Chapter 144: Four Raised Edges Banca

Chapter 144: Four Raised Edges Banca

Four Raised Edges Banca

Mountain Pass

As the flying object approached in the vast blue sky, the men, whether escorts or bystanders from the camp, watched in awe. Their eyes widened with a mixture of wonder, disbelief, and fear.

A seasoned rider, gripping the reins of his horse tightly, couldn't contain his amazement. "I never imagined I'd see man traverse the skies."

His words were met with chuckles and nods from his comrades.

While the crowd was still absorbed by the strangeness of the massive object, Lords Lansius and Avery were locked in a different matter entirely.

"Considering you've chosen now to tell me this, and not earlier, I assume it has nothing to do with the proposal or the warhorse trade," Lansius remarked.

"Let's cut to the chase," Avery responded briskly. "I need control over the moneylender House of Three Hills."

"The moneylender House of Three Hills...?" Lansius mused, unsure about what the older baron was plotting.

"The educated elites in Halicia and Nicopola had been trying to form a financial operation away from their provinces. More than just a money lending operation, they envisioned a place to safeguard money, and transfer it safely," Avery explained.

Lansius nodded, understanding the gist. "So, it's essentially to support your proposed southern trade?"

"Exactly. Consider how many merchants will jump in if they don't have to carry large sums of money through hostile lands like Lowlandia—no offense," Avery added.

"None taken," Lansius replied lightly but soon adopted a serious tone. "Please don't misunderstand, but I can't share control over that House."

Avery's eyes narrowed, but Lansius held his gaze and continued, "Because I have a better plan for it."

"A better plan?" Skepticism tinged the old man's voice.

"In my birthplace, there's also a financial organization called Banca or Bank. It's there for everyone to borrow money, deposit, or transfer funds."

"Then it's the same idea," Avery said impatiently.

"Similar functions," Lansius agreed, "but with different authority. For example, if I were to borrow an absurd amount of money, could a moneylender's house in my region refuse?"

Avery appeared stunned by the question.

"The first problem is: if they're a House, local lords like me can extort them. I could simply take out loans and delay payments, or outright refuse to pay. The House would be forced into bankruptcy due to these losses. Without good safety measures, they're just a cash cow."

"Certainly there must be rules," Avery argued.

"We both know that against powerful lords like us, a House or even a moneylender Guild can't enforce the rules. They have little power over us," Lansius explained.

Avery looked around, clearly displeased. "I should have brought those smart people here to discuss this with you."

Lansius chuckled and decided to provide more insight. "A moneylender House is inherently risky. Wealth is power. If they succeed, a powerful House could buy support and influence the province. They could become the shadow power controlling the region, influencing who'll inherit your land, and who your granddaughter marries. Is that what you want?"

"Not a chance," Avery rejected vehemently. "Now that I think about it, I'd better send those men to Korelia to learn from you."

"Please do, send as many intellectuals as you can. I need them," Lansius welcomed the idea enthusiastically.

"I'll arrange it. Now, back to this Banca. What makes it immune to regional lords influence?"

"We need to empower them so they can resist the local lords, but at the same time also limit their ability from misusing their wealth. To do so, we need strong laws and regulations and a way to enforce them."

Avery nodded and said, "Give me something concrete to think about."

"Well, my plan for Lowlandia is for the Grand Alliance to adopt the Bank. We'll call it the Bank of Lowlandia. Everyone who deposits money at the start will have a vote in decision-making. This way, if a lord tries to misuse the bank, he'll be opposing other lords and the wealthy Houses in his domain."

"I see, this indeed will prevent even a baron from acting foolishly."

"That's the idea. We need to also add a clause allowing the bank to seize land or assets if anyone fails to repay loans within a reasonable period. Additionally, to minimize risk, the bank should be prohibited from trading or engaging in activities other than dealing with gold and silver."

"I'm sold," Avery chuckled ominously. "This goes so much deeper than what those Halician elites sold me. Rest assured, even if I have to drag them here bound and gagged, you'll have your experts in Korelia."

Lansius chuckled in return, though a bit nervously. Avery's usual charming and gentle demeanor had taken on a sinister edge.

Then he began to ponder: A shogunate bank. Really... I'm biting off more than I can chew.

However, he knew he needed to get it right to avoid problems that could later come back to bite him. He could take risks with other issues, but not with banking, as money was everyone’s lifeline.

Avery looked at the sky where his ivory-colored airship was getting closer by the moment, revealing its enormous size and almost majestic bearing in flight. Then he glanced at Lansius. "Question. I understand that you need a majority to decide on an issue, but does every stakeholder have an equal vote?"

"No. It'll be bad and unfair. The vote is calculated based on the wealth each stakeholder invested in the bank. Of course, we'll limit the fund from each House to ensure that no one, not even us, can sway the bank."

Avery nodded satisfied, and the airship began to descend.

From the side, Audrey rode up, garnering a wave of greetings from her men. She dismounted, saw the two, and remarked wittily, "Doing business behind my back?"

"We wouldn't dare," Avery replied with a warm chuckle.

Old sly...

Still, Lansius felt the need to conclude their conversation. "Best to get your allies in Halicia on board, then we'll prepare it to work next spring or summer. Don't forget that I'll need plenty of educated and capable men."

"What's this about?" Audrey asked inquisitively.

"Oh, I’m merely trying to entice Lord Lansius to sell a moneylender House in Three Hills," Avery said to her.

"Moneylender House? Never mind that. And what is the offer?"

"Just that," Avery nodded toward the flying airship, looking smug.

"Oh," Audrey exclaimed with wide eyes.

"Can I possibly rent it instead?" Lansius quipped nervously. The thought of flying actually excited him.

The Lord of Dawn laughed heartily.

The majestic airship slowly descended and stopped after skidding several times. Two men leaped out from the long, canoe-shaped vessel and secured the small anchor to a boulder. From one glance, Lansius could tell they were well-trained, evident from their athleticism.

One carried a hawk on his leather-padded shoulder, with a cap that kept the bird of prey docile in the dark, while another hawk continued to circle overhead.

Beatrix

The Lord of Umberland settled into the padded chair, her servants bringing out a coarse comb for her furs and iron files for her claws. They were all humans, including the guards. Like other half-breeds, she trusted her nose, eyes, and instincts. For her kin, humans were relatively easy to discern whether they intended to harm.

Yet, Beatrix also knew that to trust her instincts fully would be foolish. This was also why she used the great chamber as her office. It had a balcony, and she had placed her select brethren in an adjacent building, ready to rush to the balcony at a moment's notice.

In a castle environment like this, while some of the smaller doors were inaccessible to her kin, their greatest asset was their powerful legs and high jump. It allowed them to bypass some walls or use the roof as shortcuts.

This morning, Beatrix had received reports about Lord Lansius' return march. "So, he's turning back," she commented.

"Indeed," the Steward replied, after taking a sip of water from all the flights of stairs to the great chamber where they held a small council.

"How's his wound?"

"Still recovering, but he must've used a carriage or something similar. Our men dared not pry further." He then added, "We do know that he had named your brethren."

The trivia delighted Beatrix. "Tell me her new human name."

"I believe it is Francisca."

"Francisca," she savored it on her tongue and felt rather pleased by the sound of it.

Hearing no further reply, the Steward pointed out, "He passed your test."

If he's venturing into Nicopola, then the veins of his army will be in the palm of our hands. And if he shows any indication of becoming a threat to our city, then we could crush it. Beatrix recalled her words, and gazed the Steward. "It was never a test to begin with. Just an observation."

"He's wise despite his youthfulness," the Steward suggested.

Beatrix wasn't convinced. "It also means that he's not an opportunist. He would make a poor warrior or general."

"But he has established himself. Also, the fact that he might have also calculated our threat should be factored in," he reminded her.

"That's what makes them interesting," Beatrix chuckled, opening her maws widely, knowing that her servants wouldn't mind or be scared.

"Them, My Lord?" the Steward squinted.

"Yes, dear Steward. You shouldn't discount the female. She's as dangerous as me. The husband had a scent unlike any man I've encountered, while the wife had an eerie and dangerous scent."

"Then we should proceed to maintain the highest level of relations with them."

"That's not even a question," Beatrix remarked while looking at her neatly filed claws and smiling at the maid-servant, who grinned happily. Then turning to the Steward, who was casually fanning himself with a folding fan, she continued, "We have an agreement and I intend to follow it."

The Steward was about to comment, but she raised a finger to quiet him. "If you think it's only polite to invite them into the city for a rest, then do so. You have my permission. I'll pull my brethren out to avoid issues. Also, tell them that I'm out of the city, resting, or visiting a sick tribe member."

"You don't want to meet them?" the steward asked like a concerned father.

"Unfortunately," Beatrix muttered nonchalantly. "The risk is high. I liked them and I want to converse with them again, but we have a good agreement. Better not to ruin it because of a possible misstep or misspoke."

"Old Kaen's teaching..." the steward recognized.

Beatrix smiled at him and then patted the other maid servant who had finished her other hand. "As long as the Umberland people and half-breeds stay united. The city will be safe."

***

Sir Morton

It had been two weeks since the Black Knight's Captain arrived at the hill fort on the mountain path leading to Umberland City. Since then, he had overseen the military and sent hundreds of the Lord's men to march back to Three Hills City. Fortunately, the situation in Umberland was settled without the feared bloody siege.

With no war, the balance of power situation in Three Hills could be maintained. Now, everyone could see that the Grand Alliance was not just a dreamy concept. Barely a month from its inception, it had met two challenges and succeeded with flying colors.

Lord Lansius' demonstration of the Alliance's strength was both frightening and awe-inspiring. The coup in Three Hills was quelled in just one day. Despite some setbacks, the Umberland campaign was also resolved without a bloodbath.

Moreover, the Lord of Korelia refused to enter into a drawn-out conflict in Nicopola, further cementing his status as a keen strategist and not a glory-seeker. This decision boded well with Lord Jorge, other knights, and the commoners alike.

Reports reaching Lord Jorge even suggested that Lord Lansius had secured another potential ally for the Grand Alliance.

A sigh escaped Sir Morton’s lips as he stood on the wooden tower overlooking the vast swath of forested land. "A half-breed," he muttered to himself.

As a Mage Knight, he had been trained to deal with abhorrent creatures. He remembered his studies as a young apprentice, recalling how mage knights were valued warriors in ancient battles against beastmen in Nicopola.

He also remembered the sketches and descriptions of beastmen and half-breeds. He was trained to harbor suspicions against them, yet he also recognized the importance of maintaining peace. More fighting would probably exhaust the Grand Alliance that his lord needed as a guarantor of his rule.

Despite the thwarted coup, the future of the city remained uncertain. Ironically, the coup had just proven that, security-wise, House Jorge would be safer in Korelia.

A breeze swayed his long hair, yet the chill of the upcoming winter didn't bother him. Unlike other knights, Sir Morton was always clad in plate armor, which never weighed him down.

Then to the south, he noticed a thrilling horse cart race unfold across the wide plateau. Two carts, each drawn by two horses, kicked up clouds of dust as they thundered across the open landscape. The coachmen like the charioteers of old, stood firm in their carts, urging their horses faster with shouts and the crack of reins.

Morton noticed his Lord was present in the crowd, sheltered beneath a large umbrella. He was probably the one who had organized the race to alleviate boredom.

The race itself was fierce, with the lead changing hands multiple times as the carts maneuvered at breakneck speeds. The spectators cheered wildly, and the tension peaked as the carts approached a narrow pass that led up to the hillside.

Only one winner would prevail as the pass was only wide enough for one cart. The second either had to admit defeat or crash into the wild bushes.

In a dramatic finish, one cart managed to edge ahead, its horses straining against the harnesses. With a final burst of speed, it entered the narrow pass and raced up the hill to the roaring approval of the men in the camp.

The victor raised his hands in triumph, basking in the adulation, while the second cart followed behind, its driver grinning widely despite the defeat. They were merely commoners and never expected to be praised for racing.

Despite the thrilling race, Sir Morton thought the result was not surprising. He had seen that unassuming cart during their journey and noticed it was special. While other carts on march required daily lubrication on their iron axles with a disgusting mixture of lard, animal waste fat, and various oils, that one cart rarely needed anything.

Compared to others, its horses were old and rather skinny. Yet, the cart seemed so easy to pull and did not burden the beasts. Aside from Morton, many had inquired, but the coachman, simply said that the cart his father had made was just that good. Unfortunately, his father had passed away and could no longer make another.

The answer satisfied most men, but when Sir Morton asked, out of respect and fear, the coachman told a different story. After Sir Morton promised not to buy his cart, the coachman revealed that his father had won a dwarven artifact in a big gamble, realizing the wagered item looked suspiciously mechanical.

Before his death, his father had crafted a metal housing and integrated the mysterious artifact into the cart's axle, allowing it to move as if without any friction. This allowed his son to be an entrepreneur in logistics.

Sir Morton rested his hand on the wooden tower, watching the son-turned-entrepreneur in logistics, savoring the victory.

"A magical device," he muttered to the wind, though he saw no trace of magic. He made a mental note to remember this event. Aware of his somewhat cold demeanor, Sir Morton collected odd stories like this as trivia for his lord and other guests — something to keep them entertained.

"Perhaps the Lord of Korelia would be pleased to hear it," Sir Morton imagined, a stiff smile on his lips.

***