"What Mr. Horace gave us isn't coins, but this thing!"
"What the hell..."
That blacksmith was completely stunned, almost unable to believe his eyes, his mouth agape for quite a while.
The bartender behind the counter was the same, even stopping the hand that was wiping glasses, using the cloth to clean his own glasses.
This was rare.
These paupers actually used silver pounds to make purchases!
Just days ago, the bartender was adamant about not accepting these paper notes, but now he hesitated about the authenticity of this thing.
He pulled out a small bill-checking lamp from under the counter and pretended to check thoroughly before hurriedly making change.
"No doubt... it's the real thing! Ahem, what would you gentlemen like to drink?" He wasn't quite sure how to verify the authenticity but instinctively accepted this Thunder City's hardest currency.
The textile worker didn't look at the menu, rolled up his sleeves, and sat down with an air of extravagance, shouting.
