Coin

Deorla sat alone in the quiet of the Bree homestead, the letter from Naridalis trembling in her hands. The familiar script, once a source of comfort, now bore words that cut deeper than any blade.

Trust, once solid among the Company of the East Road, now wavered like smoke. Naridalis’s words painted a picture of disillusionment, of friendships strained to the edge. Promises had been broken. The past Deorla had fought to bury clawed its way into the present, and now it stood like a specter between her and those she'd once called kin.

The attack had just ended and the company gathered the three prisoners in a line in front of a wall, tied with their hands behind their backs on their knees, Fion approached them, playing with a coin, one of those with the letters CB on them. Upon seeing that one of the bandits grinned, letting his bloodied teeth show, as well as his malice towards the man who stood in front of him. Fion said nothing, he just kept the coin in his open palm and looked at it, remembering the past happenings...

The light of the candle was enough for Fiontann to read Aeirillen's report as he sat on the chair, holding the piece of parchment in his right hand, underneath of which was laying a silver coin.

-What happened to him?

-He must have killed himself.

Chapter 2 - A Poor Man's Lodgings

Upon arriving in Bree it was clear that coin, or lack there of, would be my first concern.  What would be considered a moderate amount of coin out in Archet and the smaller villages beyond, now was nothing more than a pittance in a town such as Bree.  Subsequently this now made me a poor man.