Abolishing Status (1)
Officially retired Emperor Constantine VIII. The man who had once led the Eastern Roman Empire to its zenith alongside Basil II now stepped back into the past, welcoming the new era.
"I pray for the prosperity of Your Imperial Majesties."
Constantine VIII—no, now simply Constantine, an ordinary man—offered his congratulations. At his words, Zoi shed tears and clasped her aged father's hand.
"Thank you, Father."
"We thank you, sire."
Constantine shook his head. Gazing warmly at his daughter Zoi and his son-in-law—me—he spoke tenderly.
"You two are the emperors now, not I. This old man will retire and greet the new age."
With those words, Constantine boarded his carriage. As he did, Theodora approached from the side and addressed him.
"I'll visit often, Father."
"I'll await you with your sister, my daughter."
The carriage rolled away. Watching it disappear over the hill, Zoi nodded.
"I'll live up to Father's expectations."
"You must."
Zoi nodded at my words. Then Theodora approached us.
"So the first step is abolishing status distinctions?"
We had already revealed our plans to her. The reason we'd confided in Theodora was her role as Praetorian Prefect—a position akin to an inspector general with investigative powers. It wielded immense authority but drew heavy scrutiny in turn.
Even when Basil II had appointed me to the same post, the nobles had risen in unison to block it. That incident had influenced Basil II's death. To avoid backlash, such appointments demanded careful deliberation.
Yet we couldn't leave it unattended forever. With feudalism taking root on the Anatolian Peninsula, we needed a leash for those lords—and we had to prepare it in advance.
We required someone of universally acknowledged status, with proven excellence. Fortunately, such a figure stood right beside me: Theodora.
A princess of Zoi's lineage, she had built her credentials as a key official during the Lazica administration, her abilities thoroughly vetted. She was the perfect fit for Praetorian Prefect. And knowing full well the position's power and perils, she had gladly accepted our proposal.
"Exactly, Theodora. It'll be our biggest hurdle."
Theodora nodded at Zoi's words, then turned to me with a question.
"Do you have a sharp plan for it, sire?"
I nodded.
"Just like in Lazica, we'll flood the markets with coin."
To abolish status, the best way was to erase distinctions between classes. And the surest path to that was economics. Once capable, wealthy commoners emerged regardless of birth, the class system would crack inevitably.
"That'll create plenty of rich commoners."
"As Zoi says. It's also the perfect time for economic stimulus."
Economic stimulus. As a modern man, I knew it wasn't just about throwing money around. Flood the economy, and inflation followed. Skimp on it, and recovery lagged. Balance was key.
But one solution cut through the dilemma: postwar reconstruction. Massive projects rebuilding ruined infrastructure always drew crowds. Workers earned wages for their labor, then spent them—sparking consumption. That revived logistics, which breathed life into trade networks. Merchants flocked back, and industries serving them flourished.
We'd stabilized Lazica's economy this way. With that experience, we could apply it to Constantinople's restoration.
Of course, in the modern era, complex structures would complicate it. But this was the Middle Ages—it would work.
"Public reconstruction projects will boost spending as wages flow."
Theodora followed Zoi's point with a question.
"Won't that devalue the currency and drive up prices?"
Zoi smiled faintly and glanced at me instead of answering.
"That's why we've preempted it with currency reform."
Lazica's reforms had scrapped a precious-metal coin economy, replacing it with silk-backed currency tied to gold's value. We'd pulled it off despite the upheaval, thanks to the small scale.
Now we planned to replicate it here. Constantinople's economy dwarfed Lazica's, but two advantages aligned for us: the massive sack had halted all activity, and the capitalists driving it—the nobles—had been purged en masse.
Those strokes of fortune let us mirror Lazica's reforms.
"Could you elaborate a bit more?"
At Theodora's request, I outlined the specifics.
"First, collect gold and silver coins and issue new banknotes to absorb the old currency."
To entrench the new money fast, dismantle the old system's dominance. Conventionally, allow mixed use initially to ease confusion. But we had no need for that here.
Most precious metals were already confiscated from nobles. Circulating coin in civilian hands was minimal. No long transition required—we could swap outright.
"Then exchange them for silk from Reggio Calabria to back our reserves."
The new notes were pegged to silk's value. To control inflation, hoard as much silk as possible.
"Finally, once it's settled, release minimal silk via state monopoly sales."
Dump too much silk, and the notes lost credibility. Rarity preserved value. Ideally, sell dear to foreign royals—but diplomacy tied our hands for now. This was the best option available.
"This adapts our Lazica reforms to Constantinople, improving lives across the board."
Across history, prosperity shifted lifestyles first. Freed from bare survival, people chased higher needs—demanding more money, spurring investment in education, business, or savings.
No matter the form, it served us. Their growth would check the lords best.
Theodora listened intently, then uncrossed her arms with an incredulous look.
"You made it sound so scheming, but it's just a straightforward plan."
"What do you mean?"
"Feed the people well, educate them, let them dream of the future."
Irrefutable, if oversimplified. A strong state's foundation bloomed from aspiring citizens' hands.
"You're right."
As I conceded, Theodora smirked.
"Good."
"Hm?"
"I truly approve of the plan."
She straightened, then knelt formally before Zoi and me.
"What must I do to realize this grand vision?"
As she awaited orders, Zoi stepped forward, helped her rise, and began detailing the prepared blueprint.
* * *
A charred wasteland. What had once housed Constantinople's masses lay in ruins. Crowds gathered there, drawn by Emperor Zoi's public works program.
"This the place handing out house-rebuilding jobs?"
A young man asked. The middle-aged man beside him nodded.
"Aye. Here for work?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. What'd you do before? You don't look green."
The youth's muscled frame. He grinned sheepishly.
"Dockworker. Constantinople burned, so work dried up."
"Tough break. I was a merchant myself—no room to talk."
"Everyone here's in the same boat."
Each with their tale. The middle-aged man nodded.
"Still, jobs are a blessing. And this gig offers a shot at housing in the upper districts."
"For real?"
"You didn't know? That's why everyone's here."
"Haha... ha. Mind explaining?"
"Not in detail, but..."
Constantinople's reconstruction drew workers despite good pay—the toil was brutal. Emperor Zoi's clever fix: housing discounts.
Lottery picks among participants got cheap new homes. Prices in once-unattainable Constantinople dropped to affordable levels when wages and savings combined.
From paupers to fallen merchants, all vied for the chance.
"Seriously? So I could get rich?"
The youth dreamed of windfalls. Couldn't flip immediately, but later? A fortune beyond lifetimes of toil.
Everyone here shared that dream. None knew it was part of Zoi and Rogerius's status-abolition scheme.