Chapter 8
Chapter 8
Steel Can Be Copied (4)
Inside the blacksmith guild of Florence, curses and harsh words flew nonstop.
“Does this even make sense? What kind of lunatic sells steel at that price?!”
The guild master slammed the table repeatedly.
His hands must have hurt, yet he showed no sign of it—his fury was obvious.
“Fine, let’s say cheap iron can be made by tossing ore into a furnace and spinning a waterwheel! But steel? You have to hammer it until your shoulders fall off! And it’s still this price?!”
The guild master felt like he would explode from anger.
Until now, they had monopolized steel, controlling weapons, armor, and even everyday tools—yet even that barely sustained them.
Now that monopoly was broken, life would only become harder.
Worse, their competitors were willing to bleed themselves dry just to push them out.
“At this rate, we’re all finished! All of us!”
The old practices of carefully maintaining favor with the powerful were over.
“Deputy, can’t we submit a petition to the Sforza duke—or even the imperial court? Say that the guild’s rights, built over centuries, are being violated?”
In this world, nobles and merchants are one and the same.
If merchants suffer, it affects the pockets of the powerful.
And since wealth equals power, nobles usually protect merchants like their own limbs.
But—
“Master, they’re dealing in steel. Steel makes up most of the cost of weapons. Which noble would block falling prices? Even if you propose it to the council, it will be rejected.”
For high nobles, armor and horses are not major burdens.
But each baron commands dozens of knights.
Those knights struggle to afford even a single suit of armor.
No lord would oppose cheaper steel against their own vassals’ interests.
“Damn that Visconti duke! If it were anything else, we could resist this violation of guild rights.”
The guild master clutched his head, groaning.
“What’s the damage?”
“About 1,758 gold coins so far. And it will keep increasing.”
“So ten percent of our revenue is gone… Dear God.”
Even if it’s only ten percent, the impact will grow.
Steel is flooding the market at 30% below normal price.
Nobles will secretly switch suppliers.
‘If only they had sold at the same price…’
“And starting this month, fifteen noble families—including Count Beaubang—have cut off steel and weapon orders. They’re demanding refunds of their deposits.”
Guild transactions require 20–30% upfront.
That money is already spent on materials.
Now they want refunds?
“Tell them to go to hell! That’s why we made contracts with officials stating deposits are non-refundable!”
They could block refunds.
But if money stops coming in, wages and debts become impossible to manage.
If this continues, bankruptcy is inevitable.
“Is there really no solution?”
“None.”
“…How do we deal with this…”
Then, a sudden idea struck the guild master.
“Even if the Visconti duke is backing them, trading monopolized goods without imperial permission is illegal, isn’t it?”
It was illegal.
But in this world, social hierarchy matters more than law.
“Even if it’s illegal, nobles are allowing it. What can we do?”
“Think differently. If those breaking imperial law get robbed, who can they complain to?”
Steel trading under the duke was technically illegal.
So if those traders are robbed, they cannot report it.
“And unless they want to publicly admit breaking the law, they can’t act.”
If it were just the duke versus the guild, the duke could do anything and win in court.
That is the empire’s justice.
But if this becomes public, the Sforza duke would not stay silent.
“If this comes to light, we might lose our heads, but the Sforza duke will destroy the Visconti duke.”
The idea clicked for everyone.
“So even if steel shipments are robbed, the duke can’t retaliate openly.”
“Send Tony. Offer him funds to start a workshop.”
Setting up a workshop costs fifty gold coins.
Enough to risk one’s life for.
“And contact the bandits.”
**
Meanwhile, our steelworks continued to thrive.
We now produced 20 tons daily, soon reaching 40.
Steel sold instantly at a 600% profit.
Most of that profit went to me, yet the duke said nothing.
He must be gaining immense political influence by supplying steel to nobles.
Fine by me.
If the duke rises, so do I.
“If only things could stay like this.”
If I return home, Father will likely push me to marry and buy a knight title.
But returning now would be dangerous.
The guild would surely send assassins.
As I inspected the site leisurely—
“I should’ve stayed a serf! What is this?!”
“We earn so much, but have no time to spend it!”
A craftsman raised his hammer.
The complaining apprentices fell silent.
“In my time, we got no pay while learning! You became free citizens and still complain?”
Here, apprentices earn one silver coin per month.
Unheard of.
“You still have energy to complain?”
“Forgive us! We won’t complain again!”
“Back in my day, things were worse. Now you’re all dead today.”
They were dragged away.
They would spend the day stirring molten metal.
“Even former serfs adapt quickly here.”
Elsewhere, they would be bullied severely.
Here, there’s no time for that.
After suffering together, they bond.
“Once they get used to it, we can reach 40 tons daily.”
Lower profit per unit, but higher total profit.
“Maybe I should head back early today.”
As I prepared to leave, a servant from the duke’s household approached.
He looked like a knight—high status.
What could this be?
“Something terrible has happened! A merchant caravan carrying steel was attacked by bandits!”
…This is bad.
“His Grace the Duke urgently requests your presence.”
Why me? The duke should already have solutions.