novelraw Chapter 176: Gold-Sniffing Raven
Chapter 176: Gold-Sniffing Raven
Chewing on a bite of pigeon pie, Ulf lowered his voice. "Exactly how much does the royal family owe? Hey, do not give me that look. Even if you refuse to tell me, I can make a rough guess. It has to be at least ten thousand pounds, right?"
Seeing Wigg's helpless expression, Ulf took a small sip of his wine. "It seems there is no hope of recovering my five-hundred-pound debt."
Wigg could do nothing about the leaked financial information. The Kingdom of Britain held no secrets these days. If the Cabinet held a meeting in the morning, rumors would already be spreading through the taverns by the afternoon. News like this simply could not be hidden.
Afterward, Ulf's conversation continued to revolve around finances.
"I heard you recently acquired a new nickname—the Gold-Sniffing Raven. You pursue gold and silver with reckless abandon, just like a raven seeking out rotting flesh. Haha, fortunately, I understand your character. I know you disdain petty greed. If anyone else tried pulling these tricks in Dover, let alone hosting a banquet for them, they would not even be allowed through the gates of my castle."
Wigg did not argue, patiently listening to his host's rambling. Imperceptibly, the bard's melody turned cheerful. An old man playing a lute sat cross-legged by the bonfire, his index finger plucking the three strings to produce a tone as clear as a babbling spring. A young boy blew into a flute, and a drummer heavily struck a sheepskin drum, signaling that a good show was about to begin.
Two actors draped in coarse sackcloth leaped into the center. The taller one raised a wooden sword, his burlap cloak whipping through the air with a sharp swish:
"The vicious dragon's flames have scorched the church spire!"
The flutist played a high, sustained note at just the right moment, causing the candlelight to flicker in time with the sound. The shorter actor curled into a ball, then suddenly sprang up and shouted at the top of his lungs: "But the shepherd boy's heart is harder than armor!"
The next moment, everyone cheered in unison: "He embarks on this journey without hesitation, all for the love of the princess!"The drama was titled "Lucky Bojack." The plot was simple and lighthearted, telling the story of a shepherd boy who defeated a demonic dragon to claim its treasure.
Once the performance ended, Ulf grabbed a handful of silver coins and tossed them out, drawing a chorus of thanks from the troupe. After the bards exited the stage, the conversation between the two nobles grew increasingly sensitive.
"Tell me the truth, are you confident you can salvage this current financial crisis?"
Wigg gently swirled his glass, watching the deep red wine spin within. "It is very difficult. Pascal left behind an absolute mess. I can only barely maintain the situation."
Ulf found it hard to believe. "You have been stirring up trouble endlessly in Londinium, offending who knows how many people, and the result is just barely maintaining things? Listen to my advice. If you cannot handle it, run while you still can. There are countless people coveting the position of Prime Minister; plenty would be willing to take over."
"I know what I am doing." The bonfire crackled, the dancing flames casting Wigg's shifting, unpredictable shadow against the wall.
"As for offending people, such trivial matters mean nothing. The Prime Minister is the role model for the administrative system, just as a commander is the role model for an entire army. If I appeared weak and easily bullied, terrified of clashing with others, how could I command any respect?"
This was a thankless job, but also a rare opportunity. Serving as Prime Minister to govern a massive nation encompassing the British Isles, Denmark, and Sweden would vastly improve Wigg's administrative abilities, regardless of whether he succeeded or failed.
Currently, the population of the England Region was roughly 1.2 million, the Wales Region had about 200,000, the Northern Marches held 270,000, and Ireland had roughly 500,000 people.
The total population of the British Isles was roughly 2.2 million, which included about 300,000 Northern European immigrants.
The population of Northern Europe was difficult to calculate. According to Wigg's estimates, Denmark's agriculture was more developed than that of Sweden and Norway. Even after a massive wave of emigration overseas, its population remained somewhere between 300,000 and 400,000.
Sweden possessed a larger landmass, but having suffered the ravages of the Swords of the North, followed by a grueling year-long tug-of-war, its people had fled in droves to Britain and Normandy. The population was still slowly declining, currently sitting between 200,000 and 300,000. In recent years, the situation in the Kingdom of Norway had stabilized. Erik and Erik Jr., father and son, were not particularly skilled at warfare, so they focused all their energy on governing their territory. As a result, they actually absorbed immigrants from both Denmark and Sweden, and their population was steadily approaching that of Denmark.
"It is too small. The combined population of the British Isles and Northern Europe is still less than the single nation of West Francia."
Recalling the historical records in his mind, Wigg deduced that West Francia's current population was slightly lower than that of Roman Gaul at its peak, ranging between five to eight million.
"Ultimately, the root of the problem is backward agricultural production. Hopefully, the application of clover, turnips, and new agricultural machinery will boost productivity enough to support a larger population."
Once his affairs in Kent County concluded, Wigg returned to Londinium, only for his secretary, Loki, to deliver some bad news: the royal treasury was empty once again.
Left with no other choice, he borrowed one thousand pounds from the Rus Merchant Guild, to be paid off over five years for a total repayment of 1,600 pounds. In exchange, he also permitted the guild to expand their premises.
After signing the documents, Wigg called out to Loki just as he was about to leave. "Is there any way to cut down on administrative expenses?"
Upon hearing this dreadful suggestion, Loki staggered, hastily grabbing the wall to keep from falling. He turned around, marched up to the desk, and spoke with an unprecedented level of seriousness. "Your Excellency, I sincerely beg you to withdraw that idea. The previous Prime Minister tried it, but it yielded absolutely no results, and overall expenses actually increased instead."
Seeing the Prime Minister's skeptical expression, Loki began to vent his grievances.
"As the Prime Minister's Secretary, my annual salary is two pounds, which is higher than the vast majority of employees. An ordinary clerk only makes between forty and eighty silver pennies. It hardly costs anything! Why do you not direct your attention to the royal court?
"Take Queen Sola's pet dog, for example. It has two dedicated servants waiting on it round the clock. Its velvet sleeping cushion is replaced every two weeks, it drinks fresh goat's milk, and it eats premium beef and mutton. Furthermore, the swans, peacocks, falcons, greyhounds, and mastiffs kept at the Royal Manor are equally massive drains on funds. I even heard the Palace Steward had a sudden whim and ordered two lions from the Berbers, which are expected to arrive next month!"
Following his secretary's repeated pleading, Wigg temporarily abandoned the idea. During the Cabinet meeting the following day, he questioned the five absent-minded ministers.
"Gentlemen, the palace is in desperate need of money. Does anyone have a way to either increase revenue or reduce expenses?"
Unexpectedly, Hrolf actually volunteered to speak. "Aside from Londinium, the royal family also controls York, Tamworth, and Nottingham. Every year after the harvest, transporting the newly stored grain to Londinium requires a massive number of draft animals, leading to severe attrition. I suggest changing the method. Let the peasants convert their grain into silver and pay their agricultural tax directly in silver coins. This would drastically reduce transportation costs."
Hrolf was immensely satisfied with this novel idea he had racked his brains to come up with, but he was unexpectedly rebuked by Gorm.
"Out of the question! If large numbers of peasants sell their grain in a short period, it will inevitably cause grain prices to plummet. Originally, five bushels of wheat could be exchanged for ten pence. After the price drops, it might take eight bushels to get ten pence. With cheap grain and expensive silver, this would effectively increase their burden in disguise. We would be better off just raising taxes directly."
The two argued for a while before deciding to let the Prime Minister make the final judgment. Unable to make up his mind, Wigg merely uttered some nonsense that the others could not comprehend.
"Lord Hrolf's idea is unique, but Lord Gorm's counterargument also makes sense. The core issue behind cheap grain and expensive silver is an insufficient amount of currency circulating in the market—or, more accurately, a shortage of silver. Unless a massive silver mine is discovered, causing a sudden surge in silver circulation, Lord Hrolf's idea cannot be implemented."
After spinning this lengthy spiel, Wigg's final decision was to maintain the status quo. Reforming the agricultural tax involved far too many complexities, and he simply lacked faith in the current administrative system.