Chapter 19: Priest of the Silver Baron_1

After entering the city, Annan's first task was not to go to Frostwater Harbor's Mayor for the transfer of power.

Instead, he first led the injured, swarming to the only church in Frostwater Harbor.

The injuries of the other militiamen were not severe, but the key figures were Leon and John— one of them frostbitten by Annan's Cold Touch, and the other shot in the thigh, with the bullet still lodged inside. Both had fallen unconscious and lost awareness.

Their injuries had to be addressed immediately, otherwise, they could easily become life-threatening.

Conveniently, Annan also wanted to see how the churches in this world dealt with wounds...

"But my lord..."

A somewhat older militiaman mustered his courage to speak softly to Annan, "We only have the church of the Silver Baron here. Treatment from a Priest of the Silver Baron costs money..."

"Don't worry about the money."

Annan didn't even turn his head, merely speaking indifferently, "John was injured while protecting the people of Frostwater Harbor, upholding the dignity of my title as their lord. As soon as I become Mayor, I will naturally pay to have him healed.

"As for Leon... just waking him up for a while will do. There's no need to completely cure his injury. That shouldn't cost much, right...? Can you do the math?"

"That robber, that's easy," the middle-aged militiaman said, calculating on the side, "If we don't fully treat him, an injury like that should cost about ten shillings. But a gunshot wound... fortunately, it's on the leg, that should be about four Gold Coins."

He glanced at Annan cautiously as he spoke, fearful that the excessively young new lord had made a boastful remark for the sake of face and would become angry upon hearing the price.

Seeing no change in Annan's expression, he breathed a sigh of relief internally.

True to the child of an Earl, indeed wealthy and generous...

What the middle-aged man did not know was that Annan simply had no concept of the currency and purchasing power of this world.

And anyway, it wasn't his money being spent.

Annan could only be sure that the original Mayor of Frostwater Harbor could definitely afford it.

Because on the ship, the small pouch Tan Juan carried with him contained a total of eight Gold Coins and more than ten silver coins. This was probably just pocket change for him given Tan Juan's age, his significant funds likely held by his steward.

If even Tan Juan's pocket money amounted to at least eight Gold Coins, then there's no reason the Mayor couldn't pay this sum.

It was just like what Annan told the middle-aged man earlier—John was injured protecting the people of Frostwater Harbor, upholding my dignity as their lord. Would it be decent not to pay for his treatment?

If you can bear that shame, then you might as well not be Mayor at all.

Tan Juan was originally supposed to become the lord of the North Sea territory, and Frostwater Harbor was just the best-developed city in it, and the first town he came upon after disembarking.

In other words, the territory Annan now controlled was not just this small town. At the very least, he had the right to dismiss a Mayor.

If the Mayor is smart, he would willingly part with money to avoid disaster. If he's dull-witted, then this incident serves as a reasonable excuse to depose him.

Thinking thus, Annan asked again, "What about the injuries of your men? How much for all of the treatment together?"

This complicated arithmetic calculation evidently stumped the middle-aged militiaman.

He turned and scrutinized quietly, murmuring to himself.

He muttered with some embarrassment, "Probably... at least..."

"—In total, five Pounds, eight shillings, and thirteen three-quarters pence... My lord," said a man who spoke rapidly and was dressed in neat, proper attire, "Considering your status, let's forget the change. Five Pounds and eight shillings, thank you for your business."

At this, Annan stopped in his tracks and turned around to carefully scrutinize the speaker.

It was a red-haired young man, who seemed to be about twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old. His deep-red hair was neatly combed back, and with a stature well over one meter eighty, he was quite imposing in appearance.

He wore a long, white suit similar to a dress coat made of very fine material. Protruding from the pocket on his chest was a large, silver pocket watch that was half exposed, bearing the same design as on the silver coins, with the other end of the watch chain fastened to his collar.

However, despite the red-haired man's merchant-like chatter, the militiamen treated him with great respect. Unlike the respect mixed with awe and detachment they showed to Annan, theirs toward the red-haired man was more like the heartfelt reverence one would show a doctor or teacher.

They bowed deeply to the red-haired man, each touching their neckline and heart twice.

"We salute you with a silver coin, Lord Louis," the militiamen said respectfully to the man known as Louis.

Louis merely smiled, took out his pocket watch, and with a click opened it at his collar, responding to them, "May you also be loved by the Silver Baron today."

Seeing the morning glory reflected off the silver pocket watch, Annan felt his body warm slightly.

And he knew clearly that it wasn't his imagination:

[You have received the blessing of the Trade God "Silver Baron"]

[In the next 24 hours, you are more likely to acquire unexpected wealth]

Simultaneously, such a system prompt appeared before his eyes.

...So it's the True God in charge of money.

Thereupon, Annan promptly followed his inner desire and respectfully bowed to Louis as well.

"Lord Louis, what brings you here?"

A young militiaman with a bloodied arm asked, not appearing to fear this Priest of the True God, "Don't you usually spend the whole day in the temple?"

"That's because you wake up too late, Allen."

Louis chuckled helplessly, "After morning prayers each day, I go out for a morning exercise. The Silver Baron teaches us to breathe the fresh morning air and that diligence will bring wealth."

"By the way, Lord Louis."

Annan interrupted their conversation, "Please take a look at their injuries first. John has been shot and needs immediate treatment... The money can be put on the account, let Mr. Mayor pay for it—just tell him it was my order."

"Let me take a look."

Upon hearing this, Louis's expression turned slightly serious.

He approached the unconscious John, took out a brightly polished silver coin from his bosom, and placed it on his forehead, flicking it lightly with his finger.

The silver coin emitted a long "ting" sound and then tarnished almost by half.

He then picked up the silver coin, shook it in the air, and the black trace faded away.

Placing the silver coin on Leon's forehead next, he measured as well. This time, the coin had tarnished more than two-thirds.

"The injuries are indeed dangerous. I need to take them away now, my lord."

With that, Louis pocketed the silver coin, hoisted one man over each shoulder, and confirmed again with Annan, "This man just needs to be saved, right?"

"Yes," Annan nodded.

The young militiaman, fearless, shouted loudly, "He's the leader of those robbers from last time! They came again today and were defeated and captured by the lord! You must not let him off easy—"

An older militiaman quickly pulled at his arm, signaling him not to talk so much in front of the lord.

Annan, however, looked at him with curiosity.

These militiamen... seemed not particularly afraid of him. It wasn't because the land was poor and rugged that they had become unruly citizens who don't fear authority. It was merely because the young people were not particularly fearful of those in power.

But the older folks wouldn't act like this. They, as Annan anticipated, still held a sense of awe towards the identity of "Tan Juan."

Is it because of that Mayor?

It seems a meeting with him indeed is necessary.

"Then let's go find the Mayor, and please attend to their injuries first."

Annan politely said to Priest Louis.

Seeing Annan so courteous to himself, Louis appeared slightly surprised.

He soon nodded with a smile, "Leave it to me.

"In the name of the Silver Baron—since I've received the money, I'll definitely get the job done for you."