many patrons in The Salty Sailor Tavern watching their commotion. Several goblin sentries nearby, having caught words like "goblin" and "shark food," now eyed them with suspicion.

Suddenly the center of attention, Greed shifted uncomfortably.

“Calm yourself, dwarf,” Molofeel said. “This hide’s too dark. Look closely—are you certain it’s from a Wildhammer like you?”

Jesse shared the doubt. Not only did it seem unlike Wildhammer skin, but that witch doctor lacked combat skills. Could she truly kill and skin a dwarf in neutral Booty Bay? Even if possible, she’d never sell it for mere silver coins.

“She couldn’t kill a Wildhammer dwarf, Greed. I know her strength. Had she such power, she wouldn’t cower in Booty Bay, hiring thugs to settle grudges.”

“You sure?” Greed examined the pouch again, then the demon. “Does resemble Dark Iron dwarf skin.”

“She charged four silver coins, Greed,” Jesse said. “Cheap for dwarf hide… Someone must be flooding the market with Dark Iron skins to drive prices this low.”

“The Burning Blade trolls sell these, mage,” a tall man nearby interjected softly. “Sworn to Blackrock Spire’s Horde, they skin Shadowforge City corpses. Hence the abundance.”

Jesse nodded stiffly, annoyed by the interruption. Thankfully, their public conversation held no secrets. “Hear that?” Jesse told Greed. “Just as I thought.”

“Hear what?” Greed asked. “That man’s explanation.”

Jesse gestured beside them. The man’s low voice should’ve carried across the table.

Greed’s eyes followed Jesse’s finger, then returned blankly. He waved a hand before Jesse’s face. “Have you lost your mind?”

Vereesa watched curiously. Jesse turned back to the man—an ordinary sailor in a drenched white shirt, as though freshly dragged from the sea…

“You’re dead,” Jesse murmured.

“Hah! Waiting for company here,” the man retorted irritably. When he turned, Jesse saw the hollow sockets emitting a cold, lifeless necrotic aura.

So the troll potion revealed ghosts—sight and sound?

Focusing now, Jesse sensed the deathly energy. He’d been too distracted by his companions to notice the corpse beside him.

Ghosts wandered The Salty Sailor too.

The spirit vanished into the crowd. Jesse watched him disappear before facing his companions. “We’ll stay in Booty Bay tomorrow. The potion works.”

“A ghost sat with us?” Vereesa rubbed her neck. “No wonder I felt uneasy.”

“What did it say?” Greed pressed.

Jesse tapped the pouch. “He claimed Booty Bay trades heavily in dwarf skins.”

“Damn it all! I’m going fishing!” Greed slammed the table, lurching upright. “Haunted taverns! Dwarf hide peddlers! What madness!”

“It’s Dark Iron skin, Greed!” Jesse called out, but the dwarf shoved through the grumbling crowd toward the exit.

Only when the tavern door thudded shut did the complaints fade.

“Well… damn.” Jesse lifted the pouch. “When that witch doctor promised durability, I was relieved—after shattering countless vials before.”

“You worked for that troll?” Vereesa asked.

“Yes.”

“When? I never knew.”

“Recall my letter asking how to break the Shadow of Death curse?”

“What letter?”

Jesse remembered—Malin never delivered it. The Dark Portal crisis had pulled elf mages to Nethergarde.

“I know Shadow of Death,” Vereesa said. “Teron Gorefiend’s vile magic. It kills victims, turning them into kinslaying wraiths.” Her eyes widened. “You were cursed? No… this…”

Jesse scrubbed his face. “Nearly. Gorefiend cursed me in Thaurissan’s city. Only realized weeks later in Stormwind—with the Church’s help.”

Vereesa paled. “I… never knew. Forgive me, Jesse. I thought you came to Booty Bay for coin or leisure.”

“Rumors spoke of a cure here,” Jesse explained.

“Linked to that troll?”

“Goblin alchemists held the answer. The witch doctor merely supplied ingredients.”

“Why keep this from me?”

Jesse glanced at Molofeel. The succubus stared innocently at the bar, feigning deafness.

“At the Dark Portal, demons surrounded us. No chance to speak.”

“You didn’t want me knowing,” Vereesa stated.

Jesse nodded. “Feared you’d see a dying man.”

*Drop it, Mrs. Vereesa Windrunner,* he thought.

“All that time I swaggered about slaying Teron Gorefiend,” she whispered, her voice thin against the tavern’s clatter, “while you bore that curse… I can’t fathom your suffering.”

“At least you gave me this.” Jesse touched his sword’s sapphire. “Wielding Azuresong Mageblade delayed the curse for months.”

“I pray it did.” Her voice softened. “Eases my guilt, however slightly.”

“Now you’ve not only proven worthy of this blade… Jesse, truthfully, the blade strives to prove itself worthy of *you*. I feel it.”

Jesse had braced for questions about the troll witch. But her words instead summoned memories of first holding Azuresong Mageblade—days spent doubting he could keep it, let alone deserve it.