The Golden Die was a fortress of vice disguised as a gentleman's club. Located in the shadow of the capital's merchant district, it smelled of stale pipe smoke and bad decisions.
Elian stood in the alleyway across the street, adjusting his cravat.
"Okay," Elian whispered. "According to the Ledger, Valdus keeps his 'emergency fund' in the private vault in the basement."
Beside him, Ambrose checked his reflection in a handheld mirror. The White Lotus was wearing a dark cloak over his white robes, looking like a mourning dove trying to blend in with crows.
"This alley is filthy," Ambrose complained, kicking a rat carcass away with his silk slipper. "If I get a disease, I am billing you."
"Focus, Ambrose," Elian hissed. "We need 50,000 gold crowns. That is roughly the weight of a baby elephant. We can't just stuff it in our pockets."
"I assume you have a plan?" Ambrose asked. "Or are we going to juggle the coins back to the castle?"
Elian checked his wallet. 375 LP.
