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):
- “The Knuckle-Stone Syndicate”
- “The Scone Incident”
- “A Line in the Dust”
- “A Fine Idea, Not Yet Official”
- “Influencin’ the Influencers”
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 Eleventh – “The Knuckle-Stone Syndicate”
There’s a rare sort o’ genius in Bree’s street kids - sharp as a splinter, fast as a market breeze. Folk might look down on them, but me, I see what they are: survivors, traders, little merchants in rags. It’s hard not to admire it... though I keep one hand on me purse all the same.
It was Ludon what showed me the game they play behind the Mud Gate. Five smooth stones. One thumbed copper. They call it Knuckle-Stone; a toss, a guess, a flash of fingers, and more bluff than any Guild meeting I've sat through. They don’t just play for scraps, they play for favours, news, and respect. And they run it cleaner than any Bree lawman could dream.
Ludon wasn’t just a player—he was running the tables.
The whole thing sparked a notion. I offered ‘em “official” Copperhand Knuckle-Stone Sets™—pre-approved pebbles, hand-marked with tiny runes (all pure invention, of course), packed with instructions and a bag of "starter luck." Sold 'em two coppers a set, and threw in a story about ancient Bree customs for free. Gotta gild the lily. Gotta collect ‘em all!
Ludon made the arrangements. The kids bought in fast as hungry dogs to a roast.
By the end o’ the week, I’d sold nineteen sets. Two of the elder lads even started holdin’ tournaments. Little Pendo, bless him, asked if I’d sponsor a prize, so I dug out a polished brass button I’d been peddlin’ as Rohirric craftsmanship. He near wept when I handed it over, like I’d gifted him a king’s seal.
I’m not corruptin’ the young of Bree. No, I'm educatin’ 'em, on economy, enterprise, and the importance of not losin' yer wits in a deal. And if I make a tidy profit and win a few debts o’ gratitude along the way... well, that's just good business.
—V. Copperhand, Entrepreneur of Youth, Distributor of Luck, and Patron of the Mud Gate League
Ledger of Honest Dealings & Very Real Profit Projections
Volume II – Bree Edition
Entry the Twelfth – “The Scone Incident”
It started with a stolen scone and ended with an official commendation. Typical Bree day, really.
The Watch came nosin’ about the Mud Gate again, two of ’em this time. New ones. Lookin’ for a “group of disruptive youths” who’d “interfered with Pony business” by way of “improper food redistribution.” That’s Watch-talk for someone nicked a tray of scones from Butterbur’s window ledge.
I knew right away they were lookin’ for Pendo and the twins—Ludon’s lot. They’d been makin’ bets that morning over how many they could lift before the cook came out swingin’, (The answer was six and a half), and though I didn’t know from where at the time, the scones fell into my hands by lunch time.
So when the Watch cornered me by my crate, mid-sale, naturally, I did what any upstanding dwarf would do: I lied through my beard.
"Scones, you say? Ah, I’ve been runnin’ a sample tray meself, y’see, testin’ market interest in flour-based baked goods. Folk take one, give feedback. All legal, far as I know."
I even handed them the one, claimed it was part of the “trial batch.” They took it, sniffed, chewed, and then one of them complimented me on the seasoning. Said it was “nutty, but subtle.”
That’s when the surprise came.
Next thing I know, they’re askin’ if I’d consider registering as an official street food vendor. Said Bree was “looking to tidy up its unofficial traders.” Offered me a licence form, with a fee, naturally, and a pat on the back. Called me a “model example of responsible civic enterprise.”
I told them I’d consider it, which in Vratni means never unless it turns a profit by next week.
Pendo and the twins watched it all from a rooftop and called me a hero later. I told ’em not to get used to it, but if they were going to nick more scones, at least leave me the cherry ones.
So aye. Today I saved a pack of alley urchins, got mistaken for a community role model, and didn’t even lose a copper. That, friends, is tradecraft.
—V. Copperhand, Biscuit Broker, Unlicensed Street Food Pioneer, Defender of the Crumbly Class
Ledger of Honest Dealings & Very Real Profit Projections
Volume II – Bree Edition
Entry the Thirteenth – “A Line in the Dust”
Been a good week. Sales steady, the weather mostly dry, and Ludon’s grown bold enough to haggle with full-grown Men without flinchin’. I’ve even caught him makin’ up stories to sweeten the pitch. Nearly wept.
But today... aye, today gave me pause.
We’d just finished settin’ up by the mill... old stone, decent footfall, and no one yellin’ about permits. I was busy polishin’ a brass doorknob I’d relabelled a “luck globe” when Ludon tugged my sleeve. Said he’d spotted a “mark.” Young man, nervous sort, clearly new to Bree. Ludon said he was huntin’ for a gift for his sister—somethin’ “elvish.”
I nodded. An easy sale. Ludon had the perfect item in mind: a cracked green brooch with a bit of leafwork on the rim. Not really Elvish; truth told, it was once nailed to a chicken pen in Archet—but Ludon said he could sell it with the right tale. I told him to go ahead.
And he did. Stood tall, voice smooth, spoke of Lórien, of “mourning leaves” and “silent songcraft.” Had the buyer eatin’ out of his hand. I was proud. Then the lad reached into his coat and pulled out everythin’ he had, five silver and a pair of copper. Hands shakin’.
And Ludon... hesitated.
Just for a breath. Long enough for me to see it. Then he turned back, gave me the look. You know the one: “Shall I?”
I said no.
Told the buyer it was too dear. Said the brooch was meant for weddings, not siblings. Recommended instead a polished shell we’d dug out of a bucket two weeks back—still shiny, still a story in it. Charged him fair. Sent him off with a smile.
Ludon didn’t say much after. He didn’t have to.
We both knew I could’ve had the silver. But I’d have lost somethin’ more—him. The lad’s sharp, aye, but he’s watchin’ me close. Every move. Every coin weighed. Every word judged. And I reckon I’ve got more than just a street-seller on my hands. I’ve got someone who might turn out better than me.
Which is, let’s be honest, annoyin’.
But maybe it’s worth it.
Tomorrow we go huntin’ new stock. And if that brooch doesn’t sell soon, I might wear it meself, just to feel fancy.
—V. Copperhand, Merchant, Mentor, Begrudgin’ Role Model
Ledger of Honest Dealings & Very Real Profit Projections
Volume II – Bree Edition
Entry the Fourteenth – “A Fine Idea, Not Yet Official”
I was just shiftin’ a lovely set of “healing spoons” (allegedly blessed by a wandering sage) when two members of Bree’s Watch approached. Not the usual sort what pass by with a grunt and a raised brow, these had purpose in their boots.
One of them, stiff as a board, asked: "Are you Vratni Copperhand?"
I told him that would depend on whether someone was lookin’ for debts, in which case I was a cousin.
They didn’t laugh.
Seems word’s gettin’ around about me 'Trusted Seller Scheme'. A draft proposal, mind you; not yet official! And they’d heard I was “soliciting trade under false pretences.” False! Pretences! I nearly choked on me pipe.
I explained, politely (and loudly), that the scheme in question is a pending petition, raised in good faith at a public meeting of the Bree Merchant’s Guild. That it is not currently enforced, nor enacted, nor enforced by me (though I do carry an illustrative prototype badge for visual purposes only).
They were not amused.
Their main complaint, beside my choice of wording on a few notices, was that the whole idea “reeked of unnecessary bureaucracy” and could “mire trade in pointless ribbon-tied nonsense.” I said, “Red tape’s only bad if ye trip on it. If it’s laid out nice and clear, it’s a path to prosperity.” That shut ‘em up for a beat.
But I could tell. They knew. This scheme benefits me most of all.
And they’re not wrong. But that don’t make it bad. Someone has to be first to offer structure, order, branding. I’m just... early. Visionary. And maybe a touch too enthusiastic with the sample badges.
Still, I agreed, for now, to refrain from callin’ meself “Guild-Certified,” and will definitely stop handin’ out “Official Bree Approved” stickers. (Note to self: remove “official” from remaining inventory.)
They left with a warning, which I took as a compliment.
Ludon, to his credit, said nothing during the exchange. But after they left, he muttered: “Next time, maybe don’t write ‘By Order of Vratni’ on the signs.”
He’s learnin’.
The petition remains in the hands of the Guild. If they vote it down, fine. I’ll rebrand. “Trusted Traders Collective.” Or “Copperhand’s Code.” Something with gravitas.
Either way, the idea’s got legs. Long as no one kicks ‘em out from under me.
—V. Copperhand, Honest Merchant, Early Adopter of Civic Integrity
Ledger of Honest Dealings & Very Real Profit Projections
Volume II – Bree Edition
Entry the Fifteenth – “Influencin’ the Influencers”
The Guild may take its sweet time votin’ on matters, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that policy is just popularity in a nicer coat. So while the Trusted Seller Scheme rests in their scrolls awaitin’ its day, I’ve begun what you might call… outreach.
Started small. Brought Master Frimsi a finely polished paperweight (former doorknob, brass-adjacent) engraved with: “Strong Hands, Strong Trade.”
Let’s hope he keeps it, and thinks of me when crafting favourable trading proposals...
Next was that well-to-do Lady Arlane or ‘Lane’; she was a bit more prickly with me at the meeting, so I left a fresh satchel of wildflower seeds at her doorstep with a note:
“For growin’ good roots—V.C.” It was never returned to me, so I count that as progress.
And to Master Geoadoc,who is a hard fella to read, though seemed a good sort, with his raising of shirefolk being slapped in Bree…. I offered a complimentary “Merchant’s Charm” to help enhance his fancy tavern off in the Bree Homesteads. It was, admittedly, just a feather tied to a coin but I can see him holding onto it anyway—you never toss away lucky charms…
The idea’s simple: folk like folk who think of them. And if those folk happen to be votin’ members of a Guild, well, that’s just smart tradin’.
Ludon calls it “bribery with extra steps.” I call it relationship-buildin’.
Of course, I’m not just handin’ out trinkets. I’m listenin’, too, what folk grumble about, what they wish the Guild did more of. Then I nod, thoughtful-like, and say,
“Funny ye mention that… part of my proposed seller scheme covers just such a concern…”
The key, I’m learnin’, is to make it sound like their idea. That way, when the vote comes, they feel clever for sayin’ yes.
It’s workin’. Slowly.
Still, I’m keepin’ a list of who needs nudgin’, who needs flatterin’, and who just needs a pie and a reminder that “integrity” and “badges” go together like stew and bread.
No pressure. Just persuasion. One shiny bauble at a time.
—V. Copperhand, Merchant of Means, Whisperer of Policy
|Status: Complete - This part contains five stories. See the next part for more. |
