Free Web NovelChapter 42: 42. Three million Gold
"Thank you..." The founder nodded after listening to the silver-eyed assassin’s explanation.
Alaric’s assassination was ordered by his own kin.
Well, that was normal. Sibling fighting over inheritance usually got bloody.
A heavy pouch materialized mid-air, hitting the table with a clang.
"Take this..." The pouch moved on its own onto the silver-eyed man’s lap.
"Give back the client’s money; there should be enough left... you can count if you want."
"I woul... wouldn’t dare," the silver-eyed man stammered.
At any other time, he would have counted, or at least checked the contents of the pouch as he was trained, but he couldn’t be that disrespectful before the founder.
"You are a good lad..." The founder paused. "What was your name again?" freeweɓnovel.cѳm
"Elyon Zephyr, sir."
"Elyon, my boy." The room felt heavy, light tremors shaking his clothes.
Elyon’s blood froze, his hairs standing on end.
He, who had been keeping his head down, unconsciously looked at the founder.
The founder’s pitch-black eyes stared back at him with gentleness, yet the weight he felt said otherwise.
Those calm eyes felt like a void, felt as if he was looking into an endless abyss, the abyss pulling him in.
He averted his gaze as quickly as he had looked at it, cold sweat soaking his gambeson.
The founder’s voice sounded again: "...don’t tell anyone about what you saw about that boy..."
not as casual as it had been all this while, but cold, heavy, and unfeeling. fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com
Elyon’s breath felt heavy, unable to pull in air nor push it out.
His breaths were erratic.
He was a wind mage, yet it seemed the air in his own body wasn’t listening to him, too heavy for him to control.
"I... I pro...mise..." He forced out, the pressure disappearing.
"Ok, then please sign here," the laxity returned to his voice, the pressure in the room disappearing, tremors gone as if they were never there.
A scroll materialized onto the table, a feather pen by its side, yet there was no ink stone.
Elyon understood what it was.
It was a binding contract used by dark elves in taming beasts.
Modified to be used as contracts that could bind one to their word.
Go against the contents of the contract and your mana pathways would be sealed, heart exploding before you could completely break the promise.
"... " Elyon nodded. He knew what this was: a mana oath contract.
He had signed this many times; another didn’t mean a thing, and even if a contract wasn’t before him, he would have kept his promise otherwise.
Who in their right senses would go against the strongest being on the planet, said to be the strongest even among supreme mages, the most ancient of mages, with abilities that were in the realm of godhood?
It was rumored he was even omnipresent.
No one on the planet would make this man their enemy, neither for danger or threats, as none were greater than him, nor for rewards, as he was the richest on the continent as well.
Elyon pricked his finger; the blood absorbed by the quill of the pen.
With it, he wrote his name. Though it wouldn’t matter what he signed, as long as the blood made contact with the contract, he was bound to it.
"Thank you..."
The contract burst into flames, a seal invisible to him appearing on his mana heart.
If he spoke of Alaric’s abilities, he was sure to die before the words completely left his mouth, and if probed, he would die before it was discovered.
"You can go now." With a casual tone once more, the founder gestured for him to leave.
He bowed respectfully, leaving the premises, mind blank.
The teleportation crystal was used up; he could only take the elevator back.
He stepped onto the Victorian-era style elevator, a gilded cage with wrought iron shaped into the symbol of a six-star, ornamental stones decorating the entirety of the cage.
It looked like it was clothed with nebula.
The interior was simple, red leather lining the floor, a luxurious couch at the back for one to sit as they rode.
Control buttons displayed all the floors, from the lobby to the founder’s office.
After clicking the button to his stop, he sat down, opening the pouch.
He swept his senses through it, mouth agape, eyes wide upon his findings.
In it were 3,000,000 gold coins.
The treasury of a small nation was around 500,000 gold.
Six times the amount of a nation, in his rough hands.
His eyes moistened. "With this, I... I... can finally help my kin..."
Most would have panicked having such an amount, but he didn’t.
There was nothing to be afraid of.
The founder had given this to him; they had signed an oath.
As an assassin, his word was his bond, and he believed that so was the founder.
"If I take the 150,000 gold coins back to the client, I will still have over 2 million left," his eyes shone with excitement but quickly dimmed as he remembered his comrades.
"I will get something for your family," he thought.
3,000,000 gold was a substantial amount, as the average salary of regular folks was around 4 silvers.
Which could sustain an average household of two for a month; 1,000 copper coins were equivalent to a silver coin.
1,000 silver coins were equivalent to one gold.
3,000,000 gold was capable of buying a town or even a small nation, as it is approximately 3 billion dollars.
"I think I will stop assassination and get myself some land... yeah." He sunk into the chair, a wide smile on his face.
Remembering why he got the money, his eyes narrowed. "Alaric Vulcan, who is he?" he thought, but just as the thought came, he quickly shook his head.
As an assassin, he knew there was some information one didn’t need to know.
As information usually got you killed more than possession.
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"Can we stop by a tower on our way home..." Alaric requested as he lay on his mother’s lap.
The two were in the carriage on its route to the Vulcan Kingdom.
"You want to test your abilities?" Raika asked.
"Yeah."
"Then why don’t you spar with me?"
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(• ◡•) A/N.
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