Project Highway had finally begun.
Labourers streamed in from across Larm and Kalvin, buoyed by the promise of a consistent income. We hadn’t managed to knock the food prices down yet, but I had a plan to mitigate that—the paperwork was almost complete.
Konstantin would create the Royal Merchant Guild, a trade company owned by the Crown with no membership fees. Instead, the members would buy products from us at a discount, and adhere to the price caps we set.
As I’d learned, Larheim’s original, privately-owned Merchant Guild had gone bust around the time King Theo had built his statue, and the lack of a prestigious, trustworthy organisation had led to an exodus of traders from the kingdom. Those remaining could price-gouge as much as they pleased. They had no competition.
Hopefully, a state-backed company would reverse that somewhat. With more competition, the private stores would be forced to lower their prices, or lose all their customers. This would put a few of the prouder ones out of business, but shrewder folks would just buy from us instead.
My Economy yield had increased to an even -70, which was still in the dirt, but a quick enough improvement businesspeople should take notice. Taxes were rolling in, and Morale was slowly improving.
The problem was a long-term one. Even when money hit the pockets of common citizens, they’d have nothing to spend it on. This would lead to hoarding, which would increase people’s wealth, but bring the economy to a standstill.
My bathhouse plan was something, but nowhere near enough. And with Aleister and his armies on the horizon, I had to accelerate and expand my thinking.
As I ruminated in my empty Council Chamber, I sighed. Only Hana stood beside me, as ever, who-knew-what going on behind that stoic expression of hers. The Riberans hadn’t made any obvious moves yet, aside from the secession, but I knew it would come soon.
I was fine with that. Summer would soon end, and I wanted the duchy under my control before the autumn harvests began. Those would be a massive boost, but I still baulked at the thought of outright war. There had to be a better way.
When I’d summoned Shia back with [Command Centre], her reaction had involved screaming and, I assumed, lots of falling over. Still, she’d dutifully returned, using a skill called [Warp Gate], and ferried her father to the border with her to lead the troops.
Our show of force might have had the intended effect, but that would only lead to more low-key methods of attack. Cannara’s spy network was in full swing, and I’d learned that Aleister indeed planned to position battalions opposite my own.
Konstantin was busy with the Merchant Guild. That left me only Hana, who was a reliable protector—her performance with the assassin had convinced me of that—but not much use as a member of my new King’s Council.
In short, I didn’t have enough subordinates.
Though, even if I did, I wasn’t sure what I’d do with them. With another sigh, I brought up my Quest progress.
|
Begin 2 Infrastructure Projects! (Incomplete) |
Those rewards, despite the Economy boost being a lie, weren’t to be sniffed at. With more Skills, and a higher level, I’d be able to do more for the country.
Now, though, I was stuck.
Why did it have to be like this? Why couldn’t I just head out, slay monsters, and discover the frontiers of a brave new world? There was, at the very least, an entire other hemisphere to explore, and a Demon Lord to defeat.
Yet here I was, sitting in a fucking chair and sighing enough to create a hurricane.
All I’d get were stories. Hell, thinking about it, weren’t most of my people in a similar situation to mine, before I’d transmigrated? Every day was mostly the same, with only the escape of fantasy to excite them.
That’s when it hit me.
The things that had stirred my emotions when praying for change. These weren’t relationships, as I’d been awful at maintaining those, or the promise of career progression or wealth.
They were stories.
Fantastical tales woven from the imagination, basic human truths wrapped up in beautiful lies. The living spark of magic when heaven clattered to the dirt. They’d given me hope, roused my being into action, and wasn’t it the same for everyone?
With that, I decided on my next project.
“Hana,” I said, drawing her attention. “Have you ever been on an adventure?”
“Sire?” She cocked her head.
“An adventure. You know, heading out into the unknown and discovering new things, fighting the beasts of the frontier, shit like that.”
“I cannot say that I have,” she replied, eyeing me strangely. “Most of my life has been spent in this palace, learning and observing.”
I smiled. “But don’t you ever dream? Don’t you hear tales of adventurers battling for their lives in far-off places, and wonder what it would be like to chase that feeling? That glory?”
She shifted uncomfortably. “Perhaps.”
My smile threatened to touch my ears, at that point. “And that’s exactly the point. The people still need convincing that I’m preferable to Aleister, and they need recreation. So let’s give it to them.”
“What do you mean, sire?”
“Let’s start a Royal Theatre Company.”
Furrowing her brow, she slackened in shock. “Sire, is that wise? With the secession of Ribera and the Duke’s overtures, should we not be focusing on him?”
“We are,” I said, “but that doesn’t mean everything else needs to stop. The economy still needs to recover, and though wartime is a good catalyst, we still have supply chain issues. The safest bet is with more public projects.”
“And what of Ribera?”
“Aleister seems happy to take the initiative, so I say we let him. Cannara can feed us his plans, and we can create countermeasures and lead them into a trap. Until then, it’s best we do nothing. If he sees me as indecisive, he might underestimate me, and that’s an easy way to snatch defeat.”
With a thoughtful look, she regarded me. “I must confess, I had not thought of it like that. However, I am still lost as to how this ‘Royal Theatre Company’ will assist us with our goals.”
“Simple,” I said. “It’ll need a headquarters, which means more building.”
“Fiscal multiplication,” she replied, like a student eager for the teacher’s approval.
I gave it to her, patting her on the arm. “Exactly. But it’s not just the headquarters—we need somewhere for them to perform, big enough for a huge audience.”
Realisation dawned on her face. “You intend to build an amphitheatre like the ones in Atlantea?”
“Exactly,” I said, making note of her words. If the northern archipelago already had some, it would make me less of a pioneer than I thought, but also give me ideas to steal. “How do the Atlanteans like them?”
“I am told the musical performances are the highlights of their weeks, sire.”
I nodded. “That’s encouraging. In that case, I’ll have Konstantin start moving the money around.”
Ignoring her affirmation, I entered Ruler View—Konstantin was in the Treasury, surrounded by bureaucrats, who appeared much the same as Cannara’s spies.
Konstantin? I thought.
After a moment of static, he thought back, Sire? I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this.
Try. I glanced over at Hana and waved to reassure her, given she was looking at me like I’d grown an extra head.
Which, now that I thought about it, might have been more common than I assumed.
How’s it going? I asked.
The outline for the Guild is complete, and we are seeking construction on its headquarters, though I may have to base it from the Treasury for now.
That’s fine.
My team are trudging through the forms, but it’s slow going, sire. At this rate, we’ll still be buried by the time winter comes around.
Disappointment flayed my belly. Just keep going. As we grow, there should be room for more bureaucrats to share the load.
I hope you are right, sire. Is that all?
No. I want to build an amphitheatre.
Despite our conversation being entirely mental, he still managed to sputter. Are you mad, sire? The cost of materials alone would—
Isn’t that what I have you for?
You’re asking the impossible!
Impossibility is relative. In any case, there’s no harm in trying, right?
He gave a long-suffering sigh, impressive given he hadn’t even been suffering under me for a month, and thought, I suppose not, sire. Allow me some time to look through the ledgers, and I shall see what I can do.
Appreciate it. I cut the connection, then turned back to Hana, who stared at me.
“Another psychic conversation, sire?”
“Yep,” I said. “With that out the way, any ideas?”
“On what?”
“How to get started.”
“The building itself may be a good place. As well as a face for your company.”
And here I’d been considering her useless outside of combat. Almost crying, I internally thanked the universe for giving her to me, and clasped her hand with a grateful expression.
“Sire?”
“You’re brilliant, Hana.”
She flushed momentarily, before clearing her throat and returning to impassivity. “Thank you.”
It was a bit annoying she still wouldn’t use my name, but that didn’t matter right now. As far as faces went, I recalled my first journey out of the palace, and the haunting melody that had drawn me to a particular tavern. It had taken me to where I’d met Cannara.
Would I still be able to find the bard there? Even if not, I could ask the owner, so it was a starting point, at least.
As for the amphitheatre, I needed an architect. [Locate Specialist] seemed random, but every time I’d used it so far, it had given me what I needed. Cannara was instrumental in gathering knowledge, and that and money both qualified as power. When I’d needed someone to help with the money, it had given me Konstantin.
So I decided to roll the dice, and activated my Skill.
