Lich for Hire

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."