Peter, a farr living in a rural village in the Ahiternach Baronage, ca to sell woolen and cotton fabrics to a rchant in the nearby town, just like he had done last year.
The rchant, arrogantly clicking his abacus, calculated the figures and said:
"Let’s see, 400 pieces of cotton fabric and 100 pieces of woolen fabric. If we calculate at today’s prices, I can offer you about 90 gold coins."
90 gold coins is not a small sum. With that amount, 90 serf families could live for a year, or, with so savings, even 120 families.
However, the problem was that Peter’s village had a population of just over 600 people.
90 gold coins wouldn’t even last until the harvest in the early sumr when barley is reaped, let alone until the fall when wheat is harvested.
‘At this rate, we’ll all starve to death.’
Of course, if it ca to that, Peter would sell his daughter to save his family, but...
Even though he was a poor serf, selling his own child to the debt collectors was the absolute last resort.
Therefore, Peter, representing the entire village, protested.
"But last year, the price was 180 gold coins, wasn’t it? What on earth happened to make the price of fabric drop so much?"
The rchant sighed and lanted.
"So damn fools started selling clothes at half the regular price. Now, the prices of cotton and wool are dirt cheap around here. If you don’t believe , go ask the other rchants."
When the rchant made this plea, Peter realized that the man wasn’t lying.
If the rchant really wanted to cheat him, he could have gone to a bigger town and sold at a proper price.
But seeing the man sigh openly in front of a custor, it was clear that the situation would be no different elsewhere.
In short, Peter, his family, and the whole village were dood.
"Even if I buy at 90 gold coins, I won’t have anything left."
When rchants say that they make no profit at a certain price, every word of it is usually a lie.
It's like believing when soone says, "I don’t need makeup to look pretty," while on a date.
But when Peter heard the rchant say that 90 gold coins wouldn't even cover costs, there was no lie in those words.
"I understand your situation," the rchant said. "But we can’t do business at a loss. Even though things are this bad, I’m sure the Baron won’t just stand idly by while you starve."
For nobles, the serfs on their lands are like property.
Without serfs to work the fields, they can’t receive taxes in grain, and the abandoned land becos useless in no ti.
Serfs have to perform various duties and play a vital role in the economy, and even the highest-ranking nobles know their necessity.
At the very least, so form of relief in the form of food distribution will always be provided to the poor...
"But that doesn’t help much. We’d only be able to sell one or two of our children to the debt collectors, and that’s all," Peter replied bitterly.
Unlike in Joseon, where nearly 30% of the taxes were set aside for famine relief under the na of "grain for disaster preparedness," countries like the Tuscany Empire and the Holy Empire don’t store much food for tis of famine.
Aside from military supplies, they don’t keep a lot of backup grain in stock, mostly because there’s a risk of it spoiling.
It’s more efficient to sell that grain to fund the nobles' luxuries or military expenditures.
"What’s the Baron doing about these people who are selling clothes at such low prices?" Peter asked.
The economic policies of the Holy Empire and Tuscany Empire are quite simple.
They operate as nightwatch states, where taxes are collected with minimal intervention.
But when it cos to an intervention of such massive scale, it’s typical for the state or the lord to crack down on those causing trouble.
The rchant sighed again.
"According to my relative who works in the Treasury, the smugglers are so crafty that they’ve been selling thousands or tens of thousands of pieces of fabric at once. There are rumors that high-ranking people are covering for them so they aren’t caught."
In reality, trade was happening late at night in hidden corners, with goods swiftly exchanged. There were no CCTV caras or tracking devices, so it was nearly impossible to catch them.
"I hope the Baron can do sothing about this. Otherwise, both you and I will starve to death," the rchant said.
Peter nodded in response.
His blood was boiling.
The high-ranking people were living luxuriously, yet they couldn’t even address such a small problem.
How could they be so vulnerable to the tricks of a re rchant, while their people suffered?
anwhile, Baron Ahiternach was deep in thought about the situation.
"I’m really going crazy, really going crazy."
No matter how much power a baron might have in his own barony, if the serfs rose up in a peasant revolt...
"Just thinking about it turns my stomach. Do you understand how I feel, Housekeeper?"
A peasant revolt was more terrifying than a famine or the Black Plague for a baron.
Even if a revolt didn’t happen, just the fact that it could cause such a major scandal would destroy the Baron’s reputation throughout the Holy Empire.
If things escalated to the point of needing military intervention...
The Baron would be a laughingstock, unable to ever show his face in public again. He would be branded as the one who drew a sword against the serfs.
Even his retainers would mock him, and he could be forced into "retirent" for failing to manage his land.
If it went horribly wrong, he could even lose his title.
"First, I need to ensure the serfs don’t starve to death. Repaying the debt to the rchants might be hard, but what else can I do? If the serfs die, I won’t even be able to pay my debts next year."
Without machinery, no factory can produce new goods.
In a feudal estate, serfs are that machinery.
"I can’t do it alone, so I’ll ask other nobles and rchants to contribute so of their wealth for famine relief. Anyone who refuses should co under my command."
In fantasy novels, barons are often portrayed as sowhat lacking individuals.
However, in the case of hereditary mbers of a legislative body—no matter how much they’re elected by bloodline—stupid people are rarely chosen.
If they were, the family would be dood.
So, Baron Ahiternach made the most reasonable choice based on his common sense.
"This year, our family won’t order new clothes, including formal attire. I’ll make sure other nobles do the sa. We’ll minimize luxury spending."
The idea that cutting back on consumption can save the economy is a sowhat early concept for a dieval fantasy world.
Though, unlike Joseon, where extre thrift was seen as a virtue, reducing spending to help the people in tis of crisis was a perfectly reasonable approach.
It also helped the Baron maintain at least so of his honor.
"That’s wise. And I’ve heard from a relative working in the Bittenbach Baronage that the cause of the fabric price crash is a rchant from the Kingdom of Lyon."
In any other country, the Baron might have dismissed the claim.
To destabilize the fabric market and harm the Holy Empire like this—such a thing was almost unbelievable.
But it wasn’t entirely impossible.
Attacking an enemy nation’s economy before striking was a basic tactic.
"The Kingdom of Lyon would deny it, but according to the smugglers caught recently, they say Pierre Éclair from Lyon orchestrated this whole thing."
"Such a madman must have incurred huge losses selling at those prices. A re rchant could not bear such a cost."
It made sense logically.
Who would run a business at a loss? That’s insane.
"The Lyon people will try to cover their tracks, but anyone can tell this whole ss was caused by them."
For the Baron, this was a glimr of hope.
If the bla could be shifted to the Kingdom of Lyon, all of his own faults would vanish, and everything would be the work of the wicked enemy.
"I’ll report directly to His Majesty. And I’ll gather more evidence of Lyon’s malfeasance."
A short ti later, Pierre received a report that political tensions between the Holy Empire and the Kingdom of Lyon had escalated.
He reflected on this developnt:
"Tricking those who are only a little clever is the easiest thing."
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