The Slaughtered Lamb... Wasn't a group of warlock trainers hiding inside?

Jess sat beneath the shade of a nearby tree and watched for a while. The tavern did receive ordinary customers, but it was clearly much quieter than the other tavern near the Wizard's Sanctum.

In human society at this time, the Church and the Kirin Tor prohibited the study of knowledge connected to demons.

Although those policies had loosened somewhat after the war against the orcs—senior mages and researchers from Dalaran to the Wizard's Sanctum had begun limited studies of demons in hopes of preparing for another invasion—ordinary people were nowhere near as accepting of warlocks as they had been in the game.

Even so, the secret circle of warlocks hidden in this tavern would remain undiscovered for more than another decade. That alone showed how discreetly and carefully they operated.

If the path through the Wizard's Sanctum was closed to him, could he perhaps find work among these warlocks?

The Slaughtered Lamb looked much the same as it would more than a decade later: an inconspicuous entrance and an old, shabby interior.

A sheet of coarse paper, half torn away, clung beside the door. The remaining half bore a few blurred words: "Workers wanted... healthy... compensation... outsiders preferred..."

Was that not describing him perfectly?

Only one bartender minded the quiet tavern: a dark-skinned man with a handlebar mustache and two thick braids in a barbarian style.

Though he was alone, he did not appear particularly busy.

Several men sat apart in the corners, drinking alone. Most wore plain clothes and had sturdy builds, much like the laborers Jess worked beside.

For an establishment in the Mage Quarter, there was not a single mage or apprentice among its customers. Perhaps the tavern had been opened from the beginning to serve workers repairing the quarter's buildings.

The bartender stopped polishing his cup and glared at Jess. He looked less like a man waiting to serve a customer than a butcher waiting for a hog to climb onto the chopping block by itself.

Jess began to have second thoughts, but turning around and leaving now would look even more unnatural.

"Mead, malt ale, dwarven stout, red wine," the bartender muttered.

"I'm not here to drink." Jess stepped up to the bar. "Are you short on help, sir? I saw the notice outside."

The man narrowed his eyes, bit his lower lip, and said slowly in heavily accented Common, "Get out."

Jess nodded and turned away. From the corner of his eye, he glanced toward the back of the taproom, where a dark doorway lay behind a corridor blocked by wine crates.

If he remembered correctly, that should be the hidden entrance to the basement. At the lowest level would be the place where the warlocks concealed themselves.

"Sorry." He looked back at the man. "Someone told me there was work here. I saw you were alone and thought you really might need the help. If I've offended you in any way, I apologize."

With that, Jess raised his eyebrows and continued toward the door.

On impulse, he had invented a nonexistent person who had sent him here. He did not fully understand why. Perhaps he wanted to shift responsibility, or perhaps he thought a secret organization like this would be more willing to accept someone with an introduction.

Unexpectedly, it worked.

"Who sent you?" the man suddenly called.

"Well... quite a few people have mentioned it." Jess started for the door again, but the man's tone softened. "You need money, boy?"

"I do."

"What's your name?"

"Jess."

"Follow me, Jess."

The man turned toward the hidden doorway. Jess followed, glancing along the way at the silent men drinking in the corners. They all behaved as though they had seen and heard nothing, never once looking over.

The place concealed inside the Slaughtered Lamb could hardly be called a cellar.

It was practically a dungeon.

After passing through a narrow corridor packed with wooden crates, they crossed an iron door and entered an area resembling an underground prison. Its scale was entirely different from the game.

Even if the place were exposed one day and Stormwind patrols stormed inside, they might never find their way through it. The people hiding here, meanwhile, would have no trouble escaping.

The man lit a torch and beckoned Jess onward.

"You tell no one about anything you see here, boy. If you talk, we'll know who did it... and then you'll find yourself in a very, very bad situation."

His heavy accent made the word "very" sound so peculiar that it dispelled much of the place's terrifying atmosphere.

"I only need money," Jess said. "I don't want trouble."

"Good. That's very good." The man stopped at the iron door of a cell and tapped lightly.

The rap of knuckles against metal rang through the entire underground complex. Jess stared into the absolute darkness at the far end of the corridor. The returning echoes made him feel as though countless eyes were watching him from within it.

"Erlan, are you still in there?" the man asked through the door.

"Can't you wait?" someone inside panted irritably.

"Is Surena in there too?" The man frowned. "I found you a helper. Strong fellow."

"Go away, Zare!" a woman cursed from inside.

Not long afterward, a broad, bare-chested young man cracked open the door. One hand still held up his trousers, and a dense smell of sweat drifted out from the room.

"This is the man. What was your name again?"

"Jess."

"I'm Erlan. Good to meet you, Jess." The man named Erlan extended his hand. Jess glanced at it without taking it. Erlan seemed to realize the problem himself and withdrew the hand to wipe it on his trousers.

"We'll be out soon. Very soon. Take our guest to the practice room." With that, he slammed the door shut.

"It's the middle of the day, those bastards." The Black man cursed under his breath, then glanced at Jess. "Right. I'm Zare. Zare Morl."

Jess nodded. He had no idea what awaited him, but at least his life did not seem to be in immediate danger.

The Slaughtered Lamb completely lacked the grim, murderous air it would acquire later. Perhaps the dark-magic practitioners hiding here in this era had not yet grown so powerful. They were merely novices experimenting on their own, taking inspiration from the power of orc warlocks.

"I need to watch the tavern," Zare said. "You can go on by yourself, Jess. Follow that way to the end. The largest room, the one with all the barrels."

"When you leave, remember to collect your pay at the bar."

"Paid daily? How much each time?"

Zare held up two fingers and waved them back and forth. "Two silver."

Two silver?!

After Zare left, Jess followed his directions to the so-called practice room. It held no training weapons such as wooden swords or knives. Apart from several barrels that might or might not contain alcohol, the room was completely empty.

Then an ominous odor of decay began to seep into his nose. It was entirely unlike rotting wood or fermenting fruit, yet it was not quite foul enough to call a stench. Whatever it was, it made him deeply uncomfortable.

After sniffing around the basement for some time, he traced it to the base of a wooden support post, though he still could not identify the source.

Jess hesitated, but two silver for a single job was too rare an opportunity to give up.

A quick calculation told him that two visits a month would cover his rent. Thirty visits a month, and in two months he could save a whole gold coin. At that rate, a full year would almost buy him a toilet in the Old Town.

Then why not come once in the morning and once at night? That would make four silver a day.

The thought gave him a sudden, ominous feeling.

Exactly. Why couldn't he come twice a day?

Why did one session pay two silver? What kind of work was this?

Hundreds of wild possibilities raced through Jess's mind. The more he considered them, the more certain he became that he should leave immediately. But two silver... It was two whole silver.

Then Erlan walked in, and Jess's frantic thoughts ground to a halt.

A dark-skinned woman followed him. She was presumably Surena, whom Zare had mentioned earlier. Both were in their twenties and not much older than Jess.

Jess vaguely remembered Surena but could not recall exactly who she was. Whoever she might be, she was no good character. Her skin was darker even than Zare's, and she wore a dark gray robe. In the dim room, he could barely make her out; only her eyes seemed to drift through the darkness.

Erlan, by contrast, was frighteningly pale, as if he had not left the basement in months.

Apparently noticing Jess's concern, Erlan smiled. "Don't be afraid, little brother Jess. We're only conducting a simple test. Lady Surena will perform it, and she always knows when to stop."

"Are you ready?" Surena asked coldly.

"Who needs to be ready, Mr. Erlan or me?" Jess asked. "If it's me, how exactly should I prepare?"

Before he finished speaking, Erlan strode forward and bound him tightly to the wooden post.

Erlan was absurdly strong, far beyond an ordinary man.

He had to be a veteran, some kind of trained warrior, or perhaps one of those work-obsessed members of the Stonemasons' Guild. Jess could not resist and was securely tied in moments.

"Wait. Hold on." Jess forced down his panic. "What are you doing?"

"All right, you can begin." Erlan stepped aside and smiled at Surena.

Surena slowly closed her yellow eyes and vanished completely into the darkness.

She murmured a few words in a language Jess did not understand. Suddenly, pale purple light flared between her slender black fingers, bathing the entire room in an eerie violet glow.

Jess's attention was instantly captured by that strange, dark radiance. Was this... shadow magic?

Arcane magic was not everywhere in Lordaeron, but it was common enough near the arcane academies. Male students often showed off outside, using simple spells such as telekinesis and illumination to attract girls.

Jess had witnessed arcane spells several times and had grown familiar with their mysterious pale blue or white glow.

But this was his first time seeing shadow magic.

The novelty died quickly. A violent ringing filled his ears and strangled every other sense.

Savage pain began at the tips of Jess's limbs and crawled up his forearms and upper arms, through his thighs, and into his chest and abdomen. It felt like a horde of tiny monsters with sharp teeth and claws scrambling over his body.

The pain soon deepened into waves of dull agony, swelling without end everywhere the crawling sensation had passed. It grew so intense he could not speak. His head spun, and nausea surged up his throat.

Erlan leaned closer and whispered, "Look at his veins... It's working, Surena!"

Jess forced his eyes open and glanced at his hand. Dense purple lines had spread across his skin.

"Are you trying to kill me?!"

"You won't die. We don't want to become murderers." Erlan winked. "It's only Curse of Agony... The purpose of the spell is to cause pain, not death."

"Very good, Surena. I think the power of your curse has reached a new level. Both the speed and the effect have improved since last time... And our little brother Jess here is quite a strong fellow. I almost couldn't hold him down just now. Much stronger than the last beggar."

Erlan's words grew clearer as the pain blurred and receded. Jess felt his whole body turn cold. He had sweated through his clothes.

Something had soaked the front of his shirt: the stomach fluid he had vomited. He had not eaten anything all day.

Both his sweat and vomit reeked of that unsettling decay. Jess finally understood where the strange smell in the room came from.

They had brought him here to serve as a training dummy for their DPS, and he was clearly not the first.

Erlan soon untied him and brought over a chair so he could rest, then turned away to discuss something with Surena.

Jess no longer had the energy to listen. His mind was in chaos. All he wanted was to lie in the chair and sleep.

Better yet, sleep forever and forget everything he had just endured.

But he could not sleep. He had to leave this dangerous place, take the money, and go.

Staggering in a daze, he somehow found himself on the lawn outside the Wizard's Sanctum with three silver coins clenched in his hand. He had no idea why they had paid him three.

He raised his head. The sun stood directly overhead, baking everything on the ground, and the scent of biscuits drifted through the garden. Jess's stomach growled loudly.

Three silver... He no longer had to worry much about this month's rent.

Put that way, perhaps what he had endured had been worth it.

At noon, he washed his clothes and bathed beside the canal, recovered some strength, and bought a little bread. By the time he returned home, it was already afternoon.

Most warlocks hiding in human cities currently studied dark magic to oppose the orcs or other evils, not because they truly wished to worship demons or the Burning Legion.

Their ultimate goal was still to find acceptance within human society, so they did not dare take lives and provoke even harsher prohibitions.

But what if the people inside had been orcs? Jess had gambled only because he knew how this group would develop later. He could not take such reckless chances in places he knew nothing about.

Lost in thought, he returned to the Trade District. By evening, many laborers were lying against the walls to rest. In front of the tenement where Jess rented his room, a familiar figure waited for him.

"Where did you go, Jess Seso?"

Jess narrowed his eyes as he chewed his bread. It was Gred.