The Lost Templar Treasure of Wales (Hidden Since 1155)

My lord, great tribute and coin have come in through Acre. What profit hath a man of all his labour which he taketh under the sun? Let what is required remain. The rest must go west. It will endure longer in England. Wise words, my lord, as you wish. From Acre came the silver bright. From tribute blood and pilgrim right. Not all that's weighed is ever told. Not every truth is marked in gold. Seven men before the throne. A young king's word in tempered tone. Take what's needed, leave the rest. But something stirred within one chest. He watched the scales, he marked the sum. Each coin that passed, each total done. But numbers shift when none can see. And truth can hide in secrecy. Gold can whisper, gold can lie. Weigh a man and make him cry. Silver sings where shadows fall. Buried deep behind the wall. Oath and cross of sacred code. Mean nothing when the shadows fall. For every mark he wrote as lost. He carved his creed beneath the cross. By candlelight his ledger changed. A careful hand the truth rearranged. No man would count what wasn't shown. And what was missed became his own. One coin, then more. The habit grew. What once was wrong now felt like due. And carried west across the sea. What none would claim, but none could see. Gold can whisper, gold can lie. Weigh a man and make him cry. Silver sings where shadows fall. Buried deep behind the wall. Oath and cross of sacred code. Mean nothing when the shadows fall. For every mark he wrote as lost. He buried truth beneath the cross. In evernstone where pilgrims call. A hidden seam runs through the wall. No lock of iron key or hall. Only one blade wakes it all. Gold still whispers, gold still lies. Waiting where the darkness hides. Silver sleeps where none would call. Sealed away behind the wall. He swore a note, then let it fall. And hid it deep in evern's wall. And only one may claim it all. The sword that answers to his call. So if you seek what none could take. And break the spell.