The dwarf's tone was immensely grave, for he already knew the answer would fall hardest on dwarven shoulders. The leaf munchers had little value for age-old undead crime bosses as opposed to the mighty dwarven race, the king reasoned inwardly.
The Blind Grave Oracle shifted her gaze to him.
"For us to ignore the Primordial Villain's transgressions, you will hand over a hundred thousand slaves currently held within Elvardian territory."
Silence.
Advisors exchanged looks. One of the dwarven generals swallowed.
That was not a symbolic number. Prisoners of war from border skirmishes, proxy conflicts, and failed rebellions. Elvardia did not practice slavery on the level of Vraven, not even close, but it was not outlawed either. Handing them over would cost Elvardia dearly.
Ragnar's jaw worked.
"…Done," he said finally, nodding once.
A ripple went through the room.
"With that out of the way," he began,
"That only covers his past transgressions," the Blind Grave Oracle cut in.
