After a long moment of stunned silence, Zarak cleared his throat and asked. "Are you sure there's no mistake?"
The teller, who had been carefully inspecting the ledger, adjusted his glasses and looked up, his face serious.
"No mistake," he confirmed. "The balance is exactly 100 silver and a handful of bronze."
...
Moments later, Zarak and the old man found themselves back outside the imposing bank. The sun shone down on the busy street, but it did little to ease the heaviness in Zarak's chest.
He stared down at the pouch in his hand, the sight of the few coins inside filling him with a quiet disbelief.
The old man let out a loud, unrestrained laugh, shaking his head as he slapped his knee.
"Oh, the great Master's account was really… this?" he snorted between chuckles. "You couldn't even buy a decent meal with this! Maybe if you rationed bread every day, it'd last you a month. Maybe."
