I Became A Black Merchant In Another World-Chapter 299: Reformation (2)

In the village square, hundreds of people gathered, more than usual.

A peddler had arrived, one who came every few weeks or, if unlucky, once a month.

"Hey, hey! I'm not your everyday peddler! From hammers and saws to hoes {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} and spades! Dried fruits, jewelry, I’ve brought everything you might need!"

Normally, when such a declaration is made in a rural village, people would rush to buy something. But in this village, no one eagerly stepped forward to ask for a saw, a hammer, or anything else.

They weren’t at the level where they had nothing but flour to eat, but their situation was dire—there was no guarantee that they would even have food for the next month or two.

In such a state, no one dared to consider buying anything.

Otho, a native of the village, shared the same hardship.

"Hey, peddler, you see the situation here, right? We're about to starve to death—how can we afford saws and hammers?"

"...Wasn't life alright just last year? I came here hoping for some business."

"How can you, a merchant from the Holy Empire, be so out of touch with the news around here? Keep it up, and you’ll starve to death yourself."

The employee from Rothschild Trading, who was pretending to be a peddler from the Holy Empire, seemed oblivious as he responded.

"A merchant can’t know everything. If a person knew all there was to know, they’d be a god, not a human."

"That may be true, but forget about selling here."

"If merchants don’t sell, they’ll starve."

Otho sighed deeply, gesturing around.

"You can see the state of the village, right? The rest of the area is just as bad."

The Rothschild employee looked at the village and internally sighed.

Even in the poorest rural areas of the Toscana Empire, things weren’t this bad.

These people were so gaunt, they looked like their skin would touch their bones. To be so poor that they couldn’t even buy from a peddler was unimaginable.

‘Can’t even bear to look at it.’

If other villages were in the same state, then the goods the peddler had brought were bound to go unsold.

"Thanks for the heads-up."

"Don’t waste your time going somewhere else. You’ve already ruined your business, don’t waste any more time."

The Rothschild employee quietly began packing his things.

"To be out of money and then fail in business... You’ll end up starving to death."

"That’s unfortunate."

"Not knowing is the real sin. I was hoping to stay for just one night. Could you spare me some food? Of course, I don’t expect to leave empty-handed."

The peddler took out a few coins from his pouch and handed them to the village chief.

"I just want to stay for one night, could you provide some food and shelter?"

"That’s fine, but can you share some news from outside?"

Before inventions like newspapers, phones, or TV, news from the outside world was precious.

That’s why nomads had the custom of grabbing travelers passing through their land, giving them food first, and then listening to news from the outside.

The Holy Empire was somewhat the same.

News from outside was always valuable and cherished.

"Alright."

"Where did you come from?"

"I was a peddler in the Kingdom of Lyon until three months ago, and then I passed through Toscana before arriving here."

"You’ve traveled far for your business."

"To make money, you have to go that far."

"What’s it like in other countries?"

Serfs, except for when they served in the military, rarely traveled beyond their own village or nearby towns.

Other territories were practically foreign lands to them.

So stories of other countries weren’t exactly useful to them...

‘But just hearing them is interesting.’

"The Kingdom of Lyon is struggling because of all the wars. But it’s a little better than here."

"It’s the same as us. The so-called ‘noble’ idiots, it’s crazy how they, who don’t even need to fight wars to survive, keep trying to take what’s others."

The village chief and the other men of the village had been lucky enough not to be drafted into the war.

Then again, wars that would drag in serfs were rare—maybe once every century.

It’s hard to say they were lucky.

Instead, they bore the heavy burden of taxes and food levies.

That’s why, even last winter, many people had died from starvation.

"But Toscana Empire is different. Their emperor lowered the taxes on the serfs. Everyone didn’t look like they were dripping with oil, but they seemed to be doing alright."

The village chief, Otho, and the rest of the villagers were stunned.

They had always assumed that nobles everywhere were obsessed with squeezing money out of people, but here was the Toscana Emperor, lowering taxes on serfs?

It was a story that shattered a mindset that had been taken as truth for decades, even centuries.

Yet, the peddler didn’t seem to have a single trace of lying in him.

"In Toscana, once a month, the Emperor publishes a newspaper with messages for the people and updates on what’s happening throughout the Empire. That’s what it said. The Emperor himself ate the same food as the serfs, lived in their homes, and made the decision to lower their taxes by 10% to help those living in poverty."

"No, that’s enough with the lies. Our Emperor may not be as great as theirs, but how can a noble like him lower his dignity to eat the food of serfs and understand our plight? Stop with the nonsense."

"Why would I lie to you, or anyone here, for the sake of wealth or honor?"

"That’s nonsense."

"I was honestly surprised myself. But in Toscana, they really did lower taxes on the serfs. The Emperor defied the opposition of the nobles and did it by force."

The villagers were left speechless.

An Emperor lowering taxes for serfs, defying the nobles?

Rather than envy over the tax cut making their lives easier...

It felt like a stark, alien concept.

It was as if they had encountered knowledge that shouldn’t exist in this world.

"If you don’t want to hear it, then stop listening. But in Toscana, they really are collecting lower taxes from the serfs."

The peddler said no more after that.

But his words stayed with Otho and everyone else in the village...

And not long after, they asked the next peddler who came through.

"Is it true that Toscana lowers taxes for the serfs?"

The Rothschild employee clicked his tongue in response.

"In Toscana, they only charge 50% of the tax for serfs. The nobles opposed it fiercely, but the Emperor threatened to kill anyone who opposed him."

When one person says something, it can sound like a lie.

But when two people say exactly the same thing...?

It’s human nature to believe it’s true.

Otho and the villagers began to believe that Toscana indeed lowered taxes for the serfs.

And in other regions, similar thoughts began to grow quickly.

The seed that Fabio had planted was beginning to take root in the Holy Empire.

What kind of result it would lead to, only God and Fabio knew.

The employee from the trading company gave me a brief report on the results of recent events.

"Public sentiment is growing restless, but it doesn’t seem like a rebellion will happen just yet."

Nothing in this world comes easily.

And if a rebellion were to break out now, it would only cause problems for me.

I need to spark a civil war that will tear the Holy Empire into pieces. If a rebellion starts now...

The driving force for that civil war would be depleted in advance.

"Baking bread takes time, right? Rebellions aren’t going to happen that easily. This much is enough for now."

There’s an art to waiting in this world.

Just like with intimacy, it’s important to take things slow rather than rushing in.

"You may go."

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"Yes, my lord."

I then carefully picked up a letter that was on my desk.

[The preparations to oppose the corrupted teachings of the Church of Deus are complete. -Stefano Luther-]

It seems Deus wants to clear out the corrupted ones.