Lich for Hire

Chapter 129: A Massive Windfall

The contract was short, just a single page, but its contents were staggering.

The first clause stated that the elven race would pay a ransom of twenty million gold per elf captive. This figure had originally been something Ambrose tossed out casually. He had even dressed it up with talk about honoring an agreement with the dwarves, triple compensation and all, but he had never imagined that an elf could really fetch twenty million gold. In his estimation, ransoming them for two million each would already have been a profit, even more so than the paladins he had acquired in the past.

And yet Lady Rose had somehow forced the elves to accept that price. Just this one clause alone meant several hundred million in revenue. Ambrose's soulfire burned fiercely with excitement. He could barely imagine what would happen when hundreds of millions of gold coins were fused with the Golden Throne. Would it transform directly into a flying golden palace?

The second clause was equally outrageous. Each year, Ambrose could requisition up to ten million gold coins' worth of magical materials from the elves, valued at seventy percent of the current market price. This provision would last for a full century.

"The elves don't have infinite gold reserves," Black Rose explained. "They still need gold to stabilize their economy. That's why they can only make future payments in magical materials."

Ambrose nodded with satisfaction. "That's more than generous. Magical materials can sometimes be worth more than gold."

Reading on, he saw that, if the peace talks succeeded, the elves would even gift him all the anti-magic weapons they had stockpiled, and would also grant him long-term access to their magical equipment supply chains at the highest possible discounts.

Black Rose did not hide her intent. "That clause is for my benefit. You don't mind, do you?"

"Of course not," Ambrose replied smoothly. "This was our deal from the start."

Ambrose knew perfectly well that Lady Black Rose's lifelong goal was the destruction of the Lyon Empire. Anti-magic weapons were among her most critical strategic assets. From the beginning, this cooperation had been about mutual benefit, each taking what they needed from the elves.

Ambrose gained gold and hard currency in the form of magical materials. Black Rose gained anti-magic weapons and long-term supply contracts negotiated in Ambrose's name, but ultimately for her use.

At this point, though the elves would bleed heavily, they had not yet been wrung dry.

Not yet: that came next.

"...the elves will lend me three divine artifacts?" Ambrose frowned. "What does that even mean?"

Divine artifacts weren't something you lent out. Letting a lich wield elven divine artifacts was outright blasphemy. The elven gods might actually smite them for that.

In essence, divine artifacts were the highest tier of enchanted weapons, but calling them merely the "highest tier" hardly did them justice.

Take the most famous artifact on the continent: the Lyon Empire's demonic dragon armaments, which allowed their wielder to channel divine power in the mortal realm. They practically granted invincibility.

That armor had been forged from the carcass of the tyrannical demonic dragon overthrown by the founding emperor of Lyon. For driving out dragonkind, the emperor had received the blessing of the Lord of Dawn, elevating the armaments into the continent's greatest divine artifact.

The elves were no less favored by the gods. How could they lack artifacts of their own?

Even if theirs were less famous, their power might well rival the demonic dragon armaments. These were relics meant to preserve and strengthen a whole race. That the elves would lend three of them out... That was madness. They likely didn't even have a full dozen such relics.

Gold could be saved again. Magical materials could be cultivated anew. Anti-magic weapons could be reforged. But divine artifacts? Without divine blessings, mortals could scarcely create even one.

With this clause, Black Rose really had wrung them dry.

Of course Ambrose was tempted. But he quickly regained his composure. "Elven artifacts... To be frank, I'd rather squeeze out a few more hundred million gold from them."

It wasn't a matter of ingratitude. He simply couldn't use them.

The elven gods were beings of light and nature. Ambrose was an undead lich. Even if their artifacts were handed to him, it would quite literally burn his hands.

Black Rose shook her head. "The elves aren't fools. I wanted more too, but they wouldn't relent. Lose too much gold and the Court of the Silver Moon's economy will collapse. Mana addiction is deadly, but economic collapse is no less fatal. This was already pressing against their absolute limit."

Ambrose chuckled. "Not quite. They just don't want their standard of living to drop. Even the poorest elf lives better than a human noble."

Black Rose agreed. The elves had lived too comfortably for too long. Overnight poverty was simply unacceptable to them.

"That's why Catherine refused to concede further," Black Rose said calmly. "She chose to put herself on the table instead."

Ambrose froze. "What do you mean by that?"

Black Rose smiled. "The three divine artifacts are on Catherine herself. After this negotiation, barring accidents, she will step down as elven queen. As part of the contract, she herself will be ‘lent' to you for a period of time. Her labor is the elves' greatest payment."

Ambrose: "..."

Black Rose carefully observed his reaction. Liches had no facial expressions, but spiritual fluctuations could still be detected. She was curious how he would respond to acquiring such an overwhelmingly charming elven queen.

After a long pause, Ambrose finally blurted out, "Then I'm losing money on food expenses alone."

Was this elven queen insane?

What did a peace-loving lich need an elven queen for? To slow down his experiments?

She wasn't selling her body, just working for him. He couldn't even resell her. And he'd have to support a pampered monarch accustomed to luxury for decades. The cost would be astronomical.

After some thought, Ambrose concluded, "She's drowning in guilt and trying to atone in the dumbest way possible."

Black Rose nodded. "Obviously. Catherine believes she caused immense losses to her people, so she's chosen this tedious form of self-punishment."

"Living beings are driven by emotion," Ambrose sneered. "They sacrifice themselves to feel better. Childish."

Her sacrifice seemed noble, but in truth, it was a form of escape. Catherine lacked the confidence to keep the secret buried, to face the backlash once it surfaced, and to continue ruling under that pressure. Selling herself into servitude was simply the easiest exit route.

If elven law permitted suicide, she might have ended her life long ago.

Black Rose agreed. Catherine was naive—overprotected, perhaps—but not corrupt. Given her talent and beauty, if she had wandered the continent freely, wars might have broken out over her. That she remained kind and willing to sacrifice herself spoke well of her nature.

In that sense, the elves had chosen their queen wisely.

"Serving a lich as penance," Ambrose muttered. "The arrogance of high elves never changes. But since you agreed to this clause, Lady Rose, you must already have plans for her.

"How about I turn the elven queen over to you?"

Black Rose's smile remained unchanged, but inwardly she was delighted. That Ambrose was willing to part with such a peerless beauty convinced her further that his feelings toward her were genuine. Even she herself had nearly been undone by Catherine's tears during the negotiations.

Fortunately, a reminder of her true goals had disabused her of that notion: all this is to destroy the Lyon Empire.

"Exactly my thoughts," Black Rose said. "Catherine is extremely valuable. We undead can barely resist her charm, but humans won't stand a chance. Used well, she might even tear the Lyon Empire apart from within."

Ambrose rubbed his hands excitedly. "So... you're saying you'll accept her?"

How should he charge rent for her? By the second, surely.

But Black Rose shook her head. "Not so fast. We still have a price to pay. Your sealing technique must be fully transferred to the elves. They're buying it outright. There's no way to keep bleeding them indefinitely."

"I expected that," Ambrose replied calmly. "This is about survival. Even if I hoarded the technique, once they had samples, they'd crack it eventually. Their overall magical prowess far surpasses mine. Better to cash out cleanly."

He had briefly considered draining the elves via intellectual property rights, but that was impossible.

The elves were excellent spellcasters. They simply hadn't thought of approaching the problem via the Weft. Ambrose had found the right path through intuition, shaving potential centuries off theoretical research.

Another problem was acquiring information about the Weft to begin with. The elves could hardly have accessed that information, and wouldn't have had a foundation for their research.

But Ambrose had already developed the finished product. With an example of the seal in hand, reverse engineering was far easier.

Take the Internet of his previous life, for example: hackers might not be able to make great games, but no company could stop them from cracking one.

And this wasn't for mere entertainment, but rather a cure for extinction.

In a crisis like this, the elves wouldn't care about copyright. If Ambrose caused a delay, the mana addiction epidemic would flare up—and they might even tear him apart to vent their rage.

Business didn't require mutual destruction. It would be best for him to give them what they wanted cleanly.

Black Rose continued, "One more thing. All these clauses only take effect after the peace talks succeed."

"According to our plan," Ambrose said, "the dwarves will take most of Alkhemia's land, the elves will take the integrated alchemical facilities, and those facilities will mass-produce sealing scrolls to cure the elves' mana addiction. It's the perfect ending. Let's hope nothing goes wrong."

Despite his words, unease crept into his soul.

His intuition warned him that disaster was soon to follow. The worst part was not knowing just how bad the coming misfortune would be.

After some thought, Ambrose continued, "There are still a few days before negotiations. Let's prepare more."

Fate was giving him a warning. In that case, he'd assume the worst and hope for the best.