Before setting out to explore the ruins, Tilly's greatest delight was strolling leisurely through the flat streets of Border Town, observing this remote territory that had undergone remarkable transformations under Roland Lord's rule.
This was a town unlike any other, she thought. The more she observed, the stronger this impression became. It was utterly different from any place she had ever been... What struck her most was perhaps the unparalleled vitality emanating from this town.
Even the emerging "sleeping island" cannot be compared with it.
"Are these people not afraid of the cold?" Andrea asked curiously, watching the pedestrians on the street. "What promise did your brother make to get them working in the bitter winter?" "It's still mid-autumn," Ash shrugged. "You can't even tell the seasons apart, can you?" "But it's no different from winter. It's an analogy, one that often appears in 'Her Dreams, His Country,' " Andrea elegantly lifted her long hair. "Of course, the barbarians wouldn't understand." "What your dreams, my dreams..." "Look, those who haven't appreciated theater are hard to communicate with. Lady Tilly must have seen this famous play from the Dawn Kingdom." "Stop arguing," Sylvie sighed. "I think the reason is simple. In winter, commoners avoid activity because of exhaustion, hunger, and colds—problems that don't exist here. Food prices are low, firewood is plentiful, and Miss Lily can cure colds, so they work hard in the wind and snow—working an extra day earns them an extra day's pay." "I understand the firewood is plentiful. The west is the Hide-and-Seek Forest, surrounded by woods, and food prices aren't high... How is that possible?" Andrea asked in confusion. "My family also traded grain. When disasters caused poor harvests, people would drive up prices. With such bad weather, how could Nobles and merchants not charge high prices?" "Nobles? Merchants?" "Silvery chuckled wryly," Only one person here is allowed to trade grain—your Highness Roland. "" All the farmland by the river is his property?" Tilly frowned.
"No, those were the serfs 'own fields," she recounted her observations and the harvest scenes. "He set two grain prices—one for purchase and one for sale—both fixed, with the latter higher than the former." "Isn't this forced buying and selling?" Ash said with a predictable expression. "If he can sell at a high price, why shouldn 't others do the same?" "It's different," Tilly mused. "After harvesting, wheat needs threshing, grinding, and storage—all of which are costs. Price increases are entirely normal." "Lord Tilly was right. I only understood later when I asked Scholar," Sylvie laughed. "She said the extra costs could be used to pay workers processing wheat, build new granaries, and expand production. These measures would provide new... jobs for the town," she paused. "Yes, that's exactly what she said. I heard Your Highness Roland cares deeply about this." "But he's still forcing sales," Ash emphasized. "Shouldn 't trade be free?" "Perhaps. But Your Highness's selling price isn't so high that everyone can't afford it. If this price remains fixed, people will feel more secure." "Sometimes, not everything is best when free," Tilly sighed. She had now grasped Roland's underlying logic. The ban on grain sales by non-royal individuals, though appearing authoritarian and unjust, effectively prevents hoarding and market speculation, thereby avoiding price surges during shortages. In the capital, however, such rare autumn snowfall would drive grain prices to five or six times their normal levels. Over half of the common people would starve due to insufficient reserves, and prolonged shortages could spark riots. The royal palace would then be compelled to distribute relief grain or deploy guards to suppress unrest. In either scenario, this would impose a substantial burden on the national treasury.
While this policy appears sound, its implementation faces challenges. The grain trade is dominated by nobles and wealthy merchants who own vast estates and serfs. The royal family cannot enforce compulsory grain purchases or prohibit stockpiling. In Border Town, however, with almost no noble families except Roland Wimbledon himself, he holds absolute authority.
After Tilly voiced her opinion, Ash still felt resentful. "What about the serfs? They might earn more during grain price surges, but that's all they get through fixed-price systems." "Pfft," Andrea scoffed, "as if free-market cities could shield them from exploitation. During wheat harvests, they're forced to hand over more grain while their own harvest gets squeezed into rock-bottom prices. When crops fail, even the remaining grain barely lasts through famine. Fixed prices make more sense—yielding more means earning more." "They can choose not to," Sylvie's words caught the trio off guard. "Your Highness decreed that serfs qualify for freedom after reaching a certain yield. Whether to farm or seek new work is entirely up to them. But free citizens only pay 20% grain tax, and at this year's harvest prices, their wages are decent." "Promotion?" "Your Highness declared in his sermon that Border Town would eliminate serfs within two to three years." This revelation suddenly struck Tilly. That's why the town thrived—his policies incorporated public input and incentive mechanisms to motivate better performance, a stark contrast to any Noble Lord's approach. Incentives should not be merely lip service, but involve tangible concessions of benefits—enabling people to earn through hard work, rather than hoarding these gains in the castle's underground vaults.
She finally understood the meaning of the red banners by the river.
However, Roland Wimbledon wasn't known for generosity during his time at the royal palace... Could this be the reason for the changes brought about by those' sudden memories'? Moreover, the elementary natural science and mathematics lessons she attended in the evenings captivated her deeply.
Tilly had assumed that after reading through the palace's entire collection, nothing would spark her curiosity anymore. Yet now, she realized there was still much to learn.
A sudden thought struck her—staying in the small town of Castle, flipping through books that recorded God's wondrous knowledge, and observing the town's transformations, would be a delightful experience even without doing anything else.
Suddenly, a long bell toll echoed from the city walls—a warning of the evil beast's attack.
Tilly buried these thoughts deep within her heart. Yet now, she was no longer the carefree Fifth Princess, but the leader entrusted with the fate of the Sleeping Island Witch. Some matters could not be handled at will. "Let's go check out the city walls. We might be able to assist the guards," she suggested. "Of course," Andrea replied with a faint smile, "that's precisely why we're here. To let them witness firsthand how witches fight."