If there’s one thing that seems to bind every fantasy universe together, it’s gold. Gold coins are a simple, flexible, generally ill-defined unit of exchange, often found whenever convenient and obeying no known rules of economics. Dragons amass huge piles of them without impacting the wider economy (never mind what would happen if a band of dwarves liberated the horde and the amount of gold in circulation suddenly octupled). Adventurers pay for lodging, feed for horses, armor, and arrows from never-ending bags of the stuff. Yet whether we’re talking gold, silver, copper, or bank notes, who cares? If we wanted to be bored, we’d read an economics textbook. We want to be entertained, so we read epic fantasy. And yet: here are six fascinating fantasy worlds in which economics plays a huge part in both the plot and world-building.

The Traitor Baru Cormorant, by Seth Dickinson

Hearing that the protagonist of a new fantasy novel is essentially a renegade accountant might send you running, but Dickinson’s assured, confident debut novel’s main character, Baru Cormorant, is so much more than that—and so much more interesting than another anti-hero thief or sellsword. When her tiny island nation is conquered by the all-consuming Empire of Masks, Baru vows to destroy from within, assimilating outwardly and rising quickly to a position as Imperial Accountant in Aurdwynn, a troublesome out-of-the-limelight territory the empire is trying to bring to heel. Here, Baru sees her chance, and embarks on a program of economic manipulation and sabotage that sparks a revolt and sows chaos, forcing her to pick a side. The economy of the Empire of Masks is detailed and described in ways that make it seem as exciting as any magic system, setting this trilogy-launching book apart.

The Dagger and the Coin series, by Daniel Abraham

Abraham was already known as a writer who considered economics an integral part of his fantasy worlds (the cotton trade, of all things, sparks generations of upheaval in The Long Price Quartet) when he launched The Dagger and the Coin quintet, in which he crafts a world with a deep history of civil strife (the titular Dragon’s Path); 13 specific races, each with its own socioeconomic place and culture; and plenty of warfare, battles, near-escapes, and thrills. It’s also a world where one of the five point-of-view characters runs a bank branch, and where banks are almost nations unto themselves, crossing borders and wielding incredible power. The story climaxes in an audit that is somehow as exciting as any sword fight. No one else makes realistic economics an essential part of an exciting story like Abraham.

King’s Shield, by Sherwood Smith

In King’s Shield (book three of the Inda series), there’s an oddly exciting moment of economics-as-plot-point: whereas most fantasies imagine kingdoms whose monarchs have more or less endless resources, Smith shows us a world in which the kingdom absolutely broke, and the king is forced to explain that more gold won’t help, because the royal purse has nothing to do with gold: it’s all about men and horses and vital resources given to the crown by vassals, which in turn allow him to basically write IOUs. Gold is worthless because years of war have frozen trade and depressed markets. It’s a surprisingly complicated economic lecture in the middle of a fantasy series that brings the true crisis at the heart of the story into sharp focus.

The Dragonriders of Pern series, by Anne McCaffrey

McCaffrey’s lengthy Pern series has a complex, if probably unworkable, economic system of “marks,” wooden coins issued by a Hold or a Hall with their identifying mark on one side and the value of the mark on the other. Interestingly, unlike gold, the marks themselves have zero value; their value is solely in what they can be exchanged for at the issuing Hold or Hall. The value of a mark varies no matter what number is printed on one side, because the goods and services it can be exchanged for vary in perceived value—a 100-mark coin that gets you a bolt of silk is a lot less valuable than a 5-mark coin that will pay to heal a grievous injury. McCaffrey’s economics have some foundation in the real world and are fascinating in their complexity and imagination.

The Towers Trilogy, by Karina Sumner-Smith

The phrase “born into money” is usually used insultingly. In Smith’s universe, people—well, most people—are born with magical powers of varying sorts. Magic can accomplish anything, provided you have the right power, and has become the only currency that matters. Smith’s detailed examination of an economy of personal ability—people literally “born into” their social and economic status—focuses on Xhea, a woman who initially seems to lack any magic whatsoever. Struggling to earn a living and survive when you literally have nothing the world wants is a fascinating way to explore the ins and outs of an economic system.

Range of Ghosts, by Elizabeth Bear

The economics of Bear’s Eternal Sky series isn’t a main focus of the books, so readers might not realize how much thought has gone into it, but the author has clearly seriously considered how her pre-modern world functions. Her story focuses, after all, on trade routes and who controls them, because trade is how empires fill their coffers, and those coffers are what pay for armies, and armies are what keep empires whole. Bear’s Celedon Highway, a Silk Road analogue, demonstrates how manipulation of trade is imperative to the story of a Khan seeking to assert his rightful claim to the throne; without the bones of economic theory implanted in the narrative, much of the plot would fall apart.

What systems of fantasy economics are we missing?