Chapter 94: War Loans

Ambrose sat across from the Porcupine Knight, idly turning over the twin swords over in his hands, curiosity glinting in his empty eye sockets.

The elves had all been stuffed into his extradimensional space. With a personal pocket where time itself could be halted, there was no need for magic suppression at all—just toss them in and freeze everything. Simple.

There was nothing particularly special about those elves. These two swords, though, were unusual.

At first, Ambrose had assumed they were enchanted specifically to pierce a Mage Shield. He was wrong. The magical runes etched along the blades were highly unusual, so unusual that even Ambrose had never seen their like.

A closer examination revealed the truth: the twin shortswords functioned like magical black holes that were capable of absorbing mana itself.

When they struck a Mage Shield, they would siphon away part of its mana, destabilizing the structure and allowing the blade to punch through.

This was no ordinary "anti-magic" effect. The mana drained from the shield could be channeled directly into the wielder's body.

"Whoever uses weapons like these," Ambrose muttered, "is really in a hurry to die."

Mana was hardly some sort of qi that could be casually transferred from person to person. Someone else's mana was more like poison than power.

Were these elves willing to slowly commit suicide just to strengthen themselves a little?

The elf he'd faced earlier certainly seemed to possess that sort of reckless, self-destructive resolve.

The Porcupine Knight sat stiffly across from Ambrose, his unease plainly evident. He had no idea what this powerful necromancer intended to do. Earlier, Ambrose had asked him what kind of contract he had signed with the elves. The knight briefly explain the contract, after which the necromancer had fallen silent, lost in thought.

The Porcupine Knight dared not ask further questions. He couldn't handle that group of elves to begin with, let alone this terrifying necromancer.

Ambrose finally put the two strange shortswords away. He was planning to interrogate the elves properly once he returned to his castle.

Their appearance was far too suspicious. They clearly weren't just scouting a path for the elven army. The main force hadn't even begun its invasion yet. There was no reason to push all the way into such a critical region.

This had to be connected to the magical contract the elves had forced upon the local lords. With no concrete clues, however, Ambrose could only investigate slowly.

Turning around, he noticed the Porcupine Knight standing off to the side. Ambrose beckoned him closer, and the lord approached cautiously.

Ambrose cut to the chase. "How much gold do you have?"

The Porcupine Knight froze, then hurriedly replied, "As thanks, I'm willing to pay a reward of twenty thousand gold coins."

Ambrose shook his head. "That's not what I asked. I'm asking how much you have in total."

"Huh? You mean—"

"I mean exactly that," Ambrose said indifferently. "You said you were willing to give me everything. I'll take all the gold in your treasury. That's not unreasonable, is it?"

The Porcupine Knight grew agitated. "Master Mage, if you take all the gold, this territory will collapse immediately! What you're doing is no different from what those elves tried to do!"

Ambrose smiled faintly. "And what does your territory's collapse have to do with me? Besides, Alkhemia is about to descend into open chaos. What use is gold then? Do you really think you can hold on to it?"

The Porcupine Knight's eyes lit up. "Master Mage, are you willing to help me? I'd be more than willing to hire you as my magical advisor with all the gold in my possession!"

Ambrose: "..."

How naïve could this man get?

Tens of thousands of gold coins wasn't worth even a half-baked legend's time.

"What I mean," Ambrose said calmly, "is that even if you don't have money, others do. Didn't you form an alliance with a few minor lords? You could rob all those wealthy lords around the outskirts of Alkhemia."

The Porcupine Knight gave a bitter smile. Of course he had thought of that. But just as Ambrose said, their alliance was insignificant. They had less than a thousand troops in total. They could barely manage to defend themselves, let alone launch an offensive.

He grimaced, feeling a sense of acute regret over participating in that lich-hunting campaign. He never should have listened to the paladins' nonsense.

If he had stayed clear of them, his forces would have easily doubled by now.

"We have no strength to expand," the Porcupine Knight said helplessly. "And the nearby lords aren't fools. They're all prepared for war."

Ambrose's smile turned distinctly devilish. "Even if you don't attack them, who's to say they won't attack you? You know your strength is lacking. Naturally, others will pick on the weakest first."

"Master Mage, what are you suggesting?"

"Have you ever heard of a war loan?" Ambrose asked.

"A war loan?" The Porcupine Knight frowned. He truly had never heard of such a thing. As a commoner-turned-knight, poorly educated and newly installed as a lord, he was already overwhelmed just managing daily affairs.

"You don't have sufficient troops, so borrow more," Ambrose explained. "For example, I can lend you a batch of undead skeletons for battle. In return, you'll pay me gold. With more soldiers, you'll conquer more land and plunder more spoils. I'll earn more gold. It's a win-win arrangement."

At that moment, Ambrose was like a devil straight out of hell, slowly coaxing the Porcupine Knight toward the abyss.

War was troublesome. Ambrose had no desire to fight personally. It was much easier to let others earn gold for him.

Over centuries of existence, Ambrose had witnessed countless wars. Every era of chaos bred countless opportunists. The Porcupine Knight seemed rather weak, but he had been willing to gamble everything at critical moments. A little push might result in quite the satisfactory investment.

There was also the matter of the contract he'd signed with the elves. Whatever it was, it would surely come up again later.

The Porcupine Knight was deeply unwilling, but he had no choice.

Ambrose could have killed him and taken everything outright. Compared to the elves' terms, at least this necromancer was offering him a slim chance at survival.

Ambrose wasted no time. He emptied the treasury of over a hundred thousand gold coins.

It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.

He then handed the Porcupine Knight a list: materials that Ambrose required, along with a table of costs for exchanging them for undead skeletons.

Lack of gold was no problem. Ambrose granted him a credit line of one hundred thousand gold, charging only fifteen percent monthly interest—meaning fifteen thousand gold a month. For a war loan, the rate was practically charitable.

Even so, the Porcupine Knight felt his liver ache just looking at the documents. The cheapest mantis-type skeleton cost a thousand gold. It was far more expensive than hiring adventurers.

Fortunately, the list also included materials Ambrose needed: various skeletons, alchemical supplies, and the like, all deductible against the debt.

The Porcupine Knight made a swift decision. He asked for one hundred aberrant mantis-type skeletons and used piles of corpses and stored alchemical materials to offset part of the cost. These remains came from casualties during earlier territorial conquests, which had previously been buried with little care. Now, they would finally have a use.

Ambrose was satisfied. After making plans for delivery, he had the Porcupine Knight inquire about Isabel's whereabouts.

She had reasonable talent and was diligent. Not all alchemy apprentices could have help him cultivate a bone-proliferation virus—perhaps someone other than Isabel might have died several times over by now. Ambrose needed her back to work for him.

However, when Ambrose mentioned where the transaction would take place, the Porcupine Knight blanched. "That castle... Wasn't that the lich's—"

Ambrose smiled and dispelled his disguise, revealing his true form.

The Porcupine Knight's legs nearly gave out. So the lich had never been destroyed after all.

The paladins of the Lyon Empire were utterly unreliable. They had stormed the castle and still failed to eliminate the lich.

Inwardly, the Porcupine Knight felt a surge of relief. It was lucky he'd never set his sights on that castle. Otherwise, Ambrose would be here to claim his life, not to negotiate about business.

"Prepare what I asked for," Ambrose said calmly. "And remember, debts don't disappear just because you're dead. If you owe me money, you'll be paying it back as a corpse."

The Porcupine Knight could only smile bitterly and swear that he would repay everything on time.

Satisfied, Ambrose nodded and returned to his castle.

Opening up his extradimensional space, he stood before the elves frozen in time.

He released the temporal stasis on Cicero and cut straight to the point. "The Court of the Silver Moon was in such a hurry to send you deep into enemy territory. What exactly are you trying to do?"

Cicero stared at Ambrose's skeletal face, surprised. "So you're a lich. I've heard of you. The destruction of Alkhemia—it was your doing, wasn't it?"

"I'm the one asking questions. You're the prisoner. Know your place."

Cicero laughed confidently. "What can you do to me? Torture? Execution? An elf's soul returns to the gods in the end. If you think pain will make me submit, you're welcome to try."

His confidence stemmed from elven nature. Blessed by their gods, elves possessed extraordinary mental resistance. Most mind-control spells, such as Charm and Paralysis, simply failed against them.

This divine blessing was beyond even the Golden Throne's suppression. Ambrose could not overpower the elven gods' protection.

It was well known that brute force was the only option against elves. Poison was useless.

And Cicero, clearly a seasoned adventurer, was unlikely to crack under torture. More importantly, Ambrose had no time to waste.

After a moment's thought, Ambrose said, "I think I already know the answer. The real secret lies in that contract, doesn't it?"

Cicero's expression didn't change, but his pupils contracted involuntarily.

Ambrose chuckled. "That's the difference between the living and the undead. Your poker face isn't perfect. Charm spells may not work on you, but neither can you use mental magic to suppress your own micro-expressions."

Cicero's heart sank. He hadn't expected this lich to be skilled in such interrogation techniques.

"Logically speaking," Ambrose continued, "the contract's explicit terms don't matter. Guarantees of safe passage for humans? Clauses that harsh are basically death sentences. The real key is what happens when the contract is broken, isn't it?"

Cicero tried to close his eyes, but Ambrose placed a hand on his neck, reading his thoughts through pulse and heartbeat.

"Oh? So I was right. But what do you gain when it's broken? You want the humans to be forced to surrender? No... that's not it. Does it benefit your invasion somehow? Ah, so it does."

Ambrose tested hypothesis after hypothesis, drawing conclusions from Cicero's heartbeats.

The contract was tied directly to the elven invasion. It would activate the moment the human lords violated it, and its terms were supremely favorable to the elves.

Moreover, the large-scale invasion would begin within days. Cicero's group wasn't the only vanguard; more Twilight Wardens had been dispatched, coercing lords along the way into signing similar contracts.

Unfortunately, Cicero refused to speak further. Ambrose couldn't extract any precise details from him.

Still, a low-ranking operative wouldn't know everything anyway.

Ambrose sealed Cicero once more and stroked his chin thoughtfully. The elves were as stubborn as the Lyon Empire. They likely wouldn't pay a ransom to retrieve these Twilight Wardens.

In that case, it was time to contact the desert dwarves.

After all, good business was about expanding markets. Even if the elves wouldn't pay, the desert dwarves surely would—and a handsome price, at that.