Chapter 410: Even Down to Ten Percent?

"I sensed something like that was coming, but is the situation in Strasbourg really that unstable?"

"Yes. Why else would the Wenzenberg family, rooted in Strasbourg for generations, even consider relocating to Vintenheim? The political situation there is simply too tangled."

Three powers are locked in a tense standoff in Strasbourg, each watching the others for an opening. The only reason the war that should have broken out long ago has amounted to nothing more than mutual posturing is the might of Burgundy.

Had there been no powerful enemy outside their walls, they would have fought tooth and nail to claim this commercial hub. Ironically, that outside enemy has been the very thing keeping the peace in Strasbourg.

But cracks began to form in the arrangement when a drawn-out war erupted between Burgundy and France, and even Württemberg withdrew because of a civil war of its own.

The only powers left are Beren and Roden. Since the two are nominally one family and allies, my guess is that even if it doesn’t come to all-out war, there’s a good chance they’ll start localized skirmishes over the city.

"Even so, wouldn’t relocating to Mainz or Cologne be better?"

"Breaking into Mainz or Cologne past the powers already entrenched there is no easy task. Vintenheim may be a small fishing village now, but word has spread far and wide that you’re carrying out large-scale development, my lord. Small and mid-sized merchants who were squeezed out by the established local merchants are flocking to Vintenheim, every last one of them."

"And that’s why merchants trying to stake an early claim are harassing my administrator."

Savoring the rose tea I brew for myself whenever Daniel and Sabine aren’t around, I studied Wenzenberg’s reaction at my leisure. For all his confident expression, he was on edge.

From the moment I hired Leonardo, the architect and city planner, word of the harbor development spread among the merchants at lightning speed. Naturally, those money-crazed devils who worship Mammon weren’t about to sit still.

Mammon is the demon symbolizing money and wealth.

That’s why merchants are sometimes called followers of Mammon.

"The ones calling themselves merchant representatives had the gall to demand a monopoly from me. So I threw the lot of them out of Vintenheim. Mammon’s followers think of nothing but exploiting a lord with a thin track record."

My track record as a lord amounts to little more than abolishing the marriage tax and founding the gunner corps, which is why the merchants looked down on me a fair bit. That is how a mere merchant came to utter the word monopoly to my face.

Wenzenberg has dealt with me enough to know full well how much I despise monopolies. Back when he demanded a monopoly on the spoils of war without knowing any better, he ended up paying nearly eighty percent in taxes.

Still, considering his service in supplying scarce black powder, I loosened the reins enough for him to turn some profit. So Wenzenberg was able to walk away with decent gains, if not a windfall.

"Would I, who know you better than anyone, my lord, be reckless enough to make such a demand? I only hope for a fair opportunity, trusting in the bond the Lord has forged between us."

"I will give every merchant a fair opportunity, whether their operation is large or small. Monopolies poison the health of the market, and in the end the damage falls squarely on my people. I won’t stand for that."

Even so, the reason so many lords allow monopolies is to spare themselves the hassle. As long as the taxes come in properly, they could not care less what havoc the merchants wreak in the marketplace.

Of course, I don’t intend to meddle in commerce at every turn either. I plan to hire experts, the administrator among them, who can keep these merchants properly in check. Free market economics? As if such a thing existed in the Middle Ages.

The larger picture I have in mind is to keep the market healthy, curbing reckless price inflation and ensuring my people can buy goods at fair prices. It won’t be easy, of course, but it’s well worth attempting.

When Wenzenberg heard my intentions, he was impressed and worried at the same time. I knew exactly what worried him, so I urged him to voice his concerns.

After some hesitation, he spoke up.

"Your noble intentions will be praised by all your people, my lord. But Mammon’s followers will not welcome such policies, and Vintenheim will end up shunned. The only reason merchants have flocked to Vintenheim is that Breisach was destroyed."

The reason so many merchant ships and traders crowded into Vintenheim is that, with Breisach destroyed, Vintenheim was the nearest usable port to Breisburg.

Offenburg and Basel have ports of their own, but since most of their trade serves domestic consumption, it is more profitable to use Rosenheim’s Vintenheim, where the tariffs run a bit lower.

At the very least, shipping fees and tolls are cheaper there.

If it meant saving so much as a coin, the merchants seemed ready to sell their very souls.

But if I move to control the merchants, their profits will shrink, and it’s obvious they’ll all drift back to Breisach the moment it’s rebuilt. What Wenzenberg fears is Vintenheim’s expiration date.

After going to all the trouble of moving his headquarters, he could be saddled with enormous losses if Vintenheim turns out to be a hollow shell. That was what worried him. Hmm, this astringent rose tea isn’t half bad either.

"The administrator raised the same concern: no matter how much money we pour into the harbor, decline is inevitable if we can’t attract merchants. The experts all said the same thing."

"And yet you still intend to control the merchants?"

"In the long term, I plan to lower the tariffs and tolls."

"Lowering the tariffs a little won’t be enough to..."

"Even down to ten percent?"

Wenzenberg’s jaw dropped. The typical tariff rate is around fifty percent. In some regions it approaches seventy. Unlike with regular taxes, lords universally agree that there is no harm whatsoever in squeezing merchants dry.

So the merchants demanded monopolies, the lords granted them, and in the end the common people bore the full brunt of the damage. A vicious cycle. But what happens if I lower the tariff to ten percent?

The merchants will lose their minds.

Wenzenberg even stammered.

"My-my lord, you mean to concede profits to the merchants?"

"If you intend to control merchants, you have to give them profits in return. You know that better than anyone, don’t you?"

"...I-I see. You knew all along, my lord?"

"Who do you think has been turning a blind eye to your skimming from the spoils of war?"

Wenzenberg had skimmed a portion of the spoils for his own profit. But since he was already being taxed eighty percent, I let it slide. I am strict about control, but I know when to bend.

Someone might condemn this as gray-area logic, but no world is pure white. Isn’t it the way of the world that even keeping things gray, so they don’t turn black, is a struggle in itself?

"It’s only natural that you submit to my controls in proportion to what I concede, is it not?"

"Since you’ve lowered the tariff to ten percent, of course we must submit to your control. It’s an excellent justification, and an effective lure to draw in profit-hungry merchants."

"Even so, there are bound to be some who cheat."

People are such that when they are standing they want to sit, and when they are sitting they want to lie down. Even with the tariff lowered to ten percent, there will inevitably be those who resent my constant market controls.

Wenzenberg’s eyes darted about.

"If you would permit it, my lord, might I form a merchant guild and keep such men in line myself?"

"Oh? Planning to claim the guildmaster’s seat? You mean to win them over to your side and put them to work."

"If I manage the merchants closely, wouldn’t that lighten your workload, my lord?"

"More precisely, it would lighten the workload of Vintenheim’s estate manager and the administrator."

Beort is currently learning the ropes under an estate manager in the Administrative Department. Fortunately, his administrative abilities aren’t lacking, so it seems he’ll manage to run Vintenheim reasonably well.

But he’s no match for those slippery, snakelike merchants.

If Wenzenberg lends him a hand, it should work out.

"Very well. I’ll permit the merchant guild. But don’t even think about deceiving me."

"Would I dare deceive you, my lord? I still can’t forget what happened back then!"

There was a time I saw through every last one of Wenzenberg’s schemes with the Diplomat Scouter. That must have been when he realized what a truly terrifying man I am. So he can’t pull any funny business.

"I will head back to Strasbourg now."

"Don’t clear out completely. Leave at least enough behind to keep gathering information."

"Understood. In exchange, I’ll cover the upkeep out of my information fees."

Just before Wenzenberg left the audience hall, I called him back.

"Come to think of it, whatever became of that old man I saw in Offenburg?"

"Pardon? You remember Gens, my lord?"

"He stuck in my memory for some reason. Did he die of old age?"

"No. He’s still in Strasbourg. I heard he left my employ and opened a print shop, but word is he’s having trouble finding a patron."

"Printing? Isn’t that Mainz’s signature industry?"

Mainz is the center of printing. As I understand it, the first printing press was built there, and the technology spread from it to every corner of Europe. I’d heard it leaked out when a rebellion rose against the Archbishop of Mainz’s tyranny.