The chittering of the birds woke the young girl with a start. The sheer multitude of high pitched calls startled her. Not because it was unnatural, but because it meant she was late. While the world outside was still shrouded in the obsidian curtain of night, the dark was retreating.

Shaking off the tendrils of fatigue, Ravina rose from the comfort of her warm bed. The fruitless late-night conversation with her father had kept her from sleep, allowing only a precious few hours. Tired as she was, she needed to get to the market early. Even in the black, she was able to navigate through the dark with practiced movements. Soon enough she was dressed and ready to leave, however there was one last thing she needed to do before trudging herself to the market. Her hands found a sturdy wooden bucket tucked away in the shadows of a kitchen cabinet.

Quickly she moved to the door, where she took a deep, steadying breath before she stepped outside. Her senses were immediately accosted by the piercing chill of the early morning air. There was something different in the cold air outside the house then in. It hit harder, painfully scratching at the inside of her lungs and slicing through her frayed linen dress with ease. Her worn leather boots provided some solace, but they were hardly impervious to the biting cold that gnawed at her toes. She wiggled them when she could, not knowing if it would help.

As Ravina made her way to the communal well, the freshness of the mountain morning greeted her. The dew-laden air carried a crisp, rejuvenating scent, the smell of moist soil and foliage mingling with the faint undercurrents of woodsmoke drifting in the air from the sleeping village. The taste of the new day settled on her tongue.

Reaching the well, Ravina eyed its time-worn structure. The well was a patchwork of various stones held together by a compartment of dry mud and reeds. Over the years, erosion had gnawed away at the mud, allowing gaps where light peeked out into the water below, like little rays filled with secrets.

Emerging from the mottled stone well were three fresh wooden beams arranged in a square—a recent addition after the preceding pair had failed their duty. These wooden arms gave off a faint scent of fresh pine, a stark contrast to the withering stonework. Nestled firmly into the middle beam was an old metal pulley, turned red by rust. A rope, wet with the morning air, was trapped by the metal and affixed to a small, dented metal bucket.

Ravina set her bucket down and tossed the small pail into the well. The splash that echoed back seemed to resonate with the charming bird song. The pulley protested at its exertion, its rusty groans squeaking out into the early morning air. She tugged at the lever, causing the bucket to rise slowly, each strenuous pull gradually bringing up water from the well's unseen depths. It took five attempts, each more arduous than the last, before the bucket was finally full. She hefted the now heavy bucket as the first true rays of morning light cracked their through the sky.

Trudging back towards her home, the symphony of the waking village played along with her efforts. Distant doors creaked open, murmured greetings rippled through the crisp air, and the subtle sound of movement echoed around.

Ravina's arrival back home punctuated the melody with the creak of her own door. A suppressed grunt slipped through her lips as she awkwardly maneuvered the bucket through it. Bringing it to the cabinet she stowed it beneath the counter.

Her chest heaved as she savored a moment's respite, the rhythmic inhale and exhale a comforting metronome in the morning's serenade. After a moment's rest, she reached for a small bowl and an aged iron ladle which rested on the counter. She used a ladle to bring some water into the bowl, then dropped it in the bucket. She took a few measured steps to retrieve a frayed but clean-enough rag from a drawer nearby. The rag served its purpose swiftly, as she cleansed the critical areas of her body, the dampened fabric kissing her skin in brisk strokes. Her worn, linen dress, imbued with the scent of woodsmoke and labor, would take care of the rest.

Once she was finished she stole a glance at her family, still sleeping peacefully. A thin smile rose on her lips. There they were, nestled together peacefully without a care in the world. Shaking off her thoughts, she picked up the basket she had prepared the night before.

The burgeoning light of the day had come, and it was now illuminating the village. The ethereal morning glow was now gone and the world came into clarity. The harsh bite of the cold was gone, leaving a more pleasant chill in the air and the once quiet settlement was now bristling with activity. With a sense of urgency, Ravina started towards the bustling market in the village center. Acknowledging the occasional greeting from neighbors, she briskly made her way down the well-trodden dirt road.

The pulse of the village beat strongly within the rustic marketplace as the first whispers of dawn began to gently nudge the night away. Seven stalls, under the shade of wooden awnings, cradled an array of goods, with the break of dawn casting nascent shadows over them. Among them, three stalls stood a class apart— larger, sturdier, and were the proud legacy of the village's oldest families, their stories soaked into the very wooden beams themselves.

This square was a vibrant hub of the village, twisted by many roads but accentuated by three main paths leading to the community's staples: the inn, the bakery, and the general store.

The inn, with its robust ale and homely fare, served more as a hearty tavern to the diligent locals than as a resting place for occasional travelers, though few bothered.

The bakery, its comforting aroma of freshly-baked bread already permeating the morning air, served as a magnet for those preparing for a hard day's work and allowing no breakfast to go skipped..

The general store stood as a testament to a trading family's hard-won prosperity. They kept their original stall in the market, a nod to their humble beginnings, and used it for early morning and late afternoon trades of their fellow villagers. However, no stall could beat the might of the large buildings supply.

The marketplace was humming with activity. Young porters darted amongst the swelling crowd. Woodsmen, their tools—cheap iron saws, wood mauls, and hatchets—glinting in the growing light, made a brief pitstop at the bakery or inn for a quick meal before heading into the wood.

Young women added to the buzz. Some offered a helping hand to their recently-wed husbands, others manned their own stalls with a quiet determination. A gaggle of little girls had already congregated around the fountain, their cheerful voices and infectious laughter lending a sense of warmth and joy to the marketplace.

Each passing year saw the village prosper. The fruits of its industriousness allowed its citizens to enjoy a comfortable life. Men could provide for their families with ease, granting them a better life than they had experienced in their youth. The marketplace wasn't just a hub of commerce; it was the beating heart of the village of Kelmin.

The marketplace was buzzing with life when a call of a merchant rang out, her voice rich and hearty. “Well, if it isn't Ravina. I had a feeling I would see you bright and early this morning.” Waving over to the young girl the plump woman smiled as her blonde gray hair danced in the wind. She was dressed in a comfortable lin dress, turned green by expensive dye and accented with brown draping.

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Her sea blue eyes sparked in the rays of the morning's light as they fell upon the basket in the young child's hands. “Come!” she encouraged, “Help me finish setting up and I'll give you a couple of coins for your troubles”

With a quick, acknowledging nod, Ravina rushed forward with a short “of course!” Together, they swiftly set up the stall. The market stand had a rich history. Originally, it functioned like any other stall, but the family's fortunes changed about three generations ago when they built the general store. From then on, the marketplace stand took on a unique role in Kelmin's economy—it primarily purchased goods from the villagers, rather than selling them. A welcome addition.

This unconventional business model served as a catalyst for economic growth within the village, especially for the less educated villagers. Instead of being taken advantage of by opportunistic traders, the villagers could sell their wares at a fair price. Without wondering if they were taken advantage of later. Acting as a middleman, her family would then sell these items in the nearby city. This was further bolstered by the woman’s husband. As a retired knight. His numerous contacts he acquired while serving the local baron proved more than a little beneficial. He would travel to the nearby city, selling the village's miscellaneous items and bringing back a handsome profit.

"Well, thank you, dear," Felin exclaimed as they finished draping the vibrant green tarp over the stall. She let out a heavy sigh, rubbing the small of her back with both hands. "I can't express how difficult this is becoming these days."

"No problem at all," Ravina replied with an assuring smile, subtly dismissing the older woman's concerns. "I needed to see you this morning, anyway." she pulled up her basket from where she had tucked it away to help.

"Is that so? Well, it seems I'll be saving a few coins, then." Felin's eyes twinkled with amusement, the corners of her mouth pulling into a sly smile. Although Ravina knew she was joking, the comment still managed to stir a twinge of awkwardness within her.

"Wish my boys were like you," Felin continued, throwing not two, but three coins into a nearby bowl before patting the rough wooden surface of her stall. A silent sigh of relief escaped Ravina as she heard the clink of the coins. She quickly noticed the generous miscalculation but bit her tongue.

"Almost twice your age, and they still sleep in, daydreaming after their father. Thinking they'll become knights with such attitudes," Felin tutted, shaking her head in a motherly mixture of disappointment and amused affection. She gave Ravina a once-over, a mischievous smile curving her lips. "You wouldn't consider marrying my Liyak, would you? He needs a strong woman to keep him in line."

Ravina considered Felin's proposition for a moment. Liyak was undoubtedly handsome, and the allure of his ambitious dreams – becoming a royal knight, like his father – was enticing. He did possess some skill, although her lack of a solid comparison point made it hard to judge. But she couldn’t. “I’m just too busy to think about it,” Ravina confessed, although that was only half the truth.

The reality was that her family was her primary concern. Her father had barely managed to recuperate from the loss of her mother, and her young sisters remained blissfully oblivious to the hardship around them. Ravina harbored a tinge of resentment, feeling robbed of her own innocence while her sisters enjoyed theirs – but she quickly quashed such thoughts, unwilling to begrudge them their happiness, just because she lost hers. The boys in her family were another story; they were so full of energy that they hardly ever stayed still. Not that they did anything to help. Then there was the debt…

While one less mouth to feed would do her family some good, the debt cast a long, ominous shadow over their lives. Affording a suitable dowry for a well-established family like Felin’s was out of the question. The realization hit her like a punch to the stomach; she couldn't marry, not if she wanted her family to have a chance at happiness. A sudden sting of tears played at her eyes. She clenched her hand tightly around her dress, the fabric rough against her fingers.

Why couldn't she have her own shot at happiness? She bit her tongue at the thought.

Felin seemed to notice her distress and tried to coax her. “My dear, you're not getting any younger. It's about time you settle down with a good man. My grandchildren could use a mother with your kind eyes.” She raised her hand and tousled her hair, “and this deep shade would look good on a young boy.”

“Felin, I appreciate it, but…” Ravina flinched at the womens warm touch but faltered, unable to voice her true fears.

"Perhaps another time," Felin suggested gently, taking note of the unease etched on Ravina's face. Her attention then shifted to the basket, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the yarrow within. "This is quite the find, dear. Grathen's had a nasty bout with monsters lately, and an alchemist in Felwood Village could definitely use these for potions. It's on your way to the town. I'd say 6 coins per bundle is fair."

The offer reflected the unique bond of Kelmin's community, as most villagers were well aware of Ravina's family's plight. Their attempts at support were subtle, an unspoken vow to preserve the dignity of Finn's children while still offering a helping hand. Felin, embodying a maternal warmth and an inherent sense of fairness, was always ready to help where she could. Had she known the thought of a dowry was what held Ravina back from considering a future with Liyak, Felin would have dismissed it as a trivial concern. She might even hold the ceremony the next day.

As Felin meticulously evaluated the rest of the goods in Ravina's basket, coins chimed into the bowl with each selection. Thirty-two coins in total, a sound that sparked a combination of relief and guilt within Ravina. To her, Felin was more than just a neighbor or a stall owner.

Now, with a total of forty coins in their possession, the remainder of the week seemed manageable. They could set aside seven coins, distribute ten among the Braymores and Calliums. However, this faint flicker of hope was quickly snuffed out by the realization that they would enter the new week with a mere seven coins.

"Is something troubling you, dear?" Felin's voice broke through Ravina's mental calculations.

"Ah, it's nothing, Felin. Just lost in thought," Ravina dismissed her concern quickly, effectively masking her financial anxieties. She gathered the coins, tucking them into a small drawstring bag she wore around her neck, then concealed it beneath her dress. With a nod of thanks, she bid Felin goodbye and continued her journey.

Exhausted, she found a vacant bench in the square and settled down, not ready to face the somber atmosphere of her home just yet. The fortune of this week was due to Reed’s antics, leading them to an untouched patch of valuable herbs. She looked at her worn hands - calloused, bruised, and smeared with the relentless grind of manual labor. Her fingertips still bore the memory of the unyielding soil she had to claw through. Such a boon was unlikely to be repeated in the coming weeks.

Sixty coins. That was the sum they needed. With her father confined to porter work, he brought in a meager seventeen, a salary fitting for children starting their careers. She clenched her fists. If only he hadn't squandered their savings, their circumstances could have been different. Hot tears threatened to spill, fuelled by her resentment towards her father, forcing her into an adult role far too early. She still harbored love for him, yes, but she found herself unable to forgive, unable to understand him.

Seventeen coins from her father. One year from now, Reed would start chipping in. Asher, three years down the line. The prospect of an additional twenty-one coins from foraging the forest was hopeful, albeit generous. However, their encumbered debt siphoned off much of their income. They owed their survival to Finn's choice of borrowing from compassionate lenders. An interest of five coins might seem inconsequential, but it was also a fortune.

Ravina found herself teetering on the edge of a grim future. If they kept everything down to the bare minimums again, living on a mere thirty-two coins was possible. They’ve done it before. Adding their debt, the figure crept up to forty-two. The memory of skipped meals and gnawing hunger added to her distress. Yet, they had to endure until Reed was old enough to join the workforce. However, as of now, their weekly income would be a hopeful thirty-eight coins, and that was if the forest was kind. Thirty-eight coins. A massive amount, overshadowed by their expenses. Four coins. It was a small number, and yet…

“Four fucking coins.” she hissed through gritted teeth. Tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill over. Her voice quivered, echoing her desperation and anguish, emotions magnified by the distance of just four worthless copper coins. The echo of her father's empty assurances rang in her ears—'I'll think of something,' 'We'll be fine.' His ignorance, his nonchalance—it was unbearable. They were already teetering on the precipice of ruin, yet he seemed blind to how serious their situation truly was.

"Fuck you," she murmured through her tears, shaking with a potent mix of anger and despair.