Luke continued with his demand, his voice carrying the confident tone of someone who knew he held all the leverage.
"We both have to sign an official, binding contract. You and your friend cannot harm me in any way, shape, or form—not physically, not through proxies, not through hired help. Nothing. And you cannot share information about this transaction with anyone. Not your guild, not your clan, not anyone."
After delivering his terms, he reached into his own storage bag strapped to his chest and pulled out a contract—a magical contract that glowed with intricate runic patterns along its edges. Whirr… hum… The parchment pulsed faintly with life. This was the same foundational technique used in slave contracts, employing ancient binding magic that was nearly impossible to break without catastrophic consequences.
He passed it across the table to Sylphia with a satisfied smirk.
