In the days when Therol ruled Dynkyr alone, the relationships between the Duns grew uneasy. For though they were founded by the sons of Clangeddin, only Fesig remained from that first generation.
Dun Usega was cut off from the others by the vast Ice Reach. Dun Ur had neither sent nor received word since before the time of Clangeddin and the victory over Yrsog Firemane. Dun Balnolmar sat near the top of the world, eschewing the prosperity of coigns and thus remaining apart. While Festog, Oromir, and Dynkyr spoke to each other as kin, they came to plot against one another in the manner of those who fear want.
In those days the coigns of Dynkyr were of true gold, silver, and copper, and none could say otherwise. They bore their full weight, rang true upon the stone, and were trusted by all who took them. Yet it was not the coin that failed the Dwenir, but the manner in which it was held.
For prosperity had grown so great that every Dwenir lived as once only a Regn had lived, and each was determined to leave his mark upon Erenth. Great works were commissioned not for need, but for remembrance. Roads were laid where none were required, halls raised where no people dwelt, and habitations multiplied beyond their purpose. Stone was shaped faster than it could be filled with life.
The forges were busy, the roads secure, the Kerak well kept, and coigns flowed freely. Wages rose, and with them expectation. What had once been counted carefully was now spent readily, and what had once been saved was now displayed.
Grain, timber, and fresh water did not answer to gold. When wagons failed or seasons turned, no weight of coin could summon what the land had not given. Thus so many coigns were set in motion that the metals lost their voice. Merchants no longer measured worth by what coins could buy, but by the measure of labor and goods alone. Prices climbed not because coin was false, but because it was everywhere. What could be had by all was prized by none.
In time, the Besnir would not accept the coigns of the Dwenir for payment, and in time all the peoples of Erenth had weapons to spare. For there had been a great peace in the Four Lands since the defeat of the giants, and the Dwenir had nothing to offer that others might seek.
When the want could no longer be hidden, and when the coigns no longer quieted hunger, the name of Therol began to be spoken without honor in the halls of Dynkyr. The Regn did not deny the failure of his rule. He called upon his magnates, seeking remedy through oath and decree, but no word he spoke could restore restraint where it had been forgotten. The counting houses defied the forges, the Kerak answered only to their own stores, and the people no longer believed that the throne could measure their need.
Thus, after not quite four score years, Therol laid aside his crown. When word of this reached the other Duns, the effect was swift and bitter. The Regns of Festog and Oromir saw in Therol’s fall not warning, but inevitability. Each in turn was pressed by their own magnates, accused not of cruelty or treason, but of insufficiency. For the age demanded answers that no single crown could give.
Therol was succeeded by Egaron the Regn.
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