Chapter 761

Chapter 761: The Dark Iron Traitors

Jesse certainly knew about the Thorium Brotherhood!

The top-tier forging recipes in the level 60 version and even the creation of orange weapons were all tied to the Thorium Brotherhood. Any player specializing in crafting couldn’t avoid dealing with this group of Dark Iron Dwarves.

Still, they weren’t a large faction—just a small band formed by a handful of Dark Iron traitors. Though they possessed exceptional skills and unique knowledge, their lack of manpower forced them to rely on outside mercenaries for gathering materials and solving problems.

In the game, this meant players needed to donate massive amounts of materials to raise their reputation…

The faction’s name seemed to yank Jesse back to his past life. He stared blankly for a moment, his gaze drifting to the small Trade District square outside the tavern window until a rough dwarven hand waved before his face.

"Hey, Jesse! Remember something? Heard of these folks?"

"I’ve heard the name," Jesse blinked, snapping back as he replied casually. "Thought they were Bronzebeards. Didn’t realize they hailed from the Dark Iron Tribe. But aren’t they master blacksmiths? Why would they know about fire elements?"

Greed forked a piece of wolf jerky onto Jesse’s plate. "A blacksmith who can’t commune with fire will never be great. I know that much, Wildhammer though I am. And Dark Iron Dwarves? Their fire obsession runs deeper than the Bronzebeards’ love for metal! I’ve no doubt the Thorium Brotherhood boasts formidable fire sages. Truth is, they couldn’t craft anything noteworthy without powerful fire wielders."

He cleared his throat and continued, "Sure, the Thorium Brotherhood are strange Dark Irons—traitors who refused Emperor Thaurissan’s rule and fled Shadowforge City. But they’re still Dark Irons. Since you asked, I’ll tell you, but personally? I’d steer clear of dealing with them."

"I’ve met Dark Irons who escaped Shadowforge. They swear off loyalty to the city and reject worshipping lava and flame like the fanatics. Yet they stay moody, sly, suspicious… that nasty, shadowed nature seems etched into their black skin. Nothing like the ancient Dark Iron Tribe. Makes me wonder if their skin’s cursed by shadow, not flame."

"We’ll see," Jesse said. "My teacher just mentioned fire elements. If I decide to approach the Thorium Brotherhood, I’ll tell you."

"Don’t tell *me*," Greed waved a dismissive hand. "I want no part with those Dark Irons. You go find them. You both love Black Magic; bound to speak the same language."

The dwarf took a swig of beer, bit into his blood sausage, and mumbled, "Gotta say, The Gilded Rose’s blood sausage’s improved. They’re aiming for a true Thelsamar style. Knew Stormwind folk would tire of these so-called ‘improved’ versions. They’ll chase the real thing eventually… Not quite there yet, but it’s progress. Right, Jesse?"

"Right," Jesse nodded.

The next day, Jesse headed to Goldshire to discuss renovating the Mage Tower with Erlan Drudgemoor. First, he needed the Tower of Ilgalar’s deed and documents from Andromath.

At the Wizard’s Sanctum Mage Tower entrance, the guard didn’t even check his ring before letting him pass. Walking among blue and white-robed mages gave him the feeling of a graduate visiting old teachers—even though he’d only ever been an apprentice mage, never touching full mage status.

He still craved an official mage’s badge, though asking Andromath for one now felt awkward.

He studied the Sanctum’s décor and style, seeking ideas for his own small tower.

He eyed ancient runes and magic circles, trying to discern if they served a purpose or were mere decoration. Given his studies, this analysis was mostly self-delusion; only anti-demon wards were recognizable to him.

Reaching the top floor, he entered the spiral staircase again. His gaze swept over portraits of famous mages, lingering on Nielas Aran’s strikingly youthful, handsome face—though "youthful" here just meant younger than the white-bearded elders.

Then he spotted a new painting behind Aran’s.

It hadn’t been there last time. Hung recently?

Jesse studied the newcomer. He looked even younger than Nielas Aran, with a thin face and soft features that made him seem almost boyish. Untamed brown hair fell messily over his ears. His chin was slightly raised, his expression blank as he stared out at the viewer.

Wait… was that him?

The painted figure seemed handsomer, more confident. And that bright purple robe…

He’d never worn anything like it.

But the hair…

His eyes dropped to the name spelled in ancient Common script beneath the portrait: Jesse Seso.

Jesse glanced down the hall. No one seemed to be looking his way; everyone was focused on their own business, hurrying past. He lowered his head and walked briskly toward the main hall.

Andromath appeared absent. His assistant was tidying the desk.

"Excuse me," Jesse approached. "When will Master Andromath return?"

The assistant looked up. "Master Seso! You’re finally here. Master Andromath instructed me to handle the Tower of Ilgalar signing. He’s away in Dalaran on business. Is that why you’ve come?"

Off to Dalaran—likely aiding the Kirin Tor with Kel’Thuzad.

Jesse nodded. The assistant pulled an old leather case from under a shelf, muttered a spell to break its seal, and carefully extracted a thick scroll. He spread it on the desk.

Jesse scanned the densely packed clauses, the royal Wrynn seal and the Wizard’s Sanctum’s wax seal attached. He took the assistant’s pen and signed at the bottom.

"Now just imprint your court mage badge seal, Master," the assistant smiled. "The Tower of Ilgalar is yours."