The Medieval Heretic King is Too Good at Developing - Chapter 44

WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Ceaseless

◈ The Medieval Heretic King is Too Good at Developing ◈

Chapter 44: The Spiritual War (5)

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Spring had come to Prague as well.

The ice along the Vltava River had melted and drifted gently downstream, while spring flowers bloomed in profusion on the hills beyond the blackened city walls.

Color had finally returned to the faces of citizens who had shivered through war and winter.

Yet there was one place untouched by that warm spring air.

The grand council chamber of Prague's royal palace.

"I'll get straight to the point."

Leaning back in my cushioned chair, I looked over the vassals before me and spoke quietly.

"We have no money."

"......"

A heavy silence settled over the chamber.

Even the birdsong outside the windows sounded unusually loud.

"It's worse than simply having none. At this rate, next month we won't be able to pay the soldiers, let alone afford the bread on my dinner table."

A state was like a vast machine.

It needed oil to keep running, and that lubricant was money.

The trouble was that I had modified this machine into something far too high-powered, and the rate at which it consumed oil was becoming impossible to manage.

"Let's hear the situation in each sector first. Commander-in-Chief Žižka?"

At my call, Jan Žižka rose with his heavy frame.

Stroking his beard with a satisfied look, he began to speak.

"The military reforms are proceeding splendidly, Your Majesty. No, splendid doesn't begin to describe it. The results have been explosive."

He waved a thick report.

"Thanks to the central army structure Your Majesty introduced, along with the unprecedented military benefits policy you unveiled at the last memorial service, the recruitment offices have lines stretching out every day. Farmers are throwing aside their plows to take up pikes, and even mercenaries from neighboring countries are flocking here after hearing the rumors."

"And the quality of these recruits?"

"The best. An army that feeds and houses its men, even looks after their families? The soldiers' morale has soared to the heavens. I've spent my whole life on battlefields, but I've never seen soldiers with eyes like theirs."

So far, so good.

A strong standing army was at the heart of the modern state I dreamed of building.

Then Žižka's expression twisted slightly, and his voice dropped.

"Though there has been some grumbling from certain noble bastards."

"What are they complaining about?"

"Those fools steeped in feudalism are saying the same predictable things. 'Our family's knights protect our estates just fine, so why must the King spend such vast sums building a separate central army?' Or, 'Give weapons to commoners and they'll become nothing but a mob.' That sort of nonsense."

Murderous intent filled Žižka's one eye.

"Give the order, and I'll go crack their skulls with a mace this instant. To dare question Your Majesty's great work. They've grown far too comfortable."

"...Calm down. Violence can wait."

The nobles' discontent was expected.

Feudal nobles in medieval society usually disliked seeing royal authority grow stronger. They feared the King would bring in an army and encroach upon their established privileges.

"That's not the problem. The cost is."

"Ah. Yes, of course."

Žižka turned to the next page of the report.

"With so many volunteers arriving, food and clothing costs have exceeded our estimates by a great deal. Then there are the sixty groschen monthly wages Your Majesty promised, the hazard pay, and the lump-sum payments and pensions given to the families of the fallen..."

After clearing his throat, he read out the figures.

"To be honest, this month's military expenditure alone is more than triple last month's. And it will only rise from here. There is no reason for it to decrease."

"......"

Just as I thought.

An army with modern welfare was a monster that devoured money.

I could save money by doing what medieval lords did and shouting, "There's a war, so grab your own weapons and get out here! Feed yourselves!" But I couldn't face the Holy Roman Empire with such a disorganized rabble.

"Next, Abraham."

Abraham, the Royal Minister of Finance, rose with an expression even darker than Žižka's.

"The construction plan for the Sternberg industrial complex, as ordered by Your Majesty, is proceeding without issue."

Abraham opened a meticulously written ledger.

"Thanks to the coal sent from the Silesian mines, the blast furnace at the Royal Steelworks has been running without stopping, twenty-four hours a day. The residential complex for workers is more than half complete as well."

"What about production?"

"Following Your Majesty's orders, we converted the weapons production lines to civilian goods immediately after the war ended. The steelworks are now pouring out quality steel plows, sickles, and cast-iron cauldrons instead of steel plates and cannons."

Abraham paused, adjusted his glasses, and looked at me.

"The goods are excellent. They're so much sturdier than farming tools made from wrought iron that farmers are fighting to buy them. Thanks to Your Majesty's order to distribute them at low prices close to cost, public sentiment could not be better, but..."

"But?"

"...There is no profit."

Frustration colored Abraham's voice.

"The transport costs for raw iron ore and coal, the high wages for the steelworks technicians, the materials and labor costs for the large-scale construction projects... The expenses are astronomical, yet we are practically giving away the products. It is like pouring water into a bottomless jar."

He snapped the ledger shut and cried out miserably.

"Your Majesty, I will speak plainly. At this rate, the state will go bankrupt in two months... No, within a month!"

The council chamber erupted in murmurs.

"Bankrupt..."

"Is it truly that serious?"

We had won the war.

We had built a powerful army.

We had raised industry and distributed quality tools among the people.

Everything looked like the perfect reign of a wise king, yet beneath that splendid surface, Bohemia's treasury was being drained dry.

Sir Kuno, the captain-designate of the soon-to-be-established Royal Guard, cautiously raised a hand.

"Your Majesty, what about the property we confiscated from the churches and monasteries? Where did all that vast treasure of gold and silver go?"

I answered with a bitter smile.

"That is what kept us going until now. Without it, we would have gone bankrupt long ago."

"Hah..."

"Do you know how much we spent on Gunpowder in the last war? Feeding and clothing soldiers, producing cannons... War is a furnace that burns money. How could anything be left?"

Then Cenek of Vartemberk, the Utraquist nobles' representative, spoke up.

"Then... what about demanding reparations from the Emperor?"

He cautiously offered his opinion.

"It is customary for the defeated side to pay reparations to the victor. We should make a formal demand of the Emperor, along with recognition of our country as a legitimate state."

I shook my head.

"I already sent one. And we received a reply."

"What did he say? Will he pay?"

"No. It was roughly, 'I will not negotiate with heretics. Shut your filthy mouths and get lost.'"

"S-Such shamelessness...!"

The vassals bristled with outrage, but I spoke calmly.

"It isn't all bad. The Emperor's refusal to negotiate means the war has not officially ended. It gives us a justification to invade again whenever we want."

Resting my chin on my hand, I muttered.

"We can invade Vienna later and collect the debt with interest. But..."

The problem was the present. What use was a future justification when we did not have the money to pay the soldiers next month?

We had no room for another war right now, much less an invasion of another country.

János Hunyadi, who had been listening, tilted his head and asked.

"My lord, what about the supplies captured in the last war? I heard there are mountains of armor and weapons the crusaders left behind."

"We have them. A great many. The warehouses are nearly bursting with everything from the finest Bavarian plate armor to masterwork swords."

"Then why not sell them? They should bring in a considerable sum."

I slowly shook my head.

"To whom?"

"Pardon?"

"Think about it. We have been excommunicated. The Pope is watching with his eyes wide open, threatening to excommunicate anyone who trades with us. Do you think the surrounding Catholic states are insane enough to buy our goods?"

I gave a bitter smile.

"Supplies are only supplies, not money. We can't pay the soldiers in armor instead of wages."

Our export routes had been cut off.

That was the greatest problem.

No matter how good the goods we made, if there was nowhere to sell them, they were nothing but piles of scrap metal.

The domestic economy alone could not sustain this vast army and industrial infrastructure.

At first, I had considered going through Abraham's people, the Jewish merchants...

But Sigismund had utterly devastated the Jewish communities throughout the Empire to raise funds for this crusade.

He had confiscated their property and driven them out, leaving the commercial and intelligence networks built over centuries on the verge of collapse. It would take considerable time for them to establish themselves again.

János asked again.

"Then what about the Kuttenberg silver mines? Aren't we extracting silver there?"

"We are. But we spend money much faster than the mint can produce silver coins."

Silver coins could not simply be printed from a printing press like paper money.

Mining silver ore, crushing it, smelting it, and turning it into currency was a process that took time.

Even if we minted coins all night, there would still be a problem.

What good would it do to flood the market with silver coins?

If there was too much money but no goods, inflation would come, and money would become worth less than dirt.

Heavy silence settled over the council chamber.

The ministers looked as though the kingdom would collapse tomorrow.

I rested my chin on my hand, watched their reactions for a moment, then curled my lips into a faint smile.

"Why the long faces? Anyone looking would think the kingdom had already fallen."

"Your Majesty, this is no time for jokes. The treasury is empty."

"Yes, the vaults are empty. But that doesn't mean we have no options."

I pulled two parchment letters from inside my coat and tossed them onto the table.

One bore the Polish royal seal in red wax, while the other bore the winged lion emblem of Venice.

Every gaze in the room turned to the table at once, then filled with shock.

"C-Could this be...?"

"Yes. It is exactly what you think."

I picked up the letter bearing the Polish royal emblem first.

"Władysław II Jagiełło. That old bear secretly sent an envoy."

"The King of Poland?"

Cenek asked with wide eyes.

"Isn't he a devout Catholic monarch? There is no reason for him to join hands with us..."

"Before he is a Catholic monarch, he is a man caught between the Teutonic Knights and the Holy Roman Empire. The enemy of my enemy is practically a friend."

I waved the letter.

"The contents are simple. He proposes a mutual nonaggression pact, and beyond that, a military alliance."

The council chamber buzzed.

For Bohemia, which had stood isolated and without allies, it was unquestionably good news that Poland, a power in Eastern Europe, had extended a hand.

"Of course, it isn't free. An alliance is a double-edged sword. If Poland goes to war with the Teutonic Knights, we must send troops. In return, Poland must join the war if we fight the Emperor again."

"That doesn't sound bad. The Poles are excellent fighters, aren't they?"

Žižka nodded approvingly.

"Just look at how they crushed the Teutonic Knights at Grunwald. If they guard our rear, even that bastard Emperor won't dare attack us recklessly."

"Exactly. This is our chance for Bohemia to stop being an isolated island in Europe."

Breaking political isolation.

That alone made an alliance with Poland worthwhile.

"Then what is the second letter? Is it what I think it is?"

Abraham's gaze fixed on the letter bearing Venice's seal.

His eyes gleamed, trained as they were to catch the scent of money.

"That's right. The merchants of the Adriatic."

"They... wish to trade with us?"

"Venice wants only one thing. Steel."

I sank deeper into my chair.

"As news spread that one hundred thousand crusaders had been crushed, the power of our Sternberg steel became known across Europe. Venetian merchants have an uncanny nose for money. There was no way they would miss this. They want to import our steelmaking methods, or the steel itself."

Sir Kuno leapt up in opposition.

"We cannot sell the technology! It is our lifeline!"

"Of course not. I have no intention of cutting open the goose that lays golden eggs. There can be no leak of our technology."

I drew the line firmly.

"But selling finished products is different."

"Finished products...?"

"The steel farming tools and work tools we make, and... that crusader scrap metal rotting away in the warehouses."

La Serenissima.

The Most Serene Republic.

Venice would not care about an excommunication.

Their only god was money. They traded even with the heathen Ottoman Empire, after all.

"Think about it. The finest Bavarian plate armor. What does it matter if it has a cross engraved on it? The Venetian merchants will grind the markings off themselves and sell it for a high price. We get rid of troublesome stock, and they get cheap goods to resell."

"Oh..."

Abraham exclaimed in admiration and pushed up his glasses.

"Then an export route will open! If we move the goods through a secret Alpine route... we can receive payment in Venetian ducat gold coins!"

The mood changed in an instant.

Color returned to the faces of the ministers who had been trembling at the thought of bankruptcy.

A military alliance would secure our defense, and trade would revive the economy. It was a perfect blueprint.

But...

"...Your Majesty."

Abraham regained his composure and spoke carefully.

"It is an excellent plan, but... it will take at least half a year, perhaps a full year, to formally conclude the treaty, organize merchant caravans, exchange goods across the Alps, and receive payment into our hands."

He was right.

Even if money was coming in the future, it meant nothing if we had none to spend now. Bohemia would go under despite being profitable.

A vicious smile curled across my lips.

"If we cannot get money from outside, then we must shake loose the money within. Isn't that right?"

"Within... you mean?"

The Utraquist nobles, including Cenek, flinched.

I could see exactly what they were thinking.

'Could he mean us?'

'Does he plan to confiscate the nobles' wealth because there is no money?'

Something along those lines.

"Do not worry, Sir Cenek. I have no intention of emptying your pockets."

"H-Haha... Is that so? I had faith in Your Majesty."

Cenek wiped away cold sweat and laughed awkwardly.

"I'm talking about those who still fail to understand the situation and hold their heads high in defiance."

I walked over to the map of Bohemia hanging on the wall.

Then I drew the dagger from my waist and drove it into a broad territory near the Austrian border in the south.

"The Emperor has been defeated and fled. Yet there are still those who have not come to kneel before me."

The great lords of southern Bohemia.

Hardline Catholics led by the House of Rosenberg.

Even after hearing of the Emperor's defeat, they believed it was only a temporary retreat. They had barricaded themselves in their territories and locked their castle gates.

"They occupy Bohemian land, yet they pay no taxes and follow only the Emperor's decrees. That is clear treason."

I looked at Žižka.

"Commander-in-Chief Žižka."

"Yes, Your Majesty!"

"Doesn't the central army need training?"

"It does. And there is no training like the real thing."

"Good. Then we will train in the south."

My eyes turned cold.

"Bring the cannons and tear down every one of their castle walls. Then sweep up every last silver coin and silver spoon in their storehouses."

The scar at the corner of Žižka's mouth twitched grotesquely.

It was the smile of a beast before its prey.

"Your command shall be obeyed. I will split open those pigs' bellies and bring back the gold for Your Majesty."