Imee, for once, was speechless, her jaw slightly agape as she stared at the glittering panorama. She knelt, almost reverently, touching a cascading pile of raw, uncut emeralds, their facets catching the light. "It's real," she breathed, her voice trembling. "All of it. Our ancestors... they truly were masters of this world."
Imelda, her eyes shining with a profound realization, turned to Richard, a slow, knowing smile gracing her lips. "What do you plan on doing with this treasury, your Highness?" The title, "your Highness," slipped out naturally, a recognition of his royal lineage that transcended mere politeness.
Richard, caught off guard by the formal address, chuckled, a faint flush rising to his cheeks. "Please, don't call me that, Madam Imelda," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "We know that the world has evolved; the people may or may not need a monarchy anymore and to be honest I wouldn't want to be one." He chuckled again, a genuine, slightly embarrassed sound.
