The Flea Market Strategy
A mere twenty silver coins.
In truth, twenty silver coins would be like winning the lottery for an average household in the North, but—
‘Still, for a regional budget, there’s no way twenty coins can accomplish anything.’
It is something the general public neither knows nor needs to know: the regional budgets managed by civil servants are, in fact, staggeringly large. They might pour as much as three billion into a local festival that has no unique features, sights, or characteristics—the kind where you’d naturally ask, "Who even goes there?"—or allocate a budget exceeding eight billion with the stated intent of increasing youth residency rates and revitalizing local commerce.
There’s a reason people call government money "blind money."
Still, there is one absolute truth: whether it’s a person or a regional administration, being broke is a miserable business.
‘I wish I at least had some budget to waste.’
Aiden smacked his lips. No matter how hard he racked his brain, he couldn't come up with a proper way to naturally integrate the outlaws outside the system into the fold, especially with the current lack of resources.
"Shall we go have lunch first?"
"Just a sandwich will do..."
"If you keep chewing on dry bread like that every day, your stomach will go on strike first, Administrator!"
Jamie’s expression was strangely desperate. What was wrong with a sandwich, anyway? Aiden wasn't particularly interested in gourmet food, but he didn't want his only adjutant to collapse from exhaustion, so he gave a nod.
Clatter, clatter.
As they approached the cafeteria on the first floor, the sounds of meal preparation drifted out. It was the dull thud of wooden utensils. Aiden had used the few ceramic bowls available for his own meals, but after he told them there was no need for such things, everything had been unified into wooden tableware.
"Please, have a seat."
Brikal, the chef, was showing off his skills for the first time in a while. He had been worried that Aiden didn't like his cooking since he always asked for sandwiches, so when he received word that Aiden was coming down to the cafeteria, he had burned with a sense of purpose. Today, instead of the usual smoked bear meat, he had mustered the courage to slaughter a chicken.
Sizzle.
"Please, eat while it's warm."
Brikal poured a mysterious sauce packed with root vegetables over the chicken, which had been seared on a heated iron plate.
Gulp.
Jamie couldn't take his eyes off the chef’s hands, swallowing repeatedly as if his salivary glands had malfunctioned.
"I'll enjoy it."
Although it was a "rootless" meal that skipped soup, salad, and appetizers, jumping straight to the main course, Aiden thought it was a luxury beyond compare.
‘Compared to a company cafeteria, this is like heaven.’
There were six bowls laid out in front of him right now. It was fine for now since there were so few people working in the Lord's Castle, but if the staff increased, the dishwashing would be no joke.
"Should I help you with the dishes later?"
"Oh, Administrator! You mustn't say such things."
Brikal jumped in surprise at Aiden’s casual remark.
"I don't mind."
Even if he was the acting lord, he wasn't a true lord. Even if he was an administrator, he wasn't a noble. Because of this, Aiden didn't have much of a sense of authority. But it seemed others didn't see it that way. Trying to lighten the awkward atmosphere, Aiden spoke to the chef again.
"Wooden bowls require more care than ceramic ones, right?"
"That they do. They stain easily, and you have to dry them well after washing. Even then, they often warp."
"Then do you have to buy new ones every time that happens?"
"Haha! Why would you pay money for wooden bowls like these? You just find a piece of wood rolling around and carve it yourself."
"You know how to make bowls, too? That's amazing. Jamie, do you know how to make them?"
"I can't. Axes are easy to handle, but small things like carving knives don't feel right in my hands."
"Then what do you do when your bowls break at home?"
"I have no choice but to ask someone who makes them well, like the chef, or just keep using what I have. Hehe."
"I suppose there’s no market, after all."
"Yes."
But he couldn't just build a market right now. A market wasn't something where merchants and customers would just fall from the sky just because you opened one up. There was a reason most markets emerged naturally from the private sector rather than being established by the government.
‘Still, I have to solve the chronic shortage of logistics.’
Aiden fell into deep thought again, leaving his meal unfinished. Brikal the chef was anxious. It was a meal he had prepared with all his heart. If it got cold, the taste would drop significantly!
"Adjutant, I have plenty of bowls I've made, so I'll give you ten or twenty! Stop worrying and hurry up and eat!"
"Oh, Chef, really?"
"I told you, didn't I? I’ve made dozens while practicing different shapes, so take whatever you want."
Jamie was overjoyed, saying he could finally throw away the old bowls at home.
"...You have dozens of bowls piled up at home?"
Aiden received a lightning-bolt-like realization. The North was absolutely lacking in supplies. However, this was still a place where people lived. What if there were quite a few households that, like Brikal the chef, had piles of specific items?
‘No. There’s a very high probability that’s the case!’
The North was a place where it was hard to find a market or a proper shop. It was a closed-off region where countless villages existed, but they lived so far apart that they barely knew each other. Since everyone was poor, there was almost no trade or exchange between villages. Nevertheless, people had to live, and to live, people needed many things. The only way to procure the necessities of life without trade was self-sufficiency.
‘I knew that much.’
But Aiden realized he hadn't truly understood the meaning of self-sufficiency until now. In fact, it would be stranger for someone from a world where all sorts of goods are delivered to your doorstep with a few touches to truly understand self-sufficiency.
‘Right. Even if you make things yourself to use, people don't just stop once they have exactly what they need, do they?’
There might be people without material desires, but the fact that the opposite existed meant—
‘It means there is surplus material in the North, too.’
Aiden hurriedly shoved the chicken into his mouth.
"It's delicious! And thank you. I'll have a sandwich for dinner!"
"Yes?"
Aiden rushed to his office as if struck by lightning. Watching his back, Brikal felt a little melancholy for some reason.
***
"I'm going to open a flea market."
"...A what market?"
"A flea market."
"You said it was too early for a market in the North."
Jamie, who had followed him, tilted his head.
"I did. Because the economic scale isn't there yet to support a permanent market."
"But I suspect there's a reason you've suddenly changed your mind."
"I told you. I'm not making a permanent market; I'm making a flea market."
"Is that different?"
"Very much so."
Jamie still looked skeptical.
"A flea market doesn't need professional merchants. Well, it's good if they're there, but it doesn't matter if they aren't."
"...?"
"Because the residents will become the merchants."
Bringing out items that are unnecessary to me and selling them to someone who needs them. That is the very foundation of commerce. And this basic, fundamental trade doesn't necessarily require a professional merchant.
Aiden began to draft the plan in a frenzy.
"The location should be the vacant lot in front of the Lord's Castle. Let's not spend money on tents or anything; let's just place one table each."
Location scouting: Complete.
"Send out official documents to every village. Tell them there's no participation fee for residents who apply for a table in advance. The items are up to them. Things they've made are fine, and leftovers are fine, too. Someone out there will need them."
Participant and item selection: Complete.
"For the merchant groups that left to trade furs, attach some fast-moving soldiers. Tell them a market involving almost every village in the North will be held, so if they have any leftover goods, they should come and sell them. Oh, tell them there will be a small commission, but we'll provide every possible convenience."
Merchant recruitment: Complete.
"Lastly... hmm. I wonder if there are any traveling troupes around."
"Should I go catch one?"
"Are you an administrator or a bandit? I get confused sometimes, really."
"Hehe."
"And anyway, even if you look with eyes of fire, you won't find a troupe that doesn't exist."
"That's true, too. Even if they were a traveling troupe, they wouldn't come all the way to the North."
Who would listen to music and throw coins in a town that didn't even have a proper inn?
"Still, it's a shame to have a local event without a guest singer."
No matter how local the event, you need a few trot singers to draw a crowd. It was an even more necessary event in an otherworld lacking things to do and things to see.
"Should I try singing, then?"
"Are you good at singing?"
"No?"
"......"
Anyway, this adjutant of his was always all enthusiasm and no skill.
"...But maybe it'll be okay?"
"Yes? Should I prepare a song?"
"Just do the work you're assigned. Why isn't the expected profit table for the fur trade I mentioned yesterday on my desk yet?"
"Th-that's for tomorrow..."
"Tsk."
Jamie returned to his seat with his shoulders slumped. Though his broad shoulders didn't shrink even an inch.
***
"To what do I owe the honor of a soldier's visit... Please, sit here."
"No, thank you. I have to head to the next village right away."
The village closest to the Lord's Castle. The village head welcomed the soldier who had brought the orders of the newly appointed administrator.
"Still, you should drink this down. You have a long way to go, so you need to keep your body warm."
He served warm fermented sheep's milk liquor and dried rabbit jerky. Even if it looked like nothing, it was a sincere act of hospitality.
"No, why go through all this trouble..."
The soldier cleared his throat and downed the warm liquor in one go.
"Ah!"
His throat burned.
"Thanks to the Lord taking care of the merchants, we've secured so much food this year! Every mealtime, smoke is rising from every house, and I just... I don't know how to express my gratitude...!"
The village head grabbed the soldier’s hand, his eyes welling up. Every year at this time, the sound of weeping was constant. Days when food ran out, children screamed, and the elderly stared into the void with dry eyes. But this year was different.
"This sable pelt was caught in a trap, so it has too many flaws. I'll pay one-fifth of the original price..."
"Do you want your trading permit revoked?"
"......"
Because the soldier from the Lord's Castle had brandished some paper and bullied them, the merchants, who were usually full of bravado, had tucked their necks in like turtles and paid prices more than five times higher than usual. It was said that the village's best hunter had received more than ten times the settlement he got last year.
"Those damn bastards...! They’ve been ripping us off like that until now?"
Some were furious, but—
"Oh, thank you, Lord! Thank you!"
Some women, their faces covered in tears, had prostrated themselves on the dirt floor, offering prayers toward the Lord's Castle again and again.
In fact, he wasn't the Lord, but an acting lord, but that was a matter of little concern to the common folk. Since he had made it possible for them to put soft, fluffy wheat bread on their tables this very evening, what did it matter if he was an acting lord or the acting lord’s grandfather?
"If every day could be like these days, I would have nothing more to wish for."
The village head's wrinkled eyes curved into a pleasant, worry-free shape.
"But what brings you here this time...?"
"Ah. I almost forgot my business because of your hospitality. Haha!"
Chewing on the rabbit jerky, the soldier pulled a document from his pocket.
"Ten days from now, a Northern flea market will be held in the vacant lot in front of the Lord's Castle."
"A flea market?"
"The Administrator said that the problem in the North isn't a lack of supplies, but that they aren't where they need to be, in the amount they need."
"Ohhh-."
"Even a single wooden stick or a lump of stone is fine; if you have something you have in abundance, bring it out and sell it to someone who needs it, or exchange it for something you need, so please look into it."
"We shall do so, sir!"
The village head thought: Since this is something the Lord, who fed us until we were full just a month after arriving in this tear-stained land, wants to do, participating will surely bring good things.