Chapter 9 - The Value of 597 Oat Breads
After passing through the checkpoint, Beton left his wagon in the care of an attendant.
He slipped a few coppers into the attendant's hand, asking him to take special care of it, then rejoined the group.
"Shall we eat first? There's a restaurant I know nearby."
"No, I think we should part ways here."
"What? Is it because of money? Please don't worry about that. Whatever you order, it's on me. I could never take money from the people who saved my life."
He patted his chest with his hand, as if to emphasize his sincerity.
"Thank you for the thought, but I'll have to decline. I'm sure what we consider a meal is different from what you have in mind."
"Oh… is that so? But last time I checked, clergy eat the same food as everyone else."
"I am a Pilgrim."
His tone was firm, leaving no room for argument.
"I didn't realize. Understood. If we get the chance, let's have a meal together next time. And please, this is just a token of my gratitude."
Accepting their refusal, Beton pulled a pouch from inside his coat.
"I won't refuse. I pray that the Goddess's blessing will be with you on your next journey north."
"May the Goddess's blessing be with you."
"May the Goddess's blessing be with both of you as well. Thank you so much for everything!"
Leaving Beton behind, waving enthusiastically, they moved on. He would certainly be remembered as someone with a bright, courteous personality.
Once Beton had disappeared into the crowd, Reynold handed the pouch he was holding to Lawrence.
"Keep it."
"What about you, Reynold?"
"Didn't you see at the checkpoint? You don't need money on the Pilgrimage Road. You'll be the one heading down the tougher road, so it'll be more useful for you."
"…Thank you. I'll accept it gratefully."
"It's only polite to refuse once, you know."
Reynold let out a short, incredulous laugh.
Lawrence replied with an awkward smile.
"Are you heading out on the Pilgrimage Road now, Reynold?"
"I should. It took longer than I expected. I suppose I need to pick up the pace."
"I'm sorry. I made you waste your time because of me."
"Save your apologies. This was my choice. The responsibility is mine alone. A kid like you doesn't need to feel any of it."
His voice, tinged with sarcasm, sounded as if he was mocking even himself.
It felt almost like he went looking for trouble on purpose.
We hadn't even spent a full month together.
Yet somehow, I felt like I already knew exactly what kind of person Reynold was.
"Let me give you one piece of advice, since you'll be walking a difficult path from here on."
"I'll keep it in mind."
"Don't trust people too much. The world isn't full of good-natured people like those you met at Saint Charmant Monastery. If anything, it's much more like a den of monsters that are ready to tear you apart the moment you show any weakness."
"Do I really look that gullible to you?"
Clearly, Reynold didn't know Lawrence at all.
He was someone who'd grown up scraping by in the back alleys as a child.
If anything, he'd learned long ago from harsh experience that people couldn't be trusted.
"Don't take it personally—just take it to heart. Kids who think they're smart, like you, tend to fall for their own tricks most of all. You hate to admit your mistakes out of pride, so you always end up fooled by your own cleverness."
"..."
Lawrence barely managed to swallow the flood of words that rose up in his throat.
If he lost his temper here, that would practically be conceding Reynold's point.
"At least you seem to understand the value of money—that's something. You'll see for yourself at the mercenary guild, but there aren't many jobs out there for wooden badge mercenaries. Still, if you work hard, you'll at least be able to earn a living."
"It was you who told me, Reynold. The byproducts from monsters can fetch a good price. If I get desperate, I'll just head outside and hunt an Underwolf or two."
"If you're just a kid, then act your age. As long as you're alive, you can always regret things later."
"I'll do my best."
Lawrence hadn't meant to, but his tone came out sarcastic.
Reynold didn't seem to mind, though—instead, he pulled something from his cloak.
It was a letter—white, fine paper with an air of luxury, sealed with deep red wax.
"If you run out of places to turn, go to the nearest monastery or temple. Show them this letter. At the very least, you won't be turned away."
"Reynold…"
"Don't go getting sentimental on me. Blackwell's the one who actually wrote the letter. He just left it up to me whether or not to give it to you."
"Thank you. I'll never forget this favor."
Lawrence tucked the letter carefully inside his robe. He knew it was silly, but he felt a strange warmth radiating from it, making his eyes sting.
"If you ever get the chance, visit the Sacred Ground someday. The Goddess will be waiting for you."
Reynold slung his bag over his shoulder.
"See you, Lawrence. May the Goddess's blessing go with you, always."
Did the usually cynical pilgrim even realize?
That today, for the first time, he had called the boy by his name.
"Yes. I hope the Goddess's blessing is with you too, Reynold. And try not to smoke so much. It's bad for your health."
"You're ten years too young to be giving me advice, kid."
Reynold, who had instinctively reached for his cigarette, let out a dry chuckle.
And just like that, the wanderer searching for his own path left Lawrence behind.
Lawrence couldn't raise his head until Reynold's figure had completely disappeared.
He had received so much.
Friends he'd made in Hilton Village.
The thoughtful innkeeper and his wife.
The goodwill and kindness given to him at Saint Charmant Monastery.
All of it had turned into courage, gently pushing his small back forward.
A handful of anxiety, and a sense of anticipation beating in his chest.
The boy now stood on the threshold of a vast, unknown world.
Left alone, the first thing Lawrence did was check his money Inside the pouch Beton had given him as payment, Lawrence could see flashes of silver coins shining amid the tightly packed copper.
When he added the wages he'd saved up from working at the inn, it came to a hefty sum—about 5 silver and 97 copper.
It was more money than he'd ever laid hands on in his life.
Considering that a loaf of oat bread cost 1 copper, he could buy as many as 597 loaves with this much.
The unrealistic number made him shake his head in disbelief. For a boy who once had to scramble through trash because he couldn't even scrounge up a single copper, it was overwhelming in many ways. Whether it was Beton or Reynold, both offering so much without hesitation went beyond anything Lawrence thought was normal.
Still, he reminded himself not to be wasteful.
Once you start spending money, it disappears like water flowing away.
For now, he decided to make Redanthus Village his base of operations.
He needed to actually experience what mercenary work was like. He also wanted a safe place to practice magic without worrying about other people watching.
If he was going to fight monsters, he'd need the right equipment. The crossbow was a fine weapon, but it was almost useless in close combat.
If he were to buy something, a sword or a spear might be good. Maybe even a shield wouldn't be a bad idea.
The issue was having enough money for gear. But with enough to buy nearly 600 loaves of oat bread, he couldn't say he was truly worried.
He planned to stay at the inn. Reynold had told him to seek out the monastery or a temple if he ever ran into trouble, just in case. Having just left the monastery, Lawrence wanted to keep his distance from the Church's shadow as much as possible.
Above all, Lawrence was a mage. He wasn't a novice priest or an initiate, nor did he have any desire to become a pilgrim.
Suddenly, the idea of a magic shop popped into his mind. In a village this size, there was bound to be a store that carried magic tomes.
He'd be lying if he said he wasn't tempted to learn new spells. So far, the only magic he'd learned in his dream world had been Shadow and Fire. If there was a magic shop here, there was a chance he might meet another mage in person.
Maybe not someone as legendary as Archmage Reano, whose stories Reynold had told him, but perhaps someone who could answer the questions of a boy just starting down the path of magic.
Yes.
Once he found a place to stay, his first priority would be to look for a magic shop.
Finding a good inn wasn't that difficult. Lawrence had plenty of experience from working in inns since he was young. While the appearance of an inn was important, it was worth paying close attention to how often guests came and went.
Some guests used the inn just for meals, like a restaurant. Inns like that tended to be more hygienic, too.
After all, nowhere gets cleaned as often as an inn. If an inn could attract customers with its clean image, it was sure to do at least average business.
After quietly observing for a while, Lawrence decided that the inn closest to the plaza looked like his best option. The best inn was in the busy part of town.
But the room rates were pretty steep, so he decided to give up on it without hesitation.
He couldn't forget:
No matter how nice a place was, if it cost too much, it just wasn't worth it.
"One night is 10 copper. Breakfast and dinner are an extra 4 copper. If you want bathwater, that'll be 1 more copper."
Expensive.
The moment he heard the rates, he couldn't hide his reaction. The meal cost was at least somewhat reasonable. In fact, the food the guests were eating didn't look shabby at all.
"If I pay for a month in advance, how much of a discount can you give me?"
Thankfully, Lawrence had picked up some haggling skills by watching traveling merchants at inns over the years. Faced with real financial concerns, the boy's tone turned serious.
"8 copper. I can't go lower than that."
"How about we make it 5 copper, and add both breakfast and dinner every day?"
"Fine, I'll knock off another copper. With meals, that will be 11 copper a night."
"8 copper seems fair. It's not like you get many long-term guests anyway, right? Isn't it better to have the room filled than sitting empty?"
"10 copper. If you don't like it, look somewhere else."
No more haggling. When he heard the innkeeper's firm voice, Lawrence decided to give in.
"All right. Let's go with 10 copper a night."
He paid three silver coins, half of all the money he had, just for lodging. The moment he handed over the money, the innkeeper snatched up the silver in a flash.
"Room 211."
"Thank you."
Lawrence took the key and went up to the second floor.
Once he found his room and unpacked his things, he couldn't help but sigh.
Three silver coins.
Three whole silvers, just for a place to sleep.
Is this room really worth as much as three hundred oatmeal loaves?
He had probably never spent more than a single copper at once in his entire life, so now he felt not just sick to his stomach, but as if he were bleeding tears.
Still, the room was fairly clean.
A bed and a desk.
There was also a nearly spent candle on top of the desk.
There was even a wooden basin for washing up—probably what the innkeeper meant by "bathwater."
Should I have just swallowed my pride and relied on help from the Order instead?
Lawrence shook his head.
No, that's not right.
It might sting, but this is all part of standing on my own two feet.
Besides, the money I have now is a stroke of unexpected luck.
Even if he hadn't come across this money, Lawrence would have found a way to book a room at the inn—maybe for a shorter stay, but still.
With that thought, the weight that had been pressing down on his chest felt a little lighter.
He lifted the wooden window shutter.
The view from the guest room, overlooking the bustling street, wasn't bad at all.
The massive city walls blocked out the dense forest, but there was still plenty to see with pedestrians coming and going along the lively road.
After finishing unpacking, Lawrence checked that the door was locked and went down to the first floor.
Maybe because the lunch hour had already passed?
The main hall, where people were clearing away dishes, was rather quiet.
A few guests lingered, having late lunches.
He took a seat near the counter.
"What's the most popular dish here?"
The innkeeper glanced at Lawrence and spoke up.
"…We don't serve alcohol to kids."
Laughter erupted around him.
Face reddening, Lawrence glanced over at another customer's meal.
Bread and soup.
There was also smoked meat served as a side dish—with alcohol, no doubt.
"I'll have the oat bread and a bowl of hot soup, please. Oh, and a glass of milk too."
"The kid's asking for milk instead of booze!"
"Wahaha!"
"Milk is good. Just don't drink too much of it—you might get drunk!"
…Maybe haggling the room price down to the bare minimum was a mistake.
Despite their mocking tone, the food was excellent. The oat bread was as dry and bland as ever. But the soup, filled with pork, warmed him from the inside out—a welcome change after surviving on jerky during his travels.
Finally, as he gulped down the milk that tasted just like home, he felt his strength return.
"May I ask you something?"
"If it's an extra order, I'm happy to hear it."
The pride in his cooking was clear in his voice. Lawrence felt a bit guilty about haggling over the room price earlier. Taking advantage of the moment, he ordered another bowl of the same soup and asked the innkeeper,
"Is there a magic shop in this village, by any chance?"
"A magic shop?"
The innkeeper's demeanor softened just from Lawrence ordering another soup.
But it only lasted a moment. Then, an incredulous smile appeared on his face.
"You think there's a magic shop in a backwater like this?"
"There isn't?"
"You need to know what to look for. I guarantee you, if a magic shop ever set up in this dump, it wouldn't last a month."
That was an unexpected answer.
"Is it really that unpopular? I'd think a magic shop would draw a crowd."
"What are you talking about? It's because everything's so expensive. I don't know for sure, but I bet magic shop goods go for whatever price they ask.
"Do you think there's a single traveler in this village willing to spend that kind of money? Of course not."
A dose of reality hit home. Lawrence had wondered just how expensive it could be. It seemed a magic shop would require far more money than he'd imagined.
"Is it really that costly?"
"A magic tome will set you back at least a few gold coins, or at the very least, dozens of silver. Looks like you have no idea how expensive anything related to magic can get."
"..."
Lawrence was at a loss for words.
Gold coins… Spending even the first bit of silver he'd ever earned had felt like bleeding.
Now wasn't the time to be disappointed about the lack of a magic shop.
Once he'd left the monastery, problems he'd forgotten came crashing back into reality.
To survive— To learn anything— You needed money.
And magic was no different.
His long years at the monastery had made him forget that.
In the end, in this world, everything came down to money.