Sigrid laughed. "Everybody's a miser," she said. As far as she has seen, that was true. Up and down the rivers, from small villages with no name all the way to grand Lundenwic itself, the locals worshipped money more than they worshipped Jesu of the Cross. Her mind went back to her early days, when she was but fourteen, and the long hours of haggling and sweet-talking that went into every little transaction. No matter how she seemed to win them over, the final price was never where she wanted it to be. Ruefully, she reminded herself in her head that those times can't have been longer than a year ago, and not to get so high-and-mighty about experience she didn't yet have. Though still not yet visible, the bells of the town square rang out, piercing through the early morning. It was the church, no doubt. "Come, I'll race you to the village," Sigrid said, a grin creeping across her freckled face.

No town she had ever seen was quiet, and this one was not to be an exception. The shouting of angry traders, the crunching of famished peasants, and the preaching of zealous priests permeated the square and its surrounding woods, possibly for furlongs out. Sigrid unslung her sack from her shoulder and loosened the tie, quickly counting up the contents of its insides. Metals were a precious thing, and she was too smart now to flash it in front of everybody like a Jarl. No, this time she would be smart. Trade goods for goods, like a local would, and try to go through the morning without having to dig into her coins at all. "Care to show me around?" she asked. Mildemaer didn't seem like the deceitful sort, not to her at least. Better yet, she must know some of the locals. This would be a good time to get into the market, as well as the good books of a couple of big names. Already, she could imagine how she would leave this town, her karve spilling over the sides with radiant gold and silver.