Lich for Hire

Chapter 273: The Lich Who Most Wants Lyon to Thrive

With the truth laid bare, James Watson felt as though his entire life had reached a turning point.

Everything he had once believed in now seemed like sin wrapped in the veneer of holy light.

Ambrose's final remark left him deep in thought. What he had always regarded as sacred relics meant to safeguard the Lyon Empire had, in fact, become instruments for the resurrection of the Dragon Tyrant.

James Watson certainly wouldn't object to trading away the Draconic Armaments now. The set of artifacts was far too dangerous to keep.

"Unfortunately," he said at last, "the Draconic Armaments belong to the royal family. Even as High Inquisitor, I have no authority over them. They're sealed deep within the palace, and no one outside the royal bloodline can even touch them."

"Couldn't you just steal them for me?" Ambrose asked.

"Why don't I just start a rebellion while I'm at it?"

"That works too. Pick a date. We'll coordinate inside and out."

"Silence, lich!"

......

Even after being confronted with such a devastating truth, James Watson still refused to betray Lyon.

As he put it, no matter how corrupt the royal family had become, its hundreds of millions of ordinary citizens were innocent.

If he raised the banner of rebellion, Lyon would fracture. Other nations would swarm in. The death toll would be catastrophic.

Even the spirit of Arthur Lyon opposed such drastic measures. He even declared that, if Ambrose tried to use him to split the empire, he would remain inside the hourglass forever and never emerge again.

Ambrose believed him. This was a man who never broke his word.

With a sigh, Ambrose said, "Why do all of you insist on treating me like the villain? I'm the one who least wants Lyon to collapse."

James Watson scoffed. "You expect us to believe that?"

Ambrose snorted right back. "It's normal that a naïve child, one who's been played by the descendants of the Dragon Tyrant, can't grasp the bigger picture. I won't hold it against you."

"A child?!"

James Watson wanted to retort, but upon remembering that Ambrose was a lich who had lived for centuries, while he wasn't even yet a hundred, he forced himself to swallow the words.

Ambrose continued, "As you've seen, I can fabricate souls from raw materials. All my phylacteries are made that way. Have you realized the key yet?"

Everyone stared at him blankly.

Seeing their confusion, Ambrose had no choice but to spell it out. "The reason undead are considered evil is because they crave flesh and souls.

"Let's set flesh aside. Humans eat livestock all the time. There's nothing inherently wrong with that. Undead don't have to eat human flesh either. If they switched to livestock, would your paladins still care? No, right?"

James Watson froze. The argument sounded absurd, yet disturbingly reasonable. His recently-shattered worldview warned him against making a pronouncement one way or another.

He instinctively looked to Arthur Lyon's spirit, instead. Surely the holy king would have better judgment.

Arthur answered without hesitation. "Of course. No matter how benevolent the Holy Light is, it can't forbid people from eating meat."

Ambrose gave him a thumbs-up. "A true holy king, impartial and just. Not like certain people, blinded by prejudice against the undead."

James Watson didn't even bother arguing anymore. "Get to the point. I need to rush back to Lyon as quickly as I can."

"I already did," Ambrose said. "If undead eat livestock instead of humans, there's no conflict. And as for souls? They can buy them from me. If they don't need to slaughter humans for resources, what conflict remains between them and you?"

James Watson frowned. "They can already buy these souls from you. Why don't they? Because they're inherently cruel, and only the suffering of the living satisfies them—"

"Wrong," Ambrose cut in. "It's because living slaves are cheaper."

That answer stunned James Watson.

Ambrose went on coldly, "Yes, undead have a natural inclination toward cruelty. But that's not the real issue. Humans need laws to restrain them, don't they? Punishment and cost force them to behave.

"Even in Lyon, where everyone worships the Lord of Dawn, crime still exists. Or have you forgotten a man named Gareth? He's a friend of mine who was betrayed by Lyon and went on to become an undead."

James Watson fell silent.

That name was a stain on Lyon's history. A soldier, betrayed by a superior hungry for power, framed and murdered, his achievements stolen.

In death, Gareth had become a Dullahan and returned to slaughter that man's descendants.

The empire had tried to hunt him down. They failed, suffering massive losses, and the shame lingered.

The Dullahan had recently appeared anew in Alkhemia, shaming Lyon once more. Still, no matter how many excuses Lyon made, the truth remained that Gareth had been wronged. The man who had framed Gareth had been rewarded and had founded his own noble house.

James Watson could come up with any number of excuses. He could say that the legion involved had only just surrendered and had not yet fully embraced the Holy Light; he could argue that the mistake had long since been corrected, that Lyon had not concealed the truth but had instead revealed it for Gareth's sake... but none of that meant anything to Gareth himself.

Whether justice delayed was still justice was for the victim to decide. Gareth, clearly, had not accepted Lyon's brand of justice.

James Watson felt increasingly disoriented. How had it come to this? A priest of the Light debating a lich—yet somehow he was the one losing the moral ground.

Ambrose pressed the advantage. "Now you see. Rules are the key to restraining evil. The impulse to do wrong exists in everyone, and is only kept in check by the rule of law. The undead are no different. Yes, we may be born with a tendency toward evil, but if our actions are properly constrained, we're not so different from humans.

"Lyon was doing fairly well. Your strength has greatly limited undead activity and prevented wanton slaughter. But it's not enough. Over in Alkhemia, a human slave costs only a few dozen copper coins, about the price of a drink at a tavern. At those prices, who would buy my fabricated souls, which cost nearly a silver coin each?

"When enforcement is lacking and a cheaper option exists, the undead will naturally choose to slaughter humans, just like how you humans choose the lowest-cost materials when doing business. There's no difference between us.

"So now you understand. I'm the one who most wants Lyon's laws to spread across the entire continent. If they do, the undead will have no choice but to buy souls from me. You gain a population of law-abiding undead, and I gain a market. That's a win-win, isn't it?"

When Ambrose finished, everyone present wore the same stunned expression. A lich claiming to want Lyon's prosperity sounded absurd. Yet coming from Ambrose, it was disturbingly logical. And everyone knew his obsession with profit was genuine, which only made his reasoning harder to dismiss.

The old elven king couldn't help but sigh. "You'd better not come back to the Court of the Silver Moon."

Another visit or two, and the entire kingdom might be swindled into bankruptcy.

Ambrose ignored the aside and continued, "So now you understand my position. I want Lyon to grow stronger. I don't want internal division leading to total collapse. That would unleash a frenzy among the undead and ruin my business. But precisely because of that, James, how long do you think Lyon can hold together? In your view, how close is it to internal fracture?"

James Watson thought for a moment before answering, "If everything goes smoothly, Lyon can last at least another century. But if even the slightest thing goes wrong, the collapse could be imminent."

By "smoothly," he was referring to military success.

If Lyon could consolidate its hold over half the dwarven desert, maintain stability on the orcish front, and avoid attacks from other kingdoms, then it might indeed endure.

After all, despite the decadence of its royal family, the system established by Arthur Lyon was still functioning.

The royal family was forbidden from extending their lives. Power was distributed among the High Inquisitor and other high officials. The monarchy retained privilege, but not absolute authority.

And with Lyon's leadership still composed of individuals recognized by the Holy Light as "righteous," its strength was no accident.

But once the tide of war turned, problems would emerge.

The death of a single Silvermoon Knight had already revealed signs of decay within the army. Instead of inspiring the younger generation, the loss of a hero had dampened morale. If defeats continued, that sense of decline would spread inward. Once public confidence faltered, collapse would come swiftly.

"So," Ambrose said, rising to his feet as if delivering the most important words he had spoken all day, "I have a suggestion. James, go back and prepare. No matter how much we may wish otherwise, Lyon's fragmentation is inevitable. The sooner you prepare, the fewer lives will be lost."

A lich, earnestly providing advice on Lyon's future—James Watson felt that the world had gone mad. And yet, he could not deny the truth in those words. "I will make the necessary preparations," he said at last.

After a pause, he added, "In its current state, Lyon is not worthy of His Majesty's return. I will go back and do what must be done. I believe that one day, Lyon will become a nation worthy of your pride."

Unable to remain any longer, James Watson quickly took his leave of the old elven king.

Ambrose did not stop him. Without the Draconic Armaments, there was nothing more to negotiate. After all, no amount of gold could truly measure the worth of Arthur Lyon's heroic spirit.

The meeting dispersed, each departing with their own thoughts.

Only when he was alone did Ambrose take out his Necromantic Codex and write, [Megaman Tiga: Friends, I've just suborned Lyon's High Inquisitor.]