How, How Did You Know?
I never forget anything that makes money. Before transferring to this isekai world, the total amount of silver on Earth that I remembered was 190 trillion tons. Proven reserves were 560,000 tons. And the annual mining output was 27,000 tons.
'Roughly twenty years until total depletion.'
Compared to gold, which had a total of just 25 trillion tons and reserves of 57,000 tons, silver's total was 7.6 times greater and its reserves ten times more abundant. That made it treated like jerky next to a prime steak when stacked against gold.
'Same treatment here. Silver coins are bigger than gold ones, but worth less.'
On Earth, the average gold-silver ratio meant one gold could buy about seventy silvers, underscoring silver's lower value. And now, a year into this isekai life, I couldn't pin down the exact ratio here, but from what I'd gathered, silver was still markedly cheaper than gold.
"Director, we'll arrive at the silver mine shortly."
"...Got it. Everyone, buckle up and take your seats."
"Yay!"
"Understood."
I'd been lost in thought, eyes half-closed, but Walter's words snapped me back. Res and Kellogg, who'd been scampering around the sky carriage like puppies, hurried to their seats and fastened their seatbelts.
'...Stop overthinking. Even if silver's value is low, it's still better than copper.'
Today was October 12th, Thursday, by the Ailene calendar—the day after Baroness Dudaine's daughter, Jelina, got her cleft palate fixed and returned to her territory. Come morning, I'd set out with Walter, Kellogg, and Res to inspect the silver mine that was now fully mine.
Kuoooong—!
Kuung—!
'Ugh, this landing... I really need to switch to a different beast.'
The ground shook as the sky turtles touched down. Grimacing, I flung open the carriage door and stepped out.
"Whoaaa... Maiiineeer! It's suuuper big!"
"Hrm, a human-run silver mine is a first for me."
There before us loomed a jagged, towering rock mountain—the silver mine where my fortune slept.
"Hey! Move it, faster! Lunch break's coming up soon!"
"Coming, old timer. Let's go."
"You young bucks barely out of diapers, moving like molasses? Hustle when you're working!"
My eyes were drawn first to the dark cave mouth at the mountain's base, swarming with dozens of miners hauling carts like ants. That's when an old man, barking orders in a crotchety voice, hobbled over, bowing low despite his stiff posture.
"I'm Digger, foreman of Dudaine First Silver Mine. I heard ownership transferred to Count Gold yesterday... Are you...?"
I nodded lightly at the old man's courteous bow.
"Miner Gold. From now on, call it Gold Silver Mine and spread the word."
"Ah, yes. Sorry about that. Decades of calling it First Mine's got it stuck in my mouth... But please, milord Count, no need for such casual talk with the likes of us."
The old coot, who seemed plenty gruff with the miners, was rubbing his hands like a fly to butter me up. Suspicious, sure, but grasping the situation came first.
"It's easier for me this way—don't mind it. Anyway, Digger, are you the manager here?"
"Yes, sir. With my longest tenure in... well, Gold Silver Mine now, they put me in charge."
Digger bowed again and continued.
"Heard yesterday we're now part of Gold Territory. Figured someone from the count's lands would visit soon... but didn't expect you personally, and so quick."
I nodded casually.
"It's mine now, so knowing the ropes is my job. First off, mind showing me the workforce size and how things run?"
"Of course, milord! Baron Dudaine drilled it into us to serve you proper."
"......Just lead the way."
Dudaine's name made my teeth grind again. Dodging taxes with his one-family-two-mines scheme by dumping this on me, yet playing the nice guy on his way out. No teeth-grinding for my dental health, though—I recited the Heart Sutra inwardly and focused on Foreman Digger guiding me into the tunnel.
"Eighty-nine miners total. Unlike Second Mine, ours are older folks, mostly ex-adventurers seeking steady work. They outhustle Second Mine's crew."
True to his word, the miners hauling carts in and out of the tunnel looked mostly thirties, forties, and up—few in their twenties.
"You saw me chewing them out when your carriage arrived, but truth is, they grind without that. Many've worked here five to thirty years; they're tight-knit."
"...Digger, how old are you?"
"Just over fifty. Still spry! Eh heh heh heh!"
"......"
He looked seventy-plus at face value, but apparently traded low. No surprise—isekai folk like Jeff and Ollie never maintained their looks, and manual laborers aged rougher.
"Tunnel can be risky inside, milord. Best not go deeper. Rockfalls happen now and then, rare as they are."
We'd barely stepped in when Digger blocked my path with a warning. Even without it, I had no urge to venture further. Wide enough for two carts abreast—not as narrow as I'd feared—but the ceiling nets wouldn't stop much.
"Fair enough. Heard from Baron Dudaine you refine silver right here. Can I see?"
"Naturally! Right this way."
Near the mine stood massive log cabins; Digger led me to the largest. Two burly guards stood sentinel out front, grinning through bushy beards at him.
"Hey, old timer?"
"You idiots! Greet the count first!"
"Ah... Sorry, milord Count. I'm Ronald, smelter gatekeeper."
"Kenis, milord."
The spear-wielding guards bowed sheepishly. Digger flashed an awkward smile, owning their manners like his own shame.
"Forgive them, milord. Uneducated lot, poor etiquette."
"No issue. Guards like you make it secure."
I eyed them, then whispered to Digger.
"Heard raiders, beasts, or monsters hit mines sometimes. Not here?"
"Eh heh heh! No worries there."
He chuckled heartily, stepping inside.
"These louts look mild, but young days, they were famed adventurers. Thieves who tried stealing silver? They skewered 'em, stuck heads on pikes out front. No intruders since."
"Is that so?"
"Yep. Second Mine gets beasts or monsters occasionally, but our spot's too rugged. Now, no more fretting—check inside."
Clang! Ka-kang! Ka-kang! Clang!
Whoosh— Fwoosh!
Following him in, the din hit like a forge: hammers on metal, presses, molten silver pouring into crucibles amid sweltering heat.
"Refined silver's cast into ingots here. Once enough accumulate, straight to the imperial mint in the capital."
Pleased by my surprise, Digger thrust out his scrawny gut proudly.
"See these graphite molds? Pour melted silver from the crucible here. Only pros do it—wastes good silver otherwise."
"Got it. How do you refine the ore?"
"This way. I'll show you."
Grinning through wrinkles, he led to a huge crucible.
"Smelter ingots don't need pure silver—the mint refines again anyway."
His sunken eyes gleamed slyly.
"Heh heh, but our Gold Silver Mine? A refining trick I stumbled on years back cuts steps big-time. Higher purity too, so we fetch more from the mint than Second Mine."
Nostalgia softened his gaze. Before he drowned in memories, I pressed.
"Second Mine doesn't know this method?"
"Embarrassing... but no, I never shared."
"Never shared? Both were Baron Dudaine's."
He scratched his neck awkwardly at my surprise.
"Well... he was owner of both, but bonuses went to higher output. So..."
Shrewd old fox, but made sense—like Hyundai and Kia competing under one umbrella. More shocking: my mine outprofited and outsecured Dudaine's Second.
Taxes'll bleed me dry... but no raids, solid output—no real losses.'
Dudaine picking First over Second for me suggested no backstab intent.
'Sorry for cursing you. Live long.'
A quick mental apology to the baron, then back to Digger.
"All refined silver goes to ingots for the mint? No silverware or crafts?"
"Aye, crafting needs artisan smiths... and neither mine turns much profit, so Baron Dudaine—"
"Wait!"
"Yes?"
I cut him off, eyeing ominous steam from a massive pot by the crucible. Like housewives getting lung cancer sans smokes, most fumes here harmed health.
"That... that's your 'new method'? Boiling in that pot?"
The high, ventless ceiling made the steaming process reek of wrongness. Piles of crushed ore and white salt-like powder nearby clinched it.
"Eh heh heh! Yes! Sharp eye, milord! But the secret recipe's a tad... heh, my special touch."
"Crushed ore mixed with brine?"
His eyes bulged.
"How—how did you?!"
"Plus mercury?"
"N-no! How did you kn—"
"Everyone, cover your mouths! Out, now!"
Digger's "new method"? Mercury amalgamation—the killer of Native Americans.