You force a smile and produce a velvet polishing cloth from your sleeve with exaggerated care. 'Only ensuring this historic artifact receives proper treatment, Your Excellency,' you say, rubbing the coin with slow, deliberate strokes. The tiny engraved words seem to pulse beneath your fingertips.

Valthorix rests his massive chin on one claw, watching you with obvious amusement. 'Most amusing. I do enjoy when my treasures are appreciated.' His barbed tail twitches, sending another cascade of rubies tumbling down the hoard pile. The abacus continues its frantic calculations, beads now leaving scorch marks on your desk.

As you polish, you notice the coin's copper surface isn't tarnishing - instead, it's revealing more of the microscopic script. Additional phrases emerge: 'Interest compounded daily' and 'Collateral: immortal soul.' Your hands remain steady, but sweat drips from your nose onto the ancient metal.

The dragon exhales a lazy plume of smoke. 'Tell me, mortal. What does your human kind say about... gift horses?' The tremor in the mountain grows stronger, dislodging a stalactite that shatters into dust near your left foot. The temperature in the chamber has become nearly unbearable, your robes now sticking to every inch of your skin.

Across the cavern, a section of the hoard shifts unnaturally, revealing what appears to be a ledger bound in... is that dragonhide? The abacus suddenly stops its calculations, all beads aligned in a perfect vertical line that somehow conveys mathematical impossibility.