The figure in the cloak stared at them, an imposing presence, as if reality itself bowed to his will. His voice echoed again, smooth and deep, sending a ripple through the space around them.
"You seek what was never meant to be found, Ilyan of the Recently Dead." The words seemed to cling to the air, full of a weight that seemed almost... dramatic.
Ilyan stepped forward, swallowing the knot in his throat. This was it. The Vault. The place where so many truths, some unspoken, others unspeakable, were hidden. Behind this door lay the answers, the key, the piece that would make everything fall into place.
Ashwen stood beside him, a skeptical look in her eyes, her arms crossed. "I'm getting the feeling this guy is the realreason no one ever finds the Vault."
Loup, who had been humming a little tune to himself, twirled his baton lazily. "Ah, but you see, mon amie, it is not the vault we seek, but the journey! The grand treasure is not what lies within, but the absurdity along the way!"
Ashwen shot him a glare. "And you say that with a straight face?"
"Do I not always?" Loup's grin was all teeth.
The cloaked figure did not seem amused, which, for Ilyan, was kind of expected. There was something incredibly serious about him that felt a little too forced.
"You seek the Vault," the figure repeated, his eyes narrowing slightly as if sizing them up. "Tell me, what will you trade for entry?"
Ilyan raised an eyebrow. "Trade? For entry?"
The figure nodded gravely, raising one gloved hand, the fabric of his cloak rippling ominously. "In the Vault, all things must be earned. What will you offer?"
Loup's eyes gleamed with sudden mischief, a twinkle of something strange flickering in the depths of his expression. He stepped forward, holding out a small coin.
"I offer… this!" Loup announced dramatically.
The figure's eyes fixed on the coin for a moment, and then he looked back at Loup. "A coin?"
Loup nodded. "Not just any coin. This is a special coin. A coin that has seen more bureaucracy than any mortal has ever endured. It has witnessed the birth of forms, the death of paperwork, and the unyielding sighs of clerks all across the world. It is, quite literally, the most well-traveled coin you'll ever lay eyes on."
Ilyan blinked, turning to Loup. "Are you seriously offering a coin in exchange for access to the Vault?"
Loup's grin widened. "Oh, yes, mon ami. This is no ordinary coin, you see. This is Groat, the spirit of bureaucracy itself."
There was a long pause.
The figure stared at the coin, then back at Loup. The silence stretched. For a moment, it seemed like they were all waiting for something to happen. Then, with a low, dismissive grunt, the figure shook his head.
"Your coin does not interest me," he said. "I seek something of greater value."
Loup, not one to be deterred easily, snapped his fingers. "Oh, don't worry. I've got more than just paperwork magic up my sleeve!"
He took a deep breath and, to Ilyan's absolute horror, suddenly bowed to the cloaked figure. "As a token of my respect for your fine establishment, I shall now perform a series of jokes that shall rival even the most eloquent of jesters."
Ilyan's face turned crimson. "Loup, not now!"
But it was too late. Loup had already launched into his performance, flailing his arms dramatically and bouncing on his heels.
"Why did the chicken cross the road?" he asked, his French accent dripping with a playful flourish. "To escape the existential dread of its own meaningless existence!"
Ashwen put a hand to her face, clearly mortified. "You're really doing this now?"
"Oh, yes!" Loup twirled again, unbothered by the discomfort in the air. "And what's the deal with these roads, huh? Always so straightforward. No fun! No twists, no turns, nothing to keep us on our toes!"
Ilyan buried his face in his hands. "Loup, please."
To his surprise, the cloaked figure didn't react with anger or annoyance — instead, he seemed… intrigued. His eyes narrowed in concentration as if trying to decide whether or not Loup's antics were worth something.
Loup, completely oblivious to the change in tone, continued. "What do you call a goblin who can't find his hat? A headless goblin!"
There was a beat of silence.
And then, the figure—who had up until this moment been entirely impassive—let out a small, almost imperceptible chuckle. It was low, barely there, but it was there.
Loup, emboldened by the moment, threw his hands wide in triumph. "Ah! There we go! Now we're getting somewhere!"
The figure crossed his arms, a small smile creeping across his features. "You amuse me, jester. I did not expect this… but you have earned something."
Loup stood taller, his chest puffing out in dramatic victory. "I always earn something, mon ami! Now, what do I get? A key to the Vault? A title? A crown?"
The figure held up a hand, signaling for silence. "You have earned the right to enter the Vault," he said, his voice heavy with meaning. "But only you, the seeker of truth, may choose what you will find within. Beware, however: the Vault does not give answers lightly."
With a slow, deliberate motion, the figure stepped aside, revealing the grand door to the Vault. It was glowing faintly, as though it were somehow alive.
Ilyan, Ashwen, and Loup exchanged glances.
"Alright," Ilyan said, his voice steady, "let's do this."
Loup gave one final, theatrical bow to the cloaked figure. "Merci, mon cher! I always knew my sense of humor would get me places!" He turned to the others, grinning from ear to ear. "I told you, the power of comedy is incomparable!"
Ashwen sighed, rubbing her temples. "If you don't stop this, I'm leaving you in the Vault."
"Oh-ho-ho!" Loup gave a mischievous grin. "You wound me!"
The group walked into the Vault together, stepping past the threshold. What lay beyond remained a mystery — but the door closed behind them, cutting off the outside world.