The treasury wagon rolled to a stop beneath the foundry ramp while the roofers scrambled to clear its muddy approach. Hajin recognized the guards riding beside it as men from Seliza's escort, still wearing their matching coats and sour faces.
Beside the local vault custodian, Marrick checked both signatures before cutting the transport seal off the first strongbox.
"Come on, come on, crack it open before I die of old age!"
"Four tumblers, my lord, and every one deserves respect," Marrick muttered, turning each dial like a man disarming a trap.
The lid swung up, and rows of counted gold winked at Hajin from their straw beds.
"Oh, hell yes, look at those beautiful bastards..."
Marrick poised his quill above the custody ledger, politely ignoring the drool, "Shall I enter the release?"
"Not yet," he said, slapping his palm beside the earlier receipt so its date stayed visible, "read the payment first, out loud."
