Politics was all about testing the waters. Long before the final face-to-face meeting, most terms had already been settled in advance; the official conference was usually just the moment to sign the parchment or strike the gavel.
There was an advantage to this: on the surface, everything remained harmonious and dignified, avoiding an ugly fallout.
Yet there was also a drawback: both sides needed at least some common ground. When two parties were utterly opposed, trying to negotiate in advance was virtually the same as having a fallout in advance.
That was precisely the situation at hand. Aldarian had originally gone to negotiate with James Watson on Anbaixiu's behalf.
However, nursing an old grudge, the young Elven King had very "accidentally" let slip that Anbaixiu had come to the Silvermoon High Court.
James Watson had immediately declared that he would never deal with a lich. The undead could keep holding Arthur Ryan's heroic spirit for all he cared, and then wait for the paladins to come knocking.
No matter how vast the desert might be, Ryan would scour every inch of it until Anbaixiu was dragged into the light.
When Aldarian returned to relay the Supreme Arbiter's words, Anbaixiu stared at the young monarch. "Was that intentional, or was it truly an accident?"
"An accident, of course." Aldarian smiled as purely as an innocent child.
"Heh."
Anbaixiu wasn't fazed in the least by such petty games. He simply said to Aldarian, "I've been a lich for many years. Do you really think this is my first time dealing with this Supreme Arbiter? 'Ryan doesn't deal with liches'—that's hardly the first time I've heard those words, either."
Aldarian's smile vanished. "Bragging about things that never happened doesn't prove your capability."
"Then how about a wager? If I can get James Watson to sit down and talk prices with me, I win. Naturally, whatever price we end up agreeing on doesn't matter; as long as Ryan ends up paying me, you lose."
"Fine. What's the stake?" Aldarian asked eagerly.
Anbaixiu produced a pitch-black dagger, thrust it into Aldarian's hand, and said, "This is an artifact bestowed upon me by Shar. This will be my stake."
"An artifact?!"
Aldarian inspected the dagger closely. He could indeed feel an aura of dark, malevolent divine power. It was genuine! He had thought the lich would try to swindle him with a fake.
"What? Can it be that the grand Elven King doesn't even possess an artifact?" Anbaixiu asked.
Aldarian's expression shifted. In truth, he really didn't.
The Elven Gods had showered Catherine with all their adoration. Divine blessings, divine artifacts—everything belonged to her.
Aldarian had inherited the crown under extraordinary circumstances and had never received a personal artifact bestowed by the deities.
Granted, there were several ancestral artifacts resting in the vaults of the Silvermoon High Court, but those could hardly be used as gambling chips.
Reading Aldarian's reaction, Anbaixiu let out an exaggerated gasp. "You really don't have one? Well, forget I said anything. Out of respect for Catherine, I won't put you in an awkward spot."
Anbaixiu took back the dagger and turned to leave, but Aldarian hastily called out to stop him.
"Pick another stake! Don't you love money? I'll wager three hundred thousand gold coins against you!"
How could he allow this lich to make light of Sister Catherine's name? He could never permit such insolence! Aldarian not only wanted to take the bet, but he also wanted to strip the lich of a fortune.
"Pfft. If it's not an artifact, I'm not interested. My mistake—I assumed the elven race was so favored by the gods that you'd be swimming in artifacts. Who would've thought that between the old Elven King and the young Elven King, neither of you could produce a single one? Sigh, even a humble lich like me owns three artifacts. The elves have truly disappointed me."
Aldarian gritted his teeth. "I know you're goading me on purpose! You just want to force me into the bet!"
Anbaixiu replied with total candor, "Of course I'm goading you. But does seeing through it make you feel any better? This is the only chance you'll have to win back what you lost four hundred years ago. Once today passes, I might never set foot in the Silvermoon High Court again. If you lose, it's just losing to me twice—nothing changes for you. But if you win, you get your revenge."
This was Anbaixiu's greatest leverage over Aldarian. When a person burned for vengeance, reason was easily swallowed by hatred. Aldarian knew full well that Anbaixiu was digging a pit for him, yet the desire to win his pride back made him itch to take the gamble.
Four centuries of resentment had erupted upon seeing Anbaixiu again today. Aldarian wanted to win far too badly.
His fists clenched and relaxed repeatedly until he finally forced himself to calm down. He offered Anbaixiu a cool smile. "It doesn't matter. If you never return to the Silvermoon High Court, I'll simply lead the Twilight Guard to track you down. There's no reason for me to step into your little trap. You might have an endless lifespan, but my years aren't short either.
"Just you wait, lich. Having an Elven King constantly plotting your demise... you ought to savor that feeling."
Having delivered his threat, Aldarian turned on his heel and strode away, giving Anbaixiu no chance to reply.
Anbaixiu hadn't expected the young fellow to possess such self-restraint. He truly was the newly crowned Elven King—neither the grandfather nor the grandson was easy to swindle.
*Damn it. Why hasn't there been a single fool lately for me to make an easy fortune off of?*
Nourishing a belly full of grumbling, Anbaixiu headed straight for James Watson. He couldn't leave the Silvermoon High Court empty-handed; he had to squeeze some profit out of this trip.
Passing through a magnificent corridor, Anbaixiu stepped into another reception hall. Looking across the room, he spotted James Watson standing before a floor-to-ceiling window, seemingly admiring the unique stained-glass artistry of the elves.
As Anbaixiu approached, the Supreme Arbiter of Ryan spoke without turning. "Come no closer, lich. I fear I might not be able to restrain myself from purifying you."
Anbaixiu gave a light chuckle, utterly indifferent. "Speaking with your back turned may look imposing, but it's rather poor manners."
James Watson turned around and fixed his eyes on Anbaixiu, his face bearing undisguised anger.
"Lich, this is the elven realm, and I have no desire to fight you here. But if you think you can provoke me without limit, I will gladly teach you how the Holy Light tastes."
Nothing was worse in business negotiations than entering them with emotional baggage. James Watson made no effort to hide his disgust for Anbaixiu. Without a calm and peaceful dialogue, reaching any sort of agreement would be nearly impossible.
Keeping a measured distance between them, Anbaixiu said, "Old friend, we've known each other for a long time, but this is our first formal meeting, isn't it? I hear my pardon was signed by your own hand. Why the bitter hostility now?"
James Watson explained coldly, "The pardon was granted because you averted a war and saved countless humans. Under the rule of law, the pardon was warranted. As Ryan's Supreme Arbiter, it naturally fell to me to sign it. But that was imperial law; it does not reflect my personal feelings. Judging by the deed, you did a great good, yet I know your nature. You undoubtedly milked an enormous profit from it. In your eyes, there is nothing but personal gain. You and I walk entirely different paths."
"My, aren't you meticulous about separating the public from the personal? But back then, why was my paper rejected? Search your conscience—was its quality truly insufficient for publication? If you're so impartial, why reject my manuscript?"
This was an old grudge Anbaixiu had held onto for quite a while.
James Watson answered with utter indifference. "Hmph. I am Ryan's Supreme Arbiter. Fairness is required only in matters concerning Ryan. My editorial work for *Legendary Spells* is merely a personal pastime. A personal pastime, of course, answers entirely to personal preference."
Anbaixiu raised his voice. "How utterly shameless! Isn't such a double standard practically a blasphemy against the Holy Light?"
James Watson offered no reply, only a sneer, exuding the smug arrogance of a man who held the sole right of interpretation.
Anbaixiu silently swore that if he didn't bleed this old man dry until he spat blood, these centuries would have been lived in vain.
"Fine. Since you draw the line so clearly, does the matter of Arthur Ryan's heroic spirit count as public business or personal affairs?"
James Watson wasn't about to step into such a rhetorical trap. He fired back immediately, "Its authenticity hasn't even been verified. Debating whether it is public or personal is utterly meaningless."
"Very well. Let's assume it's a fake, then. There's nothing more for us to discuss. I'm leaving."
Anbaixiu spun around and made to leave, leaving James Watson looking utterly bewildered.
James Watson knew full well that Anbaixiu had come to demand an exorbitant price. How could he walk away so easily?
"What game are you playing at?" James Watson demanded loudly.
Anbaixiu halted, but did not turn around. With his back to Watson, he said, "No game at all. I already said the heroic spirit is fake and has nothing to do with your empire. Therefore, how I dispose of it is my business, completely unrelated to Ryan. I imagine plenty of evil deities would be deeply interested in such a soul. Even if it isn't Arthur Ryan, a heroic spirit itself is exceptionally valuable, isn't it?"
Watching Anbaixiu pick up his pace toward the exit, James Watson ultimately couldn't hold back. He called out to stop him. "Wait! I said its authenticity is unconfirmed. If it turns out to be real, your actions would be the ultimate provocation against Ryan! Are you prepared to make an enemy of the entire empire?"
"What an odd thing to say. As if Ryan isn't my enemy already? I'm a lich, remember?"
"Once the bounty was rescinded, you ceased to be an enemy of Ryan. As I said earlier, between us, it is merely a personal grievance. But if you provoke Ryan again, there is nothing stopping your name from being written back onto the bounty posters."
Anbaixiu turned back, studying Watson's face with a grin. "It seems you're willing to discuss this heroic spirit now?"
"A transaction is out of the question. I will never compromise with the undead, nor will I engage in any trade with them. That is Ryan's ironclad law, and I will never breach it," Watson insisted firmly.
"Then what do you propose? That I hand it over for free?" Anbaixiu asked.
James Watson affirmed at once, "That would be best. Our empire would remember the favor."
"Can a favor be traded for gold?" Anbaixiu inquired.
"Well..." James Watson hesitated briefly before saying, "If a friend falls upon hard times, it is only proper to offer a measure of assistance."
*So there is room for negotiation after all?* Even though he had dressed it up in different words, he was actually willing to pay. It seemed the threat of sacrificing the heroic spirit to an evil deity had been remarkably effective.
Yet despite Watson's yielding tone, Anbaixiu didn't press his advantage. Instead, he let out a wistful sigh. "My old friend, knowing you as I do, you would never accept such self-deception under normal circumstances. It seems Ryan's troubles are grave indeed, to the point where even your personal code of conduct has been compromised."
James Watson fell entirely silent.
"In that case, why not speak with your Holy King first? I'm sure that after speaking with him, you'll be able to make a far sounder judgment."
Anbaixiu's words struck Watson right where it hurt.
Previously, Watson was someone who wouldn't even compromise to save his own son's life. When Alan had been captured by Anbaixiu, Watson had flatly refused to pay any ransom and had instead dispatched paladins to hunt the lich down.
In the end, it was only through the intervention of the City of Alchemy that those paladins had managed to survive.
In truth, this transaction could also be routed through the elves: Ryan could pay the elves, and the elves could pay Anbaixiu. That way, it wouldn't technically count as Ryan trading with the undead.
Yet such a loophole should never have been hinted at by James Watson himself.
A Supreme Arbiter had no business bending his own bottom line.
On the surface, it might seem like a harmless technicality, but the moment James Watson believed he could play such games, his very stance had shifted.
Others could afford to act that way, but he was a cleric of light blessed by the Holy Light. Those who deceived themselves rarely met a pleasant end.
Anbaixiu was no longer interested in Watson's offer; he was far more curious to see just how chaotic Ryan had become from within.
Chapter 270