Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king - Chapter 864

Chapter 864: Results(2)

Regarding the law of the princedom, the previous reform Alpheo had passed sought to bring order and consistency to a system that had, for generations, thrived on chaos and whim of governors.

Before his decree, the law in the royal cities was a matter of the judge’s temper rather than the law’s letter. Each magistrate, steward, or governor ruled as he pleased, choosing punishment according to mood, custom, or personal grudge.

What was a fine in one city might be a hanging in another.

Until Alpheo’s reform, there had been no clear boundary between justice and vengeance.

Sentences ranged wildly from paying a fine, to public humiliation, to mutilation, branding, or death. A thief might lose his fingers, an adulterer might be paraded naked through the streets, and a debtor might be chained in the square until his family bought back his freedom.

A man who stole more than a silverii could expect to lose a finger; repeat offenders lost a hand. Those branded on the cheek or brow bore their shame for life. Such punishments satisfied the mob and the magistrates alike, but they destroyed lives .For who would hire a man marked as a thief, or trust one with a scarred hand?

And where would this put him to do next?

Alpheo’s Corpus Alpheianum sought to end this. Mutilation and branding turned thieves into beggars and beggars into thieves again, trapping them in a cycle of desperation that ended only with the noose.

Of course, reform did not mean indulgence. Alpheo could not afford to fill dungeons with criminals and feed them through long sentences, there was neither coin nor bread to spare for that kind of justice.

Thus was born his system of compensatory labor. Those who could not pay fines in silver would pay them in service.

Criminals became the workforce of the crown: repairing city walls, digging canals, mending roads, harvesting crops for village widows, cleaning refuse from the streets.

Of course such systme was not without flaws. The number of offenders quickly outgrew the small corps of overseers and clerks tasked with managing them. In some provinces, convicts vanished into endless “service,” others were instead given a beating and left out. Elsewhere, local judges used the laborers as personal hands, calling it “royal work” while exploiting them for private gain, of course, their colleagues in the governing desk of that area soon discovered and reported it back.

If Alpheo truly wanted to make it work, he woud have to spend more silverii or increase the budget for the governorial organ in cities.

Of course he didn’t have the resources to spend on such a seconday problem, as he had bigger things to worry about.

So for now, he quietly put it on another desk.

At the same time, pleased by the swift progress of his agricultural reforms and quietly vexed by the knowledge that, in the short term, he had burdened the treasury with losses to achieve it, vainly at that , Alpheo turned his gaze to the next great cornerstone of his modernization of the state, which meant grabbing the means of production.

He let out a slow breath, folding his fingers beneath his chin. “You may proceed with the next report,” he said finally.

Aron, ever precise, adjusted his spectacles and flipped to the next set of neatly bound pages. “Of course, Your Grace,” he said with practiced calm. “If it pleases you, I will begin with the progress on the land-leasing initiatives.”

Alpheo gave a curt nod and motioned for him to continue.

“In the last year,” Aron began, “we have successfully opened twelve new wineries across the crownlands , six of them along the Eastern Ridge near the coast, where the soil is particularly rich thanks to the rivers that flows through it. Additionally, three oil presses are now operational, six grain estates have been cleared and cultivated, and two facilities for dye production have been established along the riverbanks near the capital.”

He turned another page, eyes flicking over his notes. “The projected income from these enterprises amounts to approximately four thousand and two hundred silverii annually , primarily from the wineries established three years ago, which have now begun to yield consistent harvests. Our analysts predict that this figure may double within the next fiscal cycle, assuming weather conditions remain favorable and trade routes to the capital remain secure.”

Aron allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. “We have also received new petitions from several merchant consortiums, both local and foreign, expressing interest in leasing further plots. Notably, a number of prominent Romelian merchants have begun to invest heavily in the crownlands. It seems, Your Grace, that they have realized that under your rule, the risk of doing business here is considerably lower and safer.”

Alpheo leaned back in his chair, listening in silence.

Aron continued, “Those who have invested enjoy several privileges: the crown’s protection from banditry, reduced tolls on major routes, and favorable taxation during the first three years of operation. Their confidence appears to be growing. Many who once hesitated now understand that it is wiser and more profitable, to establish production centers directly within the princedom rather than pay inflated prices to the landed nobles who monopolized the trade in wine and oil.”

“Understood,” Alpheo murmured, his tone even. “You’ve done well. Continue.”

He was not surprised by the report , he had anticipated the slow start.

The first wave had been the bold and now that those men were turning profits, the rest were certain to follow, because as Aron had said it was better in the long term to own production rather than to buy it from others.

Aron cleared his throat, his tone shifting slightly as he turned to the next section. “Now, if it pleases Your Grace, I will move to the Royal Trade Program.”

This was the real heart of it.

The trade program had cost him weeks of great works and negotiations, long nights of council, and more patience than he liked to admit. He had fought tooth and nail with half his nobility to see it approved ,a decree that struck directly at one of their oldest privileges: the right to tax caravans passing through their lands.

In exchange for their cooperation, he had promised them lucrative shares in certain trade routes and allowed the sons to have a chance at entering the royal army. It had taken charm, threats, and no small amount of coin and favors to secure their signatures. Now he wanted to know if it had been worth the bruises to his treasury and his pride.

“How fares the program?” Alpheo asked, his voice calm but his eyes betraying the faintest glimmer of tension.

“Very well, Your Grace.” Aron’s voice smoothed into the practiced cadence of a man who had learned to turn numbers into comfort. “In the first four months alone we have admitted twenty-eight merchants into the program. The inflow should accelerate as word of the protections and exemptions spreads.” He smiled, but the smile tasted like old wine, thin and bitter.

Alpheo watched him. He saw the lines around the man’s mouth. He heard the small, polite hesitation that always preceded bad news. “Something the matter?” he asked. He already felt the weight of whatever sat on Aron’s chest. A crown made a man expect gossip like rain.

Aron folded the papers, thumbed the corner. “It is… a personal concern, Sire.”

“Lay it out,” Alpheo said. No flourish. No patience for coyness.

The minister inhaled. “One merchant, in particular, has grown faster than the rest. He invests widely across the programs you founded. He takes contracts in the city; he moves men and coin. He is… ubiquitous.”

“Has he broken the law?” Alpheo asked flatly.

“No, Your Grace. He bears himself within the letter of every agreement. He pays his dues. He behaves like a man who knows how to be legal and how to be useful.”

”Can’t do much without a name” he sighed.

“His name is Ivaylo Mercer.”

Ivaylo. The name had arrived on his desk before: a merchant who had taken early advantage of the crown market, bought access that others feared to claim. He had shown up at the right time, with the right coin. “He’s one of the first that entered our independent market,” Alpheo said. He let the statement sit like a blade on the table. “And was generous with the artisans freed by the guild.”

“Yes, Your Grace. Generous to our coffers, generous with loans, generous with contracts. But generosity attracts patrons, and patrons build power.”

Aron did not say it like a threat. He stated it like a truthteller catwalking a fence. Power crept where law and loyalty left gaps.

Alpheo considered the two knives every lord kept at his belt: the blunt one, the hammer that erased rivals; the other, the whetstone that kept potential threats alive and useful.

He tasted the diamond-cold logic that had always ruled him: extinguish or bind.There was nothing in between.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “How do you deal with powers rising beneath you?” he asked quietly.

When Aron did not answer, he continued.

“Two ways.” He lifted two fingers as if counting coins. “You break them until nothing remains but ash. Or you keep them close. Let them think they grow, while you place the ropes. Let them feed the crown’s needs until their reach becomes useful to you, then cut if they grow unruly.”

Alpheo’s silence was a verdict. He had not made his fortune by burning every spark. He had built networks. He had bought loyalty and bled men dry when he needed blood. But the merchant class was a different kind of fire. It warmed a nation and could, in a season, set it ablaze.

“If you prefer the second,” he added, “there are measures short of execution.”

Aron did not look convinced.

Alpheo sighed.

“If it will let you sleep,I ‘ll buy some of the man’s servants. Plant eyes among his ledgers. Let my people keep his shadow warm.” He folded his hands together, the prince as a patient trapper. “If he crosses my line, I will take what you desire from him. But for now, we’ll let him be, he has been quite useful for a merchant and he hasn’t given us any reason to distrust him.

Given that I would suggest for you to Calm yourself.

There isn’t a thing that he can do to actually harm us; I am instead surprised by the hostility you bear him. I suppose mercantilism isn’t in your tastes?”

At that, Aron could give no response but a bow, after all the prince had spoken and had been kind enough to reassure him of his troubles.What was he to ask more?