OOC - Author's Notes:
Status: Complete - This compilation contains 5 entries (stories). See the next part for more.
These stories form a multi-part chronicle, which can be found here.
Stories in this post include (click to jump directly to them, or scroll below):
- “New Town, New Prospects, Same Old Cart”
- “Three Sales, One Warning and A Seat Among Strangers”
- “Scoundrels, Schemes, and the Birth of an Idea”
- “The Guildhall Gambit”
- “Field Testing the Brand”
Author’s Note: This piece was shaped with a little help from AI. It provided assistance on things like the structuring, some names, shortening some verbose language/ideas as I'd written, and gave me the odd turn of phrase here and there. The heart and shape of the story are my own, but I realise it is important to be transparent about my use of AI support in producing it ultimately.
Ledger of Honest Dealings & Very Real Profit Projections
Volume II – Bree Edition
Entry the First – “New Town, New Prospects, Same Old Cart”
First day in Bree. Bree! Not quite the shining jewel of Eriador I was promised—more mud than stone, more dogs than dignity—but it’s a crossroads town, and that means customers. The sort with purses and no sense of value. Perfect.
Arrived with one cart, two crates, and a cracked pot full of ambition. Have staked temporary claim to a dry patch near the South Gate. Excellent foot traffic, only mildly smells of horse. Perfect for sales! Bree-folk gave me the usual looks: curious, cautious, mildly concerned. A fine sign. Curious folk are halfway to customers.
Had a few nibbles of interest. One lad asked if my spoons were silver, I told him they were silver-like. Might’ve sold him one if the town's Watch hadn't showed up. I was denied permanent stall space until I prove myself “respectable.” Might need to bribe someone in the local Merchant's Guild.
Even spoke to a lass at The Prancing Pony, Bree's top establishment, about setting up more permanent arrangements, but they want me to be “respectable” first. There's that word again! Told them I once paid full price for a cloak in Thorin’s Hall. That ought to count.
Started this here ledger for “record keeping,”, though really it’s to keep track of who owes me, who I owe, and who I should avoid ‘til the mood shifts. Still, might be useful if posterity comes knocking one day.
Right. Enough writin’. Tomorrow, we trade.
—V. Copperhand, Merchant of the Road, Arranger of Opportunistic Deals
Ledger of Honest Dealings & Very Real Profit Projections
Volume II – Bree Edition
Entry the Second – “Three Sales, One Warning and A Seat Among Strangers”
Second day in Bree. Foggy mornin’. Ideal conditions for business, folk can’t see what they’re buyin’ ‘til they’ve paid.
Set up me cart (wobblier than I recall), propped the wares just so: spoons gleamin’, stones stacked artistic-like, and the “elven dreamcatcher” hangin’ dead centre. (Note to self: get more fishing net and feathers.)
First sale: one “Dwarven relic stone” (formerly a doorstep) to a man with weak eyes and a stronger purse. Claimed it hums durin’ thunderstorms. Can’t prove it doesn’t.
Second sale: an “Ancient Rohan Saddle Ring” (actually a brass curtain ring with a nice patina) that I sold to a nice hobbit lass; looking to give a gift to her father back in the Shire.
Third sale: a “Troll-Snore in a Bottle”, (an empty flask, but sealed tight). “Don’t open it, it can be dangerous.” The customer didn’t ask no questions. My kind of customer.
Then came the Town Watch.
Pair o’ them, boots muddy and brows low. Asked for a “permit.” Told ’em I had one, just not on me. Spoke confidently and offered them a complimentary Feather of Trust. They declined. Repeatedly. Suggested I relocate from the gate before “someone files a complaint.” I asked if they’d like to file one in a hand-carved complaint box I happened to be sellin’. That didn’t go down well. Moved along to the market square.
Despite setbacks, morale remains high. Bree-folk are curious, and curiosity is half a sale. Will continue operations—possibly under a different name. "Copperhand’s Curiosity Corner" has a ring to it. Or “Just Good Stuff.” Still testin’ the brand.
I have idea’s startin’ to simmer. May need to invent a title or a token. Something official-soundin’, like “Verified Road-Tried Merchant of Bree.” With a wax stamp. Folk love a wax stamp.
Having been moved on by the Watch, I found meself sitting at the very heart of Bree’s true power—the Merchant's Guildhall.
Mind you, not as a member. Yet. But as a curious observer. Which is to say, I sat sweating in a corner, nodding politely and looking important.
The hall was a mix of dust, dispute, and old coin. Not much air in the place, but plenty of opinions. Folk talked petitions, policies, percentages. Didn’t make it through ten minutes before someone whispered about a dog adoption scheme—something about turning Bree’s strays into shop mascots and guard hounds. A “Canine Caterer” was behind it, a Mr. Frodefast, they said. Sounds like a soft-hearted sort with a heavy coin-pouch and no clue what a dog does to display goods. Still... could be an angle there. "Merchant-Approved Leashes," perhaps?
But I digress.
The point is, I listened. I learned. I watched the way decisions shifted with a few words, a knowing nod, or just the right flattery aimed at the Dwarf at the head of the table. Frimsi Gembeard, they call him. Smart. Smiling. Dangerous in the way only a Dwarf with a full ledger and half a laugh can be. I like him already.
Didn’t speak myself—kept my idea in me pocket as it were. But I’ll return. They’ll know my name soon enough. There’s power in that room. Influence. And opportunity. All things I plan to acquire... ethically, of course.
—V. Copperhand, Mobile Merchant, Observer of Trade
Ledger of Honest Dealings & Very Real Profit Projections
Volume II – Bree Edition
Entry the Third – “Scoundrels, Schemes, and the Birth of an Idea”
Day three. The fog’s lifted—and so, apparently, has me right to trade in the market square. Bree Watch came round again, less polite this time. Told me I was “disruptin’ foot traffic” and “operatin’ without position.” I offered to sell them a map of alternate footpaths—they were not amused.
Moved along. Again.
Now stationed just off the Combe road—quiet, dusty, and home to every kind of rascal with a crate and a lie. Can’t throw a dented ladle without hittin’ a so-called “merchant.” One fella’s sellin’ bottled wind. Another claims his apples cure melancholy. Melancholy! That’s a mood, not a rash!
And me? I’m sittin’ here with genuine dwarven goods—well, dwarven in spirit—and no one’s comin’ my way because they’ve already been bled dry by a man with a stick and a tale.
This won’t do. Bree’s name is on the line. My name is on the line.
And then it struck me.
What this place needs—what I can offer—is order. Trust. Standards. A scheme. A Trusted Sellers Scheme.
Official-soundin’. Stamped. Maybe with a little hammer on it.
Folk would know who to buy from. I’d help set it up, of course. Just a small administrative fee. Reasonable branding charges. Modest markups for the good of the community.
The Mayor’ll love it. Merchants’ll thank me. The peddlers’ll grumble—but that’s the price of progress.
I’ll draft the idea soon and bring it to the Bree Merchant’s Guild. Can’t fail. It’s civic duty wrapped in dwarven initiative. And if I happen to design the first badges meself... well, that’s just good business.
—V. Copperhand, Founder of Standards, Enforcer of Ethics (Pending Approval)
Ledger of Honest Dealings & Very Real Profit Projections
Volume II – Bree Edition
Entry the Fourth – “The Guildhall Gambit”
|| author’s note: this entry crosses over with an in-game RP event (this one) – which I wrote a story about (here). In the live RP, mention was made of things that only come later in Vratni’s journey – such as being a member of the Company of the East Road kin. As a result, such things will sit slightly outside of time for now… so I’ve written a higher-level summary here of his attending that same meeting (capturing the same essence)… but which remains more consistent in his current story timeline (with no major changes from the live session). ||
Today I made my mark.
After a long, dusty trot from the Combe Gate, and I do mean dusty, even me beard had gravel in it, I burst into the Bree Merchant’s Guild meeting I’d heard tell of, lookin’ like I’d outrun a debt collector and won; Which, incidentally, I had.
I hadn’t planned to speak. Not formally. Thought I’d sit quiet, watch the competition, pinch ideas where I could. But when they opened the floor for “urgent matters”, well, how could I resist?
I stood, cleared me throat, and delivered what I now consider the finest address of my career. Told them the road from Combe to Bree had become overrun with unsavoury peddlers; cheap hustlers with knock-off buttons and so-called “elven stones” that looked suspiciously like pond pebbles. I painted a picture of chaos. Of customer confusion. Of economic danger to the very name of Bree!
Then I proposed a solution:
A Trusted Seller Scheme.
Badges, I said. Badges to identify quality merchants. Recognisable branding. A system of honour and accountability. And wouldn’t you know it, I just so happened to have a few mock-ups in my satchel; feathers, pins, and stamped wax seals. Totally unrelated to me cart of identical trinkets, of course.
They laughed. Some muttered about “bureaucracy” and “layers o’ nonsense.” But I saw it in a few of their eyes, they were intrigued. Master Frimsi, bless his gold-plated sensibilities, even called it “an enterprising notion.”
Now, the vote didn’t happen. I’m no fool, I knew it wouldn’t pass on charm alone. But I’ve laid the groundwork. I’ve entered the books. More importantly, I’ve let ‘em know that Vratni Copperhand is a merchant with vision.
And if the Guild don’t adopt my scheme? I’ll start sellin’ the badges anyway.
Can’t stop a good idea once it’s got legs, and this one’s wearin’ boots.
I’ve decided I’ll draft a formal petition to be aired at their next meeting. Something proper-like, to put before the Guild and the Mayor. This’ll be official, dressed up in all the right words: ‘community prosperity’, ‘economic integrity’, ‘protectin’ Bree’s honourable trade routes’, and a good heap o’ other phrases what sound noble but cost nothin’. I’ll butter it up so thick, the Mayor won’t know if he’s bein’ flattered or lauded for healing the sick.
Of course, I’ll keep the heart of it true, those peddlers are a blight, and they’re stealin’ coin and good faith from the folk what try to trade fair. But it don’t hurt to wrap it all up in fine parchment and call it a service to the town’s future.
If I write it just right, the Guild’ll be beggin’ to back it, and the Mayor won’t dare ignore it. Might even think it was his idea by the time he's done readin' it.
—V. Copperhand, Trusted Seller (Self-Certified), Visionary of Roadside Reform
Ledger of Honest Dealings & Very Real Profit Projections
Volume II – Bree Edition
Entry the Fifth – “Field Testing the Brand”
So the Guild didn't say yes.
But they didn't say no, either.
Which, to my mind, is practically an invitation.
This morning, I unveiled the ‘Copperhand Prototype Trusted Seller Badge™’. It's a modest thing—just a round copper disk stamped with a crude little hammer shape to it (representin’ the enterprising merchant’s of Bree, obviously) and a ribbon I took off a parcel of cheese. I glued it to a scrap of wood, tied it to me stall, and boom: legitimacy.
Folk noticed.
One farmer asked, “What’s that badge for?” I told him it was issued by a “pending committee of economic reformers within the merchant sector.” He didn’t ask again, just bought a horseshoe-shaped candle holder and left impressed.
By noon, I’d sold three badges to other hawkers. Called them “founder’s tokens.” Charged double if they wanted theirs “engraved” (I scratch their initials in with a nail).
This is the brilliance of it: the more folk who wear the badge, the more folk believe in it. And the more folk believe in it, the more likely the Guild is to want to be part of it.
Self-fulfilling scheme. Like planting a rumour and selling the remedy.
The Merchant’s Guild hasn’t caught wind yet. I stationed meself near the square with a stack of pamphlets titled “A Better Bree: Recognising Traders of Distintion.” Only one page long. Spelled “distinction” wrong. Still—presentation matters.
If anyone asks? It’s a pilot programme. Market research.
If they try to stop me? I’ll propose a joint venture.
Either way, I’m sellin’ the badge and the story behind it.
And that, my friends, is what I call a two-coin hustle.
—V. Copperhand, Founder of the Trusted Seller Initiative (Unofficial), Architect of Appearances
