The nights in Minas Tirith were as lively as ever, but unlike before, the bustle had shifted from the taverns to the courtyard apartment blocks.
The lighting supplies in the merit points store had long since sold out, but that did nothing to dampen people's eagerness to learn.
In their rooms, young people lit butter lamps and gathered in groups of three or five beneath the dim yellow glow, holding official textbooks and discussing them in hushed voices.
The rustle of turning pages and the sounds of arguments drifted through the windows into the night, rising and falling.
"How do you work this one out? Three hundred and seventy Gold Suns, eight Silver Moons, and eleven and three-quarter Copper Leaves... this damned duodecimal system!"
A young artisan repeatedly scribbled and corrected numbers on a sheet of paper with a charcoal pencil, scratching his head and groaning.
"Remember, one Gold Sun equals twenty Silver Moons, and one Silver Moon equals twelve Copper Leaves. Don't get them mixed up," his companion reminded him.
He threw down his quill and roared at his friend.
"Why does one Silver Moon have to equal twelve Copper Leaves? Why does one Gold Sun have to equal twenty Silver Moons? That's a full two hundred and forty Copper Leaves! The neighboring Empire uses a decimal system. They can work it out in a blink! What about us?"
He pointed at the scrap paper he had ruined with his calculations.
"Just adding these three amounts used up half a bottle of ink! Whoever invented this currency must have been a devil who hated humanity! Can't we make a hundred Copper Leaves equal one Gold Sun? Think how many clerks that would save from going bald!"
Without looking up, his friend said dryly,
"Then think about this. If everything