Chapter 84: What Silver Buys

Bone III made Joe stronger.

It also made him expensive.

Edwin mentioned the second point more often.

“You have doubled your strengthening medicine orders since spring.”

Joe looked up from the workshop ledger.

“Not doubled.”

Edwin turned the book around.

Joe looked at the numbers.

“Nearly doubled.”

“That was what I said.”

“No. You said doubled.”

Edwin stared at him.

Joe smiled.

The workshop had closed for the evening, leaving only the rear lamps burning. Outside, autumn rain tapped against the courtyard roof while two assistants finished cleaning equipment in the adjoining room.

Edwin sat across from Joe with the monthly accounts spread between them.

The numbers were good.

Very good, compared with what Joe had earned when he first reached Blackwood.

His share from the medicine operation now usually fell somewhere around ninety to a hundred and ten silver each month, depending on sales and material prices. Guard work added another twenty or so after ordinary deductions.

An ordinary village family would consider that extraordinary income.

Joe looked at the expense column.

Cultivation considered it adequate.

Bone had changed everything.

Skin had been cheap enough that Joe could save without thinking much about it.

Muscle consumed more.

Bone consumed silver almost as quickly as he earned it.

Strengthening medicines.

Nourishing food.

Specialized recovery mixtures.

Materials used in his own controlled preparations.

Occasional higher-grade ingredients Edwin obtained through Black-family suppliers.

Joe had spent close to a gold during the previous month.

And Bone III had still been among the cheaper part of the road.

Edwin tapped the ledger.

“If this continues, your income will increase only to immediately become someone else’s income.”

“That is how buying things works.”

“Thank you. Twenty years in medicine and I finally understand commerce.”

Joe smiled.

Then he looked at the figures again.

The joke faded.

He had been thinking about cultivation almost entirely in terms of whether resources were available.

That was incomplete.

Resources having a price meant every month of faster cultivation also had an opportunity cost.

Silver spent now could not become travel later.

Or information.

Or a Root test.

Or a manual.

Or freedom.

------------

Joe had accumulated savings over the years.

Not enormous savings.

Enough.

Some remained in coins.

A larger portion existed as money credited to him through the workshop accounts, available whenever he chose to withdraw it rather than forcing Edwin to hand him bags of silver every month.

His readily accessible reserve had recently crossed three gold.

Years ago, that amount would have sounded impossible.

Now Joe looked at it and immediately divided it into future expenses.

One gold could disappear simply finding out whether he possessed a Spiritual Root at the state capital.

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Travel would cost money.

Lodging would cost money.

Information certainly would.

A useful cultivation inheritance could cost far more than the test itself.

If Theodere's contract ever became inconvenient, ending an obligation might require money too.

And emergencies did not politely wait until a person had finished saving for them.

Three gold was not wealth.

It was breathing room.

Joe understood the difference.

Edwin watched him.

“You finally look concerned.”

“I’m calculating.”

“That is your version of concern.”

Joe ignored that.

“How much of my monthly share can remain in the workshop account?”

“As much as you want.”

“No issue with liquidity?”

Edwin's eyebrows rose.

“You really have been listening.”

“Occasionally.”

“The business can comfortably hold several months of your share. More than that and I'd rather separate the accounting properly.”

Joe nodded.

He thought for another moment.

“I want thirty silver left untouched each month.”

Edwin looked toward the expense page.

“That slows cultivation.”

“Possibly.”

“That sentence sounded painful.”

“It was.”

Edwin laughed.

Joe continued, “If costs rise enough that thirty becomes unreasonable, we adjust. But I don't want cultivation consuming everything simply because it can.”

Edwin became more serious.

“That is sensible.”

Joe knew.

That was why he disliked it.

With One Effort Equals a Hundred, every valid cultivation session produced such enormous returns that spending more money always tempted him.

More medicine meant faster safe recovery.

Better nutrition meant more valid effort.

Better materials meant less time waiting.

The talent multiplied work.

It did not make ingredients free.

And there was another problem.

Bone IV would cost more than Bone III.

Bone V more than that.

If the same pattern continued toward Bone IX, eventually his current income would not comfortably cover cultivation at all.

Joe needed either greater income, greater efficiency, savings, or all three.

---------

Edwin poured fresh tea.

“Most young cultivators make the opposite mistake.”

“What?”

“They save too aggressively.”

Joe looked at him.

Edwin continued.

“They spend ten years protecting silver that could have moved them forward while they were still young enough to benefit from it.”

Joe understood.

“And others?”

“Spend everything assuming becoming stronger will solve tomorrow.”

“Which is correct sometimes.”

“Unfortunately.”

Edwin smiled.

“That is why people continue doing it.”

Joe leaned back.

Money had strange diminishing returns.

A hundred silver in Green Hollow could transform a household.

A hundred silver in Bone cultivation could vanish in a month.

But money was not only consumption.

It purchased options.

That made saving different from hoarding.

Joe did not need silver because he enjoyed seeing a larger number.

He needed enough that another person could not decide his future merely by making something expensive.

-----------

Simon arrived while they were still reviewing accounts.

He looked at the open ledger.

“Oh no.”

Edwin said, “What?”

“He likes numbers too much.”

Joe looked at him.

“You came here voluntarily.”

“Mira asked me to carry something.”

Edwin's expression changed.

“Where is Mira?”

“Upstairs.”

“And you are here?”

Simon hesitated.

“She said I should stop following her around while she changes.”

Edwin stared.

Joe looked down at the ledger to hide his expression.

Simon noticed.

“Don't.”

“I said nothing.”

“That makes it worse.”

Edwin rubbed his forehead.

Joe changed the subject out of mercy.

“How much do you save each month?”

Simon became suspicious.

“Why?”

“Curiosity.”

“That's never safe.”

Edwin said, “Answer him.”

Simon looked betrayed by the alliance.

“Depends.”

“Approximately.”

Simon thought.

“Ten silver. Sometimes fifteen.”

Joe nodded.

That was better than he expected.

Simon folded his arms.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You thought I spent all of it.”

“Not all.”

Simon looked offended.

Joe asked, “What are you saving for?”

Simon immediately became too casual.

“Nothing.”

Edwin slowly looked toward him.

Joe did the same.

Simon frowned.

“What?”

Joe said, “Mira?”

“No.”

Edwin's eyes narrowed.

Simon pointed at Joe.

“This is why I don't discuss money with you.”

He left.

Edwin watched the doorway.

Then looked at Joe.

“You think he's saving for my daughter?”

“Yes.”

Edwin sighed.

Joe returned to the ledger.

Some problems did not require his involvement.

-----------

Mutual Help collected money for one of the dead western guards later that week.

The man had left a wife and two young children.

The guard provided a death payment.

It was not enough to replace years of income.

Alex organized an additional collection.

Joe contributed five silver.

Simon contributed three.

Neither amount threatened them.

For the widow, combined with dozens of smaller contributions, it mattered.

Joe watched Elise record every payment carefully.

This was another thing money did.

It converted concern into something that could survive after people went home.

Food.

Rent.

Winter fuel.

Medicine.

Time before someone had to accept the first terrible job offered.

Joe had spent years viewing silver primarily as cultivation resources.

That was becoming too narrow.

Money bought choices for weak people too.

Sometimes, especially for weak people.

-----------

Bone IV began as Deepwinter approached.

Joe noticed the cost immediately.

Not merely silver.

Appetite.

Sleep.

Medicine.

The fourth tempering pushed deeper into a skeleton already refined three times, forcing subtler changes while the surrounding tissues adjusted to a frame becoming increasingly unreasonable by ordinary standards.

Joe did not increase his medicine orders automatically.

Instead, he tested.

Reduced one mixture slightly.

Changed timing on another.

Used cheaper food where expensive ingredients added calories but little useful nourishment.

Every Hard Work Pays Off turned the optimization itself into learning.

Medicine was one of his strongest skills now.

It would be absurd to cultivate efficiently and purchase inefficiently.

By the end of the month, he had reduced expected Bone IV expenses by several silver without slowing meaningful progress.

Edwin examined the revised order.

“You removed the dusk strengthening tonic.”

“It added little once the afternoon dose was fully absorbed.”

“How do you know?”

“I tested it.”

Edwin stared.

“Normal people cannot run controlled experiments on their own cultivation this quickly.”

Joe smiled.

“Useful constitution.”

Edwin muttered something about hateful prodigies.

Joe let him.

------------

That evening he reorganized his money mentally.

Not everything needed a formal category.

But Joe wanted clear priorities.

Enough each month for cultivation to continue efficiently.

Thirty silver saved when possible.

At least one gold reserved for eventual Root testing.

Another portion that he would not touch except for travel or emergencies.

The rest remained flexible.

If a rare ingredient could genuinely improve Bone Tempering, he would spend.

If someone tried to sell him an expensive mixture that only saved two days, he could wait.

Time had value.

So did independence.

He no longer intended to sacrifice either blindly.

Joe closed the small strongbox beneath his bed.

There was less coin inside than his total savings suggested because much remained credited through Edwin's business.

That was fine.

The weight of silver was not the point.

What mattered was what it allowed him to say.

No.

Yes.

I can leave.

I can wait.

I can afford the test.

I don't need your favor.

Those were expensive sentences in any world.

Joe intended to own as many of them as possible.