“Where do you get your money?” the Bard asked as they walked away, the Landian tucking the sack under his arm as she held onto the wheel of cheese.  The Landian moved on in the market, the hood of his mantle down, his duster open.  There was still the old sword strapped to his side but Keto figured that was as likely to disappear as the sun was to not rise the next morning.  She waited for him to answer, well waited as long as she was able.  “You throw out coppers to golems, and while you forage and hunt we’ve never had issue paying for food, room, or any gear that isn’t something you already have.”  

Quartes had stopped at another stall, a few words were exchange as the Landian added a sack of apples to the articles tucked up under his arm.

“Not that I don’t earn us a room or a meal on occasion.”  Keto was musing now, her words seemingly lost to the noise of the market for all the reaction it was getting out of the Landian.  Salt was purchased as she waited for anything from him.  Herbs joined the other bundles.  Some dried mushrooms seemed to be his last purchase as they turned and headed back towards the inn they had settled into for their stay.  Keto watched the thinning crowd, making note of the people as she caught snippets of their words.  Each offered a peak for just a moment into the story of their lives.

When the crowd had thin such that no one seemed to be close to them Quartes shifted to face her.  His voice a whisper, “I kill Dragons, some of them had hoarded treasure.  Some had piles of gold coins, I trade a few when needed for silver and copper.”

His words had stopped her, mouth fallen it took the Bard a moment to find her voice.  “Piles of gold coins,” Quartes gave a small nod of confirmation, “where are they all?”

“Most of it is in Migin, but I keep a fair share in the pack, a fact I prefer others to not know.  Dragonkin hunting me is one thing, thieves would be much more troublesome.”  She caught it then, the flash of a small beyond his pupil-less eyes as the Landian turned and continued on their way.”

Keto jumped to catch up, her own voice dropping into a whisper now.  “We could eat finely each night, sleep in whatever the best room was.”  After a moment she added, “Drink something besides swill or young wine with every evening.”

“Could yes, but we will not.”  His answer wasn’t cruel, but it was final.  She couldn’t argue with him, not if they were to succeed in the end.  The Last Landian travelling like the Silver Emperors of old didn’t have quite the right look for the story.  They walked on for a while, the inn finally coming into view.

“Can we buy a bottle of wine with at least a few years in it?”  Her voice tinged with hope, fading to doubt as she finished.

A sigh, a shake of the head, and then acceptance.  “We can tonight.”