🪙 The Cursed Gold Coin: Medieval Origin Story of Betrayal, Blood, and Supernatural Justice.
“Some coins are minted in fire. Others in blood.”
🕯️ The Nightly Storyteller’s Monologue
The coin has appeared in many places — a hotel, a reporter’s satchel, a soldier’s coat pocket. But to understand its curse, we must go back… before the Silver Pines Lodge, before the porcelain mask, before the ringing bell.
Back to when kings bled gold and peasants bled truth.
I’ve dreamt of it lately — that coin glinting in a storm, the sky roaring as if in protest. And sometimes, when thunder wakes me, I swear I hear it rolling across my nightstand, whispering stories of where it’s been… and who it punished next.
Tonight, I tell you the first.
Before the Silver Pines Lodge, before the porcelain mask and the ringing bell…
There was a kingdom — proud, golden, and dying from the inside.
---
🍂 The Poisoned Throne
The rightful king was dead, poisoned by his own brother. Lord Malrec wore black for seven days to feign grief — and gold for the rest of his reign. His appetite for splendor was bottomless: marble fountains, velvet robes, banquets that lasted till dawn.
To feed his greed, he raised taxes beyond reason.
---
🏚️ Dunlow Village
In the humble village of Dunlow, a farmer named Elric sat by a dying fire, hands trembling as he counted what few coins remained.
Maren, his wife, stirred a thin stew while their daughter slept near the hearth.
> Maren: “You can’t feed animals with silver, Elric. We pay, or they’ll come for us.”
> Elric: “And when the food’s gone, will the king feed us, Maren?”
> Maren: “You’ll starve with your pride before you bend your knee.”
> Elric: “Better to starve than to serve a thief wearing a crown.”
He slammed his hand against the table. The lone candle flickered out.
Outside, lightning split the night — illuminating the roots of an ancient pine. There, half-buried in the mud, gleamed a gold coin — untouched by dirt or time, its surface etched with a pine tree wreathed in flame.
He picked it up. The metal was warm, almost pulsing.
> —Maren, from the doorway: “What is it?”
> Elric: “A sign. Maybe God hasn’t forgotten us after all.”
> Maren: “It feels wrong… like it’s watching.”
> Elric (closing his fist): “Then let it watch.”
Thunder rolled again, echoing like distant laughter.
---
⚖️ The Gallows
Three days later, the king’s guards arrived. Elric had used his last coins to buy grain instead of paying the tax. The charge: theft from the divine purse.
Dragged through the mud, Elric was hauled before the gallows. The village gathered — faces pale, torn between fear and fury.
Maren pushed through the crowd, clutching their child.
> Maren: “Please! He only fed his family!”
> Guard: “Silence, woman!”
> Elric: “Don’t beg, Maren. They’ll hang me either way.”
A hush fell as the royal carriage rolled into view. King Malrec stepped out, his cloak gleaming like molten gold. He smiled as Elric was forced to kneel.
> King Malrec: “Let this man’s death be a lesson. Defy the crown, and your neck will pay the price.”
> Elric (grinning through blood): “You’ll learn your lesson soon enough, Majesty.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the coin. The crowd gasped — it shimmered with its own light.
> Elric: “This coin helps those who need help… and punishes those who deserve it.”
Thunder cracked above. The hangman flinched.
> Elric (to the sky): “Let it begin.”
The rope snapped tight. His body went limp. The coin fell into the mud, still shining.
Maren screamed. The child sobbed.
Malrec only laughed.
> King Malrec: “Remember this fool! His death buys your obedience!”
The silence cracked. A stone flew — then another. The guards raised shields, but the crowd surged like a tide.
---
👑 The King’s Fall
That night, thunder returned — louder, closer.
Guards patrolled the palace halls, muttering about strange whispers and coins clinking in empty rooms. In his chamber, King Malrec awoke to the sound of footsteps on marble.
He sat up — and there, on his pillow, was a gold coin, slick with blood.
> King Malrec: “Who dares—”
A figure stood at the foot of the bed — a man in rags, face shadowed, eyes burning faintly gold. Lightning flashed, revealing the noose marks around his neck — raw, red, and still damp.
Malrec screamed.
By morning, the servants found him with his throat slit, his crown toppled, and blood soaking the sheets.
The Queen, trying to flee, was caught by the mob. They dragged her through the streets, her golden dress trailing in the mud.
Someone shouted, “Hang her with the rope she blessed!”
The same gallows creaked one final time as the storm raged.
---
🔥 The Aftermath
When the fires died, the castle was empty.
Ash coated the marble floors.
In the center of the throne room, a pine tree had been carved into the stone — a symbol that hadn’t been there before.
And at its roots, resting perfectly in the soot, was a single gold coin — gleaming, innocent, patient.
---📜 The Nightly Storyteller’s Closing Words
I’ve traced the coin’s journey through history — from burning kingdoms to quiet towns. It doesn’t choose sides. It simply balances what’s been broken.
When Elric whispered his final words, the coin awoke.
And ever since, it’s done exactly what he promised: help those who need help… and punish those who need punishing.
If you ever find it — leave it where it lies.
Because once the thunder answers…
the debt’s already been claimed.
💀 Epilogue
They say the coin reappears where injustice takes root — helping those in need, damning those who cause harm.
It never stays long.
It only waits.
And when thunder rolls… you’ll know it’s found a new hand.
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