CH332 · Rewrite
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Chapter 332: What One Has Seen and Heard

In the days before the expedition set out, Tilly’s greatest pleasure was simply walking.

She moved through Border Town’s flat, clean streets at no particular pace—past the wheel ruts frozen into the mud, past houses with smoke from every chimney, past children running routes between stalls that had no right to be open in weather like this. The territory Roland had remade. The more carefully she watched it, the more certain she became that this place was unlike anywhere she had been before. What struck her most was not the walls or the workshops or the guns. It was the vitality. The town pulsed with it, busy and purposeful, in a way that Sleeping Island—for all its genuine progress—could not yet match.

“Aren’t these people afraid of the cold?” Andrea said, watching a stream of pedestrians move past in both directions. “What did your brother do to make them willing to work in weather like this?”

“It’s still autumn,” Ashes said.

“There is no meaningful difference between this weather and winter.” Andrea lifted her hair with two fingers, elegantly. “This is exactly the argument from Her Dream, His Country—you’d understand if you’d ever watched a proper drama.”

“What’s ‘her dream, his dream’—”

“It is simply impossible to communicate with a vulgar person who has never been to the theatre. Lady Tilly, surely you’ve seen this piece from the Kingdom of Dawn?”

“There’s no need to argue,” Sylvie sighed. “The reason is straightforward enough. Common people typically go dormant in winter because activity increases caloric need—go hungry enough and you catch cold easily. But that constraint doesn’t exist here. Grain prices are low, firewood is plentiful, and Miss Lily can cure an ordinary cold without much effort. So working through the cold is simply rational: another day of wages, another day of comfort.”

“I can accept the firewood—the Concealing Forest is just west of here.” Andrea’s brow creased. “But the grain prices. How does he keep nobles and merchants from gouging when the harvests are poor? My family has been in the food trade; I know what a bad season does to prices.”

“Nobles, merchants?” Sylvie laughed softly. “In Border Town, there is only one seller of grain. His Royal Highness.”

“All those river fields are his?”

“No—those belong to the serfs.” Sylvie explained what she had observed: the harvest season, the fixed purchase price and fixed selling price, the gap between the two. “The difference covers threshing, milling, storage. He’s not profiting from the spread—he’s paying for the infrastructure.”

“He’s still buying low and selling high,” Ashes said. “Isn’t trade supposed to be free?”

“Perhaps,” Sylvie said. “But his selling price is set at a rate everyone can actually afford. And if the price never changes, people can plan around it.”

“Sometimes freedom isn’t always for the best,” Tilly said.

She had already worked it out. The prohibition on private grain sales looked arbitrary at first glance—almost tyrannical. But in practice, it destroyed the mechanism that caused famines: hoarding. In King’s City, an early snowfall could drive grain prices to five or six times their ordinary level within days; half the common people would go hungry; riots would follow, and the palace would be forced to either open its emergency reserves or send out the guards. Either solution cost the treasury dearly.

The policy wouldn’t work everywhere. Most grain traders elsewhere were aristocrats or wealthy merchants who owned the serfs and the fields both—the royal family couldn’t buy them out, and couldn’t stop them from speculating. But here in Border Town, there was effectively no aristocratic class besides Roland himself. He had the final word, and he had chosen to use it this way.

“What about the serfs?” Ashes pressed, still not satisfied. “Fixed prices mean their income doesn’t rise with the harvest. That’s exploitation too.”

“Pfft.” Andrea laughed once, not unkindly. “As if they’d escape exploitation in a city with free trade. At bumper harvest, merchants would force them to sell at the lowest possible price. At poor harvest, they’d still owe their quota, and the grain left over might not be enough to survive. Fixed prices are actually more stable for them—better harvest, better income, no extortion in either direction.”

“There’s something else,” Sylvie added. Her voice had the particular quality of someone reporting something they found genuinely remarkable. “His Royal Highness has tied serf status to harvest yield. Once output crosses a fixed threshold, a serf can petition for promotion to free person—and from that point, they can farm on their own terms or seek other work entirely. Free people pay only two-tenths of their grain in tax. This year’s prices made a free person’s salary quite significant.” She paused. “He told me he expects no serfs left in Border Town within two or three years.”

”…Promoted?”

“That’s what he calls it.”

So that’s it. The vitality she’d felt all morning—not the activity of people afraid to stop, but of people with reasons to continue. Roland hadn’t simply set clever prices. He had built a structure that made his interests and the people’s interests point in the same direction. Motivation expressed through tangible gain, not instruction. The difference between a statesman and a lord.

She looked up at the red slogans painted along the riverbank walls. She had passed them twice since arriving, turned the phrases over, found them opaque. They were plain now.

The Roland Wimbledon she had known in the palace would never have conceived of this. So the memory change that people spoke of—was it really so total a transformation? And those evening courses, Elementary Nature, Mathematics—there was apparently more for her to learn than she had imagined. She had believed herself to have outgrown surprise after reading every book in the palace library. She had been wrong.

Within her chest, something quiet settled into place—the particular stillness of a question answered unexpectedly well. Even simply living in Border Town’s castle—reading those miraculous books by the fire, watching the town become whatever it was going to become—would be a good life. Better than a great many alternatives she could name.

The bell on the city wall rang once. Then again. A long, sustained toll: the signal for a demon beast attack.

Tilly put the thought away cleanly, as one folds a letter.

She was no longer merely the carefree Fifth Princess. She was the person on whom Sleeping Island’s witches depended. Some choices could no longer be made for her own pleasure alone. “Let’s go to the wall,” she said. “We may be able to help.”

“Of course,” Andrea said, and for once her smile was entirely genuine. “That’s exactly why we came—so they can see how witches fight.”

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