"Roderic? Drowned man speaking in cryptic warnings? I caught a glimpse of him when you were a wee lad, during the whole Gildersleeves troubles," your father scratches his beard, "no good can come from it if he's showed up again. Keep your head on your shoulders, and if things look bad then know when to run. Bravery and foolishness are favorite bedfellows,"

At the mention of the coin, your father looks at it and snorts, "nothing of that sort. If anything we have too many hogs this season and I sold one to Kelstrop this morning," He pulls two more gold coins out of his pocket, putting the three on the table. Gregor has taken hogs to the butcher before, and three gold pieces would be the normal price. All three are Korvosan sails, the most common denomination used by traders along the Varisian coast, and difficult to counterfeit since locals know them quite well. His father grimaces, "she paid me up front and I went on my way, but as I jangled them in my pocket on the way back this one didn't sit right. It's the right size, shape, weight, and looks just like the others, but something feels off about it and I'm not sure what. My sight, my touch, even my taste tells me it's gold and to stop worrying. But something feels off about it,"