In the city of ice, far from the gates, carved into the icy face of the glacier, was a sprawling abode, filled with room after room of storage space and luxuriously decorated rooms. Le-Koronan carpets were frozen to many of the floors, and cushions were pushed against walls hung with painted pictures and other expensive decorations. There were a couple windows to the city, but not too many, and few beings quite knew the extent of the mansion.
A frozen balcony, made of ice and iron, looked out at Ko-Koro and the domed huts of the far poorer that looked enviously upon the house. A man stood on this balcony, viewing those people with a sense of superiority and happiness, glad he was not one of them but feeling a sort of fatherly love towards the Matoran corresponding with the strange notion of his role as their protector and savior. That’s how the man saw himself. The man was a Toa of Fire, naturally colored black and red. His armor was well polished and well kept up, shining with reflected sunlight. Inlaid into it were gold patterns, for the man did not abstain from flaunting his wealth, and in his hand he grasped a walking stick, made from black polished wood from the Charred Forest and also inlaid with gold, with a handle resembling a golden gear, or perhaps a golden widget. He smiled. This world seemed to have bent itself out of order to help him. The world had designed itself for him. He didn’t know how or why, but somehow, for some reason, the world had given him everything.
When the heroes had killed Makuta, and the island boomed. Technology, trading, it all exploded, and Alyo’s business took off. He had established contacts in Onu-Koro, helping the companies build new technologies, and expanded into Le-Koro, buying up more trading networks there. He owned a dozen sub-companies and part of many more, all providing a constant stream of cash. The island was perfect for a man in the business of trading.
Alyo smiled. It felt nice to be one of the richest men on the island.
He placed his portable sundial on the railing of the balcony, smiled at the time he read, and twirled about, walking back into the sprawling home that he had carved for himself with his exponentially growing wealth. The gold, red, and black Toa strode through the icy hallways, a bounce in his step yet still retaining a polite, gentlemanly manner.
He pushed open the large double doors and told his butler to “keep things tidy while I’m away”, then continued down through the snowy Koro, headed for the huge Sanctum building where the Akiri held his court. On the way he tossed a few widgets to some of the poorer Matoran and nodded to some of his acquaintances, such as the shop owner Kokkrikan who smiled at the rich man and asked if he would be around later, to the friendly response of “I have business, now. I have to be responsible, you know.”
With a self confident smile on his face, Alyo walked up the steps of the sanctum, his extravagant cane clacking against the solid ice. He brushed some snow off his armor, then pushed open the huge double doors. A few heads turned to look, but most lazily turned away again, and the rich man took his spot among the crowd to watch his friend Ambages get appointed vizier of the Koro.
It was good to be rich.