Chapter 211: Currency Invasion

Puniel took a deep breath and asked, “Is there more to this?”

Piero placed a piece of parchment on the table. “The only follow-up is a demand for Gregor to pay for the medical expenses of those apprentices.”

Puniel waved his hand, signaling the attendant to bring over the parchment. While doing so, he looked at Piero and asked, “What do the scholars say?”

Piero smiled lightly. “What is there to say? It’s just a few broken legs—not like anyone died. With the Monastery’s current techniques, it’s only a matter of time before they’re healed. And chasing after women is exactly the sort of thing someone Gregor’s age would do. It’s just that his methods were a bit too rough. As far as the Monastery is concerned, apart from those apprentices who were thinking thoughts beyond their age, no one really cares.”

“Besides, any apprentice stupid enough to provoke the sole heir of a Baron was never taken seriously by the Monastery’s scholars to begin with.”

“Well, to be honest, none of the second batch of apprentices are really valued by the scholars. I only heard that among the third batch, there’s one apprentice whom Scholar Dennis holds in high regard—and truly took in as a student.”

Because the first batch of apprentices served as a trial run, the second batch mostly consisted of core members of the gentry and official families—those who were actually in the line of succession. They naturally carried the mission of their families. By the third batch, there were fewer apprentices with inheritance rights and agendas. They were more willing to dedicate themselves to the pursuit of knowledge—and it was this kind of talent the scholars favored.

Only then did Puniel feel at ease. As long as he hadn’t offended the Monastery’s scholars, that was good enough. As for those apprentices who got their legs broken, Puniel figured that, at the latest by the day after tomorrow, their families would come visiting to offer apologies.

However, when he saw the bill brought over by the attendant, his face flushed red again.

“It’s just a few broken legs, and they want seven thousand gold coins?” He stood up. This time, there was no table in front of him to slam.

“Ahem…” Jeffrey coughed lightly and said, “Unlucky timing. Gregor did it just before the gold coin recall policy ended. As you know, during that policy, anything that could collect gold, the Monastery inflated the numbers to the max.”

Seeing Puniel sit back down, forcibly suppressing his rage, Jeffrey added, “Of course, for Sir Puniel who just returned in triumph, this amount of gold is surely within reach.”

More than within reach—just within reach.

Although most of the wealth Puniel seized during the purge of the gentry was distributed among his warriors and knights, he still managed to keep a stash for himself.

This was the Senate’s first expedition, and there wasn’t yet a clear policy on spoils of war. So Puniel had simply moved the entire hoard into his own home.

And that hoard totaled just over seven thousand gold coins.

So, the figure on the parchment was particularly pointed—and it made Puniel bottle up his rage, saying nothing more.

Piero chimed in, “Aside from that, there’s also this table Sir Puniel smashed, which needs to be repaired. Even though you’re a Senator, the Senate’s assets are still assets. So Sir Puniel needs to pay for a replacement. Of course, it’ll only cost two gold coins.”

Puniel glared at Piero. “It’s just a few planks of wood! Two gold coins? A single gold coin could support a common family for half a year!”

Piero smiled. “This isn’t just any wood. It’s fifty-year-old walnut, using the hardest heartwood. After being cut into planks, it was assembled with joints so precise that each connection looks seamless. A craftsman carved decorative textures on the surface. If bought privately, a table like this would cost five gold coins. It’s not just furniture—it’s a symbol of status. Naturally, the Senate purchases it at cost.”

Puniel’s face twisted. “This is robbery!”

Piero gently caressed the tabletop. “No. This is a symbol of status.”

It was Bevan who couldn’t stand Piero’s performance any longer and said bluntly, “This is Scholar Caleb’s strategic proposal. They’re running a social experiment. The apprentices are being tasked with making a batch of attractive but mostly useless items. The aim is twofold: to reclaim gold from the gentry, and to use the gentry’s status to inflate the perceived value of these goods.”

“Of course, the Senate, administrative offices, and our own homes have all purchased some.” Whether it was voluntary or ‘voluntary,’ Bevan didn’t elaborate.

“And this table—counting the craftsman’s wage—only cost three silver coins to make.”

“But we’ll soon be opening trade with the south via the port. Merchants will be instructed to use Piero’s exact rhetoric to market the goods. Forget five gold coins—according to Scholar Caleb’s price list, the very table you smashed today will be sold for at least twenty gold coins.”

Puniel fell silent, contemplating Scholar Caleb’s intentions.

Piero dropped the act and said directly, “Even though the price and utility don’t match, once these pretty but impractical items are used for decoration, the difference between nobles and commoners becomes visually distinct.”

“Just look at the contrast between the stinking air of York Town and the floral-scented district where the Church of the Sanctuary is. You can see the status gap.”

“That’s why, even though people know the price is absurd, some lower-status merchants will still spend huge sums to buy these things for decoration.”

“Furniture like this, glazed ceramics, various pottery, the Adams Family’s light silks, patterned knit fabrics, a wide variety of foods and desserts, and the many practical books compiled by Monastery apprentices—these are all things the Church, or rather, the Monastery, never paid attention to before.”

“After all, until recently, just staying alive was a luxury for anyone not noble. Who had the heart to care about these things?”

Piero’s voice carried emotion. He wasn’t a noble, and had lived in constant fear of being killed or replaced while serving the previous lord. After the lord changed, his fellow administrators were dismissed with a single word from the new lord—and none survived beyond three days.

The other three barons didn’t react to Piero’s emotional moment. Bevan continued, “So, Scholar Caleb wants to use these outwardly symbolic items—produced in York Territory—to anchor the value of our newly minted coins during trade with other lords.”

“For example, a table that would require twenty non-York gold coins’ worth of gold to buy could be purchased with just five York gold coins.”

“If this succeeds, our wealth will instantly inflate by a factor of four.”

“Frankly, just from what I’ve seen, it’s bound to succeed.”

“Sir Puniel, you just returned from campaign, so your home hasn’t been redecorated yet. But if you have time tomorrow, or later, come visit ours and you’ll understand.”

His tone was steady. As a former territorial lord, he didn’t place much value on such wealth. Land and population were the true assets. Gold, silver, and supplies? Those could be taken by knights under his command.

As a Senator now, with real power, he certainly didn’t lack such wealth.

Only the gentry beneath the nobles cared about such things.

And it was precisely the gentry that Caleb targeted.

Puniel understood too. He frowned and asked, “What if the southern gentry merchants mint their own gold coins to look like ours?”

Jeffrey took out a gold coin and tossed it to Puniel.

Puniel caught it and looked down. It was a palm-sized gold coin. One side bore the emblematic cross of the Church of the Sanctuary. Below the cross was a cluster of saffron flowers, and above flew several white doves. The other side had the Senate’s emblem.

What shocked Puniel was the fine detailing of the engravings.

As if expecting his surprise, Jeffrey said, “This coin was minted using a method developed by the Monastery through a combination of magic and machinery. Besides the detailed engraving, it carries the magical imprint of York Territory’s Earth Vein—and the Church’s Blessing upon the coin.”

“Just the engraving technique alone took from the time of the second apprentice recruitment to last month to fully develop the machinery. Many of the items Piero mentioned were discovered during this engraving research.”

“In addition to York’s Earth Vein magic, there’s the Church’s Blessing as an identification mark. Magic can be forged, sure—but only the Church knows how to bestow the Blessing.”

“Even if merchants or lords turn to other scholars and mages to recreate the engraving and magical techniques, they still lack the Church’s Blessing.”

“Of course, Scholar Caleb’s view is: let them forge our coins. That’s still a way for our currency to reshape and influence other territories. And when needed, we could even use their forgery as grounds to declare war—on the basis that they’ve infringed upon our property.”

Jeffrey grinned. “It would be a war to protect our wealth. Even according to the Holy Scriptures, it would be a righteous war.”

Piero added, “They’ve infringed upon our Lord’s wealth. So Knight Wolf would naturally be enraged as well.”

At the mention of Wolf, all three of them fell silent.

Even though they had gradually come to terms with reality—even though, to nobles, blood relatives meant little compared to bloodline continuation—Wolf had still killed their blood kin.

Piero didn’t care about their moods and continued, “According to the plan, five days from now, two George-class cargo ships fully loaded with goods, and one Wolf-class warship, will head to the southern noble lands near Lake Salvador—to the territory of Baron Morn Turner. We need to establish a port city there.”

“Knight Wolf will go with the warriors to show our sincerity. But now, we need someone to negotiate with Baron Morn to lease land for the port. Which of you three would like to go? After all, a noble should speak with a noble.”

Bevan raised his hand. “I’ll go. I’m in charge of territorial trade taxes. Once the port is truly built, it’ll be an important commercial hub. And once I’m there, I can stay to oversee things.”

Jeffrey raised his hand as well. “Let me go. That involves currency exchange—and I currently manage the coin reserves and conversions in the territory.”

Bevan narrowed his eyes. “After we drove out the werewolves in the north, the gentry there need a unified currency even more. Sir Jeffrey should head north instead.”

Jeffrey smiled. “It’s the north that needs Sir Bevan. That area urgently needs trade routes. Or rather, only once trade reaches there will the region truly fall under Senate governance.”

Bevan replied, “The trade route construction plan is already handled by scholars and apprentices. I only need to assign the workers and pay their wages, which is already approved.”

Jeffrey said, “Same with currency exchange. The gentry there don’t have much gold. And just as you said, those wages are enough to circulate the coins and let the commoners recognize what they should be using.”

Suddenly, Puniel raised his hand. “I think I’m more suitable. You both already have important duties and can’t leave.”

Puniel had just returned and wasn’t familiar with the power distribution in York Territory. But he knew that anything Bevan and Jeffrey fought over must be important—so he inserted himself.

Besides, one of them controlled trade taxes, the other the gold reserves. And Puniel? He hadn’t had a bite of meat yet.

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