Lucius's grin is broad and grateful and he fishes in his pocket until he can find the ring he pulled from the last fellow who was fool enough to shake his hand as he took someone else's mail. He hasn't had time to get a proper look at it, but it seemed nice enough. No signet, no precious gems, but a great heavy bit of something semi-precious set in a masculine cut slab of silver. He takes it out and gives it a quick glance before setting it in the merchant's hand.

He's shit at bartering, but he knows what's worth what. That ring at a stall would have cost him more dearly than this bolt, but he doesn't have a stall, and he's not a jeweler. He'll take what he can get for it.