Chapter 149
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 149
As promised, Dominic compiled a complete inventory of his assets and handed it over to Lucian.
Whenever a document required his personal signature, he provided it without a moment’s hesitation.
“If there is anything else you require, please let me know. I shall do as you wish.”
“You’re surprisingly cooperative. Is this a merchant’s pride? The belief that a promise made must be kept?”
“What pride could possibly remain in a man who has thrown away his own credibility? I simply have no lingering attachments to the world outside.”
At Lucian’s words, Dominic shook his head with a bitter smile.
“Now that I’ve orchestrated such a fraud, it would be impossible to live a normal life even if I regained my freedom. I would be the target of every kind of contempt and ridicule—not to mention, I’d struggle to find even a scrap of food to eat.”
“So, since you can no longer live out there, you’re handing everything over to me?”
“Your Highness is the victor who brilliantly saw through my schemes. If these assets are destined to rot in a warehouse or be plundered by some random rabble, I would much rather offer them to the victor as spoils of war.”
Dominic’s expression as he spoke was perfectly serene.
Lucian couldn’t tell if the man truly felt that way or was simply rationalizing his situation, but either way, it worked out well for him. It meant he could easily and thoroughly recover the vast wealth Dominic possessed.
Regardless, the mission he had given the merchant masters—the 'search for hidden assets'—continued.
Whether there were actually any hidden assets left or not didn't matter; the mission was a pretext designed to keep a leash on them from the start.
“Master Hagen, the grain we’re purchasing this time seems a bit expensive. Hasn’t the price risen too much compared to before?”
“Prices have gone up, so it can’t be helped! I am supplying it to Your Highness at the absolute lowest price possible!”
“Is that so? That’s unfortunate news. If the price has risen but your profit margins have shrunk, that must be quite a burden.”
“I am merely grateful for your understanding.”
“By the way, are you making progress on the mission I assigned? I expected at least one chest of gold coins to have turned up by now.”
“...I haven’t found any gold coins yet, but now that I think about it, I believe I can lower the price a bit further.”
The merchant masters, firmly leashed, had no choice but to be dragged along wherever Lucian pulled. They were forced to hand over most of their goods at near-cost, leaving them with only the bare minimum profit required to maintain their guilds.
Lucian distributed the goods he had acquired at these rock-bottom prices to the immigrants from the tribes.
Having come from beyond the snowfields with nothing but the clothes on their backs, they were in desperate need of everything.
The immigrants were moved to tears by the supplies Lucian provided. These were items considered incredibly precious in the snowfields, yet he gave them away so freely.
“Every day feels like a dream. No, I’ve never even seen such a bountiful life in my dreams.”
“We were right to follow the King. If we had stayed in the snowfields, we’d still be wrapped in furs, gnawing on bland meat.”
“I might have died before that from an infected hunting wound. This was the first time in my life I’ve ever taken real medicine.”
The immigrants' loyalty to Lucian soared to unprecedented heights. It was only natural, as he was providing them with a level of comfort no one else ever had.
But at the same time, a strange sense of unease began to sprout in a corner of their hearts.
“But is it really okay for us to just keep receiving like this? Don’t we have to pay... what do you call it... taxes?”
“My thoughts exactly. I’m afraid we’ll be treated like parasites at this rate. I heard the original residents are all paying their share.”
“While the King is being generous, we need to find a way to make a living quickly. We can’t rely on the King’s grace forever.”
No matter how much he was the King of Prophecy, an individual’s wealth had its limits. The consensus was that Lucian’s support wouldn’t last indefinitely, and they had to become self-sufficient before it ran out.
It was a commendable thought, but in truth, the immigrants' worries were largely unfounded.
‘Thanks to the assets I got from Dominic, I’m not short on funds. I might as well spend generously to ensure they settle in properly. Once they’re established, I’ll be able to extract several times that amount in no time.’
Lucian wasn't giving everything away for free out of a sense of duty. He had every intention of getting a return on his investment later, so he didn't mind the immediate cost.
Each of these immigrants possessed a physique and strength far superior to the commoners of the Empire—every one of them was essentially at the level of a knight. Whether it was labor or anything else, they were bound to generate more than double the profit.
Furthermore, these were people from the snowfields, where the cult of the warrior was the norm. Since the concept of being paid for combat didn't even exist to them, he would be able to maintain a standing army at a significantly lower cost for quite some time.
‘Right now, the priority is investing to build loyalty, not taxes. They’re the geese that will soon lay golden eggs; I can’t be so blinded by a few coins that I cut them open now.’
Thus, Lucian had no complaints about his current generosity for the sake of the future.
However, the immigrants had no way of knowing what their King was thinking. Naturally, they racked their brains to prepare for an uncertain future.
“How about being a blacksmith or a carpenter? We have a fair bit of experience making weapons and building houses.”
“Are you joking? You need to be competitive to be a blacksmith or a carpenter.”
“The level of technology here is too high. Everything we’ve made so far is like child’s play compared to this.”
“Then let’s try being hunters. If there’s one thing we’re confident in, it’s hunting.”
“I heard the hunting grounds are fixed, and you get punished if you hunt without permission.”
“You need permission to hunt? Man, what a strange set of laws.”
The immigrants held heated discussions every day, but no viable solution emerged. No matter what they tried to do, their lack of common knowledge and technical skill compared to the Imperial citizens made their ideas little more than armchair theories.
After weeks of these fruitless meetings, some immigrants realized the fundamental problem and cried out in frustration.
“Dammit, we can’t start anything like this! We have no foundation; we need to learn the basics first!”
“Learn...? That’s it! Let’s get someone to teach us!”
“What?”
“Since it’s come to this, let’s learn from the people who lived here originally. I think they call it an apprenticeship? They say the way here is to work for low pay in exchange for being taught skills like a disciple.”
“I’ve heard of that too... but will they accept us? We’re old, and it’s like they’d be training their own competition.”
“Let’s just try asking first. If they refuse, we’ll think of something else then.”
To some, it might have seemed like a humiliating proposal, but to the immigrants, it was nothing. In the snowfields, dying because you lacked the courage to ask for guidance was merely a laughingstock.
The immigrants immediately selected representatives and sent them to the craftsmen who had settled in the territory first.
The craftsmen, upon receiving the immigrants' proposal, gathered in a state of shock. They hadn't expected such an offer, and the proposal itself was utterly absurd to them.
“Gentlemen, have you heard the proposal sent by the barbarians from beyond the snowfields?”
“I have. It’s so ridiculous I’m speechless. To blatantly ask us to teach them our trade!”
“Exactly! If they want to learn a craft, shouldn't they start by kneeling? How can they be so bold?”
A craft was one's very livelihood, something that could sustain a person for a lifetime once mastered. Conversely, teaching that craft to others meant one's own standing would diminish as competition increased.
Naturally, the trade operated strictly on connections and bloodlines. Without connections, one had to show immense sincerity and devotion just to be granted a chance to learn.
And yet, they were demanding to be taught with their heads held high, without a shred of humility?
“This is why barbarians are hopeless. They don’t even know the most basic of basics!”
“Is there even a need to hold a meeting like this? Let’s just refuse and kick them out!”
“Tsk, tsk.”
A clicking tongue echoed through the noisy crowd of craftsmen. It was Igor, the man who had called the meeting and the most experienced blacksmith among them.
Igor scanned the room before tapping on the table.
“Have you all lost your wits? Kick them out? Do you still think this is the same territory we used to live in?”
“What!?”
“Ninety percent of Asagrim’s population now consists of people from beyond the snowfields. If you act all high and mighty in front of them, what do you think will happen later?”
“This is Asagrim, the Holy Land of the North! If they try anything foolish just because they have the numbers...!”
“I don’t know what you mean by ‘anything foolish,’ but keep one thing in mind. Every single one of them is a potential customer. They aren't just outsiders.”
The craftsmen fell silent at the stinging truth. No matter how great a craftsman’s work was, if there was no one to buy it, he would starve. Even including the goods sold to merchants for trade, the primary customers would ultimately be the residents of the same territory.
And yet, they were considering alienating and showing contempt toward their primary customer base based on ethnicity and origin?
“If it were me, I wouldn't buy anything from someone who insulted me like that. You’ll starve to death long before you’re stabbed.”
“B-but even if we teach them, nothing changes, does it? Since we’re outnumbered, once they learn, the initiative will shift completely to them.”
“Why do you keep thinking so short-sightedly? Look further ahead! Do you really think Asagrim’s expansion ends here?”
“What do you mean?”
“Asagrim was already famous as the Holy Land of the North, but recently its population, production base, and trade networks have all been expanded. Everything that was lacking is now gone. What do you think is left?”
It was certain that freemen, who had been hesitant until now, would flock to Asagrim to find a place. Just because the space inside the walls was full didn't mean the population outside wouldn't grow. Great cities always expanded beyond their walls to accommodate an overflowing population.
“Eventually, the number of customers will grow beyond what we can handle alone. We’ll need disciples just to meet the demand.”
“So you’re saying we should accept their proposal now to sell them a favor in advance?”
“No, I’m saying we should teach them properly and establish a guild.”
“...!”
“They are all people who lack common knowledge because they haven't been in the Empire long. If we become their masters and establish a guild, who do you think will occupy the leadership?”
The craftsmen’s eyes widened. As he said, as the city grew, the number of craftsmen would naturally increase, and guilds would be formed. The leadership of a guild was usually chosen from those with the most influence, rather than pure skill alone.
In other words, if they trained disciples now, they would be highly likely to become the leaders of the future guild.
“Our backs are bending and our eyes are growing dim; how much longer do you think we can perform at our peak? It’s time we start raising disciples so we can spend our final years in comfort.”
“Hmm, you’re not wrong, but...”
“I’m worried about whether they’ll respect their masters in our way.”
Some craftsmen agreed with Igor but couldn't shake their anxiety. These were people who currently didn't understand the importance of the craft and were approaching them without proper etiquette. Once they learned everything, wouldn't they just ignore their masters?
“Don’t worry. You all know how traditions are born, don’t you?”
Igor smirked at the other craftsmen’s concerns. People who have suffered under the laws of tradition once never try to break away from them. The reason was simple.
“Once those who suffered as disciples become masters themselves, they’ll be the ones most eager to follow tradition.”