Chapter 657

Chapter 657: The Dragonmaw Clan’s Final Trump Card

"Is this your conclusion? That it was the Red Dragons?" Nekros said unhappily.

Jesse shook his head. "As a master of magic, I trust you agree we possess far more investigative methods than ordinary scouts."

He then stepped onto the road’s center, raised his hand, and chanted a spell—the magical tracking incantation he’d heard Vereesa recite countless times in Kalimdor, used to trace sympathetic traces.

Yet with his limited arcane gift, even perfect pronunciation and posture rarely yielded results, let alone this haphazard attempt. Not a wisp of arcane energy gathered afterward, nor did it disrupt his transformation.

But the chant sounded convincingly real, especially to Nekros—a warlock who’d battled Dalaran mages and knew how arcane magic should sound.

After finishing, Jesse walked forward into a shaded grove. He searched the ground briefly before producing two strands of elven hair from his sleeve.

Holding the silver strands glinting in sunlight, he declared: "Unexpected find."

"What do you mean?" Nekros asked.

Jesse explained: "I assumed only a Dalaran mage could leave such clean traces—their magic is notoriously unpredictable. I sought residual arcane signatures but found this instead."

"What are these?" Nekros peered at the long hairs. "Elven?"

"You fought in Lordaeron’s campaigns, Warlord. Undoubtedly elven hair. Elves are an arcane-nourished race dwelling near magic wells—their traces glow brightly under detection spells."

"Elf Mages? So the elven kingdom intervenes. No elf should be near Grim Batol…"

"You should’ve anticipated this when dispatching Red Dragons to aid Gul’dan’s assault on Silvermoon City, Warlord," Jesse countered.

"You object to my training Red Dragons for the Horde?" Nekros demanded.

Jesse chuckled. "You disdain casual Black Magic and despise black dragons—I’ve no quarrel there, Warlord. But Red Dragons are equally unsustainable power. Like Black Magic or black dragons aiding Blackrock Spire, they’ll eventually fail you. The day will come when no more eggs remain, no more Red Dragons answer your call. By then the Horde will be addicted to draconic might. Without them, we’ll weaken rapidly—what use is rebuilding a new Horde then?"

"When you ordered Red Dragons to attack Quel’Thalas, you should’ve known elves would strike back once you couldn’t muster your full strength. Through ambushes… assassinations…"

He continued: "Moreover, one Elf Mage couldn’t kill six Orcs without arcane traces. No magic lingers here—this was the Farstriders’ work. These rangers eliminated six Dragonmaw yet lost only two hairs. Quel’Thalas sent their finest to scout Grim Batol. These warriors died not from weakness, but because they detected the rangers. Their killers silenced them under darkness to conceal their presence. This isn’t mere vengeance."

"You imply the Alliance prepares to attack," Nekros sneered. "Every word hints at it. Do you think me blind? You believe only what comforts you."

"I’m Blackrock Spire’s envoy, Warlord. My duty is message delivery. My beliefs matter less than yours—and the Great Chief’s."

Nekros’s wrinkled smile remained, but now looked strained.

Jesse added: "I’ll report everything truthfully to the Great Chief: The mighty Dragonmaw Legion, massive gates, towering walls, flawless defenses… Magnificent. It reminds me of Hellfire Citadel."

The Dragonmaw Warlord’s face darkened further. All knew that demon-built fortress—even with black dragons’ aid—had fallen to the Alliance within three days.

Molofeel whispered: "Master, you forget Warlord Nekros possesses numerous healthy dragon eggs. Once hatched and grown, they’ll surely defend Grim Batol against—"

"Silence, demon!" Nekros glared into the succubus’s eyes. "You’ve no voice here." Molofeel glanced contemptuously away.

"Regardless…"

Jesse stroked Molofeel’s cheek. Seeing her master’s gaze, the succubus smiled brightly.

Their Soul Link let Jesse perceive her true intent—Molofeel had already woven influence through their eye contact. Her smug expression confirmed its success.

"I must return to Blackrock Spire immediately. Grim Batol scarcely welcomes my presence. Still, Warlord… I earnestly hope we may yet fight together."

He turned toward the hillside’s wooden gate.

"Perhaps you overlook why Grim Batool endures, Master Yulok," Nekros called after him.

Jesse turned to see the Dragonmaw Warlord’s piercing stare.

"While the Red Dragon Queen lives, the Dragonmaw clan remains unbroken."

"Black dragons claim she died long ago by your hand," Jesse countered. "Yet I’m astonished you retain so many eggs. The situation surpasses Blackrock Spire’s expectations."

Nekros demanded: "Will you trust a mad black dragon’s ravings… or your own eyes?"

"You’ll show her to me?"

"If it persuades the Great Chief to reconsider ties with black dragons."

"I guarantee nothing," Jesse said. "But if she lives and remains under your control, Warlord, I’ll advocate fiercely for the Dragonmaw clan."

"At dawn," Nekros declared. "My men require preparation."