"All contracts sealed," the elf woman said, her voice smooth and professional. "Each of them is now tied to Your Highness alone. You may issue orders, recall them at will, or even enforce loyalty through the geas marks, should the situation demand it."
Fenric flexed his fingers, watching the glowing contracts fade into his skin until only faint traces remained—like tattoos of ownership, visible only to him.
"Perfect," he muttered.
The elf bowed. "Would Your Highness prefer we deliver them to your estate, or will you escort them back personally?"
"Just escort them back," Fenric replied without hesitation.
She nodded, then paused, tilting her head slightly in thought. "Would Your Highness care to see the rest of our stock? You might find others suited to more specific roles… perhaps ones tailored for your future needs?"
Her voice carried a hopeful lilt, a subtle pitch from a merchant who knew she was standing before a high-value client.
