WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Ceaseless

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ The Medieval Heretic King is Too Good at Developing ◈

Chapter 40: The Spiritual War

──────

One week later, in the grand conference hall of Prague Palace.

The heat of the festival still lingered throughout the city, but the air inside the hall was heavy and still.

The past week had been spent dealing with the aftermath.

Counting the spoils of war. Collecting the bodies scattered across the battlefield.

Today was the day they would turn every record written in blood into numbers.

János Hunyadi was the first to speak.

"These are the final casualty figures for the Battle of the Prague Plain, counted as of dawn today."

The rustle of turning parchment sounded unusually loud in the hall.

"First, our own losses. One hundred twenty-four dead. Eight hundred fifty wounded. Around two hundred are estimated to be seriously wounded, while the rest suffered minor bruises or cuts."

The moment János finished, suppressed groans rose from around the room.

"Hah..."

"Only a hundred men..."

It was an impossible casualty ratio for a battle against an army of one hundred thousand.

Most of those killed had not even died in battle. They had died in accidents while recklessly pursuing the fleeing enemy.

"As for the enemy... an exact count is impossible, but more than eight thousand bodies were recovered from the battlefield alone. Including those trampled to death or who died of their wounds while fleeing, casualties are believed to exceed fifteen thousand."

János Hunyadi continued his report.

"We have secured a total of thirty-four thousand prisoners. The remaining fifty thousand or so have scattered after their command structure collapsed and are fleeing across the border. In effect, the Empire's main force has been annihilated."

A miracle created by asymmetric forces: Gunpowder weapons and mechanized troops.

Even after hearing those unbelievable results again, everyone in the hall turned to look at me.

For a moment, I watched reverence creep into their eyes before speaking.

"Good. We'll settle our own side first. One hundred twenty-four dead. Have their bereaved families been identified?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. We have the list, but..."

Now it was my turn. Tapping the list of fallen soldiers with the tip of my pen, I made my declaration as firmly as possible.

"Pay every soldier who died in this battle a lump sum equivalent to one year's wages."

"Yes...?"

"And if they have children, provide their families with a fixed amount of grain every month until those children come of age, or the equivalent in silver."

Cenek of Vartemberk shot to his feet in shock.

"Y-Your Majesty! That is excessive! They were only conscripted peasants. Dying while fighting for their lord is both their duty and honor. Why would you empty the treasury to offer such enormous compensation...?!"

But my orders did not end there.

"Also, anyone who lost a limb in battle or was left disabled and unable to support themselves is to be employed as a castle laborer, guard, or administrative assistant. Make sure they can support themselves for the rest of their lives. The state will take responsibility for them for the rest of their lives."

Murmur, murmur.

The conference hall stirred as though someone had struck a beehive.

Those unable to hide their confusion were mostly the conservative Prague nobles.

Hynek Krušina of Lichtenburg, one of the Utraquist nobles, cautiously but urgently interrupted.

"Your Majesty, it is customary to provide burial expenses for the fallen, but you would give pensions to their families and support even the disabled for life? Is there really any need to spend so much from the treasury on mere peasants?"

"Mere peasants, you say."

For a medieval noble, his words were entirely sensible.

In this age, soldiers were expendable. If they died on the battlefield, they were unlucky. If they were injured, they had to find their own way to survive.

The mercy of a lord extended, at best, to holding a funeral and providing a burial plot at a church. Even that was enough to make peasants grateful beyond measure.

A dry laugh escaped my lips.

"Sir Krušina."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Those mere peasants risked their lives at a single command from me and pushed that wall of steel. You are sitting there breathing because they did not run and held their ground before the cannons."

"Th-That is...!"

When I glared at him, Krušina tried to say something, then fell silent.

"If those who shed blood for the state are left to struggle in poverty and beg in the streets as payment for that blood, who will take up a spear in the next war? Who will risk their life for the king?"

I swept my cold gaze across the hall.

"This is not waste. It is an investment, the surest and most efficient investment in national defense. I will accept no further objections on this matter."

A modern veterans' support system.

That was the very foundation of the central army I wanted to build.

The belief that even if I die, my family will not go hungry.

Only when soldiers are certain that the state will take responsibility for them can they truly give their lives for it.

That was the true loyalty I wanted from my soldiers.

Honor and faith only had meaning once I and my family were well-fed and living well.

"Hah..."

"No, honestly..."

The nobles could only move their lips, unable to argue further.

More than the money, they seemed afraid that this unfamiliar idea of placing a value on commoners' lives would shake their own privileges.

Yet the expressions of the university professors and theologians among the Utraquists, as well as the Taborite commanders who had fought and shed blood themselves, had changed.

Jan Žižka gave a heavy nod.

"I am deeply impressed by Your Majesty's insight. Once this news spreads, soldiers will gladly give their lives for Your Majesty. You have gained loyalty that cannot be measured in money."

Just as he said, I could feel something subtly change in the soldiers' eyes as they looked at me.

It would cost some money, but I had gained far more in return. It was a profitable deal.

"Good. Next, the prisoners."

I asked, shifting the mood.

"Thirty-four thousand. We cannot feed that many mouths forever. Has the sorting been completed?"

János Hunyadi stepped forward with his notebook open.

"Yes. There are around twenty-one hundred nobles of knightly rank or higher. The rest are all conscripts or worthless mercenaries."

"Handle the nobles according to custom. Write to their families and demand ransom. Set different amounts according to their titles and the size of their estates, then release them in the order their money arrives. If they do not pay, throw them into the dungeon."

"Understood. That should bring in a handsome profit."

That part was simple. It was ordinary medieval business.

The problem was the remaining thirty-two thousand commoner prisoners.

"What shall we do with the conscripts?"

János Hunyadi asked with a troubled expression.

"They are penniless wretches. They have no means to pay ransom. But it would be a waste to simply release them, and killing them all would make cleaning up the bodies a nuisance. They are no different from vermin eating up our food..."

The air in the hall grew heavy again.

The fate of prisoners without ransom in the Middle Ages was harsh.

Death, lifelong slavery, or, if they were lucky, release after having a limb cut off.

One of the hardline Taborite commanders raised a hand.

"Your Majesty, they are lackeys of the Pope and the Emperor. If we spare them, they will take up swords again. Why not make an example of them? Behead them all and display their heads on the walls of Prague."

"That is too cruel. It would be better for the treasury to turn them all into serfs."

The retainers discussed massacre and enserfment as though it were only natural.

It made me frown.

No matter that this was the Middle Ages, the thought of beheading thirty thousand people or keeping them as slaves for life sat poorly with someone who held twenty-first-century values.

Of course, slaves and serfs were clearly different, but from a modern perspective, they were much the same.

Still, simply letting them go would make me a complete sucker.

Then an idea flashed through my mind.

Yes, if I did this...

"Wait."

I rose from my seat and walked toward the map hanging on the wall.

"There is no need to kill them or make them serfs. We can give them jobs and let them pay their own ransom."

"Pardon? Jobs?"

"That is right."

Silesia, in the north of the Kingdom of Bohemia.

Countless black jewels of limitless potential still lay there, undeveloped.

Coal and iron ore.

The lifeblood of the Industrial Revolution. Fuel for a steel empire.

"Set them fair wages. Two groschen a day. But deduct the cost of food and lodging, tool rental fees, and, most importantly, their ransom from those wages."

A strange silence settled over the hall.

Ignoring it, I explained my business model.

"Three thousand groschen for each commoner prisoner. Promise them that the moment they pay off that debt with the money they earn working in the mines, they will be free and sent home. They will receive the chance to serve as hardworking laborers of the kingdom, and we will gain labor. Is that not a perfect plan where nobody loses?"

My calculation was reasonable. Extracting coal and iron, the foundation of industrialization, required enormous manpower.

If I put our own farmers in the mines, agriculture would collapse. But thirty thousand free laborers who had practically walked in on their own were another matter.

'They'll be grateful we spared them, and since they have hope, they'll work hard. Isn't this the real win-win?'

I was not killing them, and I was even giving them the opportunity to earn their freedom through their own efforts. It was a truly reasonable and merciful measure. Even from a modern perspective, there was nothing wrong with it.

I looked around the room, waiting for my retainers' approval.

Their reactions were strange.

János Hunyadi stared at me with his mouth hanging open, his eyes filled with horror. Cenek of Vartemberk had gone pale and was trembling.

Sir Kuno asked in a shaking voice.

"Your Majesty, do you mean the Silesian coal mines? That hell where people must crawl hundreds of meters underground without a single ray of light, breathing black dust?"

Cenek of Vartemberk crossed himself and cried out.

"Oh, Lord! Even if they are enemies, you would bury thirty thousand people alive! That is a punishment even Satan would shake his head at!"

"What?"

I only meant to give them jobs.

But then I realized it. To medieval people, mine work was not employment. It was punishment itself.

A place where poisonous gas and cave-ins were everyday occurrences, without even a single piece of safety equipment. Mine work was where only the most vicious criminals were sent.

"My lord... you truly are ruthless."

János Hunyadi shook his head and looked at me with an oddly admiring gaze.

"So simply killing them would be too peaceful a rest. You mean to work them until their bones turn to dust, drain their lifeblood, and forge Your Majesty's steel with it... As expected, my lord is the Steel King. Even your heart is made of steel."

"No, listen to me. We'll dig ventilation shafts and install proper safety supports in the tunnels..."

"Yes, yes. I understand. You mean we should keep them alive as long as possible so they can mine more. I will remember that."

Without listening to my explanation, János Hunyadi wrote in his notebook.

[Thirty thousand prisoners, bound for the Silesian labor camp]

Žižka let out a low laugh.

"Pain worse than death... as expected of Your Majesty. Beheading them is far too peaceful a death. You mean to make them regret setting foot on Bohemian soil until their bones turn to powder and become fertilizer for this land."

The nobles around me whispered in fear.

"Did you hear? Until they repay the full ransom."

"No one survives a year in those mines. When will they ever pay three thousand groschen? He means they will only leave when they die."

"What if I get on his bad side and he sends me to those coal mines?"

There was unmistakable fear in their eyes now when they looked at me.

'...This is not what I meant.'

A sense of injustice rose within me, but I decided not to explain again.

Even if I told them I would introduce modern safety rules and mining techniques, they would not believe me until they saw it themselves.

Besides, fear could sometimes be a useful tool of governance.

"Ahem. In any case, march the conscripts to Silesia at dawn tomorrow. Their labor will lead Bohemia's industrial revolution."

Wearing the most solemn expression I could manage, I brought the meeting to an end.

At one side of the hall, Sir Kuno crossed himself and murmured, "Lord, have mercy on those poor souls..."

Footnotes:

Join our discord at https://dsc.gg/wetried