"There's a wealthy client here for you!" Morca said, pointing at Adam.
Rat glanced at him, quickly lowered his head, avoiding Adam's gaze. After a pause, he hobbled to his bed, rummaged beneath it, and pulled out a small iron box. Carefully, he placed it on the table and unlocked it. Inside lay a heap of coins—gold, silver, copper, plus two gold rings and a pair of earrings.
"About twenty-one gold coins here, still owe three. I'll pay them another day," he said, head bowed.
Adam studied the small, ugly man. For a thief, he was remarkably principled. A quiet respect flickered in him.
He pushed the box back. "I'm not here to collect money. I trust you didn't mean to break the agreement."
"But the final task isn't done, is it?" Rat's gaze darted nervously, avoiding Adam's eyes.
The two stared at the box in silence. Morca blinked, utterly confused.
"You're hurt. Sit and rest," Silver Bell finally said.
Rat remained frozen.
Sighing, Adam approached and gently pressed him onto the bed, sitting beside him. The room had barely enough space for two beds and one chair.
"This money—consider it an advance. I'll have more work for you later," Adam said. Respect, even in small gestures, mattered. Rat probably couldn't afford a proper meal without it.
Rat nodded slowly.
Satisfied, Adam smiled and asked, "Who hurt you?"
"Chenno," Rat said quietly. "The others came with a noble. I think they knew I handed Chenno over to the patrol."
"Oh? A noble?" Morca finally caught on. "Looks like you were pulling some righteous tricks back then. Back when I was a noble, I was like that too. These days, nobles with any sense of justice are rare."
"You were a noble?" Adam asked, surprised. The scruffy man's demeanor gave little hint of it.
"Why, not allowed?" Morca puffed up his chest, mock serious. "Technically, I still am. Now, bow to Marquis Morca!" He smiled wryly.
"You lost your title, didn't you?" Rat asked.
"Nope." Morca pulled a small black wooden plaque from his waist. The dim light obscured its crest. "See? Still here. Lost my lands in battle, but not this."
"In battle? Against whom?" Adam raised an eyebrow.
"An empire in the east, called Zhou," Morca said. "Technically, I only fought a small state called Qin. They didn't respect opponents. No rest days, three hundred sixty-five days of surprise attacks, burned supplies, cut off logistics. I forced them to face me directly, only to find their metallurgy superior and a few practiced mysterious arts…"
Adam's eyes widened. He felt a quiet thrill.
Morca continued, "The giants sent no aid. The Senate ordered me to push forward."
"And?" Adam leaned in, interested.
"I beheaded the talkative envoy, hoisted him on a flagpole, and marched away. The Senate took my land but let me keep my title. Now, other nobles laugh at me—a marquis without lands." Morca's laugh held resignation. "A marquis oversees several cities. Greeks don't hand over land lightly. Losing territory isn't trivial."
Adam's expression shifted. "Then… can you make me a viscount?"
"Sure, but I have no land," Morca pouted.
"I don't need land!" Adam replied.
"You want to be mocked like me—a noble without lands?" Morca couldn't understand.
"I don't need land. I'm from Corsica," Adam said.
"Oh! I see. You already hold Corsican lands, just want a Greek noble title? Clever. Maybe I can sell titles to foreigners too. Then I won't have to beg for drinks. As long as the Senate lets me keep my title. Don't want to lose the family crest my father left me."
Rat knew Adam's real goal was the Athenaeum, but stayed silent.
Adam cut to the point. "One hundred gold coins. No land needed. A viscount title."
"Viscount?" Morca feigned shock. "One hundred coins for a viscount? Sorry! I refuse!"
"You think it's too little?"
"Of course!" Morca snapped. "To thank you for finding me such a profitable opportunity, I say one hundred coins… for a count! No negotiation!"
Problem solved. No stealth needed. Adam could stride into the Athenaeum with pride.