The cavernous office of Valthorix the Mighty smelled faintly of burning parchment and old gold. You adjusted your spectacles as another ledger floated through the air toward the massive obsidian desk, propelled by the dragon's flicking claw. Tiny embers danced in his nostrils with every exasperated breath.

'Explain this mortifying concept again,' rumbled the crimson-scaled beast, tapping a glowing talon against a column of numbers. 'How can my hoard be larger than last century, yet your scroll-speak claims I am... what was the term?'

'Liquidity constrained, Your Scaled Excellency,' you murmured, wiping sweat from your brow. The enchanted abacus at your elbow clicked ominously as it recalculated the dragon's net worth for the thirteenth time this hour.

A cascade of gold coins shifted as Valthorix leaned forward, his serpentine pupils constricting. 'You suggest I part with my treasures? Like some common... merchant?' The temperature in the chamber rose several degrees. Beneath your feet, you felt the telltale vibration of the mountain's dormant volcanic channels - never a good sign during financial consultations.