go forth to boast of his bravery. But then-a-days, Kings were Kings, and their swords were ever sharp.
King Yang Lang was such a ruler—and more angry than is good to see. His face was purple, and his voice boomed like a battle drum. "Keeper of the Treasury, has all my gold been used to make weights for fishing lines?"
Time after time the treasurer knocked his head against the paving. "Most Glorious and Peaceful Monarch, your gold is so plentiful that seven years must pass before I can finish counting the larger bars—ten years more for the smaller."
That was rather pleasant news. The King's voice lost some of its harshness. "What of ivory? Has all my ivory been burned for firewood, a pot to boil?"
The treasurer continued to knock his head. "Supreme Ruler of The World and The Stars, your ivory completely fills a hundred large and closely guarded vaults."
The King hadn't dreamed that his wealth was so vast. His voice was not more than
