Chapter 110: Release the Enslaved Children First

Chapter 110: Release the Enslaved Children First

Fate had always enjoyed cruel jokes.

Not long ago, Ambrose had been calculating how many elves he would slaughter on the battlefield, just to teach them the wrath of a lich. Now, he was forced to consider how to stop the war altogether. To outsiders, the reversal might seem ironic or amusing. To Ambrose, it was enough to make his soul go into shock.

Fate never changed.

Just when he thought he had his life planned out, unseen waves crashed down on him and left him reeling. When he finally grabbed what seemed to be a lifeline, he discovered a fishhook hidden within it. Thinking back on those memories made Ambrose feel a chill seep through his bones, as though even his marrow was being chilled by the wind.

Still, he knew perfectly well that this decision was the right one.

Ever since he had gained the power of divination, his instincts had been eerily accurate. Even after he deliberately sealed that ability away, he could still make vague judgments about the future. It had become a passive effect, something that could not be fully removed no matter what he did.

And now that his skill at divination had rebounded in full, manifesting as a legendary boon, it was even worse. If he focused even slightly, premonitions would surge forward with overwhelming clarity. They were impossible to ignore.

This meant that his decision to negotiate with the elves was not mere recklessness. It was because he could already sense that this choice would lead to his desired outcome.

"I really need to find a god to worship," Ambrose muttered to himself, entertaining an almost impossible idea. "Maybe one of them can help me seal this ability again."

With that, he stepped into his extradimensional space again.

The elves trapped in the prison cells were still frozen in stopped time. Naya and Cicero remained locked in the exact postures they had held mid-argument.

When Ambrose lifted the time stop, neither of them immediately noticed his presence.

"I never should have agreed to let a minor join the Twilight Wardens," Cicero snapped angrily. "Not even a so-called prodigy!"

Naya knew she had messed up, but she protested with equal indignation. "I swear to the gods, I didn't say anything! That lich must have used some spell to read my memories! That has to be it!"

Standing outside the cell, Ambrose laughed cheerfully. "The elves' divine blessing against mind control isn't something I can undo, I'm afraid. But exaggerating the enemy's powers does make it easier to ease your conscience. I get that. Still, isn't saying something like that rather blasphemous?"

The moment the elves heard his voice, they all jumped.

No one had been there just a second ago. How had he appeared without any warning whatsoever?

Naya's face went pale. Had she really committed blasphemy?

Seeing her expression, Cicero immediately suppressed his anger and said calmly, "Don't listen to this lich's nonsense. He's trying to disrupt your mental state. The gods wouldn't condemn us over such an unintentional slip."

Yet even as he spoke, Cicero himself felt tense.

This lich was the most troublesome enemy he had ever faced—not only because of his strength, but because of his mouth. He could talk the dead back to life, or drive the living to suicide.

A single offhand remark was enough to break someone's mental defenses. From the smallest twitch of expression, he could infer a person's inner thoughts. The elves' blessing against mental manipulation was practically meaningless in front of him.

Ambrose simply stood there, saying nothing, smiling amiably in his human form as he stared at Cicero.

After a few seconds, Cicero cracked. "What do you want, lich?!" he shouted. "If you have the guts, then kill us!"

"Heh. Same old line. What good does it do me to kill you and send you off to the elven version of heaven?"

Ambrose stepped into the cell, walked slowly through the group of elves, and stopped in front of Cicero. "Relax. I'm not here to torture you, and I'm not here to extract information. Everything I want to know, I already know. I'm just here to inform you that, in a few days, you'll be sent to the desert. Please prepare yourselves. Try not to commit suicide until after the transaction is complete. I promise that as long as you don't die here, I won't desecrate your corpses. Fair enough?"

Before Cicero could respond, Naya cried out, "What do you mean? What transaction are you talking about?!"

"Naya, shut up!" Cicero barked.

"But—" Her face flushed red with panic. Under his furious glare, she swallowed her words and could only glare at Ambrose in silence.

Ambrose continued smiling. "Calm down. I already said I'm not here to torture you. There's no need to get so worked up. You should know that it's not just the elves eyeing this land. The desert dwarves have been beaten back repeatedly by the Lyon Empire and are nearly at their limit. This land is meant to be their strategic fallback.

"As for the rights of a native inhabitant like me? Well, I don't really care if it's you elves or the dwarves that take over. It's just survival of the fittest. I'm not here to complain. I'm just telling you that the desert dwarves paid to buy and interrogate you. I've already agreed. I'm simply informing you out of courtesy so you don't get overly emotional when the deal goes through.

"I hear elves can literally die of heartbreak. Honestly, you're a pain. Other prisoners just need a sleeping draught. You lot require a personal reminder. So please, maintain a healthy mindset."

That was too much for Cicero to endure. "You sold us to those wind-eroded rocks?!" he shouted.

"Whoa," Ambrose said mildly. "That's a pretty racist term. You might want to avoid using it. The dwarves probably wouldn't mind teaching you a lesson."

Because of their environment, desert dwarves were shorter than their kin elsewhere. A shorter stature made it easier to stay grounded in sandstorms. Their skin was rougher too, scarred by wind and grit, giving them an appearance reminiscent of eroded stone.

But they hated that nickname. It was a terrible insult.

Cicero sneered. "If they don't like such an elegant euphemism, I can always just call them ugly little dwarves."

Ambrose made no effort to defend the dwarves. He simply stared at Cicero until the elf shifted uncomfortably.

"Alright, enough. Changing the subject, verbal abuse and emotional outbursts don't mean much to me. You don't need to hide your anxiety. You're afraid that once you're sent to the desert, the dwarves will use you to gain an advantage in the war. Guilt and impotent rage need an outlet. People tend to act foolishly when they're desperate..."

He dissected Cicero's behavior calmly and methodically. The feeling of having his wounds laid bare finally broke Cicero. "What do you really want?! Stop wasting our time!"

"Haha. Good. At least you're still thinking. Only people who can think at a time like this are qualified to negotiate." Ambrose dropped his teasing tone and spoke seriously. "What I want is simple. I want the elves to pay to buy you back. What do you think? That way, none of your intelligence gets leaked."

"Elves do not submit to threats!" Cicero snapped. And yet, when he heard the proposal, his heart skipped.

And he wasn't the only one. Every elf there felt the same way.

If they could be ransomed, their intelligence would remain secure. They could return home alive.

As for the information Ambrose had already deduced... well, they could worry about that later.

Elves were elegant and intelligent by nature, but their willpower was nothing compared to the Lyon Empire's fanatics. At the very least, elves were afraid of death.

Ambrose didn't bother arguing with Cicero. Instead, he addressed the other elves. "Whether this deal succeeds or not, it's still a chance for negotiation. Honestly, I don't bear any deep grudge against the elves. Think about it. I'm the one being invaded here. To me, the desert dwarves' invasion and the elves' invasion are the same thing. The only difference is that the dwarves aren't as arrogant as you are.

"If you're willing to set that arrogance aside and talk to me, I can put you back on equal footing with the dwarves. That would benefit your race's strategic objectives as well—and not just yours, but the other Twilight Wardens' too.

"You don't honestly believe that other Twilight Wardens would fare any better if they ran into me, do you?"

By framing himself as the victim, adopting the elves' perspective, and invoking the fate of other elves, Ambrose dismantled their resistance piece by piece. The cell fell silent. Even Cicero stopped arguing.

The logic was half-sound, half-nonsense.

But sometimes, truth didn't matter. All that mattered was framing.

By invoking the greater good of the elven race, Ambrose was giving them a good reason to back down.

Naya, the youngest among them, was the first to be convinced.

In a small voice, she said to Cicero, "Maybe... maybe he's right. We need to think about the overall elven plan. If we're sent to the desert, things could go very badly."

The others began to speak up as well. If there was a choice, being ransomed was clearly better. Capture was a disgrace, but as long as they lived, there would always be a chance to wash that shame away.

Cicero looked at his companions and understood that further resistance was meaningless. This lich was far too skilled at manipulating hearts. The Twilight Wardens' resolve had already crumbled. Even if Cicero refused, someone else would deliver the message. And the elven leadership would certainly consider Ambrose's proposal.

The likely outcome was obvious: dwarves and elves sitting at the same negotiation table, bidding against one another, while the lich walked away with overflowing coffers.

Everything since their capture had been part of this lich's calculations.

At last, Cicero said helplessly, "Fine. If you release me, I'll take your message back."

Outwardly he agreed, but inwardly he resolved to report this lich's terrifying nature in detail. The elves needed to be warned to avoid being completely led by the nose in future negotiations. As he reviewed their earlier battles, Cicero realized there were countless details worth analyzing. If all of it were documented and sent back, the elves might uncover crucial insights.

Ambrose chuckled. "What are you talking about? I never said I'd release you."

The elves gaped in shock. Ambrose turned to Naya. "You heard everything I said. Go back and relay it to your people."

"Wait!" Cicero cried. "Naya... She..."

Ambrose frowned and sneered. "Minors first. Ladies first. What's wrong with that? Don't tell me the esteemed leader of the Twilight Wardens is planning to run away himself and leave a child behind as a prisoner?"

Every elf present instinctively looked at Cicero.

He clenched his teeth and fists. He was already regretting having agreed to the proposal.

A girl as naïve as Naya... She'd probably help him count the proceeds from selling her!