Viscount Leitman was forced to give Anbaixiu's proposal serious consideration.
Paying a bit of gold and mineral resources in exchange for dwarven troops sent by the dwarf king to aid him? If the price was right, it was certainly an option.
The City of Alchemy was in complete disarray. Lesser lords were busy swallowing one another up, while the great lords held their forces in check, wary of walking into a trap if they made the first move. On the surface, things didn't appear too chaotic, but a tempest was brewing beneath.
Whenever the great lords decided to enter the fray, the land would plunge into total war.
Once the Silvermoon High Court invaded, matters would grow even more complicated.
The Silvermoon High Court was a colossus; no single lord could withstand the martial might of the elven race. Although Viscount Leitman worshiped Talos, the Lord of Storms, being a madman didn't make him a fool. He saw the disparity clearly enough.
Thus, the dwarf king's assistance was vital. In the early stages, he could even use the dwarven forces to rapidly expand his territory and amass greater strength to confront the elven invasion.
Alas, it was all because those elves were far too arrogant. They refused any terms other than the complete surrender of territory, bent on driving everyone out.
With that premise established, cooperation became far simpler.
Viscount Leitman declared his willingness to accept this mercenary arrangement.
Anbaixiu was overjoyed. With an intention to cooperate in place, all that remained was simple haggling.
The dwarf king would pay gold to purchase land to settle immigrants from the Golden Kingdom, calculated at a rate of one million gold coins per hundred square kilometers.
It seemed somewhat cheap, but the Golden Kingdom wasn't picky. As long as the area was large enough, mountains, canyons, or lakes were all tallied at the same uniform rate. Much of the wasteland was inhospitable to humans anyway and entirely unwanted; all Leitman had to do was send men to draw a circle on a map, hand it over when the Golden Kingdom arrived, and his side of the contract would be fulfilled.
Then, Viscount Leitman would pay in gold and minerals to hire the Golden Kingdom's army to fight for him. Anbaixiu would serve as the intermediary coordinator. The exact price depended on how many troops Leitman required and what types of units he needed. Anbaixiu would have to draw up a fresh roster before calculating his own cut.
The key was that the Golden City was paying, and Viscount Leitman was paying as well, yet neither party knew the other was paying.
Simply put, the exchange of supplies and troops was between them, while Anbaixiu, the middleman, merely took gold and ore. Truly, a man of exceptional conscience.
The discussions dragged on for the better part of the day before the method and scale of the aid were roughly settled.
Though both the Golden Kingdom and Viscount Leitman felt they hadn't gained much of a bargain, Anbaixiu was quite pleased. This was bound to be a splendid partnership.
Inside the magnificent royal palace of Salokma, the Golden Kingdom, the dwarf king had retired to rest early.
Over the past years, the Ryan Empire had pressed forward step by step, while the dwarf king's physical and mental health deteriorated by the day. In recent years, all major state affairs had been entrusted to the Hand of the King, Hoffman Ironfist.
True to his name, Hoffman Ironfist's right hand had been severed clean at the wrist and replaced with a fist forged of solid iron. It had been sheared off by a Divine Smite during a battle against the Ryan Empire, but in the fighting that followed, Hoffman had slain three paladins.
His valor had earned the dwarf king's recognition, bringing him to the attention of the royal house.
Hoffman later served for a time as an administrative official. Seeing that he excelled even more at statecraft, the dwarf king gradually promoted him to his inner circle.
Now that the king's health could no longer hold up, the kingdom depended entirely on Hoffman Ironfist to govern.
At this very moment, Heji Stone sat across from Hoffman Ironfist, communicating with Anbaixiu via the Necrotic Codex and relaying Anbaixiu's opinions to the Hand of the King.
Hoffman Ironfist said to Heji Stone, "This friend of yours is a master negotiator. Every single condition is so finely measured that I simply cannot refuse."
Heji Stone chuckled. "Yes, precise indeed."
There was a second half to that thought which Heji Stone left unsaid: Anbaixiu hadn't left him the slightest opening to skim a middleman's markup.
In the prior discussions, the terms Anbaixiu proposed were all well within what the dwarven kingdom could afford. It had seemed like there was room to barter, but as the conversation proceeded, Anbaixiu directly tossed out several pre-calculated figures. When Heji Stone saw them, he nearly ground his fangs to dust—it left virtually no profit margin for a broker like him.
Not that there was zero profit, but it fell far short of what Heji Stone had envisioned.
Hoffman Ironfist feigned ignorance of this, merely saying to Heji Stone, "You and I have known each other for many years. Rest assured, I understand what is expected of a friend. However, just how well-connected is this friend of yours in the City of Alchemy? If it is only Viscount Leitman, it won't mean much for our grand plan."
Heji Stone replied, "You needn't worry about that. Regardless of how many friends he had before, that number will multiply rapidly now. The lords of the City of Alchemy have only two choices: the Silvermoon High Court or the Golden Kingdom. Given the arrogant habits of the elves, we can win over the majority of the lords in advance. The only concern is whether we have enough strength to protect them all.
"The Silvermoon High Court appears to have mobilized every one of its Twilight Guards."
Hoffman Ironfist nodded. "I understand what you mean. Viscount Leitman is a bellwether. We must ensure his safety. Only when others see that will they have the confidence to cooperate with us. I will dispatch one hundred dwarven iron guards to protect our ally."
Heji Stone blinked, genuinely astonished. "Now that is a hefty investment."
The dwarven iron guards were essentially the royal family's personal retinue, renowned for guarding leaders and thoroughly versed in counter-assassination. For Hoffman Ironfist to send a hundred of them to Viscount Leitman showed a firm resolve to drive a solid spike into the City of Alchemy.
"Old friend, are you truly prepared to abandon the desert?" Heji Stone asked. "Is the war really going that badly?"
Hoffman Ironfist offered a bitter, helpless smile. "We truly are no match for the Ryan Empire. Even by the most optimistic estimates, more than half of Salokma's territory will fall. Over the years, they have drilled their forces specifically for desert warfare. Those young paladins on the battlefield have fully adapted to the arid sands. Our only hope of holding off Ryan's invasion is to withdraw past the Death Line and rely on the endless sandstorms."
The whole of Salokma lay within the desert, composed of city-states built around hundreds of oases, large and small.
The so-called Death Line was a narrow band across the center of Salokma's territory, where perpetual sandstorms raged. If a freshly forged suit of plate armor were left there, within two days the scouring sand would grind it full of holes.
The environment was so harsh that virtually no living creature could survive in it.
Salokma crossed this Death Line only via subterranean passages left behind by an ancient civilization, maintaining communication between the two halves.
From the sound of Hoffman Ironfist's words, the dwarves of the Golden Kingdom planned to cede the land north of the Death Line, seal off the subterranean tunnels, and let the unending sandstorms repel Ryan's advance. That meant they would even have to abandon this dwarven palace before them.
To think the war had reached such a desperate state. A look of concern surfaced on Heji Stone's face.
The Ryan Empire was the natural predator of all dark creatures. As Ryan grew stronger, Heji Stone's own living space shrank. Once the Golden Kingdom of Salokma collapsed entirely, a vampire like him would have no choice but to flee to distant lands. Heji Stone realized that helping the Golden Kingdom right now was helping himself. He set aside his desire to pocket a markup; helping the dwarven kingdom weather this crisis took precedence.
Hoffman Ironfist said to Heji Stone, "Gathering the dwarven iron guards and setting up a continental teleportation circle takes time. During this period, the elves won't sit idly by. Remind your friend that before our iron guards arrive, he must keep Viscount Leitman safe."
Heji Stone nodded, resolving to deliver those gargoyles to Anbaixiu today. Viscount Leitman was the linchpin; they couldn't let the elves assassinate him.
Yet Heji Stone's realization had come a moment too late.
Just as Anbaixiu and Viscount Leitman had negotiated for an entire day and were nearing a final agreement, the elves ran out of patience.
A self-proclaimed envoy of the dwarven kingdom had spent a whole day behind closed doors with Viscount Leitman. Even an idiot could guess the outcome.
Accordingly, the Twilight Guards didn't sit around waiting. Instead, they forcefully demanded an audience with Viscount Leitman.
The lord, who was currently calculating just how much he stood to lose, naturally had no desire to entertain these arrogant elves. When he sent word that he had no time, the elves opted for the most direct approach.
The tower where Anbaixiu and Viscount Leitman were conferring came under elven assault.
It began with dozens of crossbow bolts whistling out of the night sky.
Without hesitation, Anbaixiu summoned his Golden Throne and spun the backrest around.
The bolts clattered against the back of the chair and deflected harmlessly away.
When no magic was channeled into it, it was simply a chair cast from solid gold, with a backrest nearly half a meter thick—not even a magitech cannon could punch through it.
Viscount Leitman was not so lucky. Although he erected a magical shield in time, several bolts still grazed him, throwing up showers of sparks against his chainmail. One bolt even pierced his shoulder, though it was unclear whether it drew blood.
The elves' assault was far from over. Several agile figures materialized as elves used Misty Step to teleport onto the tower, brandishing dual blades as they charged straight at Viscount Leitman.
"Damn elves! I'll show you the fury of thunder!"
Viscount Leitman roared, countless arcs of lightning erupting from his body. His booming shout took on physical force, slamming outward to blast the elves back.
Three of the elves were hurled backward through the air, but two pressed on undeterred by the sonic shockwave, their scimitars already slicing toward Viscount Leitman.
In the flash of an instant, Anbaixiu was about to intervene, but Viscount Leitman proved stronger than expected.
Raising the warhammer at his waist, Viscount Leitman unleashed a blast of searing white lightning that leaped furiously back and forth between the two elves.
The signature spell of a storm priest: Chain Lightning. The two unfortunate elves took the full brunt of the damage, leaving virtually no chance of survival.
Anbaixiu's judgment proved entirely accurate. When the electrical discharge cleared, the two elves who had charged at the front had been reduced to charred husks.
Viscount Leitman crushed the skull of one charred corpse beneath his boot, no longer bothering to contain his wrath.
"Pass my orders! Kill every last elf!"
Chapter 99