I leaned back in my office chair. It was hard, but solid. Old oak. The faint scent of paper and ink filled the room.
I reached for one of the sheets of paper. It was thick and slightly rough under my fingertips—high-quality parchment made by the craftsmen on the Fifth Floor.
"Avanheim Financial Report — January."
My eyes traced the numbers. The further down I went, the heavier my sigh became.
The expense column was endless. And the income column… empty.
I put the document back down with a weak motion.
"If this keeps up," I muttered, placing the paper back on the desk, "even the mountain of gold in the Treasury will run dry."
Two billion Avalon gold coins. That was a lot. A huge amount. The result of years of our hard work. Coins we gathered from overnight raids, grinding for hours while drinking cheap coffee, and silly laughs over voice chat.
And now, those pure coins…
I couldn't bear to see them just disappear.
