Chapter 776

Chapter 776: Name Spreads Three Hammers

The guard grabbed Jesse’s hand and spoke to a few nearby dwarves, who immediately grew excited. One golden-bearded dwarf approached Jesse and asked, "Are you Jesse Seso? The real Jesse Seso from Stormwind?!"

Still confused, Jesse nodded since he couldn’t understand them. The golden-bearded dwarf promptly slapped Jesse’s ribs and exclaimed, "Today I meet the legend himself! What brings you to Ironforge, Jesse Seso? Come to chat with King Magni?"

"No, sir," Jesse replied. "I’m looking for someone."

The golden-beard pointed to a doorway at the street corner and said in Common, "The guards here barely speak Common. Follow me, Dragonslayer. I’ll take you to an inn."

He then hitched his trousers, tightened his belt, and marched toward the doorway, waving for Jesse to follow.

Only then did Jesse realize that news of Teron Gorefiend’s defeat and the Grim Batol mission had reached Ironforge before Stormwind’s king.

With Grim Batol’s orcs being Khaz Modan’s greatest threat, the Dragonmaw clan’s collapse had benefited Ironforge most. No wonder Jesse Seso’s name carried such weight here.

Having never visited Ironforge nor considered traveling here, Jesse now felt that fame firsthand.

Though overwhelmed by the dwarves’ enthusiasm—a reflection of his own nature, not theirs—he still felt warmed by it.

Following the golden-beard through a passage, they turned onto a dim, damp stairwell lit only by a corner brazier.

Dwarves jostled on the narrow stairs, greeting everyone they passed with smiles. Jesse first assumed they knew each other, but soon realized Bronzebeard dwarves offered varied greetings—some long, some short, never simple "hellos" or "good mornings"—whether acquainted or not.

After an uncertain time navigating crowded stairs where Jesse nearly lost the golden-beard multiple times, they emerged into a district free of burnt odors. Instead, the air hung thick with fermenting bread and ale. Unlike the fifth tier’s high ceilings and towering buildings, this level had low ceilings and compact houses. Countless small doorways and windows glowed along the rock walls, pulsing with life.

Many outsiders appeared here—humans, elves—making Jesse feel less conspicuous.

"This way, Jesse Seso!" The golden-beard pushed through the crowd. "I know an innkeeper. Stick with me."

Watching his back, Jesse recalled his past life’s hotel-touting cabbies and grew wary.

But shop signs displaying "beds" and "tankards" confirmed this was Ironforge’s lodging and dining district. Since the golden-beard led him here, Jesse decided he’d accept any inn—unless the price gouged him outright.

While walking, Jesse spotted a shop marked by an arrow-pierced stag. "A hunting gear store, sir?"

"No," said the golden-beard. "A hunters’ guild."

"Nesingwary?" Jesse asked.

"Hemet Nesingwary! You know that legend?" The golden-beard looked shocked but shook his head. "Their family’s famous, Jesse Seso. But I’m no hunter—can’t recall guild names. That’s definitely not Nesingwary’s outfit; just another guild."

Jesse glanced back at the stag-sign, remembering an unfinished Kalimdor task—or rather, unearned fortune: tracking the crocodile Rotgrip deep in Maraudon.

He’d planned to find legendary hunter Hemet Nesingwary in Ironforge with Greed after returning… until Grim Batol derailed everything.

Now in Ironforge, he didn’t need the Nesingwarys. Many dwarf hunters rivaled Hemet, hungering for glory. Competitors might pay more for the "Rotgrip Slayer" title.

*Tomorrow morning,* he decided. *I’ll visit that guild.*

After several passages, they reached a modest inn. The golden-beard pointed to its smiling-crescent-moon sign. "Here we are."

Inside the cramped foyer, drunken dwarves mumbled over drinks. The innkeeper eyed Jesse’s clothes, ring, and coin pouch, then beamed: "Welcome, brave human friend! Only two…"

The golden-beard slammed the counter, snarling in Dwarvish. The innkeeper frowned at the interruption but listened—his annoyance shifting to awe as he stared at Jesse.

The drinkers turned too, curious.

"A true Dragonslayer in my inn?!" The innkeeper vaulted the counter, grabbed Jesse’s cloak, and gasped: "And no ordinary dragon—a black dragon’s ancestor! By my beard! Why didn’t kings or lords warn me?!"

"Your fame’s spread from Grim Batol to Ironforge to Aerie Peak! Even Franklorn Ironforge’s great furnace must’ve heard! Charging you? Forget that nonsense, mage! Stay as long as you like…"