Gustavo Fring gave his servant a brutal whipping.
This was the man responsible for sending out the invitations—including the one sent to Isabel—yet he had failed to tell Fring her address.
Naturally, it wasn't really the servant's fault. So many invitations had gone out, and Gustavo Fring had never bothered to ask where any of those people lived.
The beating was solely because his master had a ball of fury pent up inside him.
Even knowing he was being wronged, the servant could only cry out in admission of guilt, praying his master would forgive him.
Only when dripping with sweat did Gustavo Fring finally lower the leather whip.
"Ready my carriage, and then go get yourself patched up."
With that lich as an opponent, there was nothing to negotiate.
He knew the old bastard far too well. Even if the Prince of Lies intervened in person, words alone would never sway him.
The moment the carriage pulled up, Gustavo Fring clambered aboard without a second's delay.
The coachman quickly asked, "Master, where are we heading?"
In a deeply grim voice, Gustavo Fring said, "To the Goblin Bank."
Because the Dwarf Kingdom practiced a policy of racial equality, many races hunted as monsters elsewhere were able to live within its borders—even goblins.
The Goblin Bank was a financial institution unique to the Dwarf Kingdom.
Most goblins were filthy, stupid, bloodthirsty monsters, but a tiny elite awakened extraordinary intellect, possessing an exceptional gift for mathematics. This elite understood finance and, leveraging the Dwarf Kingdom's wealth in gold, had extracted untold fortunes from other nations during peacetime.
These goblins were also shrewd enough to curry favor, channeling considerable benefits back to the Dwarf Kingdom each year. The kingdom never lacked gold, so the goblins exhausted every avenue scouring the continent's nations for rare treasures to present as tribute.
As a result, the Goblin Bank operated almost like a semi-official entity and enjoyed a solid reputation within the Dwarf Kingdom.
If there were any other option, Gustavo Fring would never have chosen to deal with goblins. No matter how clever a goblin was, it remained wicked and greedy, far more parasitic than any vampire.
Yet he had no choice. If he wanted to convince Anbaixiu to support him, the only way was money—and not a trifling sum, either. That lich's appetite was likely larger than all the goblins put together.
His fortune had long been drained dry. The only way left to raise money was a loan.
Gustavo Fring felt fairly confident about securing one. He was a legendary alchemist, after all; putting up a few patented formulas as collateral ought to fetch a sizable sum.
Once he became council president, everything would turn around.
Yet when he met the goblin wearing gold-rimmed half-moon spectacles, the response left him seething with rage.
Fixing a piercing glare upon the creature, Gustavo Fring growled, "One million gold coins? Am I to understand this as your bank's deliberate insult to me?"
The wrinkle-faced, green-skinned goblin seemed long accustomed to customers shouting. He casually took off his spectacles, nonchalantly wiped away the spittle that had landed on them, and only then addressed the furious alchemist. "Master Fring, according to our records, you still owe substantial sums to various nobles. Added together, those debts amount to six or seven million gold coins, do they not?"
Gustavo Fring sneered. "Do you think I cannot repay such a trivial amount?"
Putting his glasses back on, the green-skinned goblin said seriously, "In the past, of course such pocket change would be no issue. But Master Fring, the past is the past, and the present is the present. You not only owe millions of gold coins, but you haven't used that money to rebuild your alchemy laboratory—you've spent it on the Alchemists' Council election."
"You certainly investigate thoroughly," Gustavo Fring said with a cold huff.
"Naturally. In our line of work, we must stay abreast of every move made by prominent figures. Forgive my bluntness, Master Fring, but you've staked everything on this campaign. If you lose, can you withstand such a blow?"
Gustavo Fring replied with absolute confidence, "I will not lose."
"Heh-heh. You belong among the cleverest minds in the world, Master Fring, but I am no fool either. The one competing against you is our court alchemist, who holds the advantage over you in both background and personal standing.
"Therefore, by our bank's estimation, your chances of defeat are substantial. And once you fail to secure the presidency, what will you do? Allow me to hypothesize: you will never brook being overshadowed by Master Beck, so you will most likely pack up and start anew elsewhere. Would you allow a few debts to delay your departure?"
The goblin's implication was crystal clear: once he lost the election, Gustavo Fring would cut and run, fleeing straight out of the Dwarf Kingdom's sphere of influence. He certainly wouldn't bother repaying several million gold coins, and those minor nobles would have no means of pursuing him across borders.
Precisely because of this risk, the Goblin Bank had rated Gustavo Fring's creditworthiness as abysmal. The one-million line of credit was granted solely out of respect for the word 'legendary'; otherwise, they wouldn't have lent him a single copper.
Gustavo Fring didn't even bother denying that he would run. He merely countered, "Then have you calculated the other side of the ledger? If I succeed, how much will you gain?"
The green-skinned goblin folded his hands over his knees, leaned back against his chair, and smiled. "Our bank has countless lucrative ventures, all carrying very little risk. There is no need for us to take such a gamble. As you know, our funds belong to our depositors. We must always look out for our clients' best interests, mustn't we?"
Gustavo Fring rose and looked down at the goblin, his tone turning severe. "So you mean there is nothing to discuss?"
The goblin maintained his polite smile and said, "Not at all. Your worth is immense, Master Fring. It's simply that we have no guarantee, which prevents us from issuing a loan. As long as you can provide sufficient collateral, any sum can be discussed."
Gustavo Fring said, "I can put up several of my formulas as collateral."
The green-skinned goblin shook his head. "Formulas of legendary rank are useless to us. Besides... our Dwarf Kingdom maintains very lax restrictions on alchemy patents. You should know well enough that this is no longer the kingdom of alchemists."
Gustavo Fring ground his teeth. This was precisely why he was determined to reestablish the Alchemists' Council.
The Dwarf Kingdom's patent management wasn't "lax"—it was utterly nonexistent.
Across the entire continent, only the City of Alchemy and the Silvermoon High Court had possessed patent laws. Even Ryan merely granted one-time rewards rather than allowing someone to live off a patent for life.
Alchemy in the Dwarf Kingdom required no regard for copyright whatsoever. As long as your potion worked, it was genuine and could be sold freely.
This state of affairs was largely a reaction to the former City of Alchemy. That realm had monopolized far too many alchemy patents; other kingdoms unwilling to use knockoffs had been forced to pay astronomical sums every year to purchase genuine draughts.
The cost had been steep enough to make even the wealthy dwarves wince. Consequently, other kingdoms relied heavily on pirated potions, occasionally shelling out for originals solely to reverse-engineer them. It was only because the City of Alchemy's technological barriers were so formidable—sometimes making imitations more expensive than the original—that people had been compelled to buy from them.
Now the City of Alchemy was gone. The Dwarf Kingdom had shown little mercy upon conquering the land, forcibly acquiring numerous alchemy factories and seizing a vast array of formulas in the process.
Under such circumstances, the Goblin Bank could never agree to Gustavo Fring using formulas as collateral. Without copyright protection, what good was a mere sheet of paper? The instant anyone laid eyes on it, its value evaporated.
Every bank employee who saw the formula would copy it without hesitation and sell it off; within three days, the whole world would know it.
One couldn't even accuse them of poor confidentiality. Every rule of conduct at the Goblin Bank was tailored to the laws of the Dwarf Kingdom. Since patent rights weren't protected, copying and duplicating the text several times over was entirely "legal"—after all, the original remained in the bank, so it wasn't theft.
If the Dwarf Kingdom didn't protect depositor privacy, the goblins wouldn't hesitate to sell off every client's personal records either. Unfortunately for them, many ministers of the realm kept their fortunes in this bank, making depositor privacy a statutory requirement.
With formulas worthless, Gustavo Fring truly had nothing left to offer.
"In that case, I won't waste any more of our time."
With that, Gustavo Fring turned to leave, but the green-skinned goblin called him back. "Master Fring, don't be in such a hurry. Ordinary alchemy formulas may be worthless, but certain things remain exceedingly valuable. We know you possess a piece of extraordinary knowledge. As long as you are willing to part with it, we can offer an interest-free loan of one hundred million gold coins."
Gustavo Fring felt a surge of foreboding and demanded, "What are you talking about?"
The green-skinned goblin smiled. "The truth behind the disappearance of the City of Alchemy—the magic circle buried in the sewers. I trust you are intimately familiar with it, Master Fring, are you not?"
Gustavo Fring frowned. "How do you know about that?"
"Heh-heh. The Dwarf Kingdom has diviners too. While they cannot match those legendary divination wizards in precisely foreseeing the future, divining events that have already occurred is child's play. Our bank is exceedingly interested in your Mortal Apotheosis Project."
Gustavo Fring stared at the green-skinned goblin. "That is not something ordinary folk could possibly know. What is your position in this bank?"
The goblin adjusted his spectacles and said slowly, "I am the president of this bank, Donald Grandet. Master Fring, our desire to cooperate with you is entirely sincere. I wonder what you think?"
Chapter 239