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Translator/Editor: Ceaseless

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◈ The Medieval Heretic King is Too Good at Developing ◈

Chapter 22: The Excommunication Decree (2)

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That afternoon, the new king's first decree was posted in every square and on every street corner in Prague.

The hundreds of decrees, written on parchment, were in Czech so that even commoners who did not know Latin could read them with ease.

_________

In the name of Ulrich I, King of Bohemia.

Blinded by greed, the bishops of the Catholic Church have abandoned the Lord's teachings and sucked the lifeblood from the people.

To answer for those sins, all property belonging to Catholic churches and monasteries within Bohemia is hereby confiscated.

The gold and land they have hidden away will now return to the starving people.

_________

The messenger's voice rang across the square as he read the decree aloud.

At first, the citizens looked confused.

They were going to lay hands on Church property? Wouldn't divine punishment strike them down?

But their bellies were far too empty.

"They say even Jesus had no home of His own. Yet those pig bishops live in castles."

"That's right! When my wife fell ill, those bastards said they'd pray for her, then took everything we owned!"

"The King says he'll give that money back to us!"

Their hesitation was brief. Their anger was not.

"Long live King Ulrich!"

"The King is judging the corrupt Church!"

"Serves those greedy priests right!"

Immediately afterward, two thousand members of the Prague militia bearing royal banners marched out through the city gates.

Their destination was Sedlec Abbey, said to be the wealthiest monastery in Bohemia.

As the sun began to set, the militia reached the abbey.

The peaceful monastery was thrown into chaos by the sudden arrival of an army.

The abbot shouted from behind the gates, his face pale.

"Who are you to dare bring your boots into the house of the Lord? This is sacred, inviolable ground!"

The commander of the Prague militia unfurled the parchment bearing the decree and shouted back.

"In the name of Ulrich I, all property of this monastery is confiscated! Open the gates peacefully, and your lives will be spared!"

"You heretical traitors! His Holiness the Pope will excommunicate you! The Lord's lightning will strike your heads!"

"Divine punishment is for bastards like you who suck the people dry! Break in!"

At the commander's order, the soldiers rushed forward with a roar.

"Aaaah!"

Boom! Crack!

The abbey's heavy main gate shattered beneath a huge log, and the soldiers poured into the courtyard like an angry tide.

"Stop them! Protect the holy relics!"

The monks resisted, swinging candlesticks and staffs, but they could not withstand the enraged soldiers.

Screams and curses erupted from every side, yet not a single bolt of lightning came down from the sky.

The soldiers stormed straight into the main church. They indiscriminately stuffed the altar's golden candlesticks, silver chalices, and jewel-studded reliquaries into sacks.

Religious paintings were torn from the walls with their frames, while rare manuscripts from the library were piled up like firewood.

A secret safe was found in the abbot's office. Documents for fertile vineyards near Kuttenberg and certificates for shares in silver mines spilled out.

"There's something here!"

"Tear down the wall!"

At last, a hidden storeroom was revealed deep beneath the abbey.

The soldiers who smashed through its door swallowed hard at the sight before them.

Gold coins and silver bars gathered over decades, along with every kind of jewel, were piled high like mountains, gleaming greedily in the candlelight.

Before that mountain of gold, the soldiers unconsciously swallowed. One young soldier muttered blankly.

"This really was a den of thieves..."

From that moment on, the soldiers stripped the abbey without restraint.

That night, Sedlec Abbey was as bright as day beneath the torches. Wagons loaded so heavily with "God's property" that their wheels sagged rolled one after another toward Prague.

In only three days, twelve monasteries and forty-eight churches around Prague had all their property confiscated by royal order.

* * *

The royal treasury officials at Prague Castle were witnessing a sight they would never forget.

The courtyard before the royal vault was complete chaos.

A line of wagons that had arrived throughout the night disgorged mountains of spoils torn from monasteries and churches.

"From Sedlec Abbey! Forty golden crosses! Sixty silver candlesticks! Thirty-two jewel-studded reliquaries!"

"Land deeds and debt certificates from Břevnov Abbey! Damn it, there's so much parchment that we can't even count it all!"

"Altar ornaments from St. George's Church! All of it is pure gold, pure gold!"

There was not the slightest fear of blasphemy in the Prague militia soldiers' shouts.

All that shone in their eyes was a strange pride at taking part in a historic feat, along with primal greed for the gold glittering before them.

The elderly treasury officials and scribes in charge of the vault, on the other hand, had gone pale.

Those countless treasures were the very symbol of the Church's absolute authority, which had ruled over the souls of the Bohemian people for centuries.

It was no wonder their jaws trembled as they watched it all lying scattered across the ground like meat in a butcher's shop.

Perhaps they saw me as a horned devil.

Well, I didn't care.

I sat at the largest table inside the vault and watched the commotion without concern.

On the table sat freshly baked bread, fresh cheese, and a steaming cup of warm milk.

Compared to Sternberg's rock-hard black bread and sour-smelling ale, it was a luxury enough to bring tears to my eyes.

I tore off a piece of bread and soaked it thoroughly in the warm milk. A rich, soft flavor spread through my mouth.

"Mmm."

It was a lazy, unhurried breakfast, completely separate from the chaos before my eyes.

Yet my mind was working more coldly and quickly than ever.

'There is far more than I expected. Not just gold and silver, either. Land deeds, trade rights, debt certificates...'

More than a religious institution, the Church was this era's greatest feudal lord and most vicious financial capitalist.

Wasn't it common knowledge that a single abbot could be richer than most nobles?

Just then, János Hunyadi approached, clicking his tongue as he complained.

"My lord, no, Your Majesty. Are you really going to count every last one of these? Can't we just count the sacks and hand it out? At this rate, dawn will come before we're done."

"No."

I cut him off firmly.

"This isn't a band of thieves dividing stolen goods. We're transferring the kingdom's assets into the royal treasury. There cannot be an error of even one Prague groschen[1]. That's how we avoid trouble later."

Accuracy created trust, and trust was power.

To prove that I was superior to those old-fashioned nobles, I had to overwhelm them not only through force, but through intelligence and organization as well.

I picked up a quill and scribbled numbers onto a clean sheet of parchment.

They were not the long, inefficient Roman numerals the scribes used. They were a simple, perfect system: Arabic numerals.

"Use this format. Item, quantity, estimated value, and origin. Sort everything into those four categories. I'll do the calculations myself, so bring me only the totals."

"Yes, Your Majesty... But what are these symbols? I've handled ledgers all my life, yet I've never seen such writing before..."

"It's a new method of keeping records. My method. Before long, every ledger in the kingdom will use it. For now, don't argue. Do as you're told."

The scribes exchanged dazed looks, but they could not defy the king's sharp command.

From then on, a strange sight unfolded in the courtyard before the royal vault.

Groups of three or four scribes struggled over their counting boards, writing and erasing Roman numerals before finally bringing me a result.

I gave it a quick glance, then calculated and recorded the total in an instant.

While they counted on their fingers to add MMCLXXIV and DLXXX, the calculation of 2174 + 5830 was finished in my head within half a second.

As time passed, the looks in the scribes' eyes changed. Fear and submission gave way to reverence, as though they were looking at something beyond the bounds of humanity.

'Well, they aren't wrong. By this era's standards, I might as well be a supercomputer.'

By the time the sun stood high overhead, the all-night work was finally finished.

János Hunyadi swallowed dryly, his voice trembling faintly with anticipation and excitement.

"So... how much is it all worth?"

I put down the quill and cracked my stiff neck. Leaning back deeply in my chair, I gave the figure casually.

"In assets that can be converted into cash alone, roughly 1,286,500 Prague groschen."

Silence.

A complete stillness fell over the room, as though even the wind had stopped.

1,286,500 groschen.

Not only János Hunyadi, but even the elderly head scribe who had handled money his entire life stood frozen with his mouth hanging open, as though he had forgotten how to breathe.

In an age when a skilled craftsman earned one groschen for a full day's work and mercenaries risking their lives earned two, this was an astronomical sum. It was enough to buy a country outright and still have money left over.

What was even more frightening was that this was only the tip of the iceberg.

"The amount I just gave ignores all artistic value. It's the price if we simply melted it down into silver bars."

I grinned at János as he stared blankly ahead.

"If we add in all those land deeds lying around... well, I wonder if there's any point in putting a value on it."

János murmured like a sleepwalker.

"...Is all this ours?"

His gaze remained fixed on the platinum crosses, golden chalices, and mountain-like stacks of silver coin sacks scattered across the floor.

His eyes gleamed like silver coins. He looked ready to dive into the piles at any moment.

"Your Majesty, tell me honestly. Can we really swallow all of this for ourselves?"

János gulped and continued.

"No, seriously! If we took this and fled to Poland or Venice right now, we could live like kings for the rest of our lives. No, our descendants could live like kings for generations!"

His usual cynical manner was nowhere to be found.

Well, with this much money, even Buddha... no, even Jesus would be tempted.

"János."

"Yes!"

"Are we some band of thieves?"

János looked at me as though I were ridiculous.

"Considering what you just did, I'd say we're worse than a band of thieves, not better."

"Fair point."

I put a piece of milk-soaked bread into my mouth and chewed. Its rich flavor spread through my mouth.

"But it isn't all ours."

"What? Then who are you giving it to? You aren't about to say you'll return it to the Pope, are you?"

I brushed away the crumbs and held up two fingers.

"I only take half of what I win."

"...What?"

János blinked as though he had no idea what I meant.

Of course, he wouldn't know Goni. I grinned and gestured with my chin toward the tightly shut iron door.

"It's time for our guests. Head Scribe, go open the door."

Creeeak!

The heavy iron door opened with a rusty scream. The stale air of the vault, thick with dust, iron, and old parchment, mixed with the fresh breeze outside.

Then two men entered.

A noble in splendid silk clothes but with a pale face, Cenek of Vartemberk.

A commander in dirt-covered battle clothes with a stern expression, Jan Roháč of Dubá.

The leader of the Utraquist nobles and the second-in-command of the radical Taborites.

Two men who could never mix, like water and oil, stepped into the vault side by side.

"Your Majesty, you summoned... Huh."

Cenek could not finish speaking and sucked in a breath.

Gold bars scattered across the floor, silver coins spilling from open sacks, and even a jewel-studded reliquary carelessly resting on the table.

"Th-this is..."

His Adam's apple bobbed, and his eyes darted about.

Jan Roháč reacted differently.

With a frown, he stared at the gold and silver as though it were filthy waste.

"...The pus gathered by the whores of corrupt Babylon."

Roháč spat out the words, his voice dripping with disgust.

"The idols made by squeezing the lifeblood from the poor are all gathered here."

"Welcome, gentlemen."

Still sitting sideways in my chair, I lightly tossed and caught the ruby-studded golden goblet in my hand.

Clink. Its clear, cheerful metallic sound split the heavy silence.

"Sit. This will be a long conversation."

The two men sat in the chairs across from me, one awkwardly and the other with clear displeasure.

Cenek's gaze remained fixed on the golden goblet moving through my hand.

It was a very strange look, mixed with greed and terror of blasphemy.

"Your Majesty... I heard the rumors, but did you really empty every monastery? The Papacy will not stay silent! Excommunication is certain, and all Europe may turn against us!"

Cenek's voice shook.

I shrugged as though it were nothing.

"Sigismund bringing the crusaders here is only a matter of time anyway. One more Excommunication Edict won't change anything."

"But isn't this... too extreme?"

"Extreme..."

I set the goblet down on the table.

"Lord Cenek. How much annual tax revenue does your estate bring in?"

"What? Wh-why are you suddenly asking... Around ten thousand Prague groschen, I suppose."

"Ten thousand."

I lightly kicked one of the sacks by my feet. The mouth of the heavy sack opened, and silver coins came pouring out with a clatter. A silver waterfall.

"There's roughly 1.3 million groschen here alone. It's money you would only touch after breathing for 130 years without spending a single coin."

Cenek's mouth fell open.

"1.3 million...?"

"Add the land deeds and artwork, and it'll easily exceed three million."

"Th-three million...!"

Cenek's eyes lost focus and wavered.

Three million groschen. An amount equal to several years of the Kingdom of Bohemia's budget. The weight of that number wiped his reason clean away.

I turned my gaze toward Roháč.

"General Roháč, I've received reports that Taborite soldiers have been going hungry lately."

Roháč's brow twitched. It seemed I had touched his pride.

"...God's warriors do not yield to something as trivial as hunger."

"Strong resolve is admirable, but hungry soldiers can't fight. You lack Gunpowder, and horses to pull the wagons as well, do you not?"

"..."

Roháč could not refute it. It was a painful fact.

Žižka's army was powerful, but it was always chained by a lack of supplies. They barely survived through plunder, but that too had clear limits.

Besides, that plunder was ultimately directed at the people of Bohemia. Even if the land belonged to Catholic lords, like mine, the ones who suffered were mostly peasants.

"This money is the blood and sweat of the people. The Church stole it, and I have only taken it back. So it must be used for the people once again."

I rose from my seat and slowly walked between the mountain-like stacks of gold coin sacks.

"Half."

I stopped and looked between the two men.

"Exactly half will go into the royal treasury. I will oversee it myself and use it to rebuild the kingdom's walls and make weapons. Any objections?"

"...None."

"Good."

I nodded.

"Of the other half, three tenths will be assigned to the Taborite army."

"Three tenths, you say?"

Roháč's eyes widened. Thirty percent of the whole came to nearly four hundred thousand groschen, an enormous sum.

"Use that money to buy food, Gunpowder, and horses. Pay the soldiers proper wages, so they no longer need to plunder civilian homes. Tell General Žižka this: use this gold to crush Sigismund."

Roháč's expression twisted with mixed emotions. Though he hated nobles, he could not refuse support on this scale.

He gave a short nod.

"...Understood. I will tell General Žižka."

"And Lord Cenek."

"Y-yes, Your Majesty!"

Cenek looked at me with the eager eyes of a puppy. If he had a tail, it would probably have been worth watching.

"The remaining two tenths will be assigned to the Council of Nobles."

"Tw-two tenths...!"

"On one condition."

I fixed Cenek with a cold stare.

"This money is not for you to squander on luxuries. Use it to prepare your estates' defenses and support the families of conscripted serfs. If I hear that any of this money has entered your pockets..."

Trailing off, I drove the quill in my hand into the table. Its sharp tip buried deep in the hard oak.

"Then I will visit your castles personally to collect my share."

Cenek's face turned white. He nodded so hard his head seemed ready to fall off.

"I-I will remember! Such a thing will never happen!"

"Good. Then we have an agreement."

That took care of the immediate crisis.

The army would be fed, and after getting a taste of money, the nobles would wag their tails for me for a while.

Then Roháč asked in a heavy voice.

"There is one thing I would like to ask."

"Mm?"

"Your Majesty... why are you not keeping this money for yourself? If you seek to strengthen royal authority, would it not be better to monopolize all this wealth and raise a private army?"

It was a sharp question. János and Cenek also looked curious.

I chuckled and picked up another piece of bread from the table.

"Like Sigismund and every king before him did?"

"..."

"This money gathered by the Church is rotten. It has sat stagnant for too long, and the stench is overpowering. If I ate it all by myself, I'd get sick and die. So..."

I put the bread in my mouth and chewed.

"Wouldn't it be better for everyone to share it and become accomplices together? When Sigismund attacks, they'll fight for their lives if only because they don't want to lose this delicious pot of honey."

Silence followed.

Roháč let out a hollow laugh, Cenek swallowed dryly, and János shook his head.

"I think I finally understand why General Žižka has been watching Your Majesty."

Roháč rose from his seat. There was something different in his eyes now, something like strange recognition.

"Very well. I will arm God's army with this filthy money. We will cut the crusaders' throats with the Church's lifeblood... Blasphemous, but I like it."

Roháč gave me a brief, weighty bow, then strode out with his cloak billowing behind him. The sound of metal striking metal rang heavily with each step.

Cenek, on the other hand, sprang up from his chair.

"I-I will take my leave as well and convey Your Majesty's intentions to the council! Your grace is beyond measure!"

He bent at the waist in a frantic ninety-degree bow, like someone sitting on a hot griddle.

After Cenek fled, the heavy iron door shut once more.

Bang!

Only János Hunyadi, the treasures left for my share, and I remained in the now-silent vault.

Roughly six hundred thousand groschen.

It was a truly obscene sum, exceeding several years of an average country's budget.

János stared blankly at the sacks of silver coins before asking.

"My lord, what do you plan to do with all this money now? Hire mercenaries?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

I rose from my seat with a grin.

Every use for this money was already written in detail across the blueprint in my mind.

Footnotes:

[1] The Prague groschen (Latin: grossi pragenses) was a prominent silver coin issued by King Wenceslaus II of Bohemia starting in 1300. It became a standard and highly respected currency throughout Medieval Central Europe for nearly 250 years.

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