Chapter 458 — Dissemination
Blade of Dawn · Page 3 of 4
The "Lord Consul" said water must be boiled before drinking, and to that end had even permitted serfs and tenant farmers to cut firewood (formerly such lowly folk were allowed only to gather fallen twigs and dry branches, never to fell trees in the lord's forest), so everyone boiled their water before drinking it. The Lord Consul said one must not relieve oneself in the streets, and after dozens of people had been flogged in public, everyone began using the newly built latrines. The Lord Consul said all those with a craft should register at the administrative hall, so everyone went to register—it cost nothing, after all...
The Cecil folk were very strange, and the new laws were very strange, but at least they did not seize grain, so life could still go on.
But not everyone was so unfeeling.
The great merchant Kord sat in his residence. The tea the maid had served had gone cold, yet he had not taken a single sip. His mind was in turmoil, and his eldest son sat before him.
"Father, the administrative hall sent people again yesterday?"
"They did," the great merchant said in a muffled voice. "Still wanting me to sign the Commercial Covenant. They also want to build a factory on that open ground south of town, and want me to come forward and persuade the people over there..."
"You still haven't signed?" The eldest son's face was full of worry. "Father, those are the lord's men..."
"Ugh, of course I know they are the lord's men, and I would not dare offend them," the great merchant said with a sigh. "Even if they asked me to take out a third... a quarter of the family fortune to repair the town walls and the castle, that would be fine. But they only want me to sign the covenant, and they want me to take the lead... that is absolutely out of the question."
Money lost can be earned again; using wealth to satisfy a lord's demands is something every merchant must learn, especially in this commercially thriving domain of Carroll. The great merchant Kord, who had long relied on the lord's favor to build his fortune, understood this very well. Yet faced with the Commercial Covenant the Cecil men had produced, this great merchant—who had already prepared to trade his fortune for peace—appeared hesitant and irresolute.
"Father, you had best agree. There is no good in opposing the administrative hall—though they seem very reasonable now, who knows how long their patience will last. If you do not sign, they might drive us all out..."
"Spending money is a deal; when the deal is done, it is done. But a signature lasts a lifetime—it is not so easy to give," the great merchant said with a sigh. His eldest son was no fool in business, but his experience of life was still too thin. "Do you know how many merchants are watching and waiting? And who has signed? If in the end most people have not signed, then those who did... what difference is there between them and the exiled, in the world of business?"
"The Cecil men have already occupied this place. From now on the whole Southern March will be Cecil's. Sooner or later everyone will sign."
"...I know, of course I know," Kord said with a bitter smile. "Sooner or later they will sign. That is exactly why I want to wait a little longer. I truly do not wish to be the first. The Cecil men's weapons are formidable, but there is still..."
The great merchant did not finish his sentence. The door of the room was suddenly flung open, and his second son burst in waving a roll of paper, wild with joy: "Father! Father! They signed! They signed!"
Kord could scarcely bear to hear the word "sign" now. The instant he heard it he sprang to his feet and shouted: "Sign what!! Who told you to go signing?!"