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The Count looked up from where he stood... He cast his head downwards, confused slightly after finding that the remaining cubbyholes were presently vacant. It surprised him to find the vault in that state, as he knew that noone had penetrated his inner sanctum until now. "But vhere could the other numbers have gone?", the question formed in his mind before retracing his steps to the underground entrance or exit out of this hidden tomb. His path was blocked, the doors locked, as he amazed over such a situation. "Vhat? Locked in my own numbered nitch?" "Beg your pardon Count, didn't know it was you" spoke one of the two marble heads perched on the pedastal inside the doors' swing. "Aach, no rest for us silent sentries" ached the other, in a more Teutonic tone. These twin busts—distinguished by a thin crackline scar upon their opposing cheeks—guarded the secret of the master's counted collection. "Sorry... But we were asleep... Though we number the wall we can't tell where the wall of numbers have gone" replied Nixon—his sleepy yet scholarly eyes open and pleading, his powdery mustache twitching in nervousness as to how the numerian vampirian would react. "Don't take it out on us if you cannot find your blaschted trinkets... It's not our fault, ve only vatch over who comes and goes vithout means of schtopping" answered his equal, Dixon—his brow wrinkled atop his smaller eyes, the flakes of his sideburns quivering in the most minute of mannerisms. "Mmm... Yes, vell..." The Count started before silencing the pair of talking heads. "At least I can count you two!" Thunder could be heard when he finished the job, lightning striking down... And so be it, the bolt struck open the doors leading out of the dank darkness, revealing a floating 2 which landed safely in the main counter's hands. Bidding the busts a good sleep, the Count left them behind as he would now attempt to find the others littered through his doomicile.
The Count looked up from where he stood... He cast his head downwards, confused slightly after finding that the remaining cubbyholes were presently vacant. It surprised him to find the vault in that state, as he knew that noone had penetrated his inner sanctum until now. "But vhere could the other numbers have gone?", the question formed in his mind before retracing his steps to the underground entrance or exit out of this hidden tomb. His path was blocked, the doors locked, as he amazed over such a situation. "Vhat? Locked in my own numbered nitch?" "Beg your pardon Count, didn't know it was you" spoke one of the two marble heads perched on the pedastal inside the doors' swing. "Aach, no rest for us silent sentries" ached the other, in a more Teutonic tone. These twin busts—distinguished by a thin crackline scar upon their opposing cheeks—guarded the secret of the master's counted collection. "Sorry... But we were asleep... Though we number the wall we can't tell where the wall of numbers have gone" replied Nixon—his sleepy yet scholarly eyes open and pleading, his powdery mustache twitching in nervousness as to how the numerian vampirian would react. "Don't take it out on us if you cannot find your blaschted trinkets... It's not our fault, ve only vatch over who comes and goes vithout means of schtopping" answered his equal, Dixon—his brow wrinkled atop his smaller eyes, the flakes of his sideburns quivering in the most minute of mannerisms. "Mmm... Yes, vell..." The Count started before silencing the pair of talking heads. "At least I can count you two!" Thunder could be heard when he finished the job, lightning striking down... And so be it, the bolt struck open the doors leading out of the dank darkness, revealing a floating 2 which landed safely in the main counter's hands. Bidding the busts a good sleep, the Count left them behind as he would now attempt to find the others littered through his doomicile.
