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.”
Chapter 332 What one has seen and heard
In the days before they would set out to explore the ruins Tilly’s greatest interest was slowly strolling along the flat streets of Border Town, observing the remote territory which had already undergone such startling changes in the hands of Lord Roland.
This small town stands out from the masses, she thought, the more carefully she observed everything, the more she became aware of this. It was entirely different from any other place she had been to before… and what left her the most impressed was probably the gorgeous and unparalleled vitality which this small town radiated.
Even the up-and-coming Sleeping Island couldn’t compare with it.
“Aren’t these people afraid of the cold?” Andrea said, full of amazement at seeing the pedestrian coming and going on the street. “What did your brother do that they’d be willing to work during the winter?”
“It’s still autumn,” Ashes retorted, “You can’t even tell different season apart.”
“But there is no difference between the current weather and winter. This is analogous with the argument which frequently appears within ‘her dream, his country’,” Andrea elegantly raised her long hair and said, “Of course, a barbaric woman such as you would never understand something like this.”
“What’s ‘your dream, my dream’…”
“It is difficult to communicate with a vulgar person who hasn’t ever even enjoyed the drama, but Lady Tilly must surely have watched this famous drama from the Kingdom of Dawn.”
“There is no need for you to fight,” Sylvie sighed. “I think the reason behind this is quite simple. Usually the common folk do not want to be active during winter because it would increase food consumption greatly, in case they can’t eat their fill it would be very easy for them to catch a cold. However, this issue doesn’t exist in Border Town. The price of grain isn’t high, firewood is also quite abundant, and Miss Lily is easily able to cure a cold. It would therefore be better if they continued to work hard even within the cold and snow, and try to earn one more day’s salary.”
“I am able to understand that there would be enough firewood due to the Concealing Forest West of the town, but the reason for the price of grain not being high… how is that possible?” Andrea asked feeling puzzled, “My family has also been involved in the food business so I know that crop failures caused by natural disasters could lead to everyone raising the price of grain by a lot. With such a bad weather, how could he keep the nobles and merchants from selling food at a higher prices?”
“Nobles, merchants?” Sylvie asked laughingly, “Here in Border Town, there is only one person who is allowed to sell grain, that is His Royal Highness.”
“All those fields along the river belong to him?” Tilly frowned.
“No, that’s the land of the serfs,” she told her what she had seen and heard, as well as the scene occurring during the bumper harvest. “He made two food prices, one was the purchase price and one was the selling price. Those two prices are fixed, with the latter being higher than the former.”
“Isn’t he forcing them to sell low and buy high?” Ashes asked while showing an expression of disbelief, “If he can sell at a high price, why won’t he allow others to sell it at high prices as well?”
“No, it’s not the same,” Tilly said, “After the wheat is taken in, it also needs to be threshed, ground and stored in a warehouse. All this produces further cost, thus it’s normal for the price to rise.”
“What Lady Tilly said is right. I had the same question, so I later asked Teacher Scroll about it,” Sylvie smiled, “She said that the extra expenses were paid off, some were paid to those who deal with the farmers, it is also
used to build new granaries so that the production can be expanded, which in turn will provide Border town with new…” she stopped for a moment, thinking about the right word to use, “Jobs, right, that’s what she called them. I heard that His Highness was very concerned about that.”
“But he is still buying weak selling strong,” Ashes stressed, “Shouldn’t trade be free?”
“Perhaps, but His Highness’ selling price is at a rate that still allows everyone to buy it. Furthermore, if the price stays constant, people will also become more comfortable.”
“Sometimes freedom isn’t always for the best,” Tilly said, she already had a clear idea of what Roland was doing. The rule prohibiting anyone else from selling grain within the territory might at first seem overbearing and unjust. But in fact, it put an end to hoarding and profiteering, which could effectively prevent any events of food shortage. If it was King’s City, which had to face times of snow during autumn, the food prices would inevitably rise up to five or six times more than usual with more than half of the populace starving due to not having enough grain to eat. If the situation went on for long enough, it could easily cause riots, and eventually, the palace might even be forced to release grain from their own reserves or dispatch the guards to suppress them. Either way, it would still be a big burden on the state’s treasury.
Although this policy looked good, it also wouldn’t work just anywhere. The majority of the grain traders were aristocrats and rich merchants who also owned large amounts of serfs and fields, making it impossible for the royal family to buy out all the grain and prohibit people from hoarding. However, here in Border Town, except for Roland Wimbledon, there was almost no other aristocratic family around, he was indisputably the one who had the final say in such things.
When Tilly expressed her own opinion, Ashes still hold some grievances, “What about the serfs? They normally would get more income when the grain price rise, but now they get exploited by fixed prices.”
“Pfft,” Andrea laughed, “As if these people could escape the same exploitation if they were in a city with free trade. At times of bumper harvest,
not only wouldn’t they be told to hand over more wheat, they’d even be told to sell it at a very low price. Yet when there is a poor harvest, they’d still have to pay their share, while it would still be a question whether the grain leftover would be enough for them to survive the famine. In contrast, fixed prices are actually more reasonable, as long as the harvest is better, the income should also be better.”
“Here they can choose whether they want to sell.” Sylvie’s words slightly shocked the other three, “His Highness said that in case where the harvest reached a fixed amount, the serfs could be promoted to free people. From then on they can either continue farming or go and choose new jobs, completely according to their own will. However, free people would only need to pay 2/10 of their grain. Furthermore, according to this year’s bumper harvest’s price, their salary was also very impressive.”
“Pro…moted?”
“Uh, His Royal Highness said that after two or three years there won’t be any serfs left in Border Town.”
So, actually it was like this, Tilly’s heart was suddenly touched by what she had heard. That’s the reason why the town is full of vitality… When he made his policies, he considered the people’s way of thinking and added an incentive system to encourage them to work more and better. This way of handling things is completely different from any other noble. Motivation isn’t only expressed through words, rather, he let the people achieve some tangible benefits through hard work instead of hiding his wealth in the castle treasury.
At this moment, she finally understood the real meaning of those red slogans at the river side.
However, the Roland Wimbledon in the royal palace was never such a generous person… So, is this also something brought forth by the sudden change in memory? In addition, those evening lessons of “Elementary Nature”, and “Mathematics” are very fascinating too.
Tilly had believed that it would be difficult for her to find something new to stimulate her curiosity and interest after she had finished reading all the books in the palace library, but she now had discovered there were still many things left for her to learn.
Within her heart, she suddenly felt that even doing nothing more than just live in Border Town’s castle and flip through all those books filled with miraculous knowledge while watching the changes around the Town… it would still be a very enjoyable life.
Suddenly, a long ringing sound of a bell came over from the city wall, announcing a new demon beast attack.
Tilly immediately put her previous thoughts to the back of her mind, after all, nowadays, she was no longer the worry-free 5th Princes, but rather a leader shouldering the destiny of all the witches living on Sleeping Island. Now, some things could no longer be imposed solely according to her own preferences, thus she said, “Let’s go to the wall and see if we can help the guards.”
“Of course,” Andrea smiled, “That’s why we came here in the first place, so they can see how we Witches fight!”