[IMG]http://i165.photobucket.com/albums/u79/SharpshooterJack/markerGerald_zps253683a8.png[/IMG]
[h3]Duchy of Pelgaid, secluded pond[/h3]  
[I]My dream?[/I] Gerald thought with grim amusement when Jillian responded to him leaving the decision in her hands. He offered her a half-hearted, regretful smile, but he could not help but to think about this being termed like that. No, it was not his dream; certainly 'not dying' did make an appearance on his list of necessary prerequisites to achieve his true goals, but it was hardly something that he would term a goal in itself. He lived for his dreams; he did not dream to be alive. He wanted to live, yes, and he would be grateful if her actions allowed him to survive, but it was not as though she was helping him fulfill his life-goal and ultimate objective.
Being a hero was even farther from being one of his dreams than simply surviving, though. He had no desire to be known as a hero, had no use for fame and did not even care if he would eventually be known as a villain; what he did now he did not for some hypothetical reward from the people of their world as they bent knee in reverence of his accomplishment, but for the sake of the world itself. He had heard of many things that could motivate a person to heroics; love, compassion, greed, ambition, lust for honor and glory, the need of feeling good about what one was doing... and people had, in the past, considered him callous for scoffing at such motivations. He did not care; maybe he even was evil, by their definition of the word. Maybe he was cruel because he was willing to make the difficult choices, to make sacrifices even if that which was sacrificed was not necessarily his to offer to fate. Maybe he was twisted, heartless and wicked, but what he did, he did for the sake of the world, nothing more and nothing less. The bigger picture allowed him to be what the world needed, even if he was not what the world wanted.
He did not know what Jillian meant when she claimed that he owed her the fulfillment of her own dream, nor was he particularly interested at that point. He was just happy that she had agreed to the bargain... and hoped that he had not misjudged how badly the Grand Master actually wanted the Withering ended.

"That's the idea," the demon replied with a nod of his head. He raised his right hand and unceremoniously snapped his fingers, calling forth a puff of flame there that, when it dissipated, left a sheet of parchment between his fingers, along with a pale-white feather quill with a tip adorned with what appeared to be pure gold. "Just saying it isn't enough, though; in my imprisonment more than ever, the reach of my power is determined by my contracts. Sign it, and the deal is done."
The paper and quill were both sent sailing through the air along an unnaturally straight path with a flick of the deity's wrist, and Gerald had no difficulty catching both of them when they reached him. The necromancer had been prepared to carefully study this contract for hours on end if needed, recalling the numerous tales of the Grand Master's trickery and deceitful loopholes, but as it turned out this contract was, for whatever reason, very short and straightforward:

[I]I, the origin of this contract who is bound to fulfill it, the Infernal Emperor, hereby enter a wager with the signees, which will last until the end of time or until the signees violate the terms of the deal. I will bestow upon them the complete truth of the identity of the origin of the Withering, the location of this origin and the means by which the Withering is spread. If the Withering is not ended within ten days of the moment of signing, I will become the rightful owner of the soul of signee Jillian Veldaine and the artifact Omni. In the event that the Withering claims the signees, I will be entitled only to the artifact Omni. If the Withering is ended within the allotted time, by any means, I am entitled to nothing and the signees will be required to give nothing for the information.[/I]

And that was it; no lengthy paragraphs about the exact terms of the bet that could conceal a cunning loophole, no small writing, no symbols in anything but the Human Cipher or words in anything but Rodorian. It was almost disappointing, but also further evidence of just how much the Grand Master wanted them to accept.
"The contract is unique, very powerful magic," the fiend explained calmly as Gerald stared intently at the writing, almost as though expecting the letters to shift before his eyes and reveal a deception after all. "It increases my power as much as needed to fulfill it, but also binds me inescapably to its terms. I will not be able to violate it, no matter how much I might want to, once it is signed, unless you violate your terms... which I think would be a rather hard thing to accomplish. Make your mark, and the deal is done."
Gerald blinked, then looked the quill. It felt soft and smooth between his fingers, but aside from the golden tip it looked almost like sun-bleached bone. He did not even think to ask for ink; he just pressed the tip of it against the bottom of the parchment and traced his signature, and the quill left behind red writing at seemed as though it appeared [I]in[/I] the parchment rather than [I]on[/I] it.
He offered the quill and paper to Jillian; the contract felt heavier now, somehow. Much too heavy for just parchment. The Grand Master's fiery eyes were fixed on it. The air felt as though charged with electricity. There was no doubt that this moment was a major focal point in the web of fate, a junction into which countless threads of past culminated and countless threads of future extended. A moment that would determine the course of fate...
Despite the gravity of the situation, Gerald smiled. Jillian had wanted power; maybe this would teach her to be careful what she wished for.