Ch.131Money is the best!

They say money can’t buy happiness.

It seems somewhat true, but there’s a blind spot here.

While money can’t buy happiness, that doesn’t mean happiness doesn’t require money.

If you compare the happiness levels between those who eat three meals a day and live in warm homes safe from wind and rain, and those who don’t, the answer is clear.

And the logic that applies to ordinary households applies to nations as well.

There may be differing opinions, but ultimately, a nation is simply a collection of countless households.

And everyone has probably fought with family over money at least once.

“No matter what pitiful excuses you make or what noble ideologies you adopt, the truth never changes—whoever pays you is your master.”

Throughout history, nothing makes people more sensitive than things that directly affect their livelihood.

That’s why politics is sensitive, and why democracy was born under the global support for power being exercised under the authority of the absolute majority.

Of course, not in this world.

“It’s cold. Put more firewood in the fireplace.”

“Yes, master.”

As Michaela adds more firewood to the fireplace, warmth returns to the chilly room.

The winter of the 35th year of the Amurtat calendar was harsh, and even I, the monarch, couldn’t escape the cold.

Nevertheless, except for the homeless, few would freeze to death in this land, because there were very few people in Amurtat so impoverished they couldn’t afford firewood.

Simply put, the total income one could earn was quite high.

It didn’t need explanation. It was like in modern South Korea, where people complain they can’t live due to prices and housing costs, but if they could receive the minimum wage, basic survival wouldn’t be an issue.

The problem was that such money couldn’t possibly cover entertainment or retirement security.

In fact, considering the limitations of the era, this level of prosperity was enough to qualify as a developed country.

It was nearly impossible in pre-modern times to have three meals a day without chemical fertilizers, agricultural machinery, seed improvement, or other modern advantages.

Of course, this was less about production capacity and more thanks to the cheat-like item called the spatial storage, but regardless, not going hungry was perhaps the most definite merit in this world.

“After this winter passes, the northern population will decrease significantly.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

Having aged over 35 years, Michaela didn’t seem genuinely saddened.

Though she still appeared to be a voluptuous 17-year-old girl with no visible changes, inside she was already an old woman transitioning from middle to old age, past fifty, so it was natural for her emotions to have dulled somewhat.

“Come closer, I want to hold you after so long.”

“Gladly…”

Michaela smiled and embraced me tightly, and we shared a body temperature of 73 degrees—double the normal 36.5—as we gazed at Amurtat’s night scenery. (I won’t accept any objections about body temperature. Death to science majors!)

*

After the cold wave passed, people began gathering in Amurtat again.

“Why aren’t there any requests on the request board?”

“Ah, please wait a moment. We’re preparing to update it now.”

“Geez… I came early for nothing…”

“Well, you look cold. How about having something upstairs?”

“I guess I should. Is the upstairs open for business now?”

“Of course.”

The Adventurers’ Guild was filled with hyenas looking for requests, carefully walking on frozen paths while complaining about the cold. The guild receptionists were making a tidy profit selling warm food to them.

Whether in cold winter or hot summer, the adventurers at the guild were valuable beings who scattered their easily earned money by taking requests.

“This is strange. I joined the military to handle guns and swords, so why am I removing snow?”

“Hey, this is training too. Are you not going to fight if snow piles up on the battlefield? At least arrows aren’t sticking into you here, so stop complaining and keep shoveling.”

And on the snow-covered main roads where logistics had been blocked, soldiers dispatched at the administration’s request were grumbling while diligently clearing snow with shovels.

As the senior soldier said, it was a soldier’s duty to fight whether it snowed or rained, so this snow removal work was actually easier than actual combat.

And as the snow was cleared, people and carriages began to pass through again. Carriages loaded with preserved food would leave Amurtat to deliver supplies to the vast northern countries where they were desperately awaited.

“Donations needed for the orphanage! Please give alms for the poor children who have lost their parents!”

Clink! Clink!

Throughout the streets, priests could be heard asking for donations, holding collection boxes.

Although they received basic operational subsidies from the state, these were literally just “subsidies.” When adding up the costs of feeding the children, maintaining the orphanage, medicine for when they fell ill, clothes, and firewood to survive the winter, it was impossible to operate on subsidies alone.

Next to these priests, there was always a small, adorable child—specifically chosen from the orphanage for being particularly skinny and pitiful-looking.

The reason was simple: this brought in more donations.

*

Finally, visitors arrived at Amurtat’s central bank.

They entered with tense expressions, wearing clothing not from Amurtat.

Despite not being from Amurtat, their attire was noticeably elegant—these were not ordinary people but diplomats from small nations who had traveled to Amurtat hoping to borrow money for fuel to survive the harsh cold.

However, many of them had already received loans before, and this would be their second loan.

That’s why they were tense.

Few nations would readily offer a second loan to countries that hadn’t even paid the first interest payment on their first loan.

“…so… we were wondering if we could get an additional loan…”

“Yes. You’re approved.”

“?”

But making their tension seem foolish, the Amurtat Central Bank clerks lent another large sum to their countries without demanding anything in return.

Of course, it wasn’t entirely without cost.

There was clearly collateral set for the loan, and the interest rate was quite high.

But fundamentally, nations aren’t organizations that easily collapse, so if you just keep them alive, they’ll somehow find ways to squeeze out money.

Therefore, most loans to nations tended to be long-term with low interest, and the loans approved by Amurtat’s central bank were not much different.

The borrowers weren’t using the money for luxury but to buy firewood to stay warm, so once normal national functions resumed, interest could be easily raised, and the principal could be gradually repaid.

From the beginning, collateral had been set in case interest couldn’t be paid, so there was no procedural flaw.

But why would Tiberius, who had said he would economically subjugate small countries, show such kindness?

The reason was simple.

As the saying goes, “The first time is hard, the second time is easy.” Those who have borrowed once or twice will try to gather a lump sum to repay their debt, feeling the immediate pressure of being a debtor.

With interest due every quarter, they would do everything possible to prevent losing their valuable collateral.

Moreover, many countries that came to borrow had already experienced triple expenditures: weapons purchases, first loans, and second loans. As soon as winter ended, these countries would do anything to generate money, even if it meant forcibly sending citizens into dungeons.

And what remains for those who have desperately repaid their debts?

A lesson that countries collapse without money? A lesson not to rashly build up armies?

Neither.

It was the belief that you can borrow money when you don’t have it and pay it back later.

This might seem absurd, but considering that 21st century Earth’s credit transactions operate on this logic, it wasn’t entirely wrong.

After all, there’s no problem as long as you can repay what you’ve borrowed.

Of course, people’s lives tend to go awry because they can’t repay borrowed money, and the rise and fall of nations was not much different.

“Now… I’ve lent you money. Repay it, and then borrow more… if you can repay it…”

Even if they had the ability to repay, it didn’t matter.

The lender was Amurtat, so all the ambiguous aspects of the contract would naturally favor the side with power.

And there was one fact everyone in the north knew: except for Fahrenheit, no country in the north was militarily stronger than or even comparable to Amurtat.