Chapter 43

A large pile of goods was placed in front of him. The square table in Gret's house was filled to the brim, leaving almost no space.

Two reams of writing paper—or official paper. Without a comparison, Gret couldn't tell which was which, but he could judge that this paper was of much better quality than the hemp paper he had brought today.

Two reams of magic scroll paper. Soft, white, and smooth. Although it didn't quite match the A4 paper from his previous life, it was already quite good compared to the pages he had seen during the day.

Ten quill pens, with finely sharpened tips and long, straight grooves in the center of the shafts. A small penknife was included, and Gret tried the blade, which seemed very sharp.

Two bottles of ink. Five-ounce bottles, about three times the size of the Hero ink from his previous life. They looked like they would last for half a year.

Gret counted his gains. If the cheaper paper was the official paper, one ream for one gold coin, that would be 20 gold coins. Two reams of magic paper, one ream for 20 gold coins, one ream for 25 sheets, one sheet for four silver coins, hmm... 400 gold coins.

Refined goose quills, four silver coins each, large bottles of ink, eight silver coins each, adding up to another 5 gold coins and 6 silver coins. In total, the cost of this treatment was 425 gold coins...

He wasn't sure about the profit margin of the stationery store. Even if it was just cost price, the old man had spent over 200 gold coins with this one transaction.

...But then again, how much does a life, or a "Heal Critical Wounds" divine spell, cost in this world?

Gret scratched his head, and scratched it again. He wasn't very clear on the answer, but in the web novels he had read before, "Heal Critical Wounds" seemed to be a fourth, fifth, or sixth-level divine spell. It definitely started at over a thousand gold coins, which the common people, and even ordinary middle-class families, couldn't afford...

Thinking back to his previous life, it was the same. Human nature dictates that if money can save a life, most people would do their utmost. In the case of a life-threatening illness, a family might spend hundreds of thousands in the ICU without hesitation—

Being choked by gold coins, if you were lucky, you could swallow them; if you were unlucky, you might choke and die on the spot. Yesterday, he had acted immediately, and even if he hadn't saved the entire life, he had saved at least half of it.

So, it was okay for a store owner to thank him with a few items from his own store?

Gret worked hard on his mental preparation and finally felt at ease. He looked at the tall stacks of white paper on the table, his smile gradually spreading, and suddenly, he clenched his fists and raised them high:

"Yay!"

He had money!

No, he had paper and pens!

No more worries about copying books!

Not just books, no more worries about copying scrolls!

"Gret, Gret!"

There was a knock on the door outside. The voice was familiar, and Gret got up to open it, finding two familiar faces: one was the top boss of his top boss, Knight Flynn of their squad, and the other was Knight Siro, whom he had saved yesterday afternoon at the military training ground.

Gret invited them in. Knight Flynn scanned the table and couldn't help but whistle:

"Little Gret, you've hit the jackpot! So much paper and pens?"

Gret had to explain his previous encounter. Before he finished, he saw Knight Flynn and Knight Siro exchange glances, their faces showing a bit of surprise. After a moment, Knight Flynn forced a smile and handed him a small money bag:

"This is your salary for this month. Count it. The captain said your salary will be based on a squad leader's pay for now, and we'll apply for a raise when you advance in rank. You don't need to be on duty; just come by the barracks when you have time."

Gret nodded vigorously.

Not being on duty was what Knight Nolan had promised him yesterday. The salary increase was a pleasant surprise.

Gret glanced at the table, thinking he needed to write the battlefield first aid manual quickly. If it were to be widely used in the barracks, it could save many lives—

He took the money bag, and Knight Flynn stepped back, while Knight Siro stepped forward. His face was visibly awkward, and he scratched his head, hesitating for several seconds before pulling out a silk money bag:

"Well, thank you for yesterday. I should have given it to you then, but it was too late, and you left early today..."

"No, no!" Gret reflexively jumped back and looked around.

Giving him something, and something he needed, was one thing. Directly giving him money was too shocking! Especially after treating him yesterday and coming to his house today to hand him money!

It made him feel like he was receiving a red envelope from a patient...

Would the medical department come after him?

Gret's heart pounded. After a while, he realized he was in a different world now, with no hospitals or medical departments. Thinking about this made him a bit sad. Knight Flynn saw his worried expression, took the money bag, and shoved it into his hand:

"Don't think it's too little. Siro's family is heavy with expenses. This year, he married off two daughters, and he can't skip the donations to the temple. These 10 gold coins are his best effort. The rest, he can only give you bit by bit..."

10 gold coins?!

So much?!

It seemed the savings left by his original father were about this much... and his original father was also a squad leader?

Gret slowly opened his mouth, then quickly closed it. In his memory, his original father was from out of town and had no roots in Hartland City. The house, armor, and weapons all cost money. Just this box of books was extremely expensive, draining a person's savings for years...

In any case, 10 gold coins was a lot!

Very, very much!

He waved his hands and tried to refuse: "Saving lives is my duty! Besides, you, Uncle Siro, also went to the temple with me yesterday. Your presence was worth more than any amount of money!"

The two knights exchanged smiles. Knight Flynn finally stepped forward, pushed the money bag into Gret's hand, and gripped his fist tight. As he squeezed, he said:

"Take it. If you don't, we won't dare to ask you for help in the future."

"Is there a patient?"

Gret's spirits lifted. Knight Flynn pondered for a moment:

"You said yesterday that Knight Roman's wrist shouldn't have been treated that way... Can it be cured according to your method?"

Gret's face fell. Knight Flynn waved his hands: "Not him, not him. It's... do you remember Knight Barron? The best archer in the city, who got a cut on his wrist three years ago..."

Knight Flynn pointed to his wrist: "At the time, the battle was intense, and he could only bandage his wrist and continue fighting. The next day, when he was treated, he couldn't use his wrist or draw his bow. It's... like that. Can it be cured?"

It sounded like a tendon injury... but it might also be a nerve or blood vessel injury. Gret pondered:

"I need to examine it. If it's what I think, I might need a lot of equipment."

"No problem! I'll have him come to you tomorrow!"