They were all terrified of the Necromancer.
Unbeknownst to them, this time it truly wasn't the case; the Necromancer was genuinely being sincere, yet faced everyone's suspicion.
It's like when someone lies too often, even the rare truth is taken as false.
The boy-who-cried-wolf story is told too many times, and people become immune.
By now, the Necromancer was anxious.
"I know what you're worried about."
"But if you miss this village, there won't be this shop again."
The Necromancer repeated one last time.
The Whipping Girl let out a cold laugh.
"Missing out is your loss. For us, it's basically dispensable."
"First, show us your sincerity."
"We can't send our men to die based on just some information."
"Unlike you, adept at manipulating corpses, we don't have countless cannon fodders."
"Our subordinates are flesh and blood; losing even one brings sorrow."
The Whipping Girl displayed an expression of cherishing her troops, but was truly seeking to drive a hard bargain.
