Prosperity rests in the palm like a coin carved from the sun itself, a small disk of warm gold that cools to your touch only after you’ve run your thumb along its edge. The surface is a field of whispering facets, each catching light and throwing it back as if the thing itself were listening to a market rumor and answering with a gleam. Around the rim run delicately etched vines and tiny numerals—a language of trade and trust that hints at a story older than the chatter of stalls. In the center sits a cabochon of amber, a quiet ember that seems to hold a miniature sunrise. It isn’t heavy, but it carries a weight of assurance, as if a careful promise had been pressed into the metal by hands that know the arithmetic of risk and reward. The chain is slender and expertly wrought, long enough to rest against a shirt collar or swing softly from a belt; it seems to hum with a patient patience, the kind you only hear when a deal takes both time and faith to seal. Lore says Prosperity was forged in the workshop of a roaming guild of brokers who traveled between caravans and coastal ports, a charm meant not to bribe fortune but to honor it back for a fair bargain. The amber center supposedly collected the glow of crowded markets—sunlight filtered through sails, the heat of a thousand conversations, the memory of a hundred nods when a price finally settled into its rightful place. Some tell of the sigil on its back—two scales balanced by a single coin—an emblem of balance, where cunning and generosity meet at the same table. To carry Prosperity is to carry a story of trust, a reminder that wealth in this world is a communal thing, not a solitary sprint. In gameplay, the charm feels like a quiet partner at every stall and chest. Worn as a trinket, it lends a soft edge of luck to your exchanges—items salvage with a cleaner return, vendor prices that lightly tilt toward fairness, and the occasional fellow trader who smiles with a little more openness because Prosperity is in your pocket. It doesn’t shout its power; it whispers through the fingers that reach for the next purchase, the next barter, the next open crate in a forgotten ruin. It’s the kind of item you notice only when you pause to listen to the rhythm of the market around you, the way a crowd’s mood shifts as if the air itself has learned a new gauge for value. Natural as a well-timed trade, the charm’s presence ripples into the world’s economy in small but meaningful ways. You’ll hear rumors of it at the Saddlebag Exchange, where traders haggle and histories collide. A price may move by a copper or a fraction of a coin, depending on demand and mood, and the vendor who once doubted your word now nods with a wary respect because Prosperity is near. It’s not just a tool; it’s a companion in a dance of debt and delight, a reminder that every gain in this bustling realm is threaded through the conversations and communities that sustain it.