One crisp autumn morning, as Mr. Gold was busy fretting over his overflowing vault, a quiet knock came upon his grand oak door. It was Brother Thistle, a kind old monk with gentle eyes and a smile as peaceful as a sleeping cloud. He was known throughout the land for his wisdom, and many people sought his advice.
'Good morning, Mr. Gold,' said Brother Thistle, his voice like the soft rustle of leaves. 'I hear you are a man of great wealth, but perhaps not of great joy. Is that so, my friend?'
Mr. Gold, quite surprised that anyone knew his secret sorrow, grumbled, 'Well, I suppose I do often feel… rather lacking. If only I had a few more acres of land, or a river of sparkling pearls, then I should be content!'
Brother Thistle chuckled softly, a sound like distant wind chimes. 'Ah, the desire for more can be a tricky thing, can't it? It can hide the sunshine right in front of your nose. But I believe I can help you, Mr. Gold, to find that true happiness you seek.'