Is that about how much gold she saw enter his hands out of the pouches?

She doesn't remember seeing either of the two gold coins he's showing her now, actually.  The amount of silver seems about right.

"Hey, fire spell guy, how many silver to a gold and how much is, uh, a loaf of bread."

...girl in mysterious clothes doesn't know how many silver to a gold "Seventeen" there's nowhere for a thousand leagues in any direction where that conversion factor differs and if she botched a 『Teleport』 from the other side of the planet why is she speaking his language "uh, half a copper and it's twenty-nine copper to the silver?"

That is a stupid conversion factor! Ugh, old-fashioned English pounds were bad too. Okay so a copper is like, four bucks, and thirtyish of them is a silver and she's not going to go get her calculator no matter how tempting that is and thirty times four is uh a hundred twenty because that's two hours and seventeen times a hundred twenty is... okay, she's not nickel and diming some lead-poisoned unfortunate, here. "Thank you. Stabby, I'm not totally clear on where you are stashing the gold so I can't just ask you to turn it inside out, but please do turn out the silver pouch and explain where the gold's coming from."

Stabby obligingly turns out the pouch, showing it perfectly empty.  In response to the second part of her question, he pats his crotch.  "Hid the gold here," he says, and doesn't smile or leer or ask if she wants a look at his remaining treasure.  The bandit cradling his arm lets out a bark of pained laughter to make up for it.

"So you're saying that if you don't convince me you have produced all the gold I should stab you in the crotch about it."

Stabby hesitates, then deliberately levels the crossbow, not at her, pointed in an arc away from her, but readied as a weapon.  "You want to strip me naked and search me, I'll have to say no," Stabby says.  "Got my dignity too, woman.  Four gold.  From you, from him, from the carriage, I don't care.  But like you say I've got a friend bleeding."

"What do you think of that, fire spell guy."

"Six gold isn't a quarter of what Marussa and Aralin," a stab of emotional pain, "would have, would have been carrying.  Even if you count in all his friends.  More like three-quarters of what all of them put together would have been carrying.  If you're the sort to kill people for lying, go ahead and kill him, I'd say."

"I'm really not. Look, Stabby, Stabby's Friend, just go get your healing thingy."

"I left you the armor, the carriage, and the horses," Stabby says coldly.  "That's worth eighteen gold and more.  If you're the kind to honor your bargains, Outlander, then give me four gold."

"I am the only person here who doesn't want this guy's stuff. I am not assessing his stuff for its resale value. Fire spell guy, what do you think, is getting this guy to maybe leave without more of a fight except for the part where he's not very trustworthy worth four gold?"

Marussa and Aralin were carrying their funds.  Four gold is about as much as Haroun has on him.

It's not as much as his life is worth.

Everybody here can kill him.

"I certainly don't think he's worth six gold plus four gold not to kill, but you're the one with the power so I guess it's up to you," Haroun says, as he collects four gold from his pouch and turns it over to the strange girl.  He doesn't understand what she's thinking.  "Uh, you do realize he's probably going to kill more people if you let him go, right?"

"It's crossed my mind." She tosses the gold to Stabby.

Haroun proceeds to watch as Stabby picks up his friend and they walk/stagger quickly away.  Marussa in particular, she wasn't, Harold can't claim that she was his wet-nurse, she was only hired a year ago, Haroun didn't have a crush on her she was with Aralin.  But Marussa told stories when they traveled together.  She'll never tell any stories again.  Part of his mind, it might or might not be the part that's in shock, muses distantly about how the pain of losing a not-too-close friend seems in some strange way compounded by the pain of losing all the cash he has on him, and seeing it given to the killer, by a woman who could as easily have dispensed justice, but didn't.

The strange girl could have her reasons.  A vow, a 『Geas』, a custom of her people.  Her clothes fall off if her sword takes a life.

"What now?" Haroun says to the woman.  His hands are trembling on his mage-robes.  He keeps it together anyways.

"Well, so far everyone I've met has immediately tried to murder me but you stopped when I suggested instead not doing that so you have the honor of being the friendliest person I've met today, can you tell me where I am."

Haroun has thought of the obvious guess.  It's an obvious-but-crazy guess, like meeting somebody in a tavern who looks like a portrait of the King, and wondering if, hey, maybe that is the King.  Only even less likely than that.  There's dozens of Kings all over the world.

And at the same time, if you've seen a portrait of the King, and you meet somebody knocking back beers in a tavern who looks like exactly like that portrait, it is an obvious-if-crazy thought that maybe they're the King.  You're at least going to think of it.

"You mean like where's the nearest town, or like which world have you been summoned to?" Haroun says, trying to sound like he thinks that's a totally ordinary question.

"Second thing. Is there some kind of support group?"

Haroun is going to be embarrassed about this for the rest of his life:

He literally faints.

It's been kind of a day for him, okay?

Bella is facing a carriage with an open door.

There are two horses hitched to the carriage.
There are two dead guards here.
There are five dead bandits here.
There is an unconscious boy here.

Ugh. Okay. Bella has ever listened to her parents about basic first aid. She wipes off her sword in the nearest clean looking grass (thanks, Narnia!) and sheathes it because it's probably magic and she shouldn't leave it lying around, and then she repositions him appropriately and checks his pulse.

Pulse... maybe 100?  It seems to be slowing more than speeding up.

Fire Spell Guy is breathing, his legs are above his heart, she has loosened his collar, that's about all she can do here. She looks around inside the carriage, not expecting to be able to use the contents but figuring she might as well know what they are.

There's storage underneath where the boy was sitting, a huge chest.  It contains some food for humans, some fodder for horses.  Not much of either, nor much in the way of other camping supplies.  There's three cups, recently used, but no sign of stored water.  A few changes of clothing that might fit the boy and the dead women.  Multiple bundles of something that feels like they might be heavy stacks of papers, wrapped in slick cloth.

Also three thin books!  Their titles are Second-Year Fire Magic, Second-Year Water Magic, and Second-Year Light Magic.

Okay, if he doesn't wake up she will not starve and the horses won't starve, she supposes.

She stares at the titles of the books, trying to figure out how this bullshit language power works. Does she know etymology facts? Can she rhyme and scan in it as fluidly as she can in English, which isn't very but is better than she can manage in Spanish? Can she make puns. Does she know any literary references. Could she put on multiple accents. Does she know what the accent she used by default signifies. What about the spellcasting language. Are there any more surprise languages in here, perhaps discovered via etymology facts.