Lich for Hire

The dwarves' new capital, the Golden City, gleamed brilliantly beneath the sun.

How much of that gold-like sheen was nostalgia for their old desert palace? Even the Dwarven King himself would have struggled to answer that.

Still, though they had abandoned their thousand-year-old royal seat, the new capital was excellent in every regard. If there was anything to complain about, it was only that no immeasurable veins of gold lay buried beneath it.

Perhaps for that very reason, the dwarves had not only built a city that looked as if it were forged from gold, but had also pushed aggressively to develop commerce, hoping to recreate their once-boundless wealth.

Endel Mark was one of the lucky few riding that wave of opportunity. The young noble wiped the sweat from his brow as he climbed down from his carriage.

Inside were freshly delivered bottles of Fountain of Youth under the God of Alchemy brand. A single vial cost 1,999 gold; the entire carriage held goods worth over a million.

And that was only because the lavish packaging took up so much space. Otherwise, they could have packed even more into the carriage.

Still, the packaging was necessary. This wasn't a product meant to fleece the poor, but rather one tailored exclusively for nobles.

The Mark family had made a fortune from the distribution rights for the Fountain of Youth, rising from the brink of bankruptcy to become a rising star in commerce. They had even been granted an audience with the Dwarven King, who, with a wave of his hand, designated the highest-grade version as a royal-exclusive supply.

The profits from that deal weren't enormous, but the brand value it created was priceless.

The Dwarven King was the new ruler of this land. If he liked something, what noble wouldn't scramble to buy it? Whether you personally liked it or not, if you didn't keep a few bottles at home, wouldn't that suggest dissatisfaction with dwarven rule?

Dwarves weren't known for heavy-handed governance, so that might be a little exaggerated, but still.

Failing to buy the potion meant missing an opportunity to curry favor with the royal family. The lower-tier versions only cost a little over a thousand gold—surely any noble could afford that.

That was when the Marks' business truly took off. The Marks began to accumulate wealth at a staggering pace.

But just as they thought they were about to soar, shocking news arrived. The God of Alchemy brand had grown beyond just the Fountain of Youth. In the desert, a new sunscreen had already hit the market, and small numbers of magical automata were selling like hotcakes among adventurers.

The automata weren't much of a concern, and their limited supply posed no real threat.

But the sunscreen was a different story. It was a mass-market product, priced so low it instantly crushed all competitors.

Same effectiveness, lower cost—and backed by a legendary alchemist, with the God of Alchemy himself endorsing it. Rumor even had it that the god had performed a miracle in the desert. An ice block coated with the sunscreen had sat under the blazing sun for ten days without melting.

Whether that was true or not didn't matter. The marketing impact alone was overwhelming.

Whereas nobles cared only about prestige, commoners valued efficacy and cost. Not only was this sunscreen cheap, it was even certified by the divine. Both groups would choose it over any other option. As for pricing, they could always provide the product at varying levels of quality and cost, much like the Fountain of Youth. Nobles, after all, preferred the expensive over the cheap.

After a bit of inquiry, Young Master Mark learned that the sunscreen was even more profitable than the Fountain of Youth. The figures were enough to make anyone envious.

And when he went to deliver his routine payment to Miss Isabel, he heard even more shocking news: she was looking for distributors of the Fountain of Youth in other kingdoms.

Only then did he realize that the agency rights he had fought so hard to obtain were limited to the Dwarven Kingdom alone.

Reviewing the contract carefully, he found the clause buried among countless others. He simply hadn't paid attention when signing.

So distribution rights could even be split by region...

This sort of clause was entirely new to him. In the past, Alkhemia either granted full exclusivity or imposed no restrictions at all. Regional distribution rights were unheard of.

Upon learning this, the Mark family made two immediate decisions: to continue negotiating for distribution rights in other regions, and simultaneously send people to other kingdoms to open markets before those rights were finalized.

After checking the cargo, Endel Mark urged the driver toward the commercial teleportation array.

This time, he was heading to the tiflings' Unholy Kingdom, where the Marks had some connections to help establish new trade routes.

But as soon as he approached the teleportation hub, he saw a line of carriages stretching endlessly into the distance.

He sighed. This wasn't the first time such a situation had occurred.

Since the Dwarven King began promoting commerce, all kinds of alchemical products had re-entered the market. Everyone was racing to fill the gaps.

And cross-border trade depended entirely on teleportation arrays.

He'd even heard that the recent surge in usage had overworked the mages maintaining them. Several had collapsed from exhaustion, and accidents had started happening. Some travelers were sent to the wrong destination; others were obliterated along with their cargo.

The kingdom had ordered the construction of new continental arrays, but clearly, that wouldn't be enough in the short term.

Fortunately, Endel Mark had anticipated this and set out early. He could afford to wait.

After nearly three hours in line, his convoy finally entered the array. He handed the destination to a heavily sleep-deprived dwarven mage, along with an entire chest of gold coins. The array began to glow.

Space twisted. The force tore at reality itself, overlapping the destination's coordinates with the current location before severing the connection, instantly transporting everything within to another place.

Under normal circumstances, it was harmless. Some people sensitive to spatial distortions might feel dizzy or nauseous, but Endel Mark had traveled this way too often to be afflicted.

But this time, something seemed off. Why was the illumination so intense?

As he idly considered that question, the drowsy dwarven mage suddenly shouted, "Something's wrong! Get out of the array, now!"

But it was too late. The light had engulfed the entire convoy.

In the next instant, space warped and everything vanished.

"That's impossible! This is a newly built array!"

The mage halted operations and began inspecting the formation.

His conclusion was simple: overuse had pushed even the new array beyond its limits. It had malfunctioned. And as per kingdom policy, teleportation wasn't covered by any sort of insurance. There was no compensation whether you died or were maimed.

Looking at the payment Mark had made, the mage sighed. "Poor fellows. With distortion that severe, they're probably nothing but pulp now."

On the other side of the continent, Endel Mark and his convoy reappeared in a remote grove.

He himself was unharmed, but the carriage carrying the Fountain of Youth had been badly damaged.

One corner had been crushed by spatial distortion, and two crates of product were destroyed.

Thankfully, no one had died. The driver and workers were alive, though one of them was less fortunate. His right arm had twisted into a grotesque spiral. Strangely, he felt no pain, and his fingers could still move.

This was a typical teleportation failure. Disordered space rewrote physical structure in its entirety. The driver's arm wasn't broken, not quite. Rather, it was now permanently distorted.

Endel Mark sighed. "Go collect your compensation when we get back, then return home."

The injury wasn't untreatable; rather, doing so was simply too expensive. Regrowing a limb cost more than hiring thirty workers. The Mark family wouldn't pay that for a single laborer.

The man understood. At the very least, he was alive.

After settling everyone down, Endel Mark ordered, "Unload the Fountain of Youth. Check all the goods!"

The workers hurried to comply, opening the ornate packaging one by one, only to discover that every bottle had been compromised.

Originally, the liquid shimmered like a starry sky. Now the stars remained, but specks of red had appeared within.

It looked even more beautiful, but the product was surely ruined.

Spatial distortion had introduced impurities. Alchemical formulas were delicate, and even the slightest deviation could turn a remedy into poison.

There was no way he dared to sell this.

"We're finished... A million gold gone!"

This loss was devastating. If not for their earlier profits, it would have bankrupted the family.

Still, business was business. As long as they survived, they could recover in the future.

Right now, the priority was figuring out where they were.

Just as he was about to send scouts, a thunder of hooves approached. Silvery-white troops surrounded them.

Their silver armor and rose insignias identified them as the paladins of the Lyon Empire.

Had the failed teleportation dropped them into Lyon territory?!

"Everyone, down! Do not resist!" Endel Mark shouted.

His entire group immediately prostrated themselves. Their submissive posture eased the tension of the crossbows trained on them.

A red-haired paladin, built like a lion, rode forward and demanded, "Where did you spies come from? How did you bypass our defensive wards?!"

Endel Mark slowly raised his head. One look at that striking red hair was all he needed to identify the man.

This was Roger Ángelo, Lyon's infamous general. They were finished. Everyone knew that this man didn't just discriminate against other races, no. He didn't even spare humans.