“What?” The bold and shrewd Balthorr Olaskos said, hardly believing what he was hearing. A sinking feeling gripped his sensibilities and he suddenly felt he had to sat down.
“I’m sorry but at this time we have exhausted all our resources.” was the only consolation offered by the agent of the moneychangers’ guild; he was after all only a messenger, but in that moment Balthorr would have strangled his life from him.
“Hombel protect me.” Balthorr said raising his right fist to his brow.
Then in short order and without delay the Moneychangers' agent left behind two parcels before making his tactless exit.
He was ruined.
If what the agent said was correct all of his most rare and expensive coins were gone- simple as that as if they were never there. Sure there is the parcel of documents and processing reports tracking Balthorr’s assets, the agent was kind enough to drop those off- oh and lest not forget what was left of the Olaskos’ family heirlooms in the other parcel, but all his eastern province coinage- the bulk of his wealth- was lost to him.
Balthorr slowly, methodically closed his shop of rare and wondrous treasures putting out the lights and covering the windows and sat in the darkening light of the day thinking. For hours he sat alone with his thoughts and a growing darkness, bitter and vile growing in his mind. Outside the wind blew carrying intermittent sounds of Stormhaven rebellion.
Had he had hit rock bottom, or as the Nobility say ‘below-topside’? For an unknown amount time Balthorr slowly climbed his way out of the swirl of red emotions and into the realm of mild coherent thought.
He regarded all that remains of his worldly possessions arranged around at his shop, some gold, and even less magic. If he were to survive he needed to make the best of what he still had. He needed to reestablish his wealth or lose his status and his membership in the moneychangers’ guild; he also needed protection or someone may capitalize on his misfortune. Anger welled inside the once companionable coin-collector and spinster.
As Balthorr was gathering his highest ticket items to sell at a local souk, a woman from the eastern provinces entered the shop of unorganized treasures. She peered in apprehensively and called out into the dark shop. She had the look of a mythic warrior- silent and deadly.
… and here is my protection- Balthorr thought. Mayhap he was not ruined after all.