From the very beginning, Evenson had never expected words alone to convince them.
Why would they?
Human civilization had existed for, what, six or seven thousand years? The two Eredar before him had lived for at least ten thousand. They had watched empires rise, worlds burn, and civilizations vanish into ash long before humanity had learned to build cities.
More importantly, they weren’t brainless Pit Lords who solved every problem by swinging a giant axe.
They were Eredar.
The trusted lieutenants of the Deceiver himself.
If anyone thought they could bluff creatures like that with a few clever lies, they’d have better odds trying to out-conspire a Dreadlord.
And even if the twins accepted his story...
So what?
The Burning Legion wasn’t a family.
It was a ruthless hierarchy where strength determined everything. Loyalty didn’t earn friendship. It earned orders.
Given the gulf between their power and his, there were only two realistic outcomes.
He died.
Or he became someone’s obedient servant.
That was exactly why he’d briefly revealed the other two Artifact Weapons.
Yes, it strengthened his story.
More importantly, it sent a very clear message.
I’m not helpless.
Push me too far, and I have enough firepower to make sure nobody walks away.
Fortunately, the strategy seemed to be working.
The Eredar Twins hadn’t attacked.
They’d even admitted they were willing to believe... at least part of what he’d said.
Unfortunately, they had also decided to "verify" his identity.
That was the part Evenson hadn’t planned for.
"Heh..." he laughed awkwardly. "I’m not Gul’dan or Talon Gorefiend. I’m not exactly famous."
He was hardly one of those legendary warlocks whose names echoed across the Twisting Nether.
If nobody had ever heard of him...
That was perfectly normal.
Saltheril laughed, her voice rich with amusement.
"Of course. Naturally. In an unexplored world the Legion hasn’t yet claimed, an insignificant warlock attracting no attention is completely believable."
"Thanks," Evenson muttered.
Understanding really is a beautiful thing.
"So..." Altheressa continued, smoothly picking up where her sister left off as she bent to retrieve something from the shattered ritual circle.
"We’ll simply ask..."
She lifted the broken staff.
"...someone who definitely knows you."
Evenson’s eye twitched.
That ruined staff had been one of the ritual catalysts.
More specifically...
It had once belonged to Altheressa herself.
"We remember exactly who we entrusted these relics to," Saltheril said as she picked up the broken half of her dagger.
"So why not ask that person?"
"I certainly hope..." Flames flashed across Altheressa’s fingers.
The broken staff instantly crumbled into ash.
"...you truly performed this ritual to rescue us."
Saltheril crushed the broken dagger into drifting shadow.
"Because I’d hate to hear a different story from its former keeper."
"Be my guest," Evenson replied with a strained smile.
At last...
Everything clicked.
He’d been played.
Completely.
He’d wondered why, out of the endless sea of demons in the Twisting Nether, the ritual had just happened to summon the imprisoned Eredar Twins. Demons he couldn’t hope to control.
Now he had his answer.
Someone had arranged it from the very beginning.
Altheressa casually raised a hand.
Fel magic rippled through the air.
A tall, elegant figure materialized before them.
Agatha.
Like Evenson whenever he projected himself into the Nether, she appeared only as a translucent spiritual projection. Her true body was almost certainly still at the Fissure of Woe.
The moment she arrived, Agatha dropped to one knee.
Her six arms crossed reverently over her chest.
"My ladies... seeing you safely returned is the greatest honor I could have hoped for."
Of course it’s you.
Evenson wasn’t surprised in the slightest.
By now, he’d pieced everything together.
Back when the Fissure of Woe had served as one of the Legion’s front-line strongholds, the Eredar Twins had been stationed there.
Agatha, a powerful Shivarra, had served them directly.
And Shivarra were famously, almost fanatically, loyal to the masters they acknowledged.
Illidan’s own followers proved that well enough.
Eventually the Legion’s campaign moved elsewhere.
The twins departed with the invasion force.
Agatha remained behind.
Before leaving, whether by design or simple convenience, the twins had left their old weapons in her care.
Given that they still remembered the details after thousands of years...
It probably hadn’t been an accident.
Originally, Agatha had likely just been collecting ritual catalysts as merchandise. During all of Evenson’s previous visits, she’d never hinted at anything unusual.
But recently...
She must have sensed the faint connection still lingering within those discarded weapons.
She’d realized her mistresses were in trouble.
So she came up with a plan.
Using Evenson.
She mixed the twins’ ritual catalysts into the pile of worthless relics she’d been selling.
To avoid suspicion, she even included several genuinely useful items.
Summoning catalysts for Dreadlords.
Pit Lords.
Powerful demons that, based on everything she’d learned about Evenson, she knew he would never willingly call.
A Shivarra matron really knows how to manipulate people.
He almost had to admire it.
Almost.
"My faithful servant."
Saltheril smiled warmly.
"It pleases me to see you again. Thank you for everything you’ve done to free us."
"You may stand."
Whether it was gratitude...
Or the awkward realization that Agatha wasn’t much shorter while kneeling than she herself was standing...
Evenson couldn’t tell.
Either way, Agatha rose gracefully.
"I merely fulfilled my duty."
Her posture remained humble.
Then she looked toward Evenson.
"And without this warlock..."
"...none of it would have been possible."
"’None of it would have been possible...’" Altheressa repeated thoughtfully.
Then she turned back to Agatha.
"There is something else."
She spoke unusually slowly, carefully choosing every word.
"This warlock..."
"Is he truly loyal to the Legion?"
"Can..."
"...he be trusted?"
Evenson barely noticed the strange cadence in her voice.
His entire attention was fixed on Agatha.
Her answer would decide everything.
She studied him in silence.
One second.
Two.
Three.
Evenson’s fingers subtly shifted.
If she exposed him...
Forget dignity.
He’d activate every escape spell he had and teleport away before either twin finished blinking.
Artifacts could be replaced.
His life couldn’t.
Finally, Agatha spoke.
"My ladies..."
She met their eyes without hesitation.
"He..."
"...is absolutely worthy of your trust."
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