Alloy nail

Master Adam struck florins with three carats of alloy in them, and was burned for it; now he sits in the tenth ditch, swollen with water, dying of thirst and unable to get up. The game does not change his trade: you bring him gold, he melts it down, and what comes out are nails that weigh right and sound right.

One in four does not fire. This is not bad luck and not a hidden die: the count is exact, every fourth alloy nail fired makes the volley go off as a dry click, and the line that appears says only that it did not fire. It is the one kind of ammunition in the game that can betray you, and it is fitting that the counterfeiter is the man who makes it.

There is a second route, declared: whoever arrives without gold brings him the good nails instead, and he gives back a little under half. It exists so that the chapter’s last door cannot bar itself, and not out of anyone’s generosity.