[The Abyssal Academy - The Main Courtyard]
The rain had finally stopped, leaving the courtyard slick and gleaming under the pale moonlight. The sound of vampires hammering stone and holy magic vaporizing cursed pillars echoed through the night as Victor's Work-Study Program operated at peak efficiency.
Victor Thorne stood on the grand staircase, a fresh cup of black coffee in his hand.
Suddenly, the air in the center of the courtyard warped. A portal of swirling, metallic liquid opened above the cobblestones.
Stepping out of the portal was a Goblin. But he wasn't wearing rags or holding a rusty dagger. He wore a pinstripe suit woven from gold thread, a diamond-studded monocle, and carried a briefcase made of dragon-scale. Behind him marched four Iron Guard mercenaries, massive golems forged from enchanted steel.
"Principal Thorne!" the Goblin's voice was sharp, cutting through the noise of the construction. He snapped his briefcase open. "I am Griphook, Senior Emissary of the Iron Bank. We have noted a change in administration. I am here to collect the outstanding monthly mortgage payment of one hundred thousand Gold. Or I will foreclose on this property immediately."
The courtyard went dead silent. The students stopped working, watching nervously. The Iron Bank was the most feared entity in the realm; they funded empires and toppled kings.
Ignis growled, her hand resting on her broadsword. Elara stepped back, intimidated by the towering steel golems.
Victor didn't blink. He took a slow sip of his coffee.
"Seraphina," Victor said calmly. "Bring me the original mortgage deed."
Seraphina produced a rotting, two-hundred-year-old scroll from her clipboard and handed it to him. Victor placed his Tycoon's Ledger over the scroll. The pages glowed with blinding golden light, instantly digitizing and appraising the centuries-old contract.
"You owe us four point two million Gold in total!" Griphook sneered, adjusting his monocle. "We don't accept excuses, human. Pay the hundred thousand now, or my golems will evict you by force."
"I don't make excuses, Griphook," Victor tapped his fountain pen against the glowing ledger. "I conduct audits. According to Subsection 4, Paragraph 12 of this original deed, the Iron Bank is legally obligated to provide 'bi-annual magical ward maintenance' to protect the collateral's structural integrity."
Griphook froze. His long, pointed ears twitched.
"The Tycoon's Ledger confirms that no representative of the Iron Bank has performed ward maintenance on this castle in one hundred and forty years," Victor's voice dropped the temperature in the courtyard to freezing. His Tycoon's Aura flared, heavy and suffocating.
"That... that was an administrative oversight!" Griphook stammered, taking a step back.
"That is a Breach of Contract," Victor corrected him coldly. "Due to your negligence, the West Wing collapsed, the gargoyles decayed, and the property depreciated. I am invoking the penalty clause."
Victor slashed his gold pen across the ledger.
[System Alert: Breach of Contract Verified.]
[Penalty Applied: 5,000,000 Gold Fine against the Iron Bank.]
"You owe me four point two million," Victor looked down at the terrified goblin, stepping off the grand staircase. "But because of your breach, the Iron Bank owes the Abyssal Academy five million for asset depreciation. If we net the difference... you owe me eight hundred thousand Gold. Payable immediately."
"You cannot fine the Iron Bank!" Griphook shrieked, his face turning pale green. "Guards! Seize him!"
The four massive steel golems raised their warhammers and charged at Victor.
"Ignis. Elara." Victor didn't even look at the charging golems. "Liquidate them."
Furious at being interrupted, the demon princess unleashed a massive wave of hellfire, melting the legs of the first two golems. Elara, desperate to pay off her massive debt, screamed and brought down a blinding Holy Smite that shattered the remaining two into molten scrap.
Griphook fell to his knees in the puddles, staring at his destroyed mercenaries in pure shock.
"Seraphina," Victor turned around, heading back to his office. "Draft a lawsuit against the Iron Bank. And tell Mr. Griphook that if he doesn't have my eight hundred thousand Gold by tomorrow morning, I am repossessing his dragon-scale briefcase."