Endless yellow sands stretched toward the horizon, with a burnished golden sheen under the blazing sun.
This was the signature golden sand of the Great Desert of Sarcoma. At a glance, the sand looked like real gold, explaining its moniker as the Golden Kingdom.
In truth, this had nothing to do with mineral wealth. Many years ago, a mage had cast the legendary Terraform spell on Sarcoma, irreversibly altering the desert's atmosphere. As sunlight fell, it left behind a dazzling brilliance on the sand.
All that effort was for aesthetics alone.
Sand was still sand. Once taken out of Sarcoma, it was no different from ordinary desert grit.
In fact, the desert was so blinding during the day that its inhabitants were forced to wear specially made sunglasses. Without them, they might go blind in minutes from the golden glare.
Deep beneath this gilded desert lay countless underground ruins, labyrinthine in scale, said to be remnants of a bygone civilization.
Despite Sarcoma's centuries-long excavation of these ruins, they had uncovered only the tip of the iceberg. Yet even the relics already recovered were enough to sustain the kingdom in lasting prosperity.
In so sense, the entire economy of the dwarven kingdom of Sarcoma was built on grave-robbing.
As a result, the desert dwarves excelled at digging, tunneling, breaking seals, and disarming magical traps. Unfortunately, those skills were far less impressive on the open battlefield.
Against the iron cavalry of the Lyon Empire, the dwarves' fortifications were barely stronger than paper.
Paladins who shouted of holy light and liberation marched beneath the banner of "freeing human slaves." They ground Sarcoma into the sand year after year.
What made it worse was their infuriating patience.
A dwarf had once proposed feigning weakness: luring Lyon forces deep into the desert, then wearing them down with the environnt. The plan had failed utterly. Lyon wasn't in a rush. After capturing a city, its paladins would stop to preach, refusing to advance until every last resident had converted to the Lord of Dawn.
Despite the bait placed right before them, they simply would not take it.
It was as if they had seen through the dwarves' strategy from the start. For years, they trained troops in the border desert cities, seemingly determined to forge a force of paladins fully adapted to desert warfare before striking decisively.
Faced with an enemy they could neither defeat nor outmaneuver, the Golden Kingdom was dying a slow death. Though the Lyon Empire advanced at a glacial pace, its every step was steady and irreversible. Even if the dwarves could regain control of their occupied cities, the cities would never be truly loyal ever again: the hearts of the people had already changed.
Under such circumstances, the Dwarven King was forced to change course, initiating a century-long policy of integration.
Any non-human race could obtain full citizenship in the Golden City—including the undead, who were despised by most other races. As long as they obeyed the laws of the Golden Kingdom, they were allowed to live on this land.
Heki Stone had regained his status as a lawful citizen of the Golden Kingdom under precisely these policy.
Deep within an underground tomb, two crimson dots of light flared to life. A face with sharp, resolute features ca into view, lit by the faint glow of a candle. Unlike the effeminate vampires of legend, Heki Stone's features looked as though they had been carved from marble. His gaze was deep and commanding.
He addressed the kneeling orc before him.
"Co here, my breakfast."
The muscular orc, eyes vacant, stepped forward one pace at a ti. Heki Stone slowly rose. Wrapped in a long cloak, he looked to be at least two ters tall.
Yet as he moved, the outline of two feet appeared where his abdon should have been.
A ter tall, and another ter off the ground, Heki Stone strode through the air, he ca before the orc—who was, indeed, two ters tall—and bit into his neck.
After a few seconds, Heki Stone clicked his tongue in disgust and tossed the orc aside.
"Orcs again," he complained. "Can't we change the nu for once?"
From the darkness, two dwarven servants erged, flustered. "Master, if not orcs... virgins are extrely hard to find these days."
"In warti, moral standards just keep sinking," Heki Stone remarked.
Vampires preferred peaceful eras. More people ant more food. When war ca, populations plumted, and what remained was rarely appetizing.
Despite his complaints, Heki Stone knew his servants had done their best. The situation at large was bleak; no amount of effort could change that.
Wiping the blood from his lips, he asked, "Are the gargoyles I requested ready?"
At the thought of those gargoyles, his mouth couldn't help but twitch.
Just what was the relationship between that newcor and that undead queen, Black Rose? A few paltry words had cost him dearly.
He didn't even have a hundred top-tier gargoyles himself, yet he was being forced to give away twenty. It felt as if there were a wooden stake slowly being pushed through his heart, about to kill him, though not just yet.
But Heki Stone dared not refuse.
Disobedience against the undead queen, Black Rose, was not an option.
It only made him more curious about Ambrose. What kind of connection did this newcor have, to make such a cold, aloof ruler take his side so blatantly?
He opened the Necromantic Codex, intending to have Ambrose foot so of the shipping costs. Gargoyles were bulky cargo, and the teleportation fees would be steep. Recovering even a little of the loss would help.
Before he could send anything out, however, Ambrose ssaged him first.
[gaman Tiga: Senior, do you happen to have any ties with the desert dwarves? I've captured a few high-elven Twilight Wardens, and am wondering if the desert dwarves would be interested.]
Had the elves already made their move?
Heki Stone was surprised. According to his intelligence, the elves were still assembling their forces. This newcor was deep in the heart of Alkhemia. How had he run into elven troops already?
[Human-Hater: What happened? Did the elves show up at your doorstep? I do have so connections with the desert dwarves, but they're stubborn as stone. You can't feed them false information, or they'll refuse to trade with you for good.]
Ambrose had tricked Heki Stone out of twenty top-tier gargoyles, after all. Who knew if this was another trick? He had to be cautious.
[gaman Tiga: Don't worry. I recorded everything. Take a look.]
Accepting the transfer, Heki Stone watched a mory crystal erge from the grimoire.
The footage confird it: Ambrose had nabbed twelve elven Twilight Wardens.
Eki Stone couldn't help but reassess Ambrose. Twilight Wardens were elite troops. Defeating them wasn't too hard, but capturing so many alive was another matter entirely.
"Are all newcors these days such monsters?" he mused to himself.
He quickly replied. [Human-Hater: No problem, then. I'll talk to the desert dwarves. I'm sure they'll be very interested in those elves.]
[gaman Tiga: Thanks, Senior. Let cover the gargoyles' shipping costs.]
[Human-Hater: Generous of you.]
But the mont Heki Stone sent that ssage, he frowned. Sothing felt off. Hadn't he planned to negotiate those shipping costs with Ambrose from the start?
But now he'd spent a favor making introductions to waive the fees instead. He'd thrown in a favor for nothing.
Had this newcor anticipated such a move and cut him off in advance?
"No way... that's too absurd. I'm just overthinking it," Heki Stone reassured himself.
Besides, even if he took a loss here, he would still be a middleman. How much Ambrose could get for those elves depended on his negotiations with the desert dwarves. There was plenty of room for profit.
After settling his nerves, Heki Stone discussed further details of the gargoyle and elf transactions with Ambrose. Once the basics were agreed upon, he ordered his servants to send a ssage.
Matters involving the elven race were serious. His letter had to be addressed to the Dwarven King directly.
Heki Stone steeled himself. He would have to extract a hefty price to make up for the loss of twenty top-tier gargoyles.
On Ambrose's side, Heki Stone's reply put him in high spirits.
Choosing the right buyer really mattered. He'd tried selling Allen Watson back to his own father and ended up attracting a swarm of paladins over instead. Selling elves to their enemies was far more likely to succeed.
Once the excitent faded, Ambrose threw himself back into work.
The Porcupine Knight's order had to be completed quickly. Ambrose needed him as a walking advertisent. If everyone saw the Porcupine Knight conquering territories one after another with a skeleton army, wouldn't they see the benefits of working with him?
Undead armies required only gold. No logistics, no disruption to farming or construction. They were the perfect weapons of war.
Once word spread, more lords would co to buy undead from Ambrose.
The more clients there were, the fiercer the wars would beco, and the faster the undead would be consud.
And that ant an ever-growing demand for more undead, and stronger and more advanced ones at that.
This was an arms race. Whether you liked it or not, once paying for undead armies beca the norm, everyone would be forced to do so to keep up.
And as Alkhemia's only undead arms dealer, Ambrose would enjoy an endless flow of gold.
Just thinking about such a future made his soul tremble with excitent.
He shook his head. That was enough dreaming. It was ti to get to work. As his showcase, the Porcupine Knight was going to receive nothing less than the best.
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