Walking into the Church of Money is like what I envisioned walking into an old European bank to be like, one in a building built in the 16th or 17th century. I have to imagine because I never made it across the pond when I was alive and only have documentaries and old movies floating around in my head to compare the architecture and interior finishes. What isn't old-fashioned is how the business is organized and conducted here. There are orderly queues of people waiting for various services and open desks where attendant acolytes wait to service those needed more specialized services. Some lobby-style benches and chairs for those waiting on an acolyte to be free help separate the lines for services. While this first impression wasn't striking to me initially, I soon realized that this kind of scene was already obscure by the time I died. Online banking, credit cards, and a pandemic in 2020 combined to virtually end individualized in-person banking, leaving only lockboxes as this primary interaction at a bank branch with a physical presence. It was already in decline, but the pandemic was the last straw.

I was pleased to see that none of the queues were overly long and joined the one in front of the teller windows - where I could check my account's status. I wonder if they have a different term for it now or rediscovered it? While standing in line, I looked around and realized something else that was different. No security. Then I snorted a laugh as I realized that they didn't need any because even if the customers and acolytes didn't fight off any would-be thieves, taking hostages would be meaningless since anybody 'killed' would come back in three days. There was no point in trying to rob the bank because the money you could get here by doing that was limited to what people were carrying on them in their inventory. Robbing this place would have to be - wait, that couldn't be true! There had to be a vault for the gold because Frank told me that the money was guaranteed to be at this church unless I arranged for a transfer! That deserved some more noodle time and also raised at least one question I needed to ask when it was my turn.

The very bored acolyte hardly acknowledged me when I stepped up to her window for my turn. "Excuse me. I have a question. Why are you here?"

She started, then started to get offended, stopped, and then squinted at me. "What do you mean?"

"If my key allows me to deposit and withdraw my funds, why are you here instead of it just being a wall I put my key into to make my transaction?"

Suddenly bored again, "I'm here to facilitate currency exchanges that almost never happen. The button in your window isn't automated like the deposit and withdraw functions. Exchanging between local values like iron for gold isn't complex, but foreign currencies and rarer metals have fluctuating exchange rates. More recently, some monster drops look like currency but aren't recognized or don't have an established value, so the church isn't accepting them as currency, and then you would have to put them in a storage box or accept some kind of conversion."

"I see. Are you able to see my balance?"

"Not unless you show me. The deposit and withdraw functions only work with local currency, so there's never a need for a teller to know your balance. You either have it, or you don't. I'll only assist with an exchange, after which you can do as you like."

"Does that include if I want to exchange local currency for a foreign one before I go on a trip?"

"Generally, no. The teller windows are usually one way, changing from foreign to local. You have to make arrangements with special services," she nods to one of the lobby desks, "for that kind of exchange. Most ship captains and merchants work with us for those services." She gets a glint in her eye and becomes more engaged, "I hear that some of the new classes have the ability to teleport, and we may act-"

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"Sally, stop gossiping - the line is backing up!" A very tired-looking man has come from deeper behind her teller window. "Sir, not to be rude, but if you have more questions, can I arrange for you to speak with a special services representative? We must keep the lines moving."

"Sorry. I understand. I would like to speak with a representative after I check my balance and access my box. If you wouldn't mind, seeing that my name is added to the wait list?" He nods and glances at my name tag, and I insert my key.

  COM Branch #1537

  Account #####4425!

  Balance:   4,200 gold

        4,200 silver

        4,200 iron

        4,200 copper

  [Deposit] [Exchange] [Withdraw]

Somebody's sending me a message. I guess Grumpy and the gang really want to talk to me - and they must have been successfully farming the graveyard. Somebody has to be helping them because they shouldn't have been able to see my balance in order to set the deposits like this. I pop out my key and look up to see that the clerk and her supervisor are staring at me.

She quickly stands up, knocking over her stool and making a loud, clattering noise. Flustered, she can't decide if she should right the stool or bow first. At the same time, the manager's demeanor changes entirely. He becomes rigid and bows at the waist. Seeing his action, she ignores the stool and poorly mimics the bow. "Sir, my apologies. VIPs never come to the windows, you, however, may take as much time as you need, and I would be more than happy to assist in any way possible. My name is Edward."

"Thank you, Edward. Hm, please stop bowing. Tell me, if VIPs don't come to the windows, where do we go?"

Raising himself up from his extended bow and losing none of his stiffness, Edward pivots to the right and points to an unattended door at the far end of the teller windows. Given its proximity and how ordinary it seemed, I would have thought it was the door to their work area. "Sir, VIPs and their agents can use their key to access the lounge through that door. A senior priest will attend to you immediately.

"Thanks! Have a nice day!" I walked over to the door, looked for and found a small receptacle, and placed my key in it. The door opened, and I walked in, ignoring the stares of the people close enough to witness the exchange. It isn't going to be the first time people are staring at me, and there would be plenty to gossip about later, anyway.

It was a nice little room. A few comfortable chairs around a small table with a decorative tile inlay. A lovely landscape painting on each of the walls with no door and the door that led deeper into the Church of Money. I took a moment to examine the painting furthest from the entry door, and by the time I turned around to take a seat, an acolyte was entering with a tray with a fancy English tea service on it, and I was struck again by the mishmash of culture. Asian cultural bowing, English tea service, American customer service. This place is so weird.

"Hello, miss."

Bowing only slightly with the tea service still in hand, "Mr. Kitty, I am to offer refreshments while you wait. May I serve you?"

"Certainly, since it's an English set - is it Earl Grey?" I sat in the chair that had a view of both doors.

She shook her head, "I have several choices for you; nothing has been prepared except the water."

"Something light and fruity then."

She nods and then begins to prepare the tea. Several small porcelain jars are on the tray that she quickly thumbs through before selecting one. She picks up a 1" half-sphere sieve fixed to a long silver rod. She measures the blend into the sieve and then twists the rod causing the half-sphere to become a whole. She places it in the pot and begins to stir.

"That's a clever seep; no need for a bag and easily tuned for a cup or a whole pot."

With a slight Asian accent, the man entering the room asks, "Do you have an interest in these things, Mr. Kitty?"

Looking at him, I stand and offer a small bow. "I enjoyed many different kinds of tea when I walked my first life. The implements and methods of preparation were as varied as the blends themselves. During my day, the associated cultural ceremonies were known and often sacrificed for expediency and profit. Chairman, I don't wish to be rude, but I am not a man of subtle politics."

He bows his head in acknowledgment, "I understand. This venue is not fit for our discussion as another VIP could enter unexpectedly. I will take over the service, and we can adjourn to my private conference room."

"Sure, that's fine. Maybe somebody could bring my deposit box there too?"

"Of course, no trouble at all," he nods toward Cynthia. "Cynthia will see it done."