He walked the streets of Stormwind with calm confidence, his nobleman’s attire spotless. His gaze turned from side to side, noting all the activity. Easily lost in the crowd, the man made his way unerringly to the city’s central bank building. Stepping inside, the man followed the queue line until it was his turn. Beckoned from behind the security grate, he moved to speak to the teller inside but was interrupted by an adventurer who ran in and skipped the line.
“Hey there friend, I’ll be just a minute-” the adventurer stopped as the man looked at him squarely, his eyes reflecting nothing. They were black pools of darkness, such as a cat has when stalking its prey. The man said not a word, just *looked* at the adventurer; who stuttered an apology and backed away.
The teller observed this with a bit of amusement and commented, ‘Hmph, adventurers. They always seem to think they should be served first before everyone. Now, what can I do for you, sir?’
The man slid a golden coin across to the teller. It was highly polished, with an emblem of a crown stabbed through with a dagger on one side. “I wish to open an account.”
The teller’s easygoing smile faded, replaced by calm professionalism. “In what region?”
“All,” the man replied.
“What denomination are you wishing to start with as the initial deposit?”
A short pause. “Two million.”
The teller looks at him, surprise briefly crossing their features. “And the name on the account?”
“Mythalen,” the man states.
The teller pauses for a moment, then nods. Writing swiftly on a scrip, they gesture for a courier behind the gate. Handing them the scrip and a whisper, the courier runs off deeper into the building. The teller hands the man a copy of the scrip and replies. “There you are, sir. Your account will be open within the hour or so. Thank you for patronizing the Stormwind Bank.”
The man nods and turns to leave. The teller watches him, and an involuntary shudder courses through them as if chilled.
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