Wade rolled up his sleeves and began unloading everything from his inventory, one shimmering pulse of light at a time.
Coins, stones, daggers, and gears materialized across the tabletop until it was so cluttered that there was barely room to rest his elbows.
"Alright," he murmured, surveying the mess with a half-smile. "Let's see what we've got."
He started with the obvious, the coins.
He stacked the small metal chests neatly, pried them open, and began counting.
The satisfying sound of gold coins clinking filled the room.
His hands moved methodically, tallying each pile before transferring the total to the mental ledger in his head.
When he was done, he leaned back, letting out a soft whistle.
"Thirty-five thousand coins," he muttered, impressed despite himself.
He smiled faintly. That was more than enough to cover his weekly payment to Viscount Fairchild, with ten thousand to spare.
That gave him breathing room. A little cushion between survival and ruin.
