The day had finally arrived. Upon reaching his thirtieth birthday, Fargrim was ready to work in the mine. An older dwarf by the name of Balnir showed him the ropes on the first day. Balnir resembled a rock. Solid, but craggy and malformed. He was hunched over and his face was covered in a dozen wrinkles. Notably, Balnir pointed to the mint as one of the first locations of note.
‘We mine the gold, we deliver it to the conveyor belts, the belts take it into the mint, the mint creates the coins, the coins get loaded on the wagons, the wagons go to the dragon.’
‘Where do they go after the dragon gets them?’ Fargrim asked.
‘Nowhere. The dragon keeps them,’ Balnir replied.
‘Why does the dragon get to keep them?’ Fargrim asked.
‘Why does the sun rise? That’s the way it’s always been,’ Balnir told him before they went below and began the arduous process of mining the rich veins of gold.