Copper Coin Economy (3)
Situated back in his office to wrap up the remaining tasks, he recalled Zoi's grand economic development plan as he sat there.
"Maintaining the value of silver coins with silk instead of gold..."
It was bewildering, like a policy straight out of a central bank in the modern era.
"Of course, it's not a perfect plan, but in the medieval world, there was no concept of national credit, so it couldn't be helped."
If Zoi had come from the future, she likely would have leveraged the state's credit to back the silver coins. Or perhaps used a currency not tied to precious metals like gold or silver at all.
But in this medieval age, where concepts like national economy, state credit, safe assets, and interest rates weren't firmly established, she tended to preserve value with tangible goods rather than invisible worth.
Of course, copper itself was a precious metal of sorts, so it held its own value. But this wasn't just a shift from gold to silver coins—it was a revolutionary currency reform. There was no need to evaluate the copper coin's worth in those terms.
"Her countermeasures against the loophole of just buying silk with gold coins were solid too."
Gold had intrinsic value, so if people bought up silk with it, the copper coin would lose its worth. To prevent that, Zoi implemented two mechanisms. One was a monopoly on silk. The other ensured silk could only be exchanged for copper coins.
Even in the modern world, many countries monopolized essentials like salt or luxuries like tobacco and red ginseng. The medieval era was no different—Rome had long monopolized salt and certain dyes. He himself had amassed wealth through an olive oil monopoly under Basil II.
For those reasons, monopolizing silk wouldn't raise any issues.
In any case, Zoi planned to control silk production and circulate it into the market through exchanges backed by the imperial copper coin, which would become the empire's currency.
That would leave gold with only its value as a precious metal, not as currency. No matter how it circulated, it would sell for less than its original monetary worth. Sure, if precious metal prices rose, it might fetch more than coins—but the plan's goal was precisely to sever the direct link between currency and gold, so it could be deemed a success.
"For all this to work, the silk's quality has to be overwhelmingly superior."
Silk was, after all, a commodity. If its quality was poor or scarcity lacking, no monopoly could preserve its value.
"Zoi solved that by dyeing silk with the imperial purple held by the palace."
The empire's color: purple, wearable only by the imperial family. Releasing it into the market was a masterstroke. Naturally, it would command high prices, and being produced directly by the palace ensured ample scarcity.
Keen insight, meticulous planning, and the ability to execute it. In a way, the greatest stroke of luck since arriving in this world might just be Zoi.
"I can't just sit idle when my wife is working this hard."
Zoi was diving headfirst into reconstruction efforts. He might not be able to help much, but he sure as hell wouldn't drag her down.
After the Uranus-Macedon dynasty took root in Trapezunta, great changes swept through people's lives.
"Fine leather from the steppes!"
"How about herring from the Rus Tsardom?"
"Prime meat from Hungary!"
The market buzzed with energy as people haggled with merchants over goods from distant lands.
"How much for two herrings?"
"One Macedon copper coin and twenty-five Uranus coppers."
"One Macedon copper and twenty-five Uranus? I'll take two—knock off those twenty-five Uranus coppers."
"Then I've got nothing left for me."
"How about three for three coppers and twenty-five Uranus?"
"Aw... Normally no, but what the hell. Take 'em."
The customer walked off happily with the fish. The merchant, pleased to move stock quickly, counted out the coins with a grin.
"Whoa!"
Children burst out suddenly. The startled customer stepped back, but the kids kept roughhousing without a care.
"Hehe! Catch me if you can!"
"Hold still!"
"You little rascals! Watch it!"
The streets teemed with life—kids dashing about. To any onlooker, Trapezunta seemed utterly at peace, untouched by the turmoil plaguing the Eastern Romans.
"It's really peaceful here."
A man entered the city with a pack on his back. The sword at his belt marked him as a wandering mercenary.
"Heard there was plenty of work—thought it'd be a dangerous town."
Quite some time had passed since East Rome's fracture. Bandits infested villages, and plains were littered with war dead. He'd crossed such hellscapes heading east, only to find Trapezunta utterly unlike the ravaged Roman cities he knew.
"Looks flashier and safer than cities on the Italian peninsula."
Alfrando Visconti, from Milan. He'd been a mercenary to build his house and make a name, leaving Italy for the east to gather fame and fortune. His plan: save enough to return to Milan a wealthy man. Trapezunta was his final stop—a developed port from which to sail home.
"But if it's this peaceful, there might not be any work..."
Mercenaries typically gathered in taverns, so Alfrando headed there for intel. Inside, groups drank and chatted. He sat near a bunch that seemed lax on guard, pretending to nurse a drink while eavesdropping.
"This job was decent. Pay was low, but steady work—who could complain?"
"Yeah, hope it stays like this."
"Gonna settle here?"
"If the gigs keep coming, hell yeah."
"Why not sign up for the Tourkopoulos unit recruitment? Better than freelance."
"Nah, don't wanna be a regular soldier. I know my limits—just wanna save quick, open a bakery."
"You? Bakery? That's a laugh."
Unlike the jaded mercenaries in other cities, these brimmed with vigor. Intrigued, Alfrando approached. They eyed him curiously.
"What can we do for you? You don't look local."
"Came from Italy looking for work. Heard there's plenty here."
"A fellow merc! Pull up a chair."
"Scoot over."
"No harm in it."
They welcomed him warmly—unusual, as mercenaries elsewhere eyed outsiders warily. Competition or not, they embraced him. Baffling to Alfrando, who inwardly wondered if they were oddballs, though he hid it.
Seated, the leader-like one spoke up.
"From Italy? You haven't registered with the mercenary guild yet, then."
"Mercenary guild... what's that?"
"Simple identity check. Not required, but the perks make it worth it."
Perks piqued Alfrando's interest; he leaned in.
"You pick jobs first. Guild gets imperial contracts, offers 'em to members before freelancers."
"Prioritizes guild members—like a merchants' guild?"
Italy's peninsula teemed with merchant guilds; Alfrando instantly saw the parallel.
"Spot on. And they pay on time—hell, better than most."
Pay was everything to a merc. In Italy, employers often voided deals or shorted pay post-job. Mercs boycotted them thereafter, but that didn't recover lost coin—they stayed tense till paid. On-time, generous pay? Unbelievable.
"Hard to buy."
"I've rolled around the Italian peninsula plenty. Know the headaches young guys like you face better than most."
Italy's city-states meant endless wars, endless work, endless mercs.
As Alfrando gleaned local info from the leader, the tavern door swung open. A neatly dressed official entered, draped in a purple cloak symbolizing imperial authority. He unrolled a parchment and bellowed:
Reports confirm bandits in villages near Trapezunta. His Majesty shall lead troops to suppress them personally. Mercenaries willing to join, assemble at the city gates by the appointed hour.
That is all.
The official delivered his message crisply and departed. Mercenaries grabbed weapons and filed out as if routine. Even the leader chatting with Alfrando geared up.
The mood shifted so fast Alfrando panicked inwardly.
The leader turned to him. "Better to experience it yourself than hear it from me."
Alfrando followed.
At the assembly point, mercenaries formed ranks in loose groups, veterans all.
"What in the..."
"Shh. His Majesty's coming."
An emperor in person? Alfrando fell silent, eyes on the dais.
"That's... Emperor Rogerius..."
A towering man appeared, purple cloak gleaming, but otherwise clad like a Varangian warrior—more berserker than sovereign.