How Do You Spell "Poor," Anyway?

When Gret opened the box beneath the bottom of the book chest, its contents glimmered faintly. A thin layer of coins lay inside. He carefully poured them out, sorted them by color, and laid them out one by one to count. When he finished, he counted them again.

Ten gold coins.

Eight silver coins.

Among the gold coins, one looked particularly different from the rest.

Gret picked it up and examined it closely. Of the ten gold coins, nine had the image of a beautiful woman wearing a crown on the front, and a rose entwined with leaves on the back. He vaguely remembered these were probably the country's gold coins. The woman on the front seemed to be the queen, while the image on the back was said to be the royal crest.

The last coin, however, showed a bearded man wearing a crown on the front, and a two-headed eagle with outstretched wings on the back. Different crest, different portrait. Considering that the other silver coins also had roses on their backs, it seemed this unusually designed coin must have come from some foreign land.

As for how it had ended up here, what it was worth, or whether it could be spent directly, Gret searched his memories and came up empty.

In any case, these ten gold coins and eight silver coins were the last of the savings Gret's father had left him. They were buried under the bed, beneath the book chest, with instructions that he wasn't to touch them unless it was absolutely necessary.

The reason there were both gold and silver coins was that his father feared a young, weak child might invite trouble by taking a gold coin out to spend.

...How many should he take this time?

Gret thought it over carefully, counted out eight gold coins and put them back in the box—including the one with the two-headed eagle—then returned three silver coins as well. After meticulously putting the box back in its place and clearing away any traces on the floor, he tucked the money pouch into his clothes, darted out the door, and raced toward the paper and stationery shop.

Gret could only remember one shop in Hartland City that sold paper and pens. It was near the plaza in front of the lord's manor, about two hundred meters south along the main street—a prime location in the city. The entrance was busy with carriages coming and going, their family crests emblazoned on the sides, while gentlemen and ladies passed by from time to time.

Two lanterns hung on either side of the shop entrance, lighting up half the street. There was even a doorman beneath them, wearing a white shirt and suspenders. He was struggling to board up the shop with a wooden plank a foot wide and more than six feet tall.

When Gret arrived, the doorman looked at him in surprise. His eyes passed over Gret's clearly altered linen shirt, mud-splattered trouser legs, and patched backpack. His lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but in the end he set down the plank and went over to open the door for Gret.

Inside the shop, a waist-high wooden counter divided the place into two sections. A young clerk sat listlessly behind it, wearing a white shirt, black waistcoat, and a neatly tied black bow tie. His face wore an unmistakable Don't bother me. I'm about to clock out expression.

There was nothing on the customer's side of the counter. On the other side, the shelves behind the clerk were packed from wall to wall with rolls of paper, quills, ink, stationery boxes, and all kinds of other supplies.

Gret stretched his neck to look at the rolls of paper. The clerk glanced up at him, then asked lazily:

"What do you want?"

"Paper."

Gret had barely gotten the word out before the clerk cut him off. Without even raising his eyes, he rattled off:

"Parchment, two silver coins a sheet. White paper, four silver coins a sheet. How much do you want?"

"That's so expensive?!"

Gret was shocked. Parchment at two silver coins a sheet was understandable, since it came from sheep. But what did it mean for ordinary white paper to cost four silver coins a sheet?

Was this Xuanxin Hall paper or something?!

No, no, that wasn't even the point. If ordinary white paper cost twice as much as parchment, how had papermaking survived? How had it not been driven to bankruptcy by parchment?!

The young clerk rolled his eyes in annoyance. He didn't answer. Instead, he folded his arms, raised his chin, and added:

"Ten sheets minimum."

At two silver coins a sheet, ten sheets would cost twenty silver coins—or two gold coins. How many sheets would it take to copy an entire book? Would a thousand be enough? That would come to two hundred gold coins just for the paper...

Even if he sold the box of alchemy equipment and Surgical Instruments, as well as the house, the furniture, and everything else he owned, he probably still couldn't afford it. Gret did the math, then asked with a glimmer of hope, "Do you have anything cheaper?"

"Cheaper?" The clerk raised an eyebrow. He was about to say something else when an old man hurried out from the back of the shop.

"We do, we do! What kind are you looking for, sir?"

The old man was dressed more luxuriously than the young clerk. His coat was trimmed with velvet, and the buttons on his round belly were practically ready to pop off. As soon as he appeared, he glared at the clerk, then turned to Gret with a beaming smile.

"We have all sorts of goods in our shop. Our cheapest is writing paper from Walwick: four silver coins for a ream. A little whiter and smoother is the official paper from Northumberland, one gold coin a ream.

"The white paper you just heard about is ordered year-round by the Magic Tower outside the city. They say it improves the success rate when copying scrolls, and it works even better than parchment. At only four silver coins a sheet, that's a bargain!"

...So it was paper made specifically for copying magic scrolls. Gret understood. Papermaking might have become widespread, but high-end paper wasn't so easy to produce. Magic paper represented real power, after all. Even in his previous life, a ream of premium Xuan paper could sell for ten or twenty thousand, after all.

"How many sheets are in a ream?"

The young clerk curled his lip, but the old man didn't seem to think the question was beneath him. He kept smiling.

"Twenty-five sheets, not one short!"

Emmmmm... Gret quickly did the math. Twenty-five sheets for four silver coins meant a thousand sheets would cost 160 silver coins—or 16 gold coins. All told, he had only ten gold coins, plus ten silver coins—eight and two—and seven copper coins. It definitely wouldn't be enough to copy the whole book.

A new City Guard recruit like him earned five silver coins a month; a squad leader earned fifteen. A thousand sheets of paper cost 16 gold coins, nearly a squad leader's yearly salary. But would a thousand sheets be enough for a child to learn to read and write in a year?

Surely not?

In this day and age, reading and writing really were privileges reserved for the upper classes...

Gret sighed at the thought. Then he went on asking about the prices:

"Can I get a discount if I buy more?"

"One ream is twenty bundles, seven gold coins and five silver coins! We deliver!"

"What about pens? And ink?"

"Goose Quill Pens are two silver coins apiece, and each one can be sharpened at least twenty times! Our fine Goose Quill Pens are four silver coins apiece, can be sharpened at least fifty times, and come with a penknife! Ordinary writing ink costs two silver coins for a one-ounce bottle, or eight silver coins for a large, five-ounce bottle!"

What a shrewd businessman.

Gret smiled bitterly. These different pricing schemes to drum up sales were so much like family packs, bulk packs, and combo deals at supermarkets in his previous life.

He weighed up what he needed and took out his wallet:

"I'll take four bundles of ordinary writing paper and one fine Goose Quill Pen. I only brought two gold coins and five silver coins. Could you sell me a large bottle of ink too?"