Chapter 20: Cashing Out

The raindrops outside the Malacañang Palace gradually eased in their descent, their journey to the ground intercepted by the sheltering expanse of Alfonso's umbrella.

A cloak of hush enveloped the Malacañang Palace and its encompassing precincts. Solely the mechanical hum of his state car's engine pierced the quietude, the vehicle poised at a standstill before him.

One of the vigilant guards executed a deferential gesture, ushering open the car door. With a graceful stride, Alfonso advanced, the threshold of the vehicle admitting him as a subtle smile adorned his countenance. Seated comfortably, the car embarked on its trajectory toward the Central Bank of the Philippines.

From his vantage point at the driver's helm, Alejandro inquired of Alfonso, who engaged in contemplation through the window, immersing himself in the purity of the snowy panorama.

"May I humbly inquire, Your Highness, as to the motivation behind your visit to the Central Bank?"

Alfonso's gaze remained fixed beyond the glass, the scene outside seemingly holding his attention as his thoughts wove an intricate pattern. "It concerns a personal matter, a cogitation that has occupied my musings for several months."

"Personal, indeed," Alejandro mused. "Might I proffer a morsel of advice? In instances where you harbor intentions of embarking on a sojourn, it would be most efficacious to apprise me aforehand. Adequate preparation requires a thorough reconnaissance of our intended route, a task that warrants a span beyond the confines of mere moments. Especially when the voyage is to be executed with an air of discretion."

"I am well aware of the necessity for discretion, Alejandro. This particular visit necessitates avoiding undue attention. As I've indicated, it is a private pursuit – a visit to the bank and naught else."

A languid wisp of mist pirouetted from Alejandro's lips as he exhaled, his exhalation echoing his subdued sigh. Alfonso, ensconced within his position of power, could scarcely fathom the lurking peril, particularly while the specter of communism continued its course.

"Very well, Your Highness. Yet, permit me the entreaty that in the days hence, you afford me the courtesy of forewarning."

Alfonso acknowledged Alejandro's counsel with a measured nod, signifying his acknowledgment of the prudence in the sentiment expressed. He understood the gravity of the situation – an understanding underscored by Alejandro's role as his vigilant protector, safeguarding him against the shadowed threats endemic to the heart of the capital.

Half an hour elapsed, and they found themselves at the doorstep of the Central Bank. As the vehicle came to a halt, Alejandro turned in his seat to face Alfonso, proffering an item to him.

An inquisitive arch of Alfonso's eyebrow accompanied his examination of the object extended toward him. Held within Alejandro's hand was a revolver, a rather unexpected offering.

With a composed mien, Alejandro expounded on the rationale behind the gesture. "This is a precautionary measure, Your Highness," he elucidated, encouraging Alfonso to take possession of the firearm.

Deliberately, Alfonso reached for the proffered weapon, its cool heft registering in his grip.

The query on Alfonso's lips was straightforward. "Why do I require this?"

Alejandro's response came just as matter-of-factly. "Because, sir, it's just the two of us. I reckon you possess the know-how to employ it, given your display of marksmanship during our visit to the naval base. That, for me, signifies your proficiency in bearing such a tool."

The reassurance found a receptive nod from Alfonso, who discreetly concealed the revolver within the folds of his trench coat.

"And, sir," Alejandro continued, his tone steady, "do maintain close proximity to me. The precincts here harbor uncertainties. Unfortunately, I couldn't undertake a thorough perimeter scan for potential threats on such short notice. The protocol remains the same, Your Highness."

"Understood," Alfonso affirmed, his consent signaling compliance with the stipulated guidelines.

"Very well, then. Let us proceed within," Alejandro directed.

A collective consensus drove them out of the vehicle, their brisk approach belying the brief interlude.

The Central Bank loomed majestically before them, a neoclassical edifice commanding attention. Beneath its architectural grandeur lay a vault safeguarding the treasury's riches, a repository of the nation's wealth.

Together, Alfonso and Alejandro traversed the bank's threshold, stepping into its inner sanctum.

Within, the interior was sparsely populated, an opportune circumstance that afforded them swift passage without protracted wait times.

Their arrival did not go unnoticed, as a receptive receptionist sprang to attention, casting aside his seated repose to extend a gracious welcome.

"Greetings, gentlemen, to the esteemed Central Bank of the Philippines. How may I be of service to you today?" The receptionist's cordial inquiry bespoke a courteous disposition.

Alfonso's purpose was succinct. "I seek an audience with the bank manager. Is he available?"

The receptionist's inquisitiveness persisted. "Might I kindly inquire about the nature of your visit?"

With a deft motion, Alfonso produced a document from his pocket, sliding it across the expanse of the desk.

Eyes scanning the proffered parchment, the receptionist's initial response manifested as a visible widening of his eyes, surprise quickening his features.

Indeed, it bore the royal seal, an emblem that validated the current monarch's endorsement. The receptionist blinked, his gaze oscillating between the paper and the man standing before him.

In a poignant instant, recognition dawned—this was none other than the prince, now the reigning sovereign of the Philippines.

Embracing the newfound awareness, the receptionist bowed, punctuating his deference with an expression of profound contrition. "Your Majesty, please accept my sincerest apologies for the oversight in recognizing your presence. I deeply regret any inadvertent discourtesy, Your Majesty."

Alfonso's gracious response abated the attendant concerns. "No apologies necessary. My intention is simply to converse with the bank manager."

"Of course, Your Majesty. If you would be so kind as to follow me."

Accompanied by the receptionist, Alfonso and Alejandro proceeded to one of the nearby elevators. The trio entered the awaiting lift, embarking on an ascent to the uppermost floor—where the office of the bank manager held its domain.

After a short journey, they found themselves at the threshold of the bank manager's office. Here, the receptionist courteously instructed them to wait outside before proceeding into the inner chamber.

"Sir, an audience with the current monarch has been requested," the receptionist conveyed.

"The king?!" The bank manager, seated within his office, sprung to his feet upon hearing this revelation. "Why have you not ushered them in? Invite them immediately."

"Absolutely, sir!" The receptionist responded with a hint of fluster, hastening to permit their entry.

Thus, Alfonso and Alejandro ventured into the bank manager's sanctum.

With a respectful bow, the bank manager extended his welcome. "Your Highness, it's an honor to have you grace the bank. How may I be of assistance?"

Alfonso's purpose was succinct. "I am seeking to make a withdrawal."

"Pray, do you possess the requisite keys, sire?"

"I do..." Alfonso deftly retrieved three ornate keys from his pocket, presenting them to the bank manager's scrutiny.

Upon this sight, the bank manager nodded affirmatively. "Please, accompany me, sir."

Guiding them through the corridors of the bank, the manager directed them to the subterranean level, where an imposing metal vault awaited.

"May I briefly borrow the keys, sir?" the bank manager requested.

Alfonso relinquished one of the keys he had previously displayed, allowing the manager to undertake the unlocking process.

Carefully, the manager inserted the keys into the corresponding locks on one of the numerous steel boxes, resulting in a muted click.

Within these metallic confines resided a document that contained a combination code requisite for vault access.

Following this protocol, the manager proceeded to unlock the vault by inputting the numbers disclosed in the document. The vault responded with a resounding clang as its formidable door swung open.

Alfonso and Alejandro stepped into the vault, greeted by a dazzling spectacle that stretched infinitely within the dimly lit chamber.

Rows upon rows of gold bullions adorned every conceivable corner, their resplendent gleam captivating their gazes.

Alejandro, struck by the magnificence, couldn't help but marvel at the sight before him. Each beat of his heart quickened, the realization dawning that this treasure trove could fund the ambitious undertakings Alfonso had in mind—factories, materials, and innovation.

Curiosity prompting him, Alfonso inquired of the bank manager, "how many tons of gold do I possess within these vaults?"

"In total, 1,000 tons, sir," came the manager's reply.

"1,000 tons of gold?!" Alfonso's astonishment was palpable, his jaw dropping in response to the overwhelming opulence.

Swift calculations whirred in Alfonso's mind as he assessed the staggering value—roughly 100 million dollars in modern currency (with the inflation accounted for), an astronomical sum by any measure. This gold is part of the compensation he received from Spain, and it accumulated to these heights due to the long colonial rule of the Spanish, as well as the gold produced by the Philippines. The total asset that he received from renouncement and gifts, including this gold, is $662,959,544.05 USD. (Chapter 8)

Gazing at the bank manager, Alfonso's curiosity persisted. "And your name, sir? 'Bank manager' seems rather impersonal."

"Anton, Your Highness," the bank manager introduced himself.

"Well then, Anton, it appears your workload is about to double, as I intend to withdraw 30 percent of this wealth—for now."

Anton bowed, acknowledging the task at hand. "I shall promptly prepare the requisite documentation and summon our account manager to affix the necessary signatures within the next hour."

"Your swift attention is appreciated," Alfonso replied with a genial smile. As Anton departed the vault to fulfill his duties, Alejandro seized the opportunity to engage Alfonso in conversation.

"Sir, if I may inquire, what are your intentions with this substantial sum?"

"I intend to establish a company, Alejandro. It seems wasteful to hoard such resources when they could be put to use. Don't you agree?"

"A company, sir? Pray, what sort of enterprise do you envision? Is this a venture you had already conceived?"

Alfonso contemplated for a moment before responding. "Indeed, I had contemplated this beforehand. I aim to enter the fields of electronics, automobiles, and oil—a trifecta known for substantial profit margins."

A gasp of surprise escaped Alejandro's lips as he posed another query. "And might I inquire, sir, if you have a name in mind for this company?"

Alfonso mulled over the notion, for he had yet to bestow a moniker upon his nascent endeavor. Retrospectively, he reasoned against drawing parallels with the company of his past life, thus compelling him to devise a fresh title.

A name surfaced in his thoughts, embraced by the concept of what he intended to create.

"My company shall be christened... Future Tech Corporation."