Chapter 53: Viscount Fairchild
Wade stepped inside the study, the heavy door clicking shut behind him.
The decor of the room was simple but refined.
The shelves along the wall was lined with leather-bound books, with a map pinned to the other wall, and a fire snapping quietly in the hearth.
Behind the broad desk sat Viscount Fairchild.
He wore a calm smile, his hands steepled, and his posture radiating authority.
Wade quickly noticed that there was only one chair in the entire room. The one Fairchild occupied.
It was clearly intentional. If anyone wished to speak with him, they would do so standing.
At the right side of the desk stood Ned.
The thug looked battered but smug, his arms folded as if to remind Wade that he might have lost the battle when they’d met the first time, but he’d essentially won the war.
Wade let his gaze rest on Fairchild, and silently triggered Observe.
[Name: Viscount Fairchild]
[Race: Human]
[Level: ???]
Wade’s eyes narrowed. All question marks.
That only happened when someone’s strength was so far beyond his own that the system refused to show details.
Until now, he had believed Fairchild was just a noble meddling with adventurers through coin and contracts.
But this meant the man was also a powerful adventurer in his own right.
"Wade Barrett. I’ve heard quite a bit about you," Fairchild said, voice smooth and unhurried.
He gestured slightly with one hand toward Ned. "My man tells me you interfered with my... business."
"Under normal circumstances, that would be... problematic." His lips curved, amusement glinting in his eyes. "But I’ve also been told you let them go when Rowan arrived."
"That was... pragmatic. You didn’t cause unnecessary bloodshed."
"That’s good. I admire pragmatism. It’s the mark of a businessman, not a brute."
Wade stayed silent, letting the man do the talking.
"Since I am also a reasonable man," Fairchild continued, "I will forgive the matter."
"You asked for this meeting, after all. So instead, I’ll hear your request? "
"I don’t have a request," Wade said evenly. "I came here for business."
Fairchild studied Wade for a moment.
Then he flicked his fingers at Ned. "Leave us."
The thug shot Wade a wary glare before bowing his head and slipping out.
The door closed with a solid thud, leaving the two of them alone in the crackle of firelight.
Fairchild leaned back, gesturing loosely toward Wade. "Now then. Speak."
Wade nodded, then said, "I want a loan. 500,000 coins."
Silence filled the air.
Fairchild stared at Wade for a few seconds before leaning back in his chair, his ringed fingers tapping lightly on the desk.
The study’s lanternlight flickered across his face, catching the amused smile pasted on it.
"Five hundred thousand coins," he said slowly, savoring each syllable as if it were a fine wine.
"You know... I’ve had countless fresh adventurers come begging me for loans."
"Most tremble to even say the number twenty thousand. But you," he chuckled, shaking his head, "you walk in here after your first dungeon run and ask me for half a million."
"Either you’re brilliant... or suicidal. Which do you think it is?"
Wade met his gaze, steady and calm. "I’m neither. I’m just realistic."
"Oh?" Fairchild tilted his head. "Then humor me, Wade Barrett. Why do you believe you deserve such a high loan?"
Wade took a breath, then allowed a confident smile to spread across his face. "Because of my Origin Skill."
Fairchild’s brows arched slightly. He gestured for Wade to continue.
He’d told the same lie to Handler Calista. Who said he couldn’t use it here too?
"My Origin Skill grants me five unassigned stat points every time I make a successful deal. And unlike most adventurers who are locked into rigid stat growth, I can adapt freely."
"That means I have a higher growth potential than almost anyone else you lend money to."
"If your goal is to invest in adventurers who can actually pay you back, then I’m the safest bet you’ve had in years."
For a moment, silence stretched across the room. Then Fairchild laughed, a low sound that rolled through the study.
"So that’s the story you’re sticking to." He drummed his fingers on the desk. "I’ll admit, Wade... your supposed Origin Skill does give you an advantage."
"If true, it explains your confidence." His eyes narrowed. "But what if you die in your very next dungeon run? What then? My loan vanishes with you. My coins rot in your grave."
Wade shrugged. "Isn’t that already the risk you take with every adventurer?"
"The mortality rate in dungeons isn’t exactly a secret. Yet you still lend money. Why? Because when adventurers survive, you profit."
"The same logic applies to me. The only difference is that I have far more potential to make sure I survive."
Fairchild leaned forward, steepling his fingers. His gaze bore into Wade, as if trying to pierce through him.
Finally, he gave a small nod. "Fair point."
Relief tried to creep into Wade’s chest, but he kept his expression neutral.
"Still," Fairchild went on, "no deal is ever without terms. If I’m to lend you five hundred thousand coins, I’ll need collateral."
Wade blinked. "Collateral?"
"Of course. Something to assure me that you have skin in the game. Something that makes it... very painful for you if you fail to uphold your end."
Wade spread his hands. "I don’t have anything to offer."
It was the truth.
His gear was basic, his coins were already sunk into rent and brewing, and nothing else he owned came close to the value of the loan he was asking for.
Fairchild studied him for a few seconds, then, slowly, a wide grin spread across his face.
"Oh, but you do, Wade. You just don’t realize it yet."
Wade’s eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"
Fairchild leaned back, utterly at ease now, his grin predatory.
"If you want my loan, then I’ll take something more valuable than coin, armor, or land. I’ll take the rights to your very foundation."
"My foundation?"
"Yes, Wade Barrett. Offer me all your present and future skills as collateral. And if you default, they’re mine. Every last one of them."
A/N: Apologies. Better late than never.