A lone carriage rolled down a gentle hill towards a small village, pulled by a sturdy black mare, the gentle breeze of this spring day rustling her mane.

There was nothing remarkable about this lone village, located just south of Tyrnel in the free republic. It was average in every way. Farmers were out toiling in the fields, wives washed laundry and chattered about the latest gossip, and children ran about freely ignorant of the woes of the world.

The village of GoldHearth was a farming village. Every day was spent toiling in the fields to meet the yearly wheat quota. It was a simple life the people lived. Rarely anything of note would happen in this small village, so when a merchant was spotted heading down the gentle hill it drew more attention than it normally should.

As the people watched the figure on the cart roll into their small town they couldn’t help but be apprehensive towards this man. Merchants could bring either great fortune or disaster upon a town, based solely on that merchants will and connections.

The great Merchant Union of Isteroth to the east, was a new power that had risen to glory swiftly after the fall of the Raekyth Empire. Seizing the opportunity to exploit the now broken empire and build its own power, it was now one of the four major powers of the continent, using its overwhelming wealth to hire mercenary’s and pirates from the Eleryn sea.

The Kingdom of Erenon to the south had managed to rally their legendary horsemen to hold the Seridrome, building the great fortress city of Veir to defend their kingdom from the power-hungry Union.

It is said that they had the aid of the elves of legend, situated in the Ragneron Forest at the eastern portion of their lands. But none have seen them for decades, and this was passed down as myth by many of the common folk.

Regardless, this myth has made Erenon to value the woodlands greatly, resulting in some of the best archers of the time. Combined with their cavalry and the nigh impenetrable mountain to the north, they are a force to be reckoned with.

To the north the Kingdom of Theikon was established by the rebel factions that sought to overthrow Raekyth. After a long and bitter revolt, they managed to destroy the old empire, but at the cost of the capital and most of the forests surrounding it where now inhabit by vicious monsters, drawn in by the blood of millions and the flames of war.

The west had also become a wasteland haunted by the ghosts of those that fell in battle. They had however build a hardened army from the years of fighting, their heavy shock troops were the elite. Capable of besting numbers 10 times their own in open combat. They had a tentative peace with the Union due to the raiders of the great desert of the northeast keeping their lands separate.

And finally, there was the Free Republic of Amerys in the west. Know by all as The Freelands. The Freelands were a collection of many small kingdoms coming together to face the threat of the larger nations surrounding them.

They were isolated by land due to the ruins of Raekyth to the north, so despite the lack of a military advantage, they managed to hold their own with their sizable navy and skilled seamen.

Thus, a merchant turning up in their village could mean many things. Especially considering his appearance. He was dressed in long black flowing robes, covering his entire body. Supple leather boots peaked out from the hem of his robe, and black silk gloves could be seen adorning his hands.

And the most peculiar thing about this merchant was the dark obsidian mask he wore underneath his deep hood, allowing only his eyes, which seemed to glow earily, to show, despite the pleasant weather.

Mother’s soon ushered their children back into their homes, swiftly following them, as the men came together to see what this strange merchant wanted. His carriage ambled on heedless of the attention he was garnering.

Closer and closer he drew, the rattle of his cart, the jangle of glasses hitting each other got louder the closer he approached. However, to the relief of the men he merely pulled up his cart in an abandoned corner and began to unfold his cart to resemble a storefront.

Long after the man had finished setting his stall up, the men began to approach. Wary of the price he would charge, for what coin would a farmer have? Slowly they approached, and they marvelled at the prices, bolt of cotton, cheeses, tools, each useful item, and each was extremely cheap.

Ranging from 1 copper coin to 1 silver coin. And average farmer was lucky if he drew in more than 5 silver a year, with a farmer being able to support his family on 40 copper a month. But one by one, each man approached and bought an item that was of use to them. Maybe it was the price, or maybe it was the mysterious stranger, but none could resist purchasing an item from his stall.

Many hours later when the sun was near the horizon, the man packed up his wares and began to set out after another successful day. He hitched his mare back up and then set of at a slow trundle away from the village and a knowing smile on his face underneath his mask.

Although he may not have made any coin, he had a very successful day indeed. And nobody but him noticed a small boy running away carrying a small velvet pouch clutched tightly to his chest. He felt glee seeing the boy, covered in dirt, run away thinking he had pilfered an object of great worth. And an object of great worth it was. But he would only find this out much later.