"What to do, What to do?"

Ganak comes up the steps to his room, he's huffing. Half from the long jog he made through the city to his home, and half from the weight of all he's carrying. It wasn't that long of a walk, truth be told, but it was easily the most intense workout he'd had in some time. When he's finally able to get into his room and get the door secured behind him, he slowly settles his satchel bags and pouches and coat down onto his bed, trying to prevent the sound of a loud thump of impact, and then finally slumps into his desk chair.
 
He sits there for a long minute, just breathing hard catching his breath. After a bit he reaches back and under him, fishing out something that was poking him in the backside. He pulls out an angular Platinum coin, that glistens and shines in the low light of his room. He sits there staring at it silently, the burning from his limbs slowly fading to a dull ache. After a minute or so he sees Isildrot staring at the shiny coin in his hand from his terrarium.
 
Ganak gives a soft chuckle. "It's not a snack, Drot. Or a toy." He sets the coin down on his desk, and then turns back to look at the heap on his bed. "I can't... I mean... Holy shit." He says quietly to himself. A fog of disbelief hovers at the edge of his senses, not quite sure he could believe how much coin and gold he'd seen in that treasure room, barely believing what he'd been able to sneak away with.
 
Over the next half hour or so, he fishes through the pockets and the parcels he had come in with, organizing stacks and counting out tallies across the space of his desk, bagging up stacks and heaps of coins as he starts to run out of room to work in not too long into the process. It is late in the night when he finally leans back from the desk, gold and silver and platinum glimmering in the low light of the lantern in the room. He sits for a long time, staring at the desk and his mind swimming in the large sums. After a few minutes, he opens a drawer from the desk and pulls out a stack of folders full of sheafs of paper and parchments, and a notebook with a set of ledgers in it. He sets it down, opens the top folder, and looks through a few pages of contract drafts and writs, muttering to his snake in it's cage. "This is going to speed up our plans so much, Drot."
 
The last time he'd managed to score an unexpected sum of money, he'd found himself unprepared. When he took the gold from the Count, he hadn't had any idea what to do with it to get the money to the people who needed it most. He hadn't been prepared, hadn't had a plan in place of how to actually move the money, hadn't done the groundwork of figuring out who needed help and how to help them. But that was last time, and he learned his lesson. He'd had time to learn since then, and it's easy to learn a lot about a lot of people when you handle their money. "I thought it was going to be months before I had a chance to get these wheels spinning. But all this money... Oh man..."
 
Ganak opens the first folder and looks over a sheet with copied balance ledgers and his notes about Demdil Kegmane, a dwarven farmer in the countryside just north of the city of Novandria whose farm is upside-down on a mortgage and behind on debt repayments. The bank Ganak works for had taken over the debt of the mortgage some months ago, and Ganak had happened across the details of the account. The Kegmane farm employed ten people beyond the family, but they'd had a bad loss a while back due to an accident involving a faulty Eletech Wind shears that nearly crippled two men. From what Ganak had pieced together, the party that sold them the Wind shears had somehow gotten out of liability for the incident by the local magistrate, and between supporting the injured men's families and costs of the legal fight the Kegmane had been operating at a loss for over a year and were perilously close to getting foreclosure.
 
The young Dragonborn looks through the numbers, flipping through the pages of the drafted contracts and other sheets he had prepared over the last month. After a few minutes, he settles all of them back together in order, starting with some drafted statements of deposit and a set of prepared receipts that would bring their account into good standing for at least another 30 days, giving the Kegmane family some breathing room to get out from under the threat of the outstanding debt. Would Demedil Kegmane be confused about why the bank's records showed him paid up when he'd never paid? Sure. Would he tell them there must be some kind of mistake? Maybe. Would there be differences in balances, or any discrepancies in the banks' internal bookkeeping?, and more importantly would there be anything that pointed back to Ganak in all this? Not if Ganak did his job right. Finally, he then turns in his chair, picking up a small pouch and a few loose coins from the Silver and Gold on his desk, and setting that upon the Kegmane file. "Okay... Step one done. So that's them, the next one is..."
 
He trails off, starting to flip through stack of folders and papers. Eventually, he finds what he was looking for, and pulled out a folder where the first page showed a ledger balance sheet and his notes about Elasha Admys. Elasha is a elven woman who runs a soup kitchen and homeless shelter in the winter times in the western side of the South ward of Novandria. Ganak became aware of her and her doings because one of his clients at the bank mentioned how he usually leased out real-estate to her in the winter times for bed-space, but that fell through this year because of some complications about her not getting donations she normally did in order to fund it. As a result, dozens urchins would be denied a warm bed in the worst months of the year while the building sat empty.
 
Ganak poured over the pages in the folder, eventually shuffling the numbers together in his mind before re-settling the papers together in order, then counting out and placing a purse of coins with it. A letter of intent with a forged signature here, a lease agreement with some falsified signatures there, and a handful of receipts and confirmations of deposits, all ready to be sent out and paint a clear picture that suddenly Elasha had seemingly come up with the money and contracted the lease after all, and everything was paid up for months. Would she be baffled? Certainly. But would she turn it down, or would anything point back to Ganak? Certainly not.
 
And so the next few hours of the night go- Ganak looking through his records of people who he knows need assistance, and him moving numbers on ledgers and dolling out coin to make it happen. Pretty soon his desk, his bed, the top of Isildrot's cage, and a good chunk of the floor of his tiny room are all covered in bundles of papers with either purses or small stacks of coins allotted to them. And most of the stacks are in some kind of pattern - A stack about a farm that's in debt but produces food, next to it a stack about a poor house that feeds the homeless but needs food and can't afford to ship food in, next to that a flagging teamster who's fallen on bad times and can't support his staff, next to that a stack of loose sheets of day laborer's that Ganak has tracked down who reside within a few blocks of said teamster, etc. It's a long, thoughtful, and at times grueling process, but Ganak staggers things out and layers them in order so that he can see who he's planning to give the money to, and where that money is most likely going to end up, and follows it down the chain. As one of teachers in economics in the Guild of Bankers & Moneylenders told him during a particularly formative lecture: Give a man a gold, you feed him for a day. *"Teach him how to mine, you feed him 'til the mine runs dry. But give the *right man* the right gold, at the *right time*, and you can feed ten men for years on end."*
 
It takes hours, but eventually Ganak exhausts himself, stepping back from his work with a glazed expression of thought and hope and wonder. Eventually, however, he seems to realize what a mess his room looks like with papers and coin purses and scrawled notes over every horizontal surface. After a soft chuckle, he speaks to his pet snake again. "Gotta get this out of here before someone catches wise about it, Drot." He chuckles at the notion of his landlady, Ms. Kragbelt, coming in to try and tidy something and seeing a fortune of gold heaped up under the bed. "Poor woman would probably have a heart attack. Or call for the Rooks." He chuckles, shaking his head. "Hell, getting all of this out to move the money into the accounts... That's going to take hours." He looks to Isildrot. "I'm going to need to send work word I'm ill tomorrow, aren't I?"
 
He looks down to his work, and then starts shuffling stacks and sacks of coins away and into out of the way places before catching what little sleep he will be able to that night. "Oh well, no rest for the wicked I suppose... Ha ha! I wonder what the boss would say to this, drot!"