NOVEL NEXT Chapter 52: Power Play
The knocks came again, quick and urgent.
Wade grabbed his sword from the couch before pulling the door open.
Rowan stood there, breathing hard, eyes intense with a seriousness Wade wasn't used to seeing in him.
"Rowan?" Wade frowned. "What's wrong?"
"Viscount Fairchild," Rowan said without preamble. "He's in Hiving. I just got word."
"He called for me. Something about a new quest." He glanced over his shoulder, then back at Wade. "This could be your chance."
Wade blinked. "My chance?"
"To meet him," Rowan said, lowering his voice. "You wanted me to introduce you, right? Well, here's the perfect opportunity."
"He doesn't usually come into the city himself. If you're serious about a loan, now's the time."
Wade frowned. He never thought he'd get to meet the Viscount this early, but the thought of stronger gear and better skills made him shove away the thoughts.
He'd need those things if he wanted to clear the dungeon alone.
"Alright," Wade said after a beat, nodding. "Give me a minute."
He slipped back into his apartment, double-checking that the jug of mead was stored safely away in the cupboard, and the lanterns dimmed.
Satisfied, he slung his sword across his back and turned to Rowan, who waited by the door.
"Let's go."
Rowan's shoulders eased slightly in relief, though his expression stayed tight. "Good. He's at the guild. Best not keep him waiting."
Together, they descended the stairs and stepped out into the cool night air, the streets quieter now but still alive with the occasional clatter of hooves and chatter of late-night wanderers.
As they moved quickly toward the guild towers, Wade couldn't help but feel a coil of tension in his chest.
Tonight, he'd meet Viscount Fairchild, the man who lent power at crushing costs, the man Rowan had been forced into debt under.
And if Wade played it right, maybe his own path to power would open.
A few minutes later, the guild building stood before them against the night sky, its upper spires lit with lanterns that made it look like a beacon in the heart of Hiving.
Wade and Rowan strode across the wide stone steps, pushing through the heavy doors into the familiar buzz of the main hall.
But Rowan didn't stop at the notice boards or the cafeteria.
He kept going, weaving through the hallways with purpose, until the laughter and clamor of adventurers faded behind them.
Before long, they arrived at corridors with a more quiet and formal atmosphere.
They soon came to the wide corridor of the administrative section.
Guards in the guild's colors stood at attention by the polished doors, spears gleaming under lantern light.
Rowan slowed, turning to Wade. "This is as far as you go for now," he said quietly. "Wait here. I'll bring you in once it's time."
Wade nodded. "Got it."
Rowan gave him a small, reassuring smile before stepping through the guarded doors.
They shut behind him with a dull thud, leaving Wade standing in the corridor with nothing but his thoughts and the watchful eyes of two armored guild guards.
Time stretched. Wade leaned against the cool stone wall, watching shadows from the lanterns flicker across the floor.
Minutes became long, dragging things. Then half an hour passed, and still, nothing.
He frowned, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
"What the hell is taking so long?" he muttered under his breath.
It wasn't until nearly an hour had crawled by that footsteps approached.
A young man in neat guild livery stopped before him, bowing slightly.
"Wade Barrett?"
"That's me."
The messenger straightened. "Viscount Fairchild left the guild building more than thirty minutes ago. He has retired to his lodgings within the city. He extends an invitation for you to meet him there."
Wade stared at him, blinking once, then twice. The exhale slipped out bitterly. "Of course he did."
A power play. Make the adventurer wait, then send word that he'd already left.
Make it clear who held the leash, who called the shots. Classic noble move.
Still, Wade forced a grin, pushing off the wall. "Lead the way."
The messenger nodded crisply and turned on his heel. Wade followed, his boots echoing against the stone floor.
If Fairchild wanted to play games, fine. Wade knew how to play games too.
The streets of Hiving at night were a world apart from the bustle of day.
The air was cooler, quieter, and filled with the muted glow of lanterns swaying above doors and shop signs.
Their flames painted pools of gold onto cobblestones, guiding Wade and his escort deeper into the city's veins.
The further they went, the thinner the crowd grew.
Merchants had shuttered their stalls, taverns hummed faintly with muffled laughter, and only the occasional patrol of guild guards passed by.
At last, they turned into a wide, tree-lined lane where the buildings stood larger and prouder.
Ahead, a mansion rose from behind black iron gates.
It was small compared to the sprawling guild towers, but stately in its own right. Its stone walls were washed in lamplight, windows glowing faintly like watching eyes.
"This way, sir," the messenger said, as the gate creaked open. Wade followed, boots crunching over the gravel path.
Two guards in tailored livery stood waiting at the mansion's front steps.
Their gaze was intense, appraising him with open suspicion.
One extended a hand, and Wade handed over his sword without complaint.
They patted him down, checking for hidden blades or contraband, then gestured him onward.
Wade wondered what the point was when he could be hiding worse in his inventory, but said nothing.
Inside, the air smelled faintly of polished wood and burning incense.
The floors gleamed, and the walls were lined with portraits of solemn-faced men and women.
Servants moved quietly in the background, their footsteps hushed against the rugs.
The messenger led him down a corridor, and past yet more guards.
At every turn, Wade felt hidden eyes watching him. It was less a house and more a nest of hawks.
Finally, they arrived at a set of double doors framed in dark oak, brass handles gleaming.
"The viscount awaits you," the messenger said, bowing slightly before retreating.
Wade stood there for a moment. He flexed his hands once, then reached forward.
The door groaned open, spilling warm light across the hallway.
And there, beyond the threshold…