Chaos Orientation (1)
“Twenty thousand gold coins?”
“That’s right. Twenty thousand gold coins. Ten percent for me, ten percent for you—combined.”
The auction had squeezed every last coin from the nobles’ pockets, yielding ten thousand imperial gold coins. Even so, I knew I couldn’t repeat that stunt for years, which was why I’d been looking for a steady source of income. And now the Iron Alliance’s dividend had arrived: ten thousand coins for my ten-percent stake, and another ten thousand for Zieg’s matching share.
Wait, was this normal? Dividends this large? Just how massive was the Iron Alliance anyway? If they still held thirty percent, they must have received thirty thousand coins themselves. Of course, most of that would be reinvested rather than pocketed, but the bonus was still substantial.
“Wh-what should I even do with this?”
Twenty thousand gold coins. With half of it—ten thousand—completely at his disposal, it was no wonder Zieg looked half-stunned. Even I felt a little overwhelmed; this windfall had come out of nowhere.
“We should spend it carefully.”
“Not on the slums?”
“No, not the slums. If we help too often or too much, people stop feeling grateful. They start treating it as a right, and eventually our aid looks worthless.”
Favors become entitlements when repeated. It was a line from some old movie, but it had spread because it rang true. People were like that. Whether black-haired beasts or golden, red, brown, or even blue-haired humans, trusting them blindly carried risks—the risk of a knife in the back.
“I can’t say you’re wrong……”
Zieg wasn’t naïve. He had seen enough of the world to understand, even if he found my bluntness uncomfortable. He still wanted to believe in people. I got it—he was the Hero, after all.
“Helping the slums and the poor has already proven its worth. Other capitals can handle that much without me.”
But I wasn’t here to play saint. I had been dragged into this world against my will and just wanted to go home. Efficiency mattered more than charity, and the slums had already given us plenty of return on investment. The local churches could take over from here.
“You think they’ll manage? It costs a fortune.”
“I’ve already spoken to His Holiness. I can’t keep touring every capital collecting gold coins forever.”
“True enough.”
Until now, collecting the scattered gold coins had been my job alone, since most high-ranking clergy were stingy with miracles. But things had changed. I’d shown everyone how much money could be made and what results it could bring. Anyone with half a brain would start copying the method.
“So now I’m going to buy up a lot of land—especially public land with unclear ownership.”
“Public land……”
“You know, those ambiguous plots where people forage for mushrooms or graze livestock because no one’s quite sure who owns them.”
This world still had plenty of such land—too poor for proper farming yet loosely claimed and casually used. My plan was to secure those plots, raise sheep or cattle, or clear them for crops, building a solid base of real assets. No matter how large your financial holdings, you needed tangible goods to weather a crisis.
“What happens to the people already living off that land?”
“We help them find other ways to live.”
“How?”
“Offer them clearing work or other jobs. I’ll borrow the guilds’ and capitalists’ strength for that.”
Even at its current insane price, gold coin remained a valuable commodity to those who already had capital. In fact, its very scarcity made it an excellent bargaining chip. I could use it to secure cooperation from guilds and merchants whenever I needed leverage.
“Still, a lot of people are going to struggle.”
“They will. But change has to happen. If nothing else works, we’ll have to burn the boats.”
This world was a single massive continent. No other lands had been found despite expeditions. A southern trade route绕过 the central desert and Demon King’s army existed, dealing in spices and luxuries.
“But sailing is……”
“Dangerous, yes. Still better than starving.”
Someone had to take the risk. At least those who did would have the Church’s guarantee they wouldn’t be cheated or sold into slavery in the south. That sort of scum existed—sailors were expendable, and some captains used the chaos to traffic new recruits south for profit. Church-backed identity guarantees and the threat of excommunication would curb the worst of it.
“That won’t be enough……”
Zieg didn’t fully grasp the details, but I pressed on anyway.
“It will be. Besides, people are already getting deeply involved down there.”
“How?”
“Joint-stock companies are selling shares. They set a price for a company’s or trading house’s equity and raise funds that way.”
Southern trade offered high returns—legend had it that even if only one ship in ten came back, you broke even. Naturally, royals and nobles allowed it; the trading companies were buying up national bonds with the shares, and generous private incentives helped too.
Merchants would do anything for profit. Now that they’d proven stock issuance itself could make money, a frenzy was inevitable. Ironically, they had taken inspiration from my gold coins. Just as the Church monopolized miracles to mint currency, these companies would monopolize southern trade routes and goods to issue stocks and bonds.
“You’re sure this is fine?”
“It is. I’m planning to invest some of this windfall myself.”
Such ventures easily became bubbles. With limited information flow, only the trading companies knew the real situation down south. Feed the public plausible rumors and greed would drive prices skyward—classic bubble behavior. My goal was to be Handel, not Newton: get out before it burst.
“Then maybe I should put in a little too?”
“Don’t. A Hero gambling with money? Leave it to me. I’ll grow it for you. Unless you think you can manage it better than I can?”
“No, I’ll stick to traveling.”
This was all secondary anyway. I needed to secure my presence as Saintess further south. I wouldn’t aggressively collect gold coins down there; too much wealth already flowed to me, and more would only make the royal families, nobles, and even other clergy start viewing me as a real threat.
“So you won’t be returning straight to the Academy.”
“Correct. I need to properly establish Yulia’s background as well. Which means this is where we part ways with Sir Freewind for now.”
With our route set southward, the captain of Brien Kingdom’s Royal Knights had no choice but to return home. Even for political support, keeping him here any longer would look like Brien Kingdom was trying to expand its influence.
“To be honest, I don’t fully understand what you’re doing, Saintess. I’ve lived on battlefields, and I remain a man who swings a sword rather than studies books.”
Sir Freewind hesitated, then spoke as though this might be his only chance.
“But I do know one thing for certain: everything you do is ultimately for the sake of the people. Thanks to you, many have found salvation and brighter futures.”
No, it wasn’t for the people. Even if I revealed my true identity later, I wanted the credit framed as divine blessing—so that when the time came, they would willingly send me home.
“I will remember that heart of yours and strive to live a life worthy of a knight.”
“I’ll pray your path is filled with such deeds, and I’ll bless it as well.”
“Thank you, Saintess.”
Well, he was a royal knight captain. A little flattery was the least I could offer. With the Hero here and me as Saintess, we wouldn’t need his protection much longer anyway.
I was still congratulating myself on how neatly everything was going when reality reminded me how naïve that thought had been.