Ch.132But I don’t have any money?

There’s a saying called “ddagapddoe.”

It’s a shortened form of “If you win, you can pay it back,” a phrase that precisely strikes at the psychology of gamblers obsessed with reckless speculation.

Of course, it didn’t sound like a particularly good phrase at first hearing, and in reality, it wasn’t.

First of all, the phrase “you can pay it back” implied that you were already in debt for something that needed to be repaid.

And typically, that “something” was money. The idea that you could use borrowed money to raise your stakes and pay back the interest as well was a concept that couldn’t be comprehended by ordinary people’s way of thinking—it was hard to know where to even begin criticizing it.

Even if borrowing money was one thing, the idea of using that borrowed money to go gambling again was a notion that could only come from someone who was completely out of their mind.

“But the world is vast, and there are plenty of crazy people.”

However, the fact that the phrase “If you win, you can pay it back” existed meant that such a thing was at least possible, and this was especially true outside the barriers of the underground realm where all sorts of extraordinary things awaited.

Stories about a snot-nosed child finding a stone on the road that turned out to be a magic stone, selling it to a magic tower for a high price, and turning their life around… these were now so clichéd that they couldn’t even be used as drinking stories anymore.

Whether the countries that had borrowed money right now would grit their teeth and earn money by slaying monsters, or explore dungeons to strike it rich, it was all the same to me.

From the beginning, paying back what you borrowed was the way of the world.

Working to pay off debt might not look glamorous, but it wasn’t something to be criticized either.

When a country was working its citizens to pay off debt, criticizing that would be tantamount to denying the foundation of “governance.”

“Your Majesty, do you really believe they can repay their debts?”

“Well, if they pay, that’s good. If they can’t, we give them a grace period and then take their collateral.”

I simply dismissed the concerned aide’s worries.

The common mistakes when first entering the finance business can be divided into two main categories:

Either you get high on the idea that “I am now a great power! I can control the economy in this area!” and start various businesses and lend money recklessly until you go bankrupt because you run out of cash, or you lend too much money and the borrower refuses to pay it back, leaving you bankrupt.

They say the larger the borrowed sum, the more power the borrower has—it’s exactly that kind of relationship.

The lender has to coddle and appease the debtor because they would go bankrupt without that money.

“But being somewhat experienced in these matters… I didn’t do anything so foolish.”

“Pardon?”

“Nothing, nothing at all. I was just saying… how weak their power is.”

Sadly, the combined population of the countries that had borrowed money barely exceeded 2 million, and their combined GDP was only two-thirds of Amurtat’s.

And even that pitiful figure was only reached by combining everything, which made me feel all the more strongly that Amurtat was indeed the second power in the North, excluding Fahrenheit.

In the end, they would somehow pay their debts.

If they couldn’t pay, they would face something far more terrifying than debt.

*

March of the 36th year of the Amurtat calendar.

Winter was passing, and spring was approaching.

Except for the occasional cold snap, most people had shed their heavy coats during this season, and Babylonia was having a very busy time.

“Has the morning team returned?”

“Yes.”

“Results?”

“About 30 gold coins…”

“That meets the quota. Now deploy the afternoon team.”

“Understood.”

The reason for this was to pay off debt. Babylonia was a country located in the central part of the North, and if one had to choose, it was closer to Amurtat than to Fahrenheit.

Babylonia had taken out loans to recover its economy, which had been damaged by the arms race and the cold winter. To repay these loans, they urgently mobilized the soldiers they had trained at great expense.

They divided them into morning and afternoon shifts and sent them in two shifts to the state-owned dungeon, selling various items from the dungeon to the Adventurers’ Guild and earning quite decent revenues.

Of course, as the saying goes, you can’t fill your stomach with the first spoonful—the profit rate was inevitably lower compared to other industries, but for a country that had reached this state because it had no other industries, there were no other options.

Rather, because hundreds of somewhat trained soldiers were raiding the dungeon, there were fewer casualties and they could bring back more loot. If viewed as a state-owned mercenary group, it was a satisfactory outcome.

“How are the results for this quarter?”

“It’s close, but we’ll have money left over after paying the interest!”

“Excellent! I thought the country was about to collapse in this situation, but who knew those trained soldiers would become so useful!”

Babylonia had relatively active exchanges with Amurtat and was powerful enough to have dispatched over 20,000 soldiers to the alliance, making it a fairly strong middle power.

The fact that such a middle power had to survive by mining dungeons after one economic collapse showed that economics was far more terrifying than ordinary people could imagine.

“How long until the interest payment date?”

“About two weeks. The debt managers from Amurtat have probably already departed by now.”

“Then we need to earn as much as we can until then. So we can keep some for ourselves too.”

“Understood.”

As evidenced by the fact that they could somehow pay the heavy interest from two loans with just the revenue from one dungeon, Amurtat had provided loans with quite low interest rates.

However, those low interest rates had accumulated twice, and with all industries destroyed, finding a way to repay seemed impossible.

Countries that had dungeons nearby or somehow maintained sources of income even during the crisis implemented major austerity measures while simultaneously issuing national mobilization orders. Even nobles who had been idle at home were semi-forcibly dragged out to plow fields and shovel cow dung.

Of course, the nobles couldn’t hide their tears at the misery of having to engage in physical labor, but the fact that they had to do such things to repay their debts meant that if they did so, they could indeed repay them.

*

“You’re saying you don’t have the money to pay the interest?”

The debt manager from Amurtat confirmed the fact once more in a dry voice.

“…That is correct.”

Telusia.

This small country with a population of 50,000 had failed to pay not only the principal of the loan but even the interest, and they had no chances left.

“Would you like a grace period? Or would you prefer to hand over the collateral and terminate the debt relationship?”

In this world, a grace period typically meant about three months.

Interest had to be paid every quarter, dividing the year into four, but a country that couldn’t pay the first interest payment wouldn’t be able to raise the money even if given another quarter.

“…Please take the collateral.”

In the end, Telusia’s aide chose to hand over the collateral.

“Very well.”

With businesslike and dry words, the debt managers from Amurtat looked at the “collateral” that the storekeepers brought out with sad faces.

That collateral was the steel sword that Amurtat had distributed to all countries in the North when they first forged steel swords.

The blade of this steel sword, still sharp and keen, was densely engraved with the achievements of Telusia’s monarch, making it one of the monarch’s most treasured possessions.

And now, the sword returned to Amurtat’s possession.

“With this, the debt relationship is terminated.”

With that, all debt relationships between Amurtat and Telusia were officially ended.

And that meant that Amurtat and Telusia were now nothing more than foreign countries with even the faint ties of connection completely severed.

Telusia had sold Amurtat’s goodwill as collateral for a few coins, and even though the sword had returned to its makers, the fact that they had pawned a gift given by a foreign monarch because they couldn’t repay their debt was an act ripe for public criticism.

The people of Telusia knew this, which is why everyone—from the aide to the storekeeper, and even the guards and knights—bit their lips tightly and said nothing.

With this, their homeland was freed from debt and disconnected from the Pearl of the North.

In a way, they had gained a valuable opportunity.

Amurtat had only reclaimed the sword but had not reclaimed the money they had borrowed.

With that money, they could import food from other regions through the Adventurers’ Guild, and with sowing about to begin, if everyone worked hard, they could spend the coming winter in abundance.

But in return, Telusia had taken on dishonor.

The yoke of dishonor—worse than death—of having sold spiritual goodwill for material gain was placed upon them, and they could not easily escape this yoke.

For a very long time, a sword would be placed at their necks, and for a very long time, the empty space of the sword would remain in their storehouse.

The harsh world does not forgive weakness.

Trust between nations is difficult to build but easy to lose, and it would take a very long time for them to regain Amurtat’s trust and see the radiance emanating from the Pearl of the North again.

Until children have children, and those children have children again.