If there were two things that Exaul had going for it, it would be its roads and the incredibly picturesque scenery one beheld while traveling.

In the week it had taken them to get this far, Vesta, Hedea, and Gramps had beheld many interesting sights. Rolling green fields, quaint villages, and the many farms and orchards that dotted the kingdom made for quite the lovely view. Off in the distance, the great mountain of Eldspire, whose towering heights held the Kingdom Under The Mountain, slowly came into view. It was a testament to the mountain's size that even now, more than a week's travel away, it was visible to them here.

Part of the reason why the trip was so pleasant was that they were traveling in Gramp's traveling wagon, something the old man had spent decades improving. The temperature was kept very pleasant, no matter the time of year, due to the heating and cooling enchantments placed within. So long as one remembered to place a new crystal of Exponentia, the crystalization of magical energy which kept enchantments running, into the necessary slot each morning, even the hottest summer or coldest winter was unable to harm anyone or anything inside. Large enough to fit six people comfortably, even with the provisions needed for such a long trip stuffed inside, it was nearly the size of a house.

Thankfully, the roads of Exaul were often large enough that two or three such wagons could be set side by side and still have room for people to walk between them. Part of why the kingdom had risen to the greatness it had reached was its mastery of logistics, including the raising, the building, and the maintaining of roads to a near art form. By ensuring that their roads were well-designed, well-maintained, and well-guarded, supplies and personnel could be moved anywhere it was needed, anytime. Many of the roads in use today were centuries-old, and would likely last for centuries more.

At least, that was according to Gramps. The man was an absolute wellspring of information and often seemed to know everything about anything you asked him. While Vesta couldn't begin to guess at his real age, she'd be willing to wager that he'd had a long and interesting life before he'd ever adopted her.

The trio and their compliment of golems were moving down the road at a steady pace, the cart itself being pulled along by a golem in the shape of a horse. It made their speed a little bit slower than a normal horse would manage, but it was more than made up for by the fact that they never had to stop and feed the horses or otherwise care for them. In just a week, they'd managed to make it halfway to their destination.

Vesta and Gramps were seated in the front of the cart, he in his usual finery and herself in a blue dress that she supposed looked cute on her, while Hedea sat atop the wagon in her leather armor, all of them watching the road pass by as they moved along. It was a pleasant, sunny day in mid-spring, the wind carrying the smell of wildflowers from a field some distance away.

Vesta looked out over the scenery and took in the sights. They were topping a hill, one of several that made up these rolling plains, when she spotted something unusual. Several miles to the north, she could spot what looked like a series of stone spires that struck her as odd. It was difficult to put her finger on what was so odd about it... then it hit her. It almost looked like there had been a mountain there, but then it had just... fallen in on itself.

Pointing to the north, she bumped Gramps with an elbow and asked, "What's that?"

Peering into the distance, the elderly man took a moment to look before answering. Finally, in a carefully neutral tone, he stated, "Giltmont, or what's left of it."

"Sacred mountain, orcs," Hedea noted in a slightly bitter tone from her perch atop the wagon, keeping a lookout on the road ahead. "Then, war between man, orc. Man say orc attack village, orc say man lie. Orc, man fight. Orc lose, man force orc to badlands, take sacred land of orc, find gold in river, follow, find gold in mountain. Much, much, much gold."

Chuckling a little, Gramps stated, "That's an understatement, honestly. The story goes that in the long-distant past, a great hero of the orcs performed a mighty task and won the favor of the gods. When asked what reward he wanted, the hero declared that he wanted a mountain of treasure. When the gods just gave him a large pile, the hero stated that he'd requested a mountain. And so, the gods created a literal mountain of gold, jewels, silver, Mythril, and all the great materials that mortals value, a gigantic pile twenty thousand feet high."

"Too much treasure," Hedea noted with a chuckle of her own. "Great hero, much greed, cannot carry treasure, cannot abandon treasure. He stay, guard treasure. No rest, sleep, food, water, shelter. Died wretched death, treasure worthless."

"Had he simply been satisfied with his pile of treasure," Gramps noted, "his greed might have cursed him into becoming a dragon, as it has many before. But to become a dragon takes a considerable amount of time, and the hero only survived for a few days before greed undid him. But now, there was an impossibly large pile of unclaimed treasure, so of course, it drew the dragons."

Snorting, Hedea added, "Dragon fight, many die, orc beg gods help orc. Gods make mountain, cover treasure, call sacred, dragons no take. Dragon fear gods, flee. Orc learn lesson, treasure worthless, make money not gold, not silver, live well until no longer live well."

Pulling out a coin from the pouch at her pouch, Vesta observed, "Like the Orichs?" The small blue-green coin caught the light and sparkled slightly. The composition of the alloy it was made from, Orichalcum, was guarded as a state secret, and each coin contained numerous safeguards, both mundane and magical, to protect it from being counterfeited. On one side was a depiction of a mountain, likely an idealization of Giltmont when it was still intact. On the other were seven crowns, a symbol of the founding of the kingdom and the seven great kings who had unified to form Exaul after fleeing annihilation in another land.

The coins didn't have pictures of the king or other famed figures etched into them, since while kingdoms come and go, mountains and symbols are eternal. Except, Vesta noted with the case of Giltmont, when they aren't. Still, the symbolism was meant to represent the kingdom's origins, as well as its stability and power. The fact that the symbol of the latter was now in reality a shattered wreck of its former self and had been for over three centuries could likely be viewed as symbolic of Exaul's current state...

"Indeed," noted Gramps, now in full historical lecture mode, the place he always seemed happiest, "and the tale of Giltmont and the creation of the Orich currency we use today are linked. When Exaul began pulling gold from the mountain, it seemed like a great thing... until they began to realize just how much was coming out of the mountain, and how much more was still inside of it. The fact that much of it was still in the form of coins, ingots, and bars made extracting it far easier than if it had to be dug out, refined, and smelted."

With a wry little smile, he added, "Throughout history, it is estimated that perhaps two hundred thousand tonnes of gold have been extracted, worldwide, before Giltmont was mined. Around the time when Exaul had extracted that much gold from the mountain with no end in sight, they began to have a serious problem, and it kept getting worse because people were motivated by greed to keep pulling out more and more even when the king and nobility were shouting to stop since that unfettered greed was destroying their gold-based economy."

Vesta, chiming in, said, "You've mentioned that before. The 'Catastrophic Success' that almost destroyed Exaul's economy, because with that much gold in the kingdom, the stuff was practically worthless."

Pleased to hear she'd remembered that lesson, he confirmed, "Exactly. Gold is precious because, in addition to being shiny, pretty, malleable, and the fact that it does not corrode, it's also rare. If gold were as common as, say, iron, which is regularly mined out in the millions of tonnes worldwide each year, it would be useless, since for most practical purposes there are plenty of metals far better in almost every way. So, the precious metal that was once very rare suddenly becoming more common than iron or copper almost destroyed the gold-based economy of Exaul. Worse, other precious metals couldn't stand in for it, because silver, platinum, Mythril, and every other rare metal under the sun was also coming out in equal quantities."

"So," Vesta interjected, putting the coin back into her pouch, "the Orich was created and the king said, 'Gold is worthless, this is now money,' and the problem was solved."

With a wave of his hand, Gramps countered, "There's a lot more to it than that, since there were people unwilling to let go of their gold, or refused to believe that it was no longer valuable, two or three dragons popping up due to people wallowing in their own greed for too long, or a dozen other problems that sprang up over time, but ultimately, yes, that's the result. Gold was afterward used to make art, wage economic warfare with countries whose economies were still gold-based, and after golems were created, most of the servant golems produced during the Golden Age were made from the stuff."

"Then," Hedea noted from up top, a slightly smug note in her voice, "gods vanish, Giltmont treasure vanish, Giltmont collapse, mountain heart gone. Gods took treasure when go. Exaul Golden Age end." There was the sound of spitting from the roof, and she added, "Deserved it."

"In a single day, the Golden Age of Exaul ended," Gramps noted, a slightly admonishing tone to counter Hedea's. "But Exaul wasn't the only place to feel the absence of the gods. Without the miracles of the gods, healing was no longer as simple as finding the nearest priest and asking for a miracle. Without the gods to prevent the undead from rising and to keep monster populations under control, entire towns, cities, and even countries around the world were lost. That's not even mentioning the other problems during the time known as the Trembling, including the Scorn War, the Cult of Exaltation's devastation and violation of the elvish kingdom, and enslavement of the dwarves, not to mention the Year of Blood and Tears."

"No say good," Hedea shot back, "say Exaul deserve. Exaul earn hurt. Exaul hurt others, many many. Exaul steal orc holy mountain, Exaul rise. Exaul use treasure, become great. Exaul lose holy mountain, Exaul no great." As their wagon passed by a group of orc slaves, dully plodding along as they worked a field without talking, she added sadly, "Exaul take and take and take. Never give."

"Exaul," Gramps reminded her, "is not a person. It's not some giant that sits on a pile of wealth that it stole from others, rubbing its hands together in glee while laughing about how it hurt others. It doesn't bleed or suffer when misfortune happens. It's a country, where thousands upon thousands live, and where millions upon millions have lived over a thousand years of history. When Exaul was 'hurt', as you put it, many thousands of innocents who had nothing to do with the conquest and diaspora of the orcs experienced misery and despair."

Hedea made a noise, as if she was about to counter, then stopped herself. After what seemed like a thoughtful silence, replied, "Gramps Mercury no wrong. Hedea half-human, half-orc. When among orc, think like human. When among human, think like orc. Orc no forgive Exaul, think Exaul big monster, no many, many people. Human Exaul think orc big monster, no many, many people. Orc, human, no different."

"Exaul humans," she concluded, in a surprisingly philosophical tone, "no make today, Exaul humans live in today. People of yesterday made today. No can change what is. Can only change what will be. Time only move forward, no back." After a moment, she added, "Wish Exaul better. Wish orcs better. Wish world better."

The trio traveled in silence for a while, before Vesta asked, "Hedea, are you happy here?"

The half-orc immediately replied, stating in a more pleasant tone, "Hedea very happy. Elf smith Vesta very kind, Hedea friend, no slave. Merchantman Gramps Mercury very kind, Hedea friend, employee, no slave. Forge man Vulcan very kind, Hedea person, no slave. Hedea happy. Other Exaul people, Hedea half-human, half-person. Badlands orcs, Hedea outsider, other, no orc, no human, no anything. Orc pretend better. No better. Different. As bad. Worse, some things. Less bad, others. Still bad."

Before Vesta could open her mouth to ask more about what life was like in the Badlands, Hedea interrupted her, saying, "Man, road ahead. Armed. Sword, bow, maybe armor." After a moment, she added, "Alone, riding horse, slow." She snorted, seeming to take a deep sniff. "Blood on wind. Injured. Him, horse, no sure." She sniffed again, then confirmed, "Him. Elf-blood."

Commanding the golem horse to move faster, Gramps said, "Well, we'd better see if we can help them."

Vesta jumped into the back of the wagon, looking for the bandages, salves, and the healing potions if it was truly bad. As she did, she pondered whether it was a half-elf, or maybe a quarter-elf like herself. She immediately ruled out a full-blooded elf, however. They seldom left the elven kingdom to the west, after all...