With the devaluation of the denier, market trading was bound to take a hit. After pondering the matter for a long ti, Wigg decided to establish the Bank of Britain. It would be responsible for accepting foreign currencies and exchanging them for Silver Pennies of equal silver content, thereby facilitating comrcial activities within the kingdom.
In truth, currency exchange was the most common "banking business" in the early Middle Ages. Money changers would set up long tables in markets or dock areas, evaluate the worth of various coins, exchange them for different currencies, and take a commission fee in the process.
Furthermore, these money changers also engaged in the safekeeping of valuables. Since they owned sturdy vaults, offering storage services was a natural progression of their trade.
Since they were already safeguarding large sums of money for their clients, a minority of money changers took advantage of the situation to dabble in the highly lucrative business of money lending.
Although the Church explicitly forbade usury, clever rchants circumvented the ban through complex contractual arrangents, disguising the interest as gifts or tokens of gratitude.
By the High Middle Ages, the financial industry had developed rapidly. This was especially true for the Knights Templar; their strongholds were scattered across Europe, making it easy to develop deposit services. As their vaults accumulated massive funds, the Templars began providing loans and cross-border remittance services for kings and nobles.
Thanks to the massive success of these ventures, the Templars amassed wealth rivaling that of entire nations, which ultimately drew the covetous gaze of King Philip IV of France.
In 1307, using accusations of usury and other cris as a pretext, the French king ordered the arrest of all Templars within his borders and publicly burned the last Grand Master at the stake, thus bringing about the annihilation of the order.
As the King of Britain, Wigg had no need to care about the Church's nagging. He could have launched a massive lending operation to his heart's content, but he chose not to do so. The reputation of moneylenders was truly abysmal. If his lower-ranking vassals were unable to repay their debts and Wigg forcefully collected them, it would easily erode the Nobles' Loyalty toward him.
'Forget it. For now, let the bank handle currency exchange, financial safekeeping, and long-distance drafts. The lending business can develop privately. That way, if any ss arises, it at least won't blow back on .'
A "bill of exchange" functioned much like a modern bank note. A rchant could deposit a large sum of Silver at a bank in one location, receive a paper voucher, and then withdraw the Silver from a bank in another location.
Wigg planned to open banks in Dover, Londinium, York, Teyne Town, and Dyfflin, constructing a nationwide financial network to facilitate comrcial activity throughout his territory.
Spending two days on the endeavor, he drafted an organizational plan and then ordered the Cabinet to appoint personnel to take charge of the matter.
With the bank's preparations on track, Wigg finally freed up enough energy to summon Baron Chawatu from the Canaries.
At their first eting, he observed a man in his forties with a darker complexion, resembling the inhabitants of the Iberian Peninsula. Wigg did not make things difficult for this sharp-minded and broad-visioned native. Hearing that Chawatu was about to pioneer another island, he enthusiastically provided him with a large supply of dicine and dispatched a Shaman to provide dical services.
"Thank you for your generosity, Your Majesty," Chawatu said.
Following the instructions of the court attendants, Chawatu knelt on one knee and recited an ode in stiff Norse, swearing never to make an enemy of the Royal Family. This oath applied to all Nobles within the Kingdom. Even though Chawatu was a direct vassal to Helgi, he was equally obligated to uphold the royal authority of the Tynemouth Family.
Once the ceremony concluded, Chawatu retraced his steps out of the Royal Palace and headed to the College of Arms on the adjacent street.
Stepping into the hall, he found a young man dozing at the counter and requested the design of a family crest.
Taking the Royal Edict, the young man repeatedly scrutinized the man with Southern European features. He then produced a thick stack of illustrated volus and presented them to the newly minted Baron.
"My lord, a coat of arms is a symbol of Noble bloodline and status..."
Over the next few minutes, the herald fluently rattled off a lengthy string of guidelines, which Adrien then translated for Chawatu. A massive influx of information flooded the Lord Baron's mind, leaving him overwheld in a short span of ti.
Having finished his speech, the herald flipped open one of the volus to show the Baron existing Noble crests. Chawatu's vision blurred from the sheer variety; he had absolutely no idea how to design such a thing.
After staring blankly for a long ti, he pulled out a small pouch of silver coins and begged the herald for help, which frightened the young man so much that his face turned pale. "This is a free service, no money required! Please don't get in trouble!"
The herald simply wanted to be rid of this unruly island Barbarian as quickly as possible. After asking about Chawatu's preferences, he quickly designed a set of arms that t all the proper standards.
The shield bore the image of a black mountain peak against a blue background, surrounded by elents like a crest, a motto, and a mantling cloak.
Sketching the final stroke of the draft, the herald let out a long sigh of relief and gestured for the Baron to inspect it.
"Do you have any further suggestions? If not, I will submit this to my superiors imdiately. From this day forward, this coat of arms will beco the eternal symbol of you and your family."
Chawatu hesitated for a mont. Overall, this coat of arms was clearly inferior to the ones featured in the first dozen pages of the illustrated volu. It was barely satisfactory.
He nodded reluctantly. "This will do. By the way, I intend to confer the title of hereditary Knight upon this man. Please design a coat of arms for him as well."
"Are you certain?"
The herald looked utterly bewildered. He stared at the master and servant for a long while. The servant looked entirely unremarkable and had a scrawny build, yet he was actually receiving a Knight's title?
'Alas, fate is truly unfair.'
Recalling his own diocre grades in school and how he had been assigned to this hopeless departnt after graduation, the herald felt a wave of depression. He picked up his Paper and Pen once more to design the Knight's family crest.
As a Knight sat at the very bottom of the Noble hierarchy, the heraldic patterns were much simpler, and he finished the job in under five minutes.
Once done, the herald instructed the two n to sign their nas at the bottom of the sketches.
The mont the ink dried, Chawatu and Adrien formally beca Nobles of the Kingdom of Britain. This was especially true for Adrien; leaping from a rchant dood to Exile to a mber of the ruling class was an advancent he had never even dared to imagine!
Just before they parted ways, the herald handed them two small booklets detailing various important guidelines. For example:
Once an heir was born, Nobles were required to report it to the College of Arms imdiately. If a child's registry information was incomplete, it would negatively impact their subsequent Noble titles and inheritance of the estate.
Stepping out of the College of Arms and bathing in the warm sunlight, Adrien felt as if he were walking in a dream. In a daze, he made his way toward Baker Street in the southern part of the city to purchase the crop seeds and iron farming tools they needed.
In an effort to save money, the master and servant spent a long ti haggling inside the Grain exchange, completely disregarding the dignity expected of newly minted Nobles. It wasn't until three in the afternoon that they suddenly heard a massive uproar outside the doors.
'Did sothing happen?'
Following the crowd of onlookers, Adrien left the Grain exchange and gazed toward the intersection a few dozen ters away. A throng of people had gathered at the entrance of a three-story building. They were highly agitated and appeared to be shouting curses at the top of their lungs.
"A stock exchange?"
Having never encountered such a novel concept before, Adrien instinctively squeezed into the crowd to get a closer look.
Reviews
All reviews (0)