[b]Bradle's Worth
Victor Strade and Adrian Westley [/B]

The first few raindrops were cold and fat, and they bounced off Adrian's red curls and pasty nose as she looked up at the gloomy sky. They were on horseback; a phenomenon that Adrian wasn't too accustomed to just yet, so she sat in front of Victor and clutched the wiry mane apprehensively.

“Rain, Victor,” Adrian pointed out, still staring gormlessly up at the sky.

Victors eyes were glued to the road, listening onto any noise that wasn’t his mounts hooves hitting the ground. “Good, we’re here..” he pointed out as he slowed their pace down to a trott, entering the miniscule village through one of its two entrances. 

The villagers were amidst gathering their goods, drying clothes, and leading the barely existing stock into their sheds to shelter them from the impending rain. A sign that it was going to be more intense further on through the night. The road was barren of any pavement, forcing his horse to trudge through a muddying mainstreet to whatever building here passed as a tavern. Adrian petted the horse as they wandered through the streets. She peered across the scene, squinting at the wooden boards hanging beside the buildings. When she spied one with a flagon of ale and a stable next door, she tugged on Victor's arm and pointed at it.

Victor followed her gaze and spotted the indicated building. “Nice.” he noted before steering the reigns towards it. Guiding towards the makeshift stables near what the tavern he was the first to hop off and hitch it to a post before moving to help Adrian off its back and onto the mud. Adrian wiggled her boots slightly to get the best squelch when she tried to lift her feet, resulting in around a half inch of mud circling the perimeter of the shoe soles. With this solemn and essential task completed, the duo wandered into the tavern.

It was a smoky, crowded yet pleasant establishment. A myriad of characters filled the chairs and tables, leaving Victor some bar space to occupy. Adrian, as she is wont to do when she enters a tavern, stood at the entrance and stared at the patrons unashamedly until Victor gave her a little nudge towards the bar. As Adrian dragged a seat towards the sticky countertop and went about her duty to stare unashamedly at the bartender, Victor eased himself gingerly against the bartop and flagged the bartender down.

“Anything I can get you two?” Called out the ruddy faced fellow who came over, giving a brief smile to Adrian (which was not reciprocated) before focusing his attention on Victor.

“Please, a room and whatever you’ve got cooking tonight.” he motioned at what appeared to be a pot of unknown stew atop of the fire behind the bartender. Victor didn’t waste time and picked out his coin purse, precariously selecting a several of them at the bartenders demand. Adrian watched the interaction between the pair of them carefully and, as the bartender jostled his way through his own crowded bar to pick up two rough hewn bowls, she turned to look up at Victor.

“The metal discs - the coins - you use them instead of trading objects,” she stated, more of a fact than a question, “and the other person uses those little things to get other objects, so the worth of the object isn't lost or unfairly bargained, right?” She wriggled her fingers into the coin pouch to pick out a coin and examine it.

“What do they do where you come from?”  

“Nothing,” murmured Adrian, engrossed in the way the surface catches the light. “We traded goods. But how do you assign worth to something? A bison lives for years and makes milk and wool. How many blankets is it worth? If you trade in food, what do you do when it goes rotten within the week? I like your idea better. Metal does not spoil…”

“Well we’ve been doing it here before we even began to write history. Value of it just comes from the material from which it’s made.” he replied, trying to come up with the most simple way to convey it, peering at her somewhat curiously. “I think.” he added, after he had some time to mull it over.

Adrian nodded, distractedly, placing the coin back into the weathered palm of her travelling companion just as a thick brownish stew slid across the bar towards the travellers. She scooped up the bowl and held it against her clammy arms in an attempt to warm up. Finally she took the spoon and tried some of the mixture. It didn't give her much of a reaction. “I think I prefer cold meat,” she commented idly, and left it at that. “What do you want to do here, Victor?”

“Work, of course. Death attracts monsters, and with the fighting nearby there’s probably a lot of contracts passed around in these parts. It’s more dangerous of course but works a plenty.” he explained, grabbing a spoon and lifting a mouthful of the broth.

“For more coins?”

“Yes, for more coins.” he admitted. “Eat up, we won’t be having anything more tonight.” Adrian obeyed and ate in silence. Her gaze flickered back and forth with the patient, methodical approach she took to absorbing the conversation, quietly compartmentalizing the things she has learned. 

In the din of the chatter, the clink of the glasses and the crackle of the fireplace, two largely unremarkable individuals lapsed into a comfortable silence and waited, bowls half empty, for their rented room to be prepared for them.