"Gold, huh…"
Orson instinctively clutched his coin pouch. He had plenty of valuable items—rare materials, divine items, even sacred relics. But selling those to the auction house? That would be like stripping himself down just to fatten others. Absolutely not worth it.
"I know the guild's funds are tight, so let's start small. Four to five million gold should barely cover it. But if there's a surplus—hey, seven or eight million wouldn't hurt."
Nightshade made it sound so casual, so innocent.
"Wouldn't hurt?! You're out of your damn mind!"
Orson shot up and smacked him across the head.
That kind of money? Even the top guilds in the world would feel the burn. This idiot clearly had no concept of financial limits. Did he think Orson was the kingdom's central bank?
"Is that a lot? I thought it wasn't…" Nightshade muttered, holding his forehead and looking like a confused puppy.
