The evening sun had begun its descent, casting long shadows across the cobblestone streets of Carvahall. Leo and his father had just finished unloading their furs and leathers onto the cart when the last of the traders began to pack up for the day. The smell of the marketplace—the earthiness of leather, the sharp tang of iron, and the sweetness of fresh produce—was slowly being replaced by the more subtle scent of evening dew. It was a time Leo was accustomed to, when the day's work was winding down and the bustle of the village seemed to settle into a quieter hum.
Leo stood next to the cart, eyeing the assortment of goods they had sold. His father had been stern but fair with the traders, ensuring that they received a fair price for their furs and leather. Leo's thoughts, however, were far from the trade.
He was thinking about the conversation he had overheard between his father and one of the traders, something that had stuck with him all day. The trader had spoken about the value of coins—the way they were a measure of worth in the world, a way to buy what you needed or sell what you didn't. Leo knew the basics of coins: he had seen them before when his father sold their goods in town, and occasionally he had been given a few copper coins as rewards for small tasks. But the full meaning of them, the way they held power in this world, had never quite sunk in.
"You see this, Leo?" His father's voice broke through his thoughts. Leo turned to look at his father, who was holding out a handful of coins—some shiny silver, others duller copper—carefully examining them in the fading light.
Leo nodded, his eyes flicking between the coins. "Yeah, I've seen those before. The traders gave you a good amount for the pelts."
His father gave a short, almost imperceptible nod, still focused on the coins in his hand. "The traders always have coins," he said, his voice low and measured. "They buy and sell, exchange things of value. But there's something you need to understand, Leo—coins are more than just metal. They're the lifeblood of this village. They're how you survive. How you trade, how you eat, how you live."
Leo listened intently, sensing that his father was about to explain something important.
"You see these?" His father held up a small pile of silver coins, their edges catching the light. "These are worth more than a handful of copper coins, but they're still just coins. People will give you more copper for your goods, but it's the silver you need if you want to make a real living in a place like this."
Leo nodded again, but his father wasn't done.
"Now, here's the real trick of it, Leo. You can trade things—furs, leather, game—for coins. But not all coins are created equal. Some coins, you see, are rarer than others. Some come from places far away, and they're worth even more. And those are the coins you want to hold on to. You want to have as many of the good ones as you can because that's how you get ahead in the world. That's how you make sure your family can eat, your cabin stays warm in the winter, and that you can survive out here."
Leo furrowed his brow. "But… you never spend much. You always keep your coins in the pouch, hidden."
His father's eyes flicked up, a small, knowing smile on his lips. "That's because it's not always about spending them, Leo. It's about knowing when to spend, and when to keep them close. You don't just hand over coins for anything. You keep what you need, and you trade for what you don't. But sometimes…" He paused, looking at Leo more closely. "Sometimes, you have to keep your coins for something bigger. Something that's worth more than a single meal or a winter's coat. You hold onto the good coins, and when the time comes, you'll know how to use them."
Leo was quiet for a moment, trying to understand the layers of his father's lesson. He looked at the silver coins again, then back to the small pouch that his father kept tucked into his belt. It was simple, worn, but always there, always with him. He had never questioned it before, but now, the significance of those coins felt heavier.
"Do you have a lot of these coins, Father?" Leo asked cautiously, a hint of curiosity in his voice.
His father chuckled softly, the sound low and rough. "Not as many as I'd like. But we manage. And one day, Leo, you'll understand that it's not the number of coins that matters. It's how you use them."
Leo looked at his father, who was still watching the coins with a quiet intensity. The old man's face was shadowed, and his hands, calloused from years of hard labor, seemed to hold the coins with both care and reverence. Leo suddenly felt a deep respect for him—a respect not just for the man who had raised him in the mountains, but for the wisdom he carried with him.
"Okay, Father," Leo said softly, nodding. "I think I understand."
His father placed the coins back into the pouch and tucked it securely beneath his belt. "Good. Now, let's finish up here, and we'll head home."
As the two of them worked together to pack up the remaining goods, Leo couldn't help but feel a sense of importance in what his father had just shared. He had always known that coins were important, but now it was clearer. They weren't just a means to an end—they were a symbol, a tool, a means to control one's destiny in a world that often felt too big to understand.
Leo's thoughts lingered on the coins as the evening settled around them. The village was now quieter, with fewer people bustling about, and the air felt cooler as night approached. With the cart loaded up and ready to go, they set off towards the mountain path.
The stars shone bright overhead as they made their way back home. Leo could feel his father's presence beside him, steady and unyielding. They walked in silence, but Leo's mind was buzzing with all the new things he had learned today—the value of coins, of trade, and the deeper meanings behind them. He hadn't realized it until now, but there was so much more to this world than the quiet, peaceful life in the Spine. He wasn't sure where it would take him, but he knew it wouldn't always be this simple.
As the cabin came into view, the warm light from the small windows beckoned them home. Leo still had many questions about the world—about the Compendium, about magic, and about the future that seemed to be waiting for him just beyond the mountains. But for now, he understood the importance of what he held: the knowledge passed down by his father, the silver coins in his pouch, and the whispering power of magic that beckoned from within.
He felt that the time to step into something greater was drawing nearer, but he also understood the wisdom his father had shared—the journey was as important as the destination, and every coin, every lesson, every moment mattered.