Chapter 149

As promised, Dominic drew up a complete list of all his assets and handed it over to Lucian.
Everything was written down in meticulous detail, so reclaiming the property did not seem as though it would be difficult.
Whenever a handwritten document in his own hand was required, he provided it himself without the slightest hesitation.

“If there is anything else you require, please say the word. I will do as you wish.”
“…You hesitate less than I expected. Is it a merchant’s pride? The belief that a promise must be kept once made?”
“What pride could possibly remain to someone who has thrown away his own credibility? I simply have no lingering attachment to the outside world.”

At Lucian’s words, Dominic gave a bitter smile and shook his head.

“After staging a fraud like this, even if I were to regain my freedom, it would be impossible to live a normal life. I would be showered with contempt and ridicule, and would likely struggle to secure even my next meal.”
“So, since you can no longer live outside, you’ll hand over everything you have left to me?”
“Your Highness is the victor who so brilliantly saw through my scheme. Rather than letting my assets rot away in warehouses only to be looted by riffraff, I would much prefer to offer them to Your Highness as spoils of victory.”

As he spoke, Dominic’s face was utterly calm.
Whether he truly believed what he was saying or was merely dressing up self-justification in fine words was unclear, but for Lucian, it was a favorable outcome.
He had been able to recover Dominic’s vast fortune easily and in its entirety.

Nevertheless, the mission given to the merchant guild leaders—to “search for hidden assets”—continued as before.
Whether such concealed wealth existed or not was beside the point; the task had been created from the outset merely as a pretext to keep them on a leash.

“Guildmaster Hagen, the food we agreed to purchase this time is rather expensive, isn’t it? Hasn’t the price risen far too much compared to before?”
“The unstable political situation has driven prices up, so there’s nothing we can do! Even so, we are truly supplying it to Your Highness at the lowest possible price!”
“Is that so? That’s unfortunate news. In that case, prices may have gone up, but your own profit must have shrunk instead.”
“Thank you for your understanding.”
“Oh, by the way—are you properly carrying out the task I entrusted to you earlier? By now, there should be at least a chest full of gold coins.”
“…We haven’t found the gold coins yet, but come to think of it, I believe we might be able to lower the price a bit more.”

With the leash firmly in place, the merchant guild leaders had no choice but to be dragged around wherever Lucian tugged them.
All but the bare minimum profit needed to keep their operations running was squeezed out, to the point that most goods were handed over at prices close to cost.
Lucian then distributed the various items he had purchased so cheaply to immigrants who had come from the tribes.

They had arrived with nothing but the clothes on their backs after crossing the snowy wastes, and so they lacked everything.
The immigrants trembled with emotion as they received the supplies Lucian bestowed upon them.
These were all items considered precious luxuries beyond the snowfields—yet here they were being given away so easily.

“Every day feels like a dream. No, I’ve never even dreamed of a life this abundant.”
“We did well to follow the king. If we’d stayed in the snowfields, we’d still be wrapped in fur skins, gnawing on bland meat.”
“We might have died from infected hunting wounds before that. I tasted real medicine for the first time here.”

The immigrants’ loyalty toward Lucian rose without limit.
It was only natural—he was giving them a life of comfort that no one had ever shown them before.
Yet at the same time, a vague sense of unease began to take root in a corner of their hearts.

“But is it really okay to just keep receiving like this? Don’t we have to pay… you know, taxes or something?”

“That’s what I’m saying. I’m afraid we’ll be treated like parasites at this rate. The people who originally lived here all pay theirs, I hear.”
“While the king is being generous, we should hurry and find a way to make a living. We can’t rely on the king’s grace forever.”

No matter how prophetic a king he might be, there were limits to the wealth an individual could possess.
Lucian’s support would not last indefinitely, and before it ended, everyone agreed that they had to become self-reliant.

It was a commendable line of thought, but in truth, the immigrants’ worries were close to unfounded.

Thanks to the assets received from Dominic, money won’t be an issue. If anything, I should spend generously and make sure they settle in properly. Once they’re firmly established, I’ll be able to reap several times that amount in return soon enough.

Lucian was not giving everything away for free out of a sense of duty.
He had more than enough plans to reclaim it later, so investing now did not feel wasteful in the slightest.
After all, each of them possessed physiques and brute strength far superior to those of imperial citizens—every single one was nearly on the level of a knight.

In any job that required labor, it was certain he would extract at least double the returns, no matter where they were put to use.
Moreover, the immigrants came from the snowy wastes, where a warrior-worship culture was the norm.
The very concept of being paid for combat did not exist for them, so even if a standing army were formed, it could be maintained for quite some time at an exceptionally low cost.

What matters right now is investing to raise their loyalty, not petty things like taxes. They’ll soon be geese that lay golden eggs—I can’t let myself be blinded by a handful of coins and slit their bellies prematurely.

Thus, Lucian had no complaints whatsoever about the generosity he was showing for the sake of the future.
However, the immigrants had no idea what their king was thinking.
Naturally, in preparation for an uncertain future, they wracked their brains relentlessly.

“How about becoming blacksmiths or carpenters? We’ve got a fair bit of experience making weapons and building houses, don’t we?”

“Are you kidding me? The gap in skill has to be reasonable for us to do that kind of work.”
“The level of technology here is way too high. Everything we’ve made so far would be child’s play by their standards.”
“Then how about trying our hand at hunting? If nothing else, I’m confident when it comes to hunting.”
“I heard the hunting grounds are designated, and you get punished if you don’t get permission.”
“You need permission just to hunt? Hah… they’ve got some strange laws here.”

The immigrants held heated debates day after day, but no proper solution ever emerged.
Even when they tried to come up with something, their lack of common knowledge and technical skill compared to imperial citizens meant it usually amounted to nothing more than armchair theorizing.
After several weeks of fruitless meetings, a few of the immigrants finally grasped the fundamental problem—and cried out in despair.

“Damn it, at this rate we can’t even get started! With no foundation, we’ll have to learn basic common sense first!”
“Learn…? Right. Then let’s start by being taught!”

“…What?”

“If that’s how it is, let’s just learn from the people who originally lived here. Apprenticeship, was it? They say that here, you’re paid little, but taught skills like a disciple instead.”
“I’ve heard that too, but… will they take us in? We’re old, and it’d be like raising competitors.”
“Let’s at least try talking to them first. If we get rejected, we can think of something else then.”

What some might have considered humiliating was nothing of the sort to the immigrants.
On the snowfields, dying because you lacked the courage to ask for instruction was nothing more than a laughingstock.
They immediately selected representatives and sent them to skilled artisans of imperial origin who had settled earlier.

—

The artisans who received the immigrants’ proposal were aghast and gathered together in alarm.
Not only had they never expected such a proposal, but the proposal itself was utterly absurd.

“Everyone, have you heard about the offer those barbarians from beyond the snowfields sent recently?”

“I have. It’s so outrageous I’m at a loss for words. They’re openly asking us to teach them our skills!”
“If you want to learn a craft, you should start by kneeling—how can they be so brazen?”

A skill, once mastered, is one’s very livelihood for life.
Conversely, the more you teach others, the smaller your own footing becomes, and the more competitors you create.
Naturally, instruction was strictly confined to personal connections and blood ties, and without such ties, one had to show endless devotion just to learn a little.
Yet these people were asking to be taught with their heads held high, without even a hint of deference.

“This is why barbarians are hopeless. They don’t even know the most basic of basics!”
“Is there really any need to convene a meeting over this? Let’s just refuse them outright and send them away!”

“Exactly! We can’t just hand over skills passed down through our ancestors so lightly!”
“Tsk, tsk.”

Amid the noisy clamor of the artisans, the sound of someone clicking their tongue rang out.
It was Igor—the man who had convened this meeting, and the blacksmith with the longest career among them.
Igor glanced around once, then rapped sharply on the table.

“Have you all lost your minds? You’re talking about chasing them off—do you still think this is the territory we used to live in?”
“What did you say!?”
“Right now, the majority of Asagrim’s population consists of people who came from beyond the snowfields. If we openly swagger and look down on them, what do you think will happen later?”
“This is Asagrim, the sacred land of the North! If they rely on numbers and start acting recklessly, then naturally—!”
“I don’t know what you mean by ‘recklessly,’ but remember this: every last one of them is someone who will become our customer. They’re not just outsiders.”

Struck by his blunt words, the artisans all fell silent.
No matter how skilled an artisan might be, if there is no one to buy their goods, they will starve.
Even including the quantities sold to merchants as trade goods, their primary customers would inevitably be the residents of the same territory.
And yet they were talking about dividing and despising those very future customers by ethnicity and origin, stoking hostility.

“If I were them, I wouldn’t buy goods from someone who insulted me like that either. You’d starve to death before ever getting stabbed.”
“H–However, even if we teach them skills, nothing changes, does it? Once they learn, we’ll completely lose the initiative, especially since we’re outnumbered.”
“Why do you keep thinking so short-sightedly? Look further ahead—much further! Do you really think Asagrim’s expansion ends here?”

“What are you talking about?”
“Asagrim was already famous as the sacred land of the North, but recently its population, production base, and trade networks have all expanded. What was lacking is gone. So what do you think remains?”

It was obvious that freemen who had been hesitating until now would soon flock to Asagrim to settle.
Just because the population inside the walls was full didn’t mean new people wouldn’t gather outside them.
A great city, by its nature, keeps expanding beyond its walls when it can no longer contain its swelling population.

“Before long, the number of customers will grow beyond what we alone can handle. If we want to meet that demand, we’ll have no choice but to take on apprentices.”

“So you’re saying we should accept their proposal in advance and at least earn some goodwill from it?”
“No—what I’m saying is that we teach them properly and go so far as to establish a guild.”

“They’ve only been in the Empire a short time and lack even basic common sense. If we become their masters and establish a guild, who do you think will end up occupying the leadership?”

The artisans’ eyes seemed to light up all at once.
Just as he said, as the scale of the city grew, the number of artisans would naturally increase, and guilds would inevitably be formed.
The leadership of a guild was usually chosen not purely for skill, but for those with the greatest influence.
In other words, training disciples in advance meant there was a strong chance of becoming part of the guild’s future leadership.

“Our backs are already starting to bend and our eyes to dim—how long do you think we can keep relying on our own hands? Isn’t it about time we trained apprentices and spent our later years in comfort?”
“Hm, hm. That’s not exactly wrong…”
“I’m still worried whether they’ll respect their masters the way we do.”

Some of the artisans sympathized with Igor’s words, yet could not shake their unease.
Even now, these people didn’t understand the value of skills and came forward rudely.
Wouldn’t they just ignore their masters once they had learned everything there was to learn?

“Don’t worry,” Igor said with a sly grin. “You all know how traditions are made, don’t you?”

At the other artisans’ concerns, Igor chuckled.
Those who had once suffered under the rules of tradition never tried to break free from them.
The reason was exceedingly simple.

“When those who struggled as apprentices finally get treated as masters, they’ll be the first to uphold tradition with zeal.”