Silk Economy (2)
“The fallout is going to be massive.”
An enormous quantity of silver coins would flood the market. This alone could deliver a shock strong enough to make the empire stagger.
“But now is the perfect time. The ongoing inflation from the divisions means gold is already flowing into one place.”
“Ah!”
Zoi’s words snapped his mind to attention. As she said, inflation would shatter wealth distribution. Those scrambling to flee wouldn’t have proper purchasing power. Merchants profiting off them would struggle to maintain supply chains. Production broken, distribution in ruins. Of course, supply and demand wouldn’t vanish entirely—people had to eat and survive. So amid the devastation, those who endured this fleeting moment could monopolize the wealth.
In times of frequent, chaotic civil war, only nobles could weather the damage and safeguard the riches needed to do so. In a class-bound world, they were the only ones.
“A huge amount of gold must already be heading to Constantinople. Piles of it are probably stacking up there.”
As Zoi, once an imperial chamberlain, noted, much of the gold was likely already in noble hands.
“If we don’t reform the currency now, even conquering Constantinople and reuniting Rome might not free us from noble influence.”
Economics was power. Wealthy nobles and merchants had always sustained their lines by backing politicians and soldiers. Like the Mavrozomis family that meddled when he monopolized olive oil. A house that produced an emperor yet fell—yet clung to influence in noble circles thanks to their gold.
For this reason, without reforming gold itself—the backbone of noble power—fundamentally changing the Eastern Roman Empire was impossible.
“Won’t the common folk suffer greatly?”
Zoi shook her head firmly.
“Even the rich are liquidating assets and fleeing. They’re unlikely to hold much gold. A few coins at most.”
War was always reviled. For all its flaws, it had clear advantages: resetting wealth. Inflation and deflation hit simultaneously, returning rich and poor alike to square one. Biflation. This let them reform currency without losing the people—their core supporters. It could even cleverly undermine their noble enemies.
“I get it. But spreading silver requires production, supply, and clear demand.”
Why modern nations failed at currency reform: even with great benefits, production, supply, and demand had to align perfectly. Without enough silver, people would stick to gold. Too much produced but not circulated? Useless. Circulated but no clear use? Obsolete.
The three elements had to harmonize for success.
His pointed question. Zoi, anticipating it, answered instantly.
“Thanks to Serdios’s ambition to become emperor, Trapezounta already has stockpiles of silver ingots. He must have planned mass silver circulation.”
Serdios, exceptionally capable. True to the man who raised a house, he’d bought ingots from trade profits. As Zoi said, he’d prepared to mint and spread them, sowing economic chaos in noble-held Constantinople. Ambition matched by action. But his defeat made it all theirs.
“For supply, we’ll use mercenaries.”
“Mercenaries? Ah…!”
War over, payments due. Most Turkic cavalry joined the regular army, but some stayed mercenaries. He wanted them all regular, but upkeep costs forbade it. Thus, contract payments were obligatory.
“Hiring Serdios’s old mercenaries with silver will flood the market adequately.”
Zoi’s plan: release silver via mercenaries. Risky, but most efficient now.
“Smart. Thinking mercenaries will linger here, spending.”
Mercenary contracts signaled ongoing fights—need for them. They’d stay to earn, directly or indirectly.
“They’ll keep spending while here.”
Wandering mercenaries spent on food, lodging, fun—everything.
“We’ll do business with them. Recoup the money to stabilize value.”
Releasing money mattered, but preserving value did too. Zoi had recovery plans ready.
“Release Serdios’s silver via mercenaries, build entertainment for them to control the flow.”
“That’s the start. Temporary. Real plan’s separate.”
“Real plan?”
Zoi nodded, revealing it.
“While meeting Archbishop Glykas alone, I talked business with Sir Humphrey and Geoffrey.”
“Business?”
Zoi, chatting with his brothers during her Asporos meeting. Curiosity piqued.
“We’ll start a silk business in Reggio Calabria.”
* * *
“Silk… you say?”
Geoffrey’s shocked expression at Zoi’s words. Understandable—Reggio Calabria’s development efforts had all failed. Middleman trade dominated; industry focused on it. To fix the imbalance, they’d tried olives, shipbuilding, black mulberry. Only mulberry survived, but fermenting fruit into liquor flopped. All failures.
Vikings producing in foreign Reggio Calabria? Tough. Zoi’s sudden silk proposal flustered them.
“I hear you conquered nearby villages, tried ventures.”
“How’d you know?”
“My job.”
Zoi smiled. As imperial treasurer and Basil II’s eyes, she’d spied on Lazica—including brothers’ Reggio Calabria.
“Olives, shipbuilding failed, but something good remained.”
“Black mulberry?”
“Fruit’s sweet, but poor for liquor.”
Black mulberry fruit: mulberry. Sweet in Greek-Roman lands, common for wine. Eastern mulberry for food, medicine.
“Mulberry wine needs skill. Hard start. But that’s not the point.”
Brothers tilted heads. Impatient Humphrey jumped in.
“What is?”
“That black mulberry. Key to silk.”
Humphrey baffled—mulberry core to silk? Rare in Norman north; they’d scaled it locally, unaware. No clue on silk production.
“Silk’s soft, pricey fabric. What’s that relate to rough tree?”
Zoi grasped their ignorance.
“First, how silk’s made. Seen white worms eating black mulberry leaves?”
“Few, on inspections.”
Medieval lords owned all: game, woods, creatures. Patrols checked.
“Worms eat leaves, spin cocoons before adulthood. Silk from those.”
“Worms’…”
“Cocoons core to silk?”
Stunned. Vikings far from sericulture.
“Silkworms, long domesticated. Wild ones scarce for production.”
“So…”
“Yes. We’ll send eggs, experts. Raise on your vast mulberry fields. And…”
Zoi envisioned massive sericulture. Silk—pricier than gold—to anchor currency. Geoffrey and Humphrey’s eyes widened.