Oswin

A smallholder west of the Highbridge span working his grandfather's shrinking field — the man whose plough turned up an Imperium ring-seal and whose honesty asked the town what it was worth.

Oswin's field grows half what it grew in his boyhood, his spring runs lower each year, and his answer to both is the same as his father's: plough anyway. The ring-seal under his blade was the first luck in a decade, if luck is what it proves to be.