Alongside Edric, Basil was the last to arrive when his father summoned the war council. He had spent the previous hour hunched over a deck of cards with the Legate, playing a game of memory and wit;without betting of course, as he never carried a single silverii in his purse, a curious fact for the son of a man whose wealth was well-known.
During his station with Jarza, he had discovered the camp to be full of crude japes about the Prince's fortune; the common soldiers whispered that his father was capable of shitting silver into his own privy.
To the rank-and-file, it was the only explanation for the staggering sums the man spent.
Probably even some of the lords thought of it, as while it was common to hoard treasures in iron-bound chests, his father let the coin flow like a river, leaving the world convinced his coffers were a bottomless well.
Still he knew the truth of that well.
