The Exiled Lord: My Maid is a Battle Goddess-Chapter 86: reach an agreement

"The Shadow Lady’s Makeup Case. It can also transform into a shadow dagger."

The dagger in Sylvia’s hand became entwined with dark shadows, shifting into an elegant black makeup case.

"It can change appearances and evade detection." After saying that, Sylvia used the small tools inside to dab at her face for a while. She actually transformed into the mature woman who had spoken with Phield earlier. "Well? Did you recognize me? Baron from the Moon."

"So it was you who told me about the Empire’s current situation during the day!"

Phield smacked his forehead. No wonder that married-woman appearance had carried a strangely youthful liveliness.

"Impressive, right?" Sylvia looked extremely proud, clearly satisfied with Phield’s reaction, her cat ears swaying nonstop. "Bet you’ve never seen anything like it. A pitiful lord like you who doesn’t even have a Divine Chosen could never hope to own something like this."

???

The Silver Iris Brooch was the same type as her divine artifact.

Not only could it alter the entire body, but The Silver Iris Longsword was longer than her dagger while remaining even more concealed.

Unfortunately, the Silver Iris Brooch’s transformation ability could only mimic people he had already seen, whereas the makeup case allowed her to style herself freely.

"Fine. Bring me benefits worth three million gold coins, and I’ll help you escape. Otherwise, I’ll call the guards right now and have you arrested on the spot—and I’d be more than happy to do it."

"You despicable human!"

Sylvia nearly fainted from anger. "Three million gold coins—do you even know what you’re saying?"

"Not much. A single first-tier divine artifact can sell for a million gold. Are you telling me a Divine Chosen isn’t worth three million?"

"I’m not asking you to pay it all at once. I believe you and your lord can afford this price. Of course, you can repay with valuable intelligence or supplies. You could even work for me—as long as it amounts to three million in value."

"That’s too much. We Demei-humans don’t have that kind of money."

Demei-humans were among the poorest races, aside from a few "noble Demei-humans" such as dragonkin or the foxkin known for earning wealth. Most Demei-humans lived in small tribes, struggling against hunger and cold.

As she spoke, Sylvia pitifully took out a pretty handkerchief. Inside, carefully wrapped, were one gold coin, six silver coins, and three copper coins.

"That’s all I have. I like buying pretty clothes, so it’s hard to save money."

"You’re a thief class... or maybe an assassin? Either way, you should be able to find treasures or divine artifacts. Clothes don’t even cost that much."

Phield ruthlessly took her gold coin. While idly playing with it, he said coldly, "One gold coin repaid. Now swear with your contract! If you can’t repay the rest, you’ll use yourself as collateral."

"But..."

"You want to live and take revenge yourself, don’t you? Don’t forget how your comrades and your people died. Only by living can you avenge yourself against Simon. We’re partners bound by interests—don’t treat me like an enemy. If you need help, you can come to me."

At this point, she had no other choice. She was injured; although the makeup case could disguise her, the manor forbade anyone from leaving, and she couldn’t sneak out disguised as a maid.

After being constantly persuaded by Phield, Sylvia ended up swearing an oath in a daze and signed the repayment contract.

"Good. From now on, listen to me. I’ll help you survive and escape."

After discussing the precautions, the two spent the night without further conversation.

In the darkness, Phield listened to the girl’s quiet sobbing. He didn’t know whether she was mourning her people or fearing the future. He simply slept in silence.

With Phield present, no guards came in to search, giving Sylvia ample time to recover her divine power.

The next day was the important one. Phield and Simon met in the main hall to discuss the pricing of the Vigor Elixir.

Simon looked exhausted, yet the pride and excitement on his face were impossible to hide. He said eagerly, "I was fierce last night—handled three without even taking a break."

"As expected of you." Phield gave him an approving look.

"Tell me the Vigor Elixir formula. I’m willing to buy it at a high price." Simon’s tone shifted, sounding honest and straightforward. "I’ll offer fifty thousand gold coins."

If the Vigor Elixir were considered a magical potion, the formula alone would be worth at least three hundred thousand. Fifty thousand was pure wishful thinking.

Phield had already prepared his response. Smiling, he said, "It’s a divine recipe bestowed by the Goddess of Love. She forbids me from sharing it. Sorry—let’s discuss pricing instead."

A flicker of anger and resentment flashed through Simon’s eyes. Though well hidden, Phield caught it immediately.

"Because the crafting process is complex and the materials are extremely rare, I trust you won’t disappoint the Goddess of Love."

Phield sat calmly in his chair.

"Vigor Elixir, fifty copper coins. Vital Essence Oil, ten gold coins."

From his tone, it sounded as though Simon did not intend to bargain.

"Sorry, that won’t do." Phield tapped his fingers lightly on the table, producing a steady, crisp rhythm, his voice completely calm. "Don’t be fooled by how many pills I brought. You know very well that in the entire Empire—perhaps even the whole world—this is the only supply. I’ve given it exclusively to you. A monopoly business... I don’t need to explain how profitable that is."

Phield revealed a row of white teeth. "Vigor Elixir, forty silver coins. Vital Essence Oil, eighty gold coins."

"You must be joking—eighty gold coins? That’s practically the price of a magic potion!" Simon was truly agitated now, the first time Phield had seen him this angry. "And no one from the lower class would spend forty silver coins for a single hour of pleasure."

"You could split one Vigor Elixir into forty portions and sell each for three silver coins. Wouldn’t that double your profit? Besides, you don’t have to sell only to commoners. Send them along trade routes to the major cities—there will be plenty of buyers."

A monopolized product—Phield had him cornered.

Simon fell silent.

This pill was especially important to him. Not only could it compensate for his own issues, but more importantly, it worked on Florine. Feeding orcs berserk potions would completely drain their life force, but Vigor Elixir would not.

"Your price is too high. I can offer certain conveniences, but you must lower it."

"Conveniences? Please elaborate." Phield sounded interested.

After careful discussion, they finally reached an agreement: Vigor Elixir would sell for thirty silver coins each, and Vital Essence Oil for fifty gold coins—an even better outcome than Phield had originally expected.

A total of 30,500 Vigor Elixirs and 200 bottles of Vital Essence Oil amounted to 19,150 gold coins. Simon paid 19,000 in cash. In addition, he provided something Phield had long desired—craftsmen.

Two stonemason apprentices, two carpentry apprentices, and one blacksmith apprentice.

Craftsmen were the foundation of a lord’s domain and rarely circulated freely. Gaining five apprentices this time was already a huge profit.

"Excellent. Now the construction speed of Nightfall Domain is about to hit the accelerator."

Of course, Phield also had to meet Simon’s demands: all products such as Vigor Elixir could only be supplied to Simon, and the price for the next batch had to decrease.

Phield had never planned to rely on selling Vigor Elixir forever anyway. Making a few rounds of profit was enough—the future of Nightfall Domain had to depend on industrial development.

"Farewell, Baron Simon, and the ever-charming Miss Florine. Don’t mourn those gold coins—they’ll eventually circle back into your pockets."

Florine tossed Phield a flirtatious glance and said shyly, "Goodbye. Don’t forget to think of me."

Simon, on the other hand, looked helpless, clearly pained over the loss of his gold.

Laughing brightly, Phield nodded at the slaves pulling the carts and called out loudly, "Load the empty barrels. We’re departing."

At that moment, a concealed shadow slipped out from inside the house like liquid and swiftly entered one of the empty barrels.

"Huh? This one’s heavy," a slave muttered.

"Ahem—stop slacking off." Phield scolded sharply. "Didn’t you eat? Move faster."

"Y-Yes, my lord!" The slave jumped in fright and hurried to load the cart.

The manor guards witnessed the scene, but a noble scolding slaves was nothing unusual, so they paid it no mind.

Only after the carriage passed through the restricted checkpoint did Phield finally relax.

"Head back to the inn first."

Phield pulled open the carriage curtain and saw Rosalia waving to him in the distance. He nodded back with a smile.

As soon as he arrived at the inn, he saw a crowd gathered at the entrance—some dressed as nobles, others in clerical robes.

"The debt collectors have arrived."

...

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