Chapter 362: Predicament
At the pier, more than a dozen sailships stood in column, their masts and interlaced rigging draped with snow until they looked like threads of hammered silver against the grey river sky. Refugees streamed from the cabins and moved toward the open ground fronting the quay.
Border Town had done this before. The procedure had acquired its own rhythm. Four runs of iron fencing divided the crowd into two orderly channels, controlling the flow and preventing the kind of surging panic that could kill people before they’d taken ten steps on dry land. Policemen with batons walked both sides. Anyone who tried to climb the fencing or shove their way forward was beaten back. But alongside the enforcement came food — a hot bowl of gruel waited at the end of the passageway. Fill their stomachs first. A person who had eaten was a person whose fear had somewhere to go.
This time, alongside the policemen and the First Army soldiers and the City Hall officials, Nightingale and Sylvie had taken positions in the crowd. Pills and snow powder, Timothy’s instruments for seeding the refugee flow with dependencies and debt, had nowhere to hide from the Eye of Magic.
Roland turned from the crowd. “Thank you for what you’ve done for the Western Region. Without your fleet, these people would have wintered in the slums of other cities.”
“You were unusually urgent in your letter.” Margaret smiled. “Naturally I had to do my best. Still — many of my sailors refused to sail in the snow. I could only get thirteen ships together.”
“Better thirteen than none.” He exhaled a breath that whitened in the cold. After learning that large numbers of refugees remained stranded in Silver City, Redwater City, and Willow Town, he had sent to Margaret’s Chamber of Commerce, requesting a fleet. Thirteen was smaller than he had hoped. But with two additional round trips per ship, all the stranded could be moved. At a hundred passengers per ship per crossing, with two weeks per round trip, the roughly three thousand remaining refugees could be transported in about a month and a half. The last return journey would need to carry food and winter clothing as well — the gold royals sent with the small First Army escort would not last the full duration, and he would not have these people board ships carrying hope and arrive to nothing.
The math on Margaret’s side was unfavorable. Lightning had helped her calculate the full cost, and it had come out at twice the normal daily rate — a transaction that, measured against the goods being moved, made no commercial sense. The transport cost alone exceeded the market value of a comparable number of able-bodied slaves. Margaret had said so plainly, with the mild curiosity of a woman who found irrationality interesting rather than alarming.
Roland had been equally plain about not caring.
From the moment these refugees stepped aboard alongside his delegation, they were subjects of the Western Region. His obligation to them was not negotiable. And beyond obligation, the calculation was obvious: educated, employed, these people would generate wealth that no slave-price reckoning could capture. The refugees were not a cost to be minimized. They were an investment with a long return horizon.
Back in the castle’s reception room, Roland ordered the kitchen to prepare a pottage for Margaret. She took the bowl, lifted a spoonful, and sniffed carefully.
“There’s White Liquor in this.”
“There is. Also pepper, honey, and a chicken broth base.” He smiled. “Spirits are reliable against the cold. Heated into a broth, even better. The other seasonings cover the harshness and add body — even someone who rarely drinks won’t mind it.”
Margaret ate slowly, with visible appreciation, and finished with a satisfied sound. “Every time I come to this place, I find myself wondering what novelty you’ll have this time.” She set the bowl down. “A pity that next year I probably won’t be able to visit.”
Roland caught the thread immediately. “A trade matter?”
She nodded. “Timothy has decreed a ban on saltpeter trade. Not just to King’s City — Silver City and Redwater City as well. Only the Alchemist Workshop gets supply, at reduced price. The nobility in those cities are the only other buyers.”
He said nothing. She continued.
“There’s more. A source in the City Hall tells me Timothy is planning a full blockade of the Western Region. Not only saltpeter — merchants as well. The frontier at Redwater City. When it takes effect, Border Town, Longsong Stronghold, and Willow Town will all be cut off. Many nobles have objected, but it’s unlikely Timothy will relent.” She shook her head. “From next year onward, I won’t be able to bring saltpeter or ingots here. The steam engine trade would almost certainly stop as well.”
I pushed him too far. Roland turned the situation over methodically. Before completing the centralization of authority, interfering aggressively in another lord’s trade always risked this reaction — the local lords and nobles who depended on the trade would resist any enforcement, and Timothy would spend a year fighting his own people to maintain a blockade that did him limited strategic good. The policy was an overreach. Give it a year and a half and it would fail on its own.
But that was a year and a half.
Saltpeter was foundational to large-scale acid production, and until the synthetic ammonia problem was solved, nothing replaced it. Cut the supply, and the 152 mm artillery became inert. The new repeating rifles’ reload ammunition production would stall.
The steam engine trade was worse.
Border Town’s finances ran on a tight circuit. A portion of revenue went into infrastructure and employment. The rest cycled through pay to townspeople and recollected through the sale of food, goods, and housing — a system that required a continuous inflow of gold royals from outside the circuit, not less than what the subjects themselves produced. The town was still in primitive accumulation mode, with no credit instruments. If the steam engine revenue disappeared, the inflow would fall below the threshold, pay would go unissued, and the entire economic structure would seize.
An interruption in funds was not a problem to be managed later. It was a terminal condition.
He spread his hands across the table and looked at them for a moment.
“This won’t last long,” he said. “I believe you’ll be able to visit again soon — and when you do, it won’t be a town you’re coming to.” He let himself smile. “After the Months of the Demons, I intend to build a city here.”
Margaret’s expression shifted slightly — the careful attention of someone recalculating. “You’re serious.”
“I am. And one more thing — I’m planning a direct shipping route from the Western Region to the Fjord Islands. Not through Seawindshire or Port of Clearwater. A route that goes straight out from here.” He met her eyes. “Are you interested?”
Chapter 362: Predicament
Translator: Meh/TransN Editor: – –
At the pier, more than 10 sailships were lined up in a column, with the top of their masts and their interlacing hemp ropes covered in snow, such that they looked like threads of clear silver. Refugees filed out of the cabins and rushed towards the large open space in front of the pier.
This was not the first time Border Town welcomed refugees from the Kingdom of Graycastle, and therefore the entire procedure seemed very orderly. Four lines of iron fence separated the crowd into two columns, which helped to control the crowd movement and prevented a stampede. On both sides of the fences, there were policemen carrying batons on patrol. Anyone who pushed his way through or attempted to climb the fence would be beaten. Although there was punishment, there was also reward—in order to comfort them after an arduous journey, the refugees would each receive a hot bowl of gruel when they passed through the railed passageway. In any case, filling up their stomachs before all else could effectively abate the refugees’ fear and discomfort of being in a foreign land.
This time, aside from the policemen, First Army soldiers, and City Hall officials, Nightingale and Sylvie also took part in the inspection to locate the drug users who were planted in the crowd by Timothy. Under the surveillance of the Eye of Magic, pills and snow powder had nowhere to be hidden.
“Thank you for all that you’ve done for Western Region.” Roland looked away from the crowd and said to Margaret beside him. “If it wasn’t for your fleet, these people would’ve to spend the winter in the slums of other cities.”
“It was rare for Your Highness to ask me for help in such an urgent tone of voice, and naturally I had to do my best.” She laughed. “However, many
sailors were unwilling to set sail in the heavy snow, and hence I was only able to pool together these 13 sailships.”
“It’s better than not even one.” Roland puffed out a white breath. After he learned that there were still large numbers of refugees held up in Silver City, Redwater City and Willow Town, he sent a letter of help to Margeret’s Chamber of Commerce, hoping that it could deploy a fleet of sailships to help him transport the refugees.
Although 13 was a smaller number than he expected, all of the refugees could be transported by making the sailships take two extra trips. Assuming that each sailship could accommodate 100 people, and each trip to and fro required an estimated two weeks, the 3,000 stranded refugees would take roughly a month and a half to be transported. Because the gold royals brought along by a small platoon of the First Army were insufficient to last for this entire duration, therefore, on the last return journey, the sailships had to transport food and winter clothing as well. Roland did not wish to see the refugees carry their hopes of a better life on board the ships yet eventually fail to reach the destination.
Thanks to Lightning, Margaret calculated the transportation costs to be two times the normal daily rate. Any other merchant would have considered this to be a foolish transaction, as the transportation costs alone exceeded the value of the goods. On average, it cost one gold royal per two people, which, according to the current market price, would be enough to purchase several strong and high-quality slaves. Margaret had initially expressed her doubts to Roland, but he was insistent on bringing these people over to the Western Region.
From the moment the refugees stepped on board the ships together with the emissary delegation, they were considered subjects of the Western Region, and it was in line with his duty to provide them with asylum. Furthermore, in Roland’s eyes, the value of these refugees was far greater than that of slaves. After receiving education and training, and eventually given employment, the wealth they would create through their jobs would be immeasurable.
…
Returning back to the reception room of the castle, Roland ordered the kitchen to prepare a hot pottage for Margaret. “Drink this, it’ll make your limbs feel much warmer.”
“Thank you for your kindness.” The businesswoman scooped up a spoonful of the soup and sniffed. “There seems to be White Liquor in it.”
“Indeed.” He laughed, “In addition, there’s also pepper and honey, and the base is chicken soup. Spirit is always an excellent drink to dispel the cold, and when heated with chicken soup, it becomes even more delicious. The other seasonings are added to cover the pungent taste, as well as add flavor and a little spice to the soup, such that even a person who rarely drinks alcohol will find it palatable.
Margaret slowly drank the pottage and finished it with a loud burp. “That’s great. Every time I’m on the way to your place, I’m filled with anticipation, never knowing what novelty is in store. It’s a pity that next year I’ll probably be unable to visit you.”
“Are you referring to a trading opportunity?” Roland subtly caught the meaning in her words.
The businesswoman nodded, “Timothy has decreed a ban on saltpeter trade, and therefore, sales are prohibited not only to King’s City, but also Silver City and Redwater City. Aside from supplying at a low price to the Alchemist Workshop, the only other customers are the nobility in the city.
Roland frowned.
“Furthermore, according to a piece of news that I heard from a City Hall source, Timothy is planning to blockade the Western Region. It won’t be just saltpeter, but also merchants, which will be stopped at the frontier of Redwater City. When the time comes, not only Border Town, but also Longsong Stronghold and Willow Town will be affected. Although many nobles have expressed opposition, it’s unlikely that Timothy will revoke his order.” She shook her head in resignation, “From next year onwards, I’ll not only be unable to ship saltpeter and ingots over here, but even the steam engine trade will probably be suspended.”
“I must have pushed him too far, or he wouldn’t have issued a decree that’s so damaging to the royalty.” Roland silently thought. “Before completing the centralization of authority, hasty interference in the trading activities of other territories is always likely to evoke the resistance and defiance of the lords and nobles. Even if Timothy sends his own troops to blockade the land and river routes, the troops would easily be eliminated by assassins covertly sent by the local lords—just let him try to enforce this policy for a year and a half.”
However, trade was the lifeblood of Border Town. Let alone a year… even half a year of blockade was a huge no-no. Saltpeter was a material used in large-scale acid production, and before the problem of synthetic ammonia was solved, it remained an irreplaceable component. If supply was cut off, the 152 mm artillery would become useless, and the reloading of the new repeating rifles would also be massively delayed.
However, compared to weapons, the prohibition of the steam engine trade was even more destructive. At present, the amount of gold royals stored in the City Hall’s vaults was not much. A portion of revenue was used in infrastructure projects and increasing the number of jobs, while another portion was distributed as pay to the townspeople and recollected through the sale of food, convenience goods and housing. This economic model necessitated a continuous injection of gold royals into the market, which had to be at least equal in amount to the wealth created by the subjects.
At present, Border Town remained in a state of primitive accumulation and also did not issue credit. If the revenue from the steam engine trade was lost, finances might dry up to the point that pay cannot be issued to the people, and a full economic meltdown would follow.
In any case, the interruption of funds was absolutely unacceptable.
“This situation won’t last long.” Roland spread his arms, “I believe that you’ll soon be able to visit our town again… no, when that time comes, you’ll see a brand new city.”
Margaret was slightly surprised, “Are you planning to build a city here?”
“Indeed, after the Months of the Demons.” He smiled. “Also, I plan to set up a trade shipping route that connects directly to the fjords. Instead of passing through Seawindshire or Port of Clearwater, it’ll set out directly from the Western Region towards the Fjord Islands. Will you be interested to participate in this?”