Bohemian Cement
The trade with Venice was an absolute, resounding success.
Foscari had signed the contract as if he were under a spell. He burned with the determination to seize this opportunity even if it meant emptying the Republic’s treasury, and as a result, an unprecedented wave of gold surged into the Bohemian royal vault.
I could still see Abraham’s face, his mouth stretched wide as he counted the sacks of gold coins.
The Jewish treasurer had been in a frenzy, watching the piles of pure Venetian gold ducats stack up in the warehouse, exclaiming that the state could function for years without collecting a single tax.
It was understandable; the treasury, which had been scraped bare by the war, was now overflowing to the point of spilling over.
But the calculator in my head was reaching a different conclusion than Abraham’s.
Money is nothing but fertilizer that rots if left to pile up.
Only when spread across the fields does it allow the crops to grow.
To send the artillery corps I had promised to Venice, I had to cast cannons, manufacture gunpowder, and train the artillerymen.
Construction of refining furnaces for mass steel production.
Opening trade routes for a stable supply of saltpeter and sulfur, the raw materials for gunpowder.
And the training of elite officers, not to mention the soldiers' wages.
Beyond that, there were other money-eating hippos in my blueprint, jaws wide open and waiting.
In the end, the massive funds that had flowed in were destined to flow right back out.
Abraham would be horrified, but it couldn't be helped. This was a necessary investment.
Once this process was complete, Bohemia would be reborn as an empire of steel that no other nation in Europe could dare to challenge.
Regardless, having a full magazine is a pleasant thing.
It meant the options in my hands had increased.
The Pope had been reduced to a toothless dog that could only bark from Rome, and the Emperor had lost his strength due to problems in Hungary and within the Empire, leaving him with no capacity to touch us.
Foreign trade had become as active as a ship with its sails caught in a favorable wind, and at home, soap was selling like wildfire, capturing both public sentiment and hygiene at once.
It was a golden age, an era of peace with no troubles inside or out.
“Your Majesty! We simply cannot live like this anymore!”
“…….”
The Grand Audience Chamber of the Prague Royal Palace.
The July breeze blowing through the windows was thick with the fresh, sweet scent of apples.
It was the scent of the latest trend sweeping through Prague.
Streets that had once reeked of rotting fish, filth, and stale sweat had transformed into the heart of an orchard in just a few months.
A subtle soap fragrance lingered on the hems of passersby and in the hair of children running through the streets.
But it wasn't just the praises of the people that flew in on that fragrant wind.
“What is the matter?”
“We know soap is good! The priest’s words that washing prevents disease are a hundred times correct! But…… but the state of Prague right now is a disaster!”
A merchant representative dressed in silk robes fell prostrate on the marble floor with a tearful face.
The hem of his expensive velvet tunic was already a mess of mud and filth.
“The streets are all swamps! The soapy water and filth people use are mixed together, so every time a carriage passes, filth splashes everywhere, and mold is blooming in every corner of our houses. This is no way to live!”
The other merchants beside him added their clamor as if they had been waiting.
“A river has formed right in front of our butcher shop. It’s an everyday occurrence for customers to slip and get hurt while coming to buy meat!”
“We’re going to die from filth poisoning while trying to avoid the plague. Your Majesty, please, show us mercy!”
I sat on the throne, silently listening to their outcry.
I wasn't flustered.
Rather, there was only a calm realization that what I expected had finally arrived.
'Well, it was bound to happen.'
Prague is a medieval city that is only polished on the surface.
The sewage system was nothing more than a ditch dug roughly in the middle of the road, and the streets were just unpaved paths made of packed dirt.
When people washed once a week, the ground could handle the water through natural evaporation and soil absorption.
But the situation had changed.
Now that every citizen of Prague was using water freely, several times a day, the city’s ground had reached its limit.
“Did I not already issue an edict?”
I tapped the armrest and pointed out calmly.
“Bathing and laundry are to be done only at the designated riverside. Each of you is to dredge the drains in front of your own homes and not dispose of filth carelessly. If you had followed the edict, it would not have come to this.”
At my point, the merchants were struck dumb.
Because it was ultimately their own fault for dumping water in their yards and neglecting to dredge the sewers out of laziness.
But they argued back as if they were aggrieved.
“Your Majesty’s words are correct, but it is realistically too difficult! People who find it bothersome to go to the river dump all their water in their yards. How are we supposed to catch them dumping it secretly at night? Even if we station guards, it’s useless!”
“Besides, the soap bubbles don't disappear. They float on top of the mud pits and are as slippery as ice; just yesterday, three people fell and broke their legs!”
One merchant carefully offered an opinion while watching my expression.
“Your Majesty, forgive me, but shouldn't we…… limit the use of soap? Perhaps by dividing areas by the day of the week, or by reducing the amount of soap sold…….”
“Impossible.”
Soap sales revenue was already a core pillar supporting the national treasury. If I gave that up now, Abraham would shed tears of blood.
Moreover, I couldn't force people who had tasted the flavor of cleanliness to live in filth again. Artificially lowering a standard of living once it has been raised is a shortcut to inciting a riot.
Above all, with the real threat of an epidemic looming, retreating on hygiene standards now would be nothing short of madness.
“I understand your grievances. And I know that controlling people through edicts has its limits.”
I slowly rose from the throne.
Tension filled the merchants' eyes.
“If we cannot change the people, we must change the city.”
“Change the city, you mean……?”
“I will completely overhaul the water and sewage systems of Prague.”
The merchants looked bewildered.
“I will build underground sewers centered around the Old Town Square. We will dig up the middle of the roads, bury pipes, cover them with solid paved roads, and ensure that filth and rainwater flow only underground, while the surface is made comfortable for carriages and people to travel.”
The merchants' mouths hung open.
Underground sewers.
It was a declaration that I would build infrastructure that was only possible in the days of the Roman Empire, or perhaps even better.
“Y-Your Majesty…… it’s a dreamlike story, but how will you cover the cost? Such a massive project would require astronomical funds, and royal assets alone wouldn't be enough.”
“Then we must collect taxes.”
I answered nonchalantly.
“The royal family will bear half, and the other half will be collected as a special tax per household and per shop under the name of a cleanliness tax.”
The merchants' faces turned pale in an instant.
“A tax?!”
“Your Majesty, please, show us mercy! We are already struggling to make a living, and now another tax!”
“We’ve already spent a fortune buying soap, and if you add a tax on top of that, we’ll all starve to death!”
The merchants' opposition was fierce.
It was expected. There is no one who welcomes money leaving their own pockets.
But I had already finished the calculations.
“Don't whine. Didn't the price of bread drop by half thanks to the flour I released? You should have enough spare funds for that.”
“Th-that is……!”
“Think of it as paying with the money you saved on food. It’s the cost of clearing the filth in front of your shops anyway. Once comfortable roads are laid, customers will increase, so it will be a gain for everyone in the end.”
The merchants pouted, but it was an undeniable fact that the drop in bread prices had given them more breathing room.
Then, one merchant raised a more fundamental problem.
“Since Your Majesty says so, we will somehow manage to pay the tax. But what about the construction? To bury pipes underground, you’ll have to dig up all the roads, and if that happens, there won't even be a path for customers to walk on.”
Another merchant beside him chimed in as if he had been waiting.
“That’s right. It takes years just to repair one section of the city wall, and you’re going to lift the floor of the entire city! It’s a massive project that will take at least 10 years! If you dig up the front of our shops during that time, customers will all run away, and that’s the same as telling us to starve to death!”
It was a seemingly reasonable opinion.
That was how medieval civil engineering usually went. An era where it took 10 years to build a wall and 100 years to build a cathedral.
They would naturally assume that a project to lift the floor of the entire city would take years.
But not for me.
“Who said it would take 10 years?”
“Yes……?”
“Two months.”
The merchants looked at each other with blank expressions, as if they didn't understand my words.
“I will finish it in two months. From laying the sewers to paving the roads, I will complete it all within 60 days.”
“Two, two months, did you say……?!”
The merchants' eyes widened.
In fact, ten years was a short estimate for them. Medieval civil engineering was generally something that, once the ground was broken, would only be finished by one's children or grandchildren.
And yet, only two months.
“Is that really possible?”
“Of course.”
I leaned back on the throne and looked down at them.
“I promise. If I cannot finish the construction within two months, I will not collect a single penny of the cleanliness tax. The entire cost of the construction will be covered by the royal privy purse.”
“……!”
The merchants put their heads together and whispered.
“Two months isn't bad to endure, is it?”
“Even if he fails, our money won't be spent.”
“Above all, His Majesty has never spoken a lie until now.”
Two months.
That was a time they could endure by closing their eyes tight.
If the King broke his promise? They could just refuse to pay the tax.
Conversely, if the King performed a miracle and kept his promise? It would be a profitable deal, as they would get comfortable roads even if they had to pay the tax.
A deal with nothing to lose.
The merchants looked at each other, and then, as if they had made up their minds, they all bowed their heads at once.
“We will trust Your Majesty’s promise. If you keep the two months you mentioned, we, the merchants of Prague, will fully cooperate with the construction.”
“A wise choice.”
After the merchants left with their greetings.
Once the doors of the audience chamber closed, only then did I rotate my stiff neck and massage my tense shoulders.
“My Lord.”
Just then, Janos, who had been guarding my side the whole time, approached quietly and asked.
“Please tell me honestly. You knew all along, didn't you? That if you released the soap, the city would end up like this.”
“Well, it would be a lie to say I didn't expect it.”
What happens when water usage surges in a medieval city with no drainage facilities?
That was common sense that one didn't need to study civil engineering to know.
Janos clicked his tongue.
“I thought so. Then why didn't you start the construction earlier, and instead waited until people were covered in filth and clamoring for help?”
“Humans are treacherous animals.”
I shrugged my shoulders.
“If I had said I would dig up perfectly fine ground and collect taxes when everyone was doing well, they would have certainly opposed it to the death. But look at them now. With the fire at their own feet, they are begging me to do the construction, even offering to pay money for it, aren't they?”
Janos shook his head from side to side.
“My Lord is truly…… I don't know if you are skilled in schemes, or if you are just black-hearted…….”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Well, politics aside, the deadline is the problem. Two months? Is it possible?”
“Why, does it look impossible?”
“It’s not just impossible; it’s wishing for a miracle. Carving stone to make a road is no joke. Just quarrying the stone, transporting it, and chiseling it to fit the shape would take at least a year.”
Janos counted on his fingers as he went over it point by point.
“Even if you called in all the stonemasons in the Sternberg territory, it wouldn't be enough. No matter how much of a genius you are, you can't control time, can you?”
Janos’s point was accurate.
With existing medieval construction methods, that is, masonry, it would be impossible to meet the deadline even if I died and came back to life.
It would take too much time and manpower to carve every single stone and fit them together like a puzzle to create a massive waterway running through the underground of Prague.
But I had no intention of carving stones one by one.
“Who said I would carve stones to use them?”
“Yes?”
Janos had a blank expression.
“Then are you going to carve wood? That’s weak to moisture and will rot in no time.”
“No.”
I curled up the corners of my mouth.
“I’m going to pour stone.”
“……Pour? Like water?”
“Yes. It flows like water, but over time, it becomes as hard as steel.”
Stone is hard. It is heavy. It does not change.
That was the limit of the common sense held by medieval people.
But in my head, the formula for the gray powder that mocked that common sense was clearly drawn.
Limestone from the Silesia region.
Clay, which is scattered everywhere by the river.
And the slag from steel mills that pours out like a nuisance every time steel is made.
The adhesive of civilization that is born when those are baked in high-temperature flames, ground finely, and mixed with water.
The gray magic that allowed the Roman Pantheon to stand for 2,000 years and made modern skyscrapers possible.
“I intend to cover Prague with that.”