Chapter 486: The Goddess of Wealth Haggles
Chapter 486: The Goddess of Wealth Haggles
The first layer of Hell had been unusually lively of late.
Ambrose's first shipment of soul-coins, a full ten million of them, had been delivered into the hands of Sariel and Tiamat.
This was the fruit of several years of labor carried out inside Ambrose's private space.
Every soul had been imprinted with some variety of extreme emotion: valor, resentment, desire, and so on. But that was the extent of it. If any of these souls were actually loaded into a skeleton, the skeleton would probably fall apart on the spot. Cost-cutting was cost-cutting, after all.
As long as no one broke open the coins and released the souls inside, there'd be nothing visibly wrong with them from the outside.
This was something Ambrose had already made clear to Sariel ahead of time, so there'd be no room for the Archduchess to claim a contract violation later.
Not that Sariel had any interest in laying traps right now. She was far too transfixed by the soul-coins themselves. She'd never in her life seen so many piled up together in one place.
In Hell, souls were an extraordinarily precious commodity, and their uses were wide-ranging.
The elite forces under Sariel's command were often equipped with Hell Engines, devices forged through infernal magic that could dramatically amplify a devil's power. These Hell Engines ran not on oil, but on soul-coins.
Certain rare varieties of devil couldn't even survive without regularly consuming souls. Go without them for long enough, and they'd simply starve to death.
In Hell, souls weren't merely a hard currency, but also a consumable.
Even with Hell connected to so many planes, with souls constantly falling into it to be punished and tormented, when divided across nine layers and burned through by daily consumption, all the lords of Hell found themselves perpetually running tight.
Sariel and Tiamat stared at the neatly stacked ten million soul-coins before them. Both Archduchesses felt the same impulse rise up simultaneously: to destroy the other and claim the whole hoard for themselves.
In the end, though, both held back.
This was only Ambrose's first installment. There would be more to come. Tearing each other apart now would be pointless.
When their bank opened, a single Archduchess wouldn't be enough to run it. Sufficient military backing was going to be essential for anyone who wanted to make it work.
So both Archduchesses forcibly buried their greed and got to work on the soul bank's construction.
Devils had entertained the idea of building a bank before. The material plane had goblin banks, and replicating the concept in Hell posed no real technical challenge. The main problem had always been to accumulate enough starting capital.
The rate of soul consumption was simply too high. Whoever sat at the top of Hell seemed to have calculated every lord's expenditures down to the last coin, keeping the total supply of soul-coins at precisely the level where nobody quite starved, but nobody was ever full either.
Running a bank without startup capital in that sort of environment could only ever be a fantasy.
And the other devils weren't easy to fool, either. If you didn't have the reserves to back it up, no one was going to deposit or borrow through your bank.
Now, though, the capital was there. What was still missing was talent.
Finding the right kind of talent meant going to Mnemoros, the third layer of Hell.
The lord of that layer was Mammon, Hell's most notorious miser and the most single-minded capitalist in the entire infernal hierarchy. Perhaps as a result of a romance that had once been forcibly torn apart by the ruler of Hell himself, Mammon's entire existence, ever since, had been defined by one thing alone: accumulating wealth.
Mammon possessed the largest stockpile of soul-coins and the largest stable of goblin capitalist-slaves within all of Hell.
These goblins worked tirelessly on his behalf, calculating every expense to the last coin, crafting intricate contracts designed to squeeze as many mortal souls as possible into signing over their own damnation.
That said, the barrier between Hell and other planes being what it was, even this approach hadn't given Mammon an absolutely crushing financial advantage over his peers. He simply had a bit more breathing room than the average lord of Hell.
So when Sariel showed up with a fistful of soul-coins to purchase some of Mammon's goblin capitalist-slaves, Mammon's first reaction was that this must be some kind of impostor.
When had this battle-crazed maniac ever developed an interest in capitalist souls?
But whatever the case, the soul-coins themselves were genuine, so Mammon sold the goblin slaves over regardless. He did, however, take the precaution of leaving a hidden imprint on the souls of several of the goblin slaves so he could monitor their movements at any time.
Through those goblins, Mammon then witnessed a quantity of soul-coins that nearly made his eyes burst from his head.
His first assumption was that the coins were counterfeit. Sariel, that absolute wretch, was running a counterfeiting operation!
But when he fed a coin into a Hell Engine, it ran perfectly. It was, in fact, flawless.
"Where did Sariel get this many soul-coins?! Did she swallow that tifling kingdom whole?! Was that supposed 'defeat' of hers all a ruse?!"
Mammon pried and schemed, and eventually, through sheer persistence, managed to learn that Sariel and Tiamat were planning to open a soul bank.
The bank was meant to serve all the lords of Hell as clients. It was always going to need to be publicly announced, so there was no possibility of keeping it secret.
At this news, Mammon panicked.
If this soul bank actually got off the ground, he'd no longer be Hell's wealthiest devil.
Without a moment's hesitation, Mammon went straight to Sariel and Tiamat's door and demanded to be brought in as a partner.
Both refused.
The two Archduchesses of Hell's first layer might not have been natural experts in economics, but they understood how lucrative a bank could be. Why on earth would they hand Mammon a cut?
Mammon couldn't accept this. After losing his one great love, accumulating wealth was the only thing left that gave his existence any meaning. Being excluded from this venture wasn't a mere setback, but torture. The frustration threatened to drive his soul to madness.
So here he was again today, at their door, arguing and negotiating, willing to accept a smaller share of the profits and almost any terms whatsoever, so long as they let him in.
Sariel and Tiamat were nearly at their wits' end with him. They were openly discussing whether to just beat him into submission. It wasn't as though Mammon could hold his own against both of them at once.
Just as the three infernal lords were moments away from coming to blows, the magic mirror in Sariel's quarters lit up, and Wauleen, disguised as the God of Alchemy, appeared.
Wauleen took one look at the three lords of Hell and immediately understood what was happening.
Every deal, every transaction, every negotiation in progress—none of it escaped the Goddess of Wealth's perception.
"Oh my. It seems I've arrived at quite an interesting moment."
Sariel shot Mammon a withering glare, then turned to the mirror. "God of Alchemy? What do you want?"
Though Sariel knew the magic mirror was one of the God of Alchemy's products, she normally only communicated with Ambrose through it. This damned God of Alchemy, apparently, could just open the connection whenever he felt like it without needing her permission. And with Mammon still in the room, this was getting awkward.
"Just here to pass along a reminder that the date is set. Blobdilpulp has fallen into a state of madness and weakness. The time has come to resolve her situation."
Sariel gaped. "That's already been handled? How?"
To be perfectly honest, Sariel had never had any real intention of fulfilling her end of the deal. She'd just wanted Ambrose's gold. Abducting a goddess, one who was sitting safe and sound in her own divine realm, no less, was an absolute joke of an assignment. Sariel's actual plan had always been to pressure Ambrose into paying all the soul-coins upfront, pocket a handsome profit, and then do nothing.
Divine beings weren't so easily handled. If they were, the gods would have been at each other's throats constantly.
Sariel herself had no idea how to deal with the kouto goddess. What could one mortal possibly do?
And yet she was already incapacitated? How was that even possible?
Sariel had no desire to do any actual work for Ambrose, so she cast about for an excuse. "I've been rather busy lately. I may need to push back the date of our operation."
But Mammon, who'd been listening carefully, had already caught the scent of something useful. "So that's what this arrangement is about? I don't know how you obtained so many soul-coins, but if there's something Sariel doesn't want to do, I'll do it instead! Same fee, guaranteed. No markup whatsoever!"
Sariel's jaw tightened with barely suppressed fury. She'd been sitting on a perfectly effortless arrangement, but now Mammon was blundering in to ruin it.
This was exactly what Wauleen had been waiting for. Competition created leverage.
Mammon's obsession with wealth had made him jump at the opening before he'd even thought it through, which meant Wauleen had no intention of letting this moment pass.
"Excellent. It sounds like the contract may need a few revisions."
Wauleen let her divine influence seep quietly into the negotiation. All three lords of Hell found themselves subtly affected without realizing it.
Sariel, suddenly anxious, said quickly, "Don't listen to this schemer. He's the greediest devil in Hell. Partnering with him is the worst decision you could possibly make."
Mammon shot back immediately, "But I have the best track record of anyone here! I honor every commitment I make, and I never look for excuses to back out, unlike certain devils who apparently can't even manage basic contractual integrity."
Tiamat snarled, her temper flaring. "This has nothing to do with you, you idiot! We agreed on a total of twenty million soul-coins. Not a single one belongs to you! Stay out of our deal!"
Mammon's eyes went wide, and he immediately lost all composure. "Ten million each? How is that even possible?! I have to be part of this deal. I have to! No one can stop me!"
Tiamat let out a roar. Five snarling dragon heads split from her form, all of them swinging toward Mammon.
And Sariel drew her sword, ready to back Tiamat up.
Just then, Wauleen spoke up, sounding puzzled. "Twenty million in total? That doesn't sound right to me. As I recall, my student's total offer was eighty million soul-coins, twenty million for Sariel and sixty million for Tiamat. Is that not correct?"
All five dragon heads that had been about to breathe fire suddenly froze and turned to face Sariel as one.
"Sixty million? The first time you told me about this, you said the figure was six million!"
Sariel blanked. She had never, not for a single moment, expected the God of Alchemy to step in and expose the truth of the arrangement at a moment like this. This was a disaster! That damned lich had promised not to reveal it—but no, they were talking to the God of Alchemy! She couldn't even penalize Ambrose for breach of contract!
"Sariel! You lied to me!"
Tiamat flung herself at Sariel with all five heads blazing, unleashing torrents of dragonfire in every direction.
Sariel had no choice but to spread her wings and dodge frantically around the room. Tiamat, in the fullness of her fury, was no trifling foe.
Her dragonbreath melted everything it touched. Rock transmuted to lava on contact. Tiamat was seemingly intent on tearing the entire place apart, and Sariel, her deception exposed, could hardly fight back.
As Wauleen watched this scene of absolute chaos unfold, she felt something she hadn't felt in a very long time: the exhilarating sensation of holding all the cards in a negotiation.
The push and pull of a business deal always brought her such pure pleasure. What a shame her counterparts were so hopelessly barbaric about it.
When the two infernal lords had gotten close enough to actually risk smashing the magic mirror itself, Wauleen finally spoke again. "Given that Sariel withheld the true figures, the existing contract is now void. It seems we'll need to start fresh with new terms. Perhaps a small auction might be in order? What do the three of you say?"