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Fantasy Fiction
Chronicles of War II: A Desert Ocean
And a King to Sit His Throne
Chapter 12 Page 42
Chronicles of War II: A Desert Ocean
And a King to Sit His Throne
Chapter 12 Page 42
They returned in a shuffling group to the stairwell, and followed the flight down to the lowest floor of the Treasury building. After winding back and around through a tortuous hall, they arrived at a gate of bars, which sheltered a tall, shining vault beyond. Afram opened the bars with a quick use of an esoteric combination, and then the vault. Here, Ipani was somewhat disappointed to discover no piles of glittering coin shoveled into the corners, and no gaping chests filled with gemstones and silver. Instead, they saw only another short hall of smoothly worked granite walls, with a line of heavily reinforced doors installed along each aspect of it. These doors were engraved with numerals and runes.
Afram consulted a paper in his palsied right hand, and grumbled a bit. "It is strange, you know, this business. Your wealth was unknown to us until this very day, though I am personally charged with the Treasury' general accounting. From the designators on this account, your horde is kept in the far vault, number seven, which we have never used in all of my time here. I had thought it defective in some manner, since it was not allocated for general deposits. Now, perhaps, we shall find out why. Like as not, if these numbers on your letter of credit are substantiated, it is filled to overflowing."
The old progressed along the short access to stand beside the final vault door, which was adorned with cobwebs and rife with the dust of ages. Afram swept these away, and mumbled over the safe's combination, as he turned the tumblers.
Upon the release of its last catch, the heavy door swing wide at once, and a mountain of coins and jewels and tiny ingots poured out onto the floor, knocking the astonished clerk to his back and covering him over with crushing wealth. Ipani cried out in surprise and ran to the old man's aid. With Epsilon's at his side, they managed to free him from the gold before he suffocated.
Huffing and sputtering, Afram felt for breaks in his bones and looseness in his joints. Finding none, he seemed to be convinced he had survived the ordeal more or less intact. "By the gods," he gasped, eyeing the sparkling horde! "I have never seen so much! In one place! At one time! I that have labored long at Oreset's primary changing house!"
Afram consulted a paper in his palsied right hand, and grumbled a bit. "It is strange, you know, this business. Your wealth was unknown to us until this very day, though I am personally charged with the Treasury' general accounting. From the designators on this account, your horde is kept in the far vault, number seven, which we have never used in all of my time here. I had thought it defective in some manner, since it was not allocated for general deposits. Now, perhaps, we shall find out why. Like as not, if these numbers on your letter of credit are substantiated, it is filled to overflowing."
The old progressed along the short access to stand beside the final vault door, which was adorned with cobwebs and rife with the dust of ages. Afram swept these away, and mumbled over the safe's combination, as he turned the tumblers.
Upon the release of its last catch, the heavy door swing wide at once, and a mountain of coins and jewels and tiny ingots poured out onto the floor, knocking the astonished clerk to his back and covering him over with crushing wealth. Ipani cried out in surprise and ran to the old man's aid. With Epsilon's at his side, they managed to free him from the gold before he suffocated.
Huffing and sputtering, Afram felt for breaks in his bones and looseness in his joints. Finding none, he seemed to be convinced he had survived the ordeal more or less intact. "By the gods," he gasped, eyeing the sparkling horde! "I have never seen so much! In one place! At one time! I that have labored long at Oreset's primary changing house!"
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