A Golden Vault

Boot disengaged from the binder clip bunker. Daylight reached the runner. My sword rose instantly to parry—path clear. Two paces ahead lay an empty golden brass tin, lid ajar. High reflectivity. Solid walls. Immediate value. I hooked the rim with my blade tip, levered the lid wide, and inspected the hollow interior. Zero hostiles. Sturdy cubical sanctuary. I shoved the base tight against the runner leg until the metal seam locked flush. Now my flank has a gleaming vault. Good yield.