After hours of rummaging through the piles of equipment, they found the ring at last—buried beneath a cracked chest, a tangle of broken weapons, and half a collapsed column. Tessa's hands trembled when she pried it free: a plain silver band, tiny runes etched around it glowing faintly with power. The Duke's description fit perfectly. Their debt's answer was in her palm.
For one long, blessed heartbeat, they simply stared.
Then reality came crashing back.
"I'd like to leave with more than just this ring," Sari declared, already crouched by a glittering pile. She began scooping coins into her cloak with a speed that suggested long experience.
Arlo sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Here we go..."
It started small—pockets, bags, satchels. But soon they were inventing new ways to hoard treasure. Arlo spotted a necklace that faintly pulsed with magic awhile ago, and immediately strung it around his neck. Sari stuffed her socks so full she waddled like a duck. Tessa, surprisingly, was the most pragmatic—and the most ruthless.
She unrolled their tent canvas, spread it wide across the floor, and said in the same calm tone she'd use to announce a prayer:
"We'll use this as a purse. Tie the corners, fill it, and put it on the horse."
Arlo blinked. "...That's either brilliant or insane."
Sari's eyes sparkled. "Both! Mostly brilliant." She dived in, shoveling coins like she was scooping grain.
By the time they finished, the tent was swollen like a giant lumpy pumpkin, tied with rope so tight the seams whined. The three of them stared at it.
Then, slowly, all eyes turned to Tessa's horse—a stately white mare that had carried them faithfully since they left town.
"...You can't be serious," Arlo muttered.
"She's strong," Tessa insisted, though even she looked a little guilty. "And... practical problems require practical solutions."
The mare eyed the mountain of treasure with a long-suffering look that could only be described as divine resignation. If it could talk, it would have shouted profanities at the three of them already.
It took all three of them, grunting and slipping, to heave the bulging coin-sack onto its back. The horse swayed, stomped once, and then glared at them with ears pinned back. Coins clinked ominously inside.
Sari clapped her hands. "Perfect! We're a mobile bank now."
"More like a robbery waiting to happen," Arlo muttered, tightening the ropes. "If bandits see this, they won't even bother asking for a toll, they'll just roll us like dice."
Tessa folded her arms. "We can't exactly leave the coins behind. You used up all your life savings, remember? We need this."
Arlo groaned. "You were supposed to be the responsible one."
"I am," she said primly, though her robe pockets jingled every time she shifted.
Sari leaned in with a smug grin. "Face it, Saint Tessa's just as greedy as the rest of us."
"I am not greedy," Tessa snapped, cheeks pink. "I am... resource-conscious."
The horse whinnied sharply, as if to say liar.
They argued all the way to the cavern mouth—about distribution, about fairness, about whether stuffing coins in boots was genius or idiocy. Sari nearly toppled over twice from the weight hidden in her sleeves, Arlo stumbled every few steps from the strain of dragging extra satchels, and Tessa huffed along with her cloak suspiciously heavy around the hems.
But when daylight finally spilled over them, the bickering quieted. They stood at the mouth of the dragon's lair, loaded down like the world's most dysfunctional treasure caravan. The horse, carrying the swollen tent-sack, looked as though it was contemplating retirement.
Arlo glanced at the girls and managed a grin. "We look ridiculous."
"Ridiculously rich," Sari corrected.
"Practically solvent," Tessa said with forced dignity, even as another coin slipped from her sleeve.
They laughed—tired, burdened, and half-ready to collapse—but also alive, together, and carrying more hope (and gold) than they ever had before.
They began the long journey home.