Lich for Hire

The density of fools today seemed surprisingly high. Ambrose was a little stunned.

First, an idiot orc arriving to settle a grudge; then, an idiot human casually announcing his own secret weakness. As a diviner, Ambrose could confirm that the man had been telling the complete truth just now.

They had just met—in fact, they had just fought—but he had volunteered the core vulnerability of his own existence without any prompting whatsoever. What an extraordinary specimen. If he'd had even a single gold coin on his person, Ambrose would have claimed it from him by manipulation already.

He did not, however, have a single gold coin, nor even a single piece of cloth with which to clothe himself.

"Right," Ambrose said, already tired. "I have a lot of work to do. If the two of you aren't here to cause me problems, could you please move along?"

He had just been in the middle of a productive conversation with Gareth about how to parcel out the dragon clans' assets. Now he would have to start from where they'd left off. What A genuine waste of time.

He turned to leave as Aiolos grabbed his arm. "Wait. You still haven't told me your relationship with that orc."

Ambrose said, over his shoulder, "We're enemies."

Aiolos's grip tightened. "Even better. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. We're friends now. I'm Aiolos. And you?"

Ambrose turned back, genuinely puzzled. "Friends? We just fought."

"Does that matter?" Aiolos said, as though the question were strange. "You attacked me because you thought I was causing trouble, didn't you? And I attacked you because I thought the same. If both of us made a mistake, shouldn't I be punishing myself first?"

"That's..." Ambrose paused. "That's actually reasonable."

Aiolos looked uncertain. "Is it? I thought it was just common sense. Save your anger for your real enemies. My f—my patron deity Thanos says the same."

Ambrose: "..."

The man had the judgment of a particularly trusting puppy.

Heki Stone, who had been enjoying the spectacle, was now watching the two of them apparently become friends in real time.

This was profoundly unfair! He had acquired one orc and received nothing but trouble. The lich had done nothing and acquired an ally who seemed both extremely powerful and enthusiastically cooperative.

An unkillable fighter with poor judgment was the perfect companion for someone who preferred doing the thinking. How did this lich end up with everything?

Ambrose, meanwhile, had made the decision to leave immediately. This person was clearly some variety of unusual sea creature, not anything he'd encountered before. The last thing he needed right now was entanglement. The fact that Aiolos might represent some wealthy faction or bloodline was exactly why he needed to get away—if he stayed close to this kind of opportunity, his instincts would take over.

The easiest way to resist temptation was to remove yourself from it.

"Aiolos? Good to meet you. You can call me Megaman Tiga. I'm genuinely quite busy today, so I can't host you properly. I'll have someone bring you clothes. For anything you need, ask the short dwarf. He'll look after you."

Aiolos was still turning over the name. "Megaman Tiga. That's... a very unusual name."

Ambrose was already in the air.

Aiolos turned to Heki Stone helplessly, then narrowed his eyes and evaluated him further.

"What exactly is your relationship with this orc?" Aiolos asked.

Heki Stone kicked Kalgore firmly in the ribs and said: "We also have history."

"But I watched you both talking on the beach. He bowed to you."

"He was deceiving me! I'm a victim in this situation."

Aiolos's interest sharpened. "Truly? He deceived me as well. He took my head off."

Heki Stone smiled slowly. "Then here is your opportunity. He's right there. Do whatever you like to him."

If he could draw this fool—this ridiculously strong and naïve fool—into an alliance through their shared grievance, that would be a good deal.

Aiolos looked at Kalgore, who was still lying on the sand, still stupefied. "I don't attack defenseless targets," Aiolos said. "A warrior of Thanos does not torture the helpless."

Heki Stone was about to praise this as admirable restraint. "I'll just take his head off," Aiolos continued. "An eye for an eye. I'll make it quick."

"No, no, no—" Heki Stone hurriedly rushed forward.

Aiolos's expression turned suspicious. "Why not? Are you defending him?"

Water droplets condensed around Aiolos and froze into sharp icicles, all directed at Heki Stone.

The dwarf vampire went pale. This man was unkillable and considerably stronger than him, but he also couldn't allow his brand new blood thrall to be decapitated before he'd gotten any use out of him.

Vampires could technically survive decapitation, but recovery was slow and grueling. It was a deplorable waste.

His mind moved quickly. The lich wasn't the only person on this island capable of persuasion. "Look," he said, smiling. "You want revenge, and I want revenge, but there's only one orc. If you take his head off, how can either of us settle the score with him properly?"

Aiolos frowned. "Then how do you intend to settle your score?"

"Oh, it'll be unpleasant. He won't get to die quickly. First, I'll give him a thorough beating, followed by several years of torture."

"Isn't that too troublesome?"

"Hardly. I quite like this method of revenge," Heki Stone replied seriously.

Aiolos looked at him with transparent disdain. Thanos moved fast and hit hard. Dragging things out was a waste of everyone's time, and Aiolos clearly thought it both tedious and vaguely cowardly. Drawn-out cruelty was the preference of people who weren't confident in their own power.

But he had just arrived here, knew no one, and had a more important objective in mind. Ariel came first. This strange dwarf could take whatever form of revenge he liked.

"Fine. You handle it. I'm going to find my friend."

He turned and walked in the direction in which Ambrose had flown, wanting to ask about Ariel. The dwarf seemed like a sneaky fellow; the lich was far more forthright. He would clearly be a better friend.

He walked directly into the island's concealment array, the magical framework that hid tens of thousands of wraiths from outside detection and was even capable of fooling divine perception.

Aiolos didn't notice the transition. He just found the island oddly complex, full of paths that seemed straightforward until they weren't. The lich, too, had somehow disappeared.

He wandered for what felt like a long time. Eventually Ambrose appeared again.

"There you are!" Aiolos said, with genuine relief. "I've been looking everywhere."

Ambrose threw him a set of clothes without comment.

The man had been circling the islandfor two days and apparently hadn't realized that turning around would have let him out immediately. He had never once looked back.

Aiolos put the clothes on with careful concentration. He got the shirt on backwards.

Ambrose stared. Had he never worn clothes before?

He was starting to get a little embarrassed. He had a personal rule against taking advantage of genuinely simple-minded people. Deceiving clever people was fine: he did so either out of self-defense or to take advantage of them. Deceiving someone who genuinely didn't know better made him feel bad, as if he were being unethical.

"Just what do you want from me?" Ambrose asked.

Aiolos tugged at the shirt and said, "I need a favor from you."

"Go on."

"I'm looking for a woman named Ariel. She's going to be my wife."

"A name isn't enough. Too many people have the same name. What does she look like?"

Ambrose had known perhaps a dozen Ariels over the course of his life.

"She's very beautiful," he said finally.

Ambrose: "..."

This was why he usually preferred to deal with intelligent people. With intelligent people, all you had to do was design a logical trap, and they would walk straight into it. Idiots produced answers that you couldn't predict at all.

"You don't know what she looks like," Ambrose said carefully. "Where did you last see her?"

"I haven't seen her yet."

"Was there an engagement? Did she cancel it?"

He almost added that anyone sensible would, but held back.

"No engagement," Aiolos said. "My father told me to marry her."

"No formal agreement, and you've never met. So you're planning to—what, take her by force?"

Aiolos considered. "If she's unwilling, that's... not completely off the table."

Ambrose eyed the fool skeptically.

With a fool, he had to be direct. "Forcibly taking someone is wrong. It creates endless problems and hostility. Your father didn't think this through."

Thunder cracked across an empty sky. A violent bolt of lightning forked overhead, splitting the air.

Ambrose looked up, then back down. "All right. Go back to wherever you came from. If I find Ariel, I'll let her know you're looking for her."

He would let this poor woman know to stay as far away as possible.

Aiolos looked genuinely grateful. "Thank you, good friend! I owe you."

"No, no. I already feel bad about it," Ambrose replied.

"Megaman Tiga, you're a good, modest person. I'll remember you."

Ambrose waved him off. He was done with this conversation.

Aiolos gripped his hand firmly and pressed what seemed like a conch shell into his hand. "Good friend, I just created this trinket. If you're in trouble, blow it and I'll come. And when you find Ariel, tell me."

"Uh..."

Ambrose stood holding the conch as he watched Aiolos stride rapidly into the ocean and vanish beneath the surface.

"Well..."

He hoped the paladins who were coming wouldn't be similar. He would feel genuinely uncomfortable attacking someone so foolish.

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