Lich for Hire

Chapter 91: The Storm Rises

Black Rose was clearly in a good mood after returning to the Umbral Depths. Though the trip aboveground had yielded no tangible gains, she had fought Lyon and slain quite a few paladins, more than enough to keep her spirits high for a long while.

The only regret was Ambrose. In the end, she had not managed the kind of love-at-first-sight her close friends liked to boast about.

Where had things gone wrong? She had even handed over his phylactery. What crucial step had she missed?

Before returning, Black Rose had a long talk with Alabastra, only to receive a devastatingly reasonable reply: "If you really had fallen in love at first sight, you'd have already dragged him home."

It was flawless logic. Black Rose had no rebuttal. She had long accepted that she might never understand love. After all, she had never experienced it while alive—and, as an undead, she had no heart with which to do so.

Still, Ambrose would be a valuable ally. After learning of the current situation, Black Rose suggested that he relocate.

Of course, it would be ideal if he could move directly to the Umbral Depths. It was an undead paradise. But she could not bring it up herself; doing so too openly would only make Ambrose wary. Conflicts among undead were often far more vicious than those among the living. The living fought over money, but undead coveted even one another's souls.

Better to wait until Ambrose accepted the idea of moving on his own, then gently guide him toward the Umbral Depths.

Ambrose was seriously considering relocation. Now that he possessed a vast private extradimensional space, leaving wasn't particularly difficult. He could simply pack up the valuables and go.

The real problem was rebuilding.

Constructing another castle, especially one suitable for his needs, would be a long-term project. This one had consumed enormous effort. Every laboratory and storage chamber had its own requirements: ventilation, lighting, soundproofing, containment. You couldn't just smash rocks together and call it a day. Slow, careful craftsmanship was required. Rebuilding it all would be a nightmare.

He voiced this concern in the group chat. [Megaman Tiga: Moving is an option, but rebuilding my lab would be a huge hassle. It'd take years at least.]

Black Rose thought to herself, "Perfect." In the Umbral Depths, she could have any kind of laboratory built for him. The deep gnomes were master craftsmen. If that wasn't enough, there were gray dwarves and the drow as well. She had no shortage of skilled artisans. Building a laboratory would be trivial.

Before she could make her suggestion, however, someone else chimed in.

[Human-Hater: Why run? Places where undead can survive aren't exactly easy to find these days. These are chaotic times, and you might as well expand your territory while you can. You're a lich. Don't you think you can outlast dwarves and elves in a war? If things go south, you can always run later. Hide your phylactery properly and do whatever you want.]

Black Rose nearly tore that vampire apart through her Codex.

Ambrose, however, found himself deep in thought.

The vampire had a point. The Golden Kingdom of Sarcoma, though ruled by desert dwarves, practiced large-scale integration. It was nearly as open and tolerant, just poorer.

As for the Court of the Silver Moon, Ambrose had never liked those beansprout elves to begin with. If they wanted to grab his land, he'd leave them with a "present" or two.

Now that he had a secure extradimensional space, he had far more room for error. Perhaps he really could test his strength against the elves. And if it went badly, he could run later.

Ambrose replied immediately. [Megaman Tiga: You're right. No reason to let those beansprouts have it easy.]

[Human-Hater: Not just the elves. The desert dwarves aren't saints either. Take them all on!]

[Dullahan's Crown: Aren't you a desert dwarf yourself?]

[Human-Hater: I'm a vampire. Once you're reborn as a vampire, your original race doesn't count. By your logic, you'd be human—but the Lyon Empire's still dead-set on hunting you down!]

At that point, Ambrose couldn't help but imagine an absurd scene.

Misty moonlight spilled over a luxurious black suit and glinted coldly off silver embroidery. Violet-red eyes emerge as a legendary vampire strides forward... a stocky, knee-high vampire.

It was quite an awkward image.

[Human-Hater Anyway, you should take down all the elves or desert dwarves you see. I'll even send you some gargoyles. Good stuff, guaranteed.]

Ambrose caught a whiff of someone enjoying the chaos far too much.

[Megaman Tiga: Senior, do you have beef with both elves and desert dwarves?]

[Dullahan's Crown: Hahaha! After he turned into a vampire, the desert dwarves began a non-stop campaign of discrimination against him. If I hadn't happened to pass by, he'd have burned to death in the sun already.]

[Human-Hater: Hey! Spare me a little dignity in front of the newbie. Besides, didn't I pay you over a million gold as a thank-you fee?]

[Pale Little Skeleton: Oh, is that so? Do tell.]

The Dullahan promptly went silent. He didn't respond to any further messages.

Ambrose could only sigh. Wealth was nice, but it did come with side effects.

[Megaman Tiga: Didn't the Golden Kingdom adopt a policy of integration? Yet they still ostracized vampires?]

[Human-Hater: That policy's only been around for the last century or so. By the time I turned, the Golden Kingdom hadn't yet been beaten into the dirt by Lyon. They weren't extremely xenophobic, but they weren't exactly friendly to undead either.]

Ambrose had only visited the Golden Kingdom once or twice while alive. It was only after becoming a lich that he began carefully researching which kingdoms discriminated less against the undead.

[Human-Hater: Keep it up, newbie. May the Elegiac Society produce another ruler like our dear Lady Rose. Alkhemia's too good a prize to pass up.]

[Megaman Tiga: I understand. By the way, when are the gargoyles arriving? Will you cover shipping, too?]

[Human-Hater: ...Can I take that back? I was just trying to be polite.]

Before Ambrose could reply, Black Rose delivered a finishing blow.

[Black Rose: I think not. Breaking one's word would disgrace the name of the Elegiac Society. Are you prepared to insult me as well?]

[Human-Hater: N-No, Your Majesty, of course not! Gargoyles, right? I'll send two over immediately.]

[Black Rose: Just two? How miserly you are!]

[Human-Hater: Alright, alright, twenty! That's my limit!]

[Black Rose: That's more like it.]

Watching Black Rose secure twenty gargoyles for him with just a few words, Ambrose felt a sudden surge of admiration. She was wealthy, generous, and domineering. No wonder she was a queen.

That said, gargoyles varied wildly in price depending on material. Cheap ones cost about a thousand gold apiece; premium versions could run up to tens of thousands.

After a moment's thought, Ambrose added: [Megaman Tiga: Are they enchanted obsidian gargoyles? Those cost over twenty thousand gold each. That would be way too much.]

The dwarf vampire didn't reply for a long time. He had probably logged out to prepare the gargoyles for shipment.

Ambrose felt genuinely warm inside. His friends in the Elegiac Society were so kind and loving.

Friends who gave gifts this expensive surely wouldn't deliberately harm him, so he began to seriously consider the suggestion of kingship.

Becoming a king was out of the question. Ambrose knew himself well. He was better suited to research than rule. Managing an empire would be pure torment.

It was strictly preferable for him to be in a kingdom that didn't belong to him. Under such circumstances, he could easily drain gold from the kingdom. If he owned the kingdom to begin with, though, everything would already be his. Whom could he even fleece? Worse, every expense would feel like he was tearing flesh off his body.

He could not endure such a life for even a day.

Conquest aside, perhaps he could teach those elves a lesson and show them what the true wrath of a lich.

But first... what exactly was happening in Alkhemia now?

Only then did Ambrose realize he had been so absorbed in his experiments that he had completely ignored the outside world.

"Oh, right. I still had a bunch of subjects who ran off. The Lyon Empire wouldn't massacre civilians. They probably fled into neighboring territories."

That would not do. Absolutely not. Those were his assets. Fleecing others was fine, but letting others profit off him was not.

Ambrose decisively left his laboratory and stepped outside the castle.

He fixed his gaze on the nearby territories and took off at once.

............

The sudden disappearance of Alkhemia had had an enormous impact on the surrounding lands.

The very day the city rose into the sky and vanished, every lord who received word dispatched scouts to investigate.

Once it was confirmed that the city—and its lofty alchemists—were truly gone, everyone understood that war was coming.

The cautious strengthened their defenses. The aggressive launched immediate attacks on neighboring lands.

Population, gold, grain, anything of value...

With chaos approaching, the lords who had once lived under Alkhemia's protection now had to plan for their own survival.

Weaker lords sought alliances. Stronger lords spread maps across their tables as they decided which territory to devour first.

In just three days, over a dozen small-scale battles had erupted around the former perimeter of Alkhemia. The death toll had already exceeded one hundred.

Adventurers, sniffing out commissions like hounds, poured into the fray.

The Porcupine Knight was an enterprising lord. In this perilous moment, he chose to band together in an alliance and strike at others.

Those who had once joined him in subjugating Ambrose—and later in annexing others' lands—became natural allies.

Overnight, the Porcupine Knight formalized their alliance, unified their forces, and launched rapid strikes against two minor territories, linking their lands together before immediately consolidating resources and erecting defenses.

Curiously, although Ambrose's territory lay nearby, none of the lords dared approach it. That massive castle was far superior to most petty lords' ramshackle manors. It was defensible, well-positioned, and immensely valuable.

Yet the Porcupine Knight resisted the temptation. Even after hearing that paladins had "purified" the castle, he still dared not claim it—at least, not yet.

The horrors of that day had become a shared nightmare. He would never again set foot in that cursed place unless he had no other choice.

Staring at the crude map on his desk, the Porcupine Knight felt a headache coming on.

Though he had reacted quickly and now commanded one of the larger local forces, his troops were still insufficient. He had lost much of his forces in the lich campaign, and then more had been taken away by the paladins. Even maintaining his current territory with his remaining forces would be a strain.

Rubbing his temples, he muttered, "If Harvey were still here, he might have some advice."

He had never thought much of that mage apprentice. He had hired him only because he couldn't afford a real wizard. Yet in hindsight, every suggestion Harvey made had been reasonable. And every time, he had ignored it.

"Anyone who can become a mage apprentice is clearly smarter than me. Why didn't I trust him?"

It was too late for regrets. If the heavens saw fit to give him another such opportunity, he surely wouldn't waste it.

A gust of wind caused the candlelight to flicker. A nervous servant hurried in. "Milord, a mage requests an audience."

The Porcupine Knight sprang up. "A mage? Is it Harvey?"

The servant shook his head. "No, milord. It's a blond elf with several companions. They look like an adventuring party."

"An elf? Full-blooded, or a half-elf?" the Porcupine Knight asked.

The servant hesitated. "I... I can't really tell. They all have pointed ears and blond hair, and are very good-looking."

The Porcupine Knight frowned. That didn't sound like an adventuring party at all. Just what was a group composed entirely of elves doing here?