For a professional lawyer, drafting a contract that met the requirements was basic work.
Of course, that didn't mean a lawyer had to sit at a computer and type it out word by word. What era was this, anyway? Making contracts the old-fashioned way was exhausting. Contracts and agreements all had templates. A seasoned lawyer knew to draw on the wisdom of those who came before, then make precise revisions to suit the circumstances.
On the continent where Transia was located, Astral Summoning contracts also had standard templates.
As Triss had said, any summoner in their right mind would choose a mild-mannered and friendly demigod to summon. But although summoners belonged to various schools, Astral Summoners and Otherworld Summoners were notorious for being dangerous. So naturally, the contract templates used by these two professions had to be a little thicker.
But only a little thicker. At most, summoners added a few dozen clauses based on their understanding of contracts to protect their own interests.
After all, the other party to a contract was intelligent, too. The cunning astral creatures inclined toward chaos were especially good at exploiting loopholes.
Triss had told Murphy plenty of stories like that: summoners trying to use contracts to control their summons completely, only to be turned on; summons deliberately exploiting bugs in a contract and getting their summoners killed.
Such things were far from uncommon in a world teeming with psionic power. Perhaps it was because of all these risks that the ancient profession of Astral Summoner—with its unknowns, spirit of adventure, and risk of death—had fallen out of favor in the modern era. The simpler and safer Wild Summoners and Elemental Summoners had become far more popular instead.
After all, compared to astral creatures as cunning as foxes, beasts and elementals were practically dull-witted.