Money

Steven stormed into the guild hall, a grin tugging at his lips from the tavern scam, his black shirt and pants a stark shift from the traded armor but his spirits soaring. The day’s quests—Crab Cull, Bandit Scout, Goblin Patrol, and Cave Bear Clash, plus the unexpected cave troll—burned in his mind as proof of his D-rank mettle. He approached the desk, not Sophy this time but a wiry woman with sharp eyes and a clipped tone behind the counter. “Here to turn these in,” he said, dropping the parchments and loot: 10 Goblin Ears, the Cave Bear Pelt, and Bear Claws.

She slotted his bronze card into the machine, its hum ticking off his kills—20 giant shore crabs, 10 goblins, 1 cave bear—and then paused, eyes narrowing as it logged the cave troll. “Solid work… hold up, a cave troll?” Her voice sharpened, scanning the data. “Ten-foot brute, nasty claws—miners’ve been dodging that cave for months ‘cause o’ that beast. Ye’re lucky to be breathin’, lad—those things rip men apart.” Steven shrugged, the memory of its claws piercing his gut flashing back—splugsh—but he played it cool. “Got hairy, yeah—gutted me good, but I clawed its heart out.”

She nodded, impressed but stern. “Miners’ll thank ye—couldn’t’ve gone back with that monster lurkin’. Guild’s gotta reward that kind o’ luck and grit.” He pulled out the 40 Giant Crab Meat chunks, setting them on the desk. “Wanna sell these too—maybe spice up the dining hall?” She inspected the haul. “Good stock—20 copper for the lot, we’ll take ‘em.”

For the Bandit Scout, he spilled the intel: “North shore cave, wooden door—knock’s two quick, pause, one slow.” She waved it off. “No code needed—sendin’ a veteran crew to clear ‘em out, **** run.” Steven didn’t blink—bandits weren’t his mess now. She tallied his pay: Crab Cull—40 copper; Bandit Scout—50 copper; Goblin Patrol—1 silver; Cave Bear Clash—2 silver, 75 copper; Crab Meat—20 copper. Then, for the troll: “That beast was a **** trap—bonus for savin’ the miners’ hides. Call it 1 silver extra.” Total: 5 silver, 5 copper. She slid the coins across—2 silver in a neat stack, 3 silver loose, 5 copper scattered—his haul boosted by the troll’s menace.

Steven scooped them up, the day’s work and that 5-gold armor hustle fattening his stash, his luck holding as strong as his fists.

Steven’s pouch now bulges with 9 gold, 2 silver, 38 copper—a fortune from quests, cunning, and a troll’s bloody end, ready to fuel his next move in the Mistveil.