The copper coin sat on the rough-hewn table, mocking Leo.
It was tarnished, heavy, and cold. On one side, it bore the relief of a sheaf of wheat; on the other, a pair of dice. It was the "Casino Token" Guts had thrown at him days ago, claiming it was the key to "cheating" the hardpan.
But a key is useless without a lock.
Leo picked it up. It didn't vibrate like the Cursed Hoe wrapped around his right hand. It felt inert. A dead variable.
"Capital requires circulation," Leo muttered. "Right now, this is just scrap metal."
He walked out to the field. The grass was fuzzing the grey soil, a slow, biological victory. Near the original rock he had moved—the "Ground Zero" of his farm's restoration—Guts was sitting cross-legged, braiding a rope out of dead weeds.
"It's not working," Leo said, tossing the coin to the Sprite.
Guts caught it without looking. "It's not a battery, kid. It's an invitation. You can't just hold it and expect money to fall out of the sky."
"You said it was a way to cheat."
"I said it was a token for the Casino," Guts corrected. He bit the coin, testing its authenticity. "But the Casino is closed. The house is boarded up. Because the Pit Boss is missing."
Leo sat on a bucket. "The Pit Boss?"
"Jet," Guts said. "Leader of the Orange Team. I handle the soil; he handles the... let's call it the 'Liquid Assets.' Luck. Commerce. Inventory."
Guts pointed a knobby finger toward the village.
"When the Witch silenced the Goddess, we all scattered. I went into the dirt because that's my element. But Jet? Jet is a hustler. He wouldn't go into the ground. He would go where the money moves."
Leo frowned, his mind racing through the variables. "Commerce. Trade routes."
"Exactly," Guts nodded. "Jet is attracted to the flow of goods. High-volume transactions. If there's anyone in this valley moving significant inventory, Jet is probably leeching off their entropy."
Leo thought about the valley's economy. Vesta sold vegetables, but it was a stable, predictable local trade. The Inn sold food. But there was one variable that fluctuated wildly. One person who brought goods from the Outside World, creating a massive imbalance in the local economy.
"Van," Leo realized. "The Merchant."
"The fat man with the orange coat?" Guts grinned, revealing teeth that looked like pebbles. "Orange coat. Orange Sprite. It's not subtle, kid. The universe likes thematic resonance."
"So Jet is hiding on Van?"
"Hiding in the inventory," Guts corrected. "He's probably stashed away in a crate somewhere, sleeping on a pile of invoices. You wake him up, you open the Casino. You open the Casino, and maybe—just maybe—you can turn that copper coin into enough seeds to save your farm."
The Inner Inn was quiet when Leo arrived. It was 10:00 AM on a day ending in 3. Van was downstairs setting up his shop, his booming voice echoing as he tried to sell a "Self-Polishing Mirror" to Ruby.
Leo slipped past the lobby and up the stairs. The wooden steps creaked, a sound that felt deafening in the silence of the hallway.
He found Van's temporary quarters at the end of the hall. The door was ajar.
The room was cluttered with the detritus of a traveling salesman. Boxes of "cure-all" tonics, stacks of strange mechanical parts, and bolts of silk. In the corner, sitting alone near the window, was a crate.
It wasn't a normal shipping container. It was made of a wood that seemed to absorb the light. And it was vibrating.
Leo approached it slowly. He could hear a sound coming from inside—not a ticking, but a shuffling. Like dry leaves sliding over felt.
Shhh-click. Shhh-click.
Leo knelt. He didn't touch the latch immediately. He observed.
"Hypothesis," Leo whispered. "The Sprite is an entity of probability. He exists in a quantum state of 'hidden' until observed."
He reached out. His hand brushed the crate. The vibration stopped instantly. The "Observer Effect." He had collapsed the wave function.
"I know you're in there," Leo said. "Guts sent me."
For a long moment, nothing happened. Then, the lid of the crate creaked open.
A pair of goggles peered out. Then an orange hat. Finally, a Sprite climbed onto the rim of the box, looking annoyed. He held a half-eaten apple in one hand and a deck of cards in the other.
"Do you have any idea," the Sprite squeaked, his voice sounding like a ratchet turning, "how comfortable a box of silk is? I was sleeping."
"I need the tree open," Leo said. "I have a token."
Jet looked at Leo. He squinted, adjusting his goggles. "You're the new variable. The one moving the dirt."
"I'm the one trying to buy seeds," Leo corrected. "But I'm broke. I need a game."
Jet hopped down from the crate. He landed with a sound like a coin hitting the floor.
"You want to gamble?" Jet smirked. "In this economy? Bold."
He snapped his fingers. The crate behind him folded in on itself, vanishing into a pocket of sub-space.
"Fine," Jet said. "I was getting bored anyway. Van's inventory is too predictable. He always sells at a 20% markup. No risk. I miss the action."
Jet walked toward the window and hopped onto the sill. He pointed toward the Goddess Pond.
"Meet me at the Big Tree tomorrow," Jet commanded. "Bring your token. And bring your nerve. If you lose, I keep the token, and you go back to starving."
"And if I win?" Leo asked.
Jet laughed. It was a sound like dice rattling in a cup.
"If you win, you might just survive the winter."
The Sprite leaped out the window, dissolving into a streak of orange light that shot across the valley.
Leo stood alone in the empty room. He had found the Broker. Now, he just had to survive the transaction.
He turned and walked downstairs, past Van who was happily counting his gold. Leo touched the empty space in his pocket where his money used to be.
"Time to balance the books," Leo whispered with a self-satisfied smile on his face.