With a deliberate slowness that bordered on theatrical, you reached into your robes and produced a velvet moneybag embroidered with the words 'Fiscal Responsibility'. Never breaking eye contact with the seething dragon, you began scooping up handfuls of loose coins from the desk's edge, each metallic clatter echoing through the suddenly silent cavern.

Valthorix's wings unfurled with a sound like tearing parchment, casting ominous shadows across the golden hoard. 'This,' he hissed, molten saliva dripping onto the stone floor where it sizzled, 'is why I devoured my last three financial advisors.' The abacus exploded in a shower of wooden beads and smoke.

You continued filling the bag, your fingers only trembling slightly as they closed around a particularly heavy platinum ingot. 'Consider it... a demonstration,' you rasped, your throat dry from the rising heat. 'If even a mere mortal like myself can abscond with your wealth so easily, imagine what an organized guild of thieves-'

A claw the size of a broadsword pinned the moneybag to the desk, severing the drawstrings. Coins rained down in a glittering cascade as the dragon's snout came within inches of your face. His breath smelled of charred accountants. 'Innovative,' Valthorix rumbled, the vibration shaking your bones. 'But you forget - dragons always recover what's theirs.'