Chapter 162: The Necessity of Land
Apparently, I was a wealthy man.
You might wonder if having an annual income in the hundreds of millions really makes me that rich, but four hundred million yen in this world is like four billion yen in modern terms (like some genius descended into darkness).
Besides, when I say things like, “In Japanese yen, it’s about XX yen~,” it’s not really that reliable, you know?
Because the basic cost of living in this world is completely different…
For example, foodstuffs, like vegetables, are relatively cheap, but the price of wheat can double depending on the harvest, and meat costs more than twice what it did in Japan, doesn’t it?
Sugar and Spice cost easily ten times more, and metal goods, like a single knife, probably cost tens of times more than on Earth.
Also, livestock prices are ridiculously high. I don’t really know the price of cows or horses back on Earth, but surely they were cheaper than cars, right? But in this world, they cost about the same as a car.
Especially a well-bred warhorse trained for combat – wouldn’t that cost around four hundred million yen? That’s like a limited-edition luxury sports car.
On the other hand, labor costs and things like that are practically worthless. A world where working all day just to earn enough for that day’s meal is considered ‘fair,’ and no one questions it.
And finally, after saying all this, it’s a crappy system where nobody adjusts the market balance or anything, so the prices of everything can double or more depending on the time!!!
Even so, I’m supposedly rich?
“Yes, Lord Andrews, you are wealthy.”
Tris says.
“As a noble, you possess capital and authority comparable to a mid-ranking noble. Furthermore, you are scheduled to receive a Fief in the Frontier Settlement in the future…”
“Huh?! No, ah, uh…”
I can’t really refuse that, can I?
Emotionally, I hate the idea of stepping into that world of nobility, the world of politics.
I’ve had enough of that stuff.
…But, however.
Suppose Rosalinde and I have a child, what about that child?
Will I leave them nothing? Even though I have this mountain of wealth?
I intend to keep living here in the Missgancia region, putting down roots and running an Apothecary in the town of Midford.
So, what about the child?
Will I keep them in the mansion forever? Without letting them become independent? Will I dote on them as a child no matter how old they get?
…When I think about it that way, giving the child a Fief and letting them live as its ruler.
Was an extremely good option.
Of course, emotionally, I hate it.
But isn’t that just how the world works?
If you think about it, emotionally, everyone thinks things like, ‘I’d rather die than work!!!’, right?
But in reality, you can’t survive if you don’t work, right? That’s why everyone works. It’s the same even in modern times.
It’s the same as that, exactly the same.
Whatever I say, when my child is born and grows up, handing over the Fief to them is the best thing to do.
Well, there are other options, right? Like making them a Strider and sending them off somewhere else.
But the most stable, most decent option is to make them the administrator of the Fief I hold.
Count Missgancia understands that, which is probably why he arranged the board to make it easier to do so.
Politicians really are something else, aren’t they? They’re skilled at creating situations where you lose out if you refuse.
The only ones who can win against this sort of thing are ‘barbarians who act based on feelings rather than profit and loss.’ In other words, it’s impossible for me.
“…And so, they plan to gradually increase the Fief, apparently. At this rate, by the time your child… Lord Adam reaches adulthood, he will rule over fifteen villages, it seems.”
“F-Fifteen? At that point, it’s practically like being a Baron, isn’t it?”
“A Baron… I’m not familiar with that term, but I believe he would possess power comparable to a high-ranking Knight family or a Knight Commander.”
“I see… I can’t just refuse because it’s troublesome, can I… this…”
“Uh, um, if it is Lord Andrews’s command, I will!”
“No, it’s fine, don’t push yourself, really! It feels like it’s better to comply here. Besides… it’s my fault for not listening properly.”
“B-But I also failed to report properly…”
“No, no, it’s my fault for dumping it all on you from the start. It’s okay, Tris, you did a good job. Besides…”
“Besides?”
“I also feel bad about dismissing Count Missgancia’s feelings of wanting to leave assets for his grandchild—just because of my own feelings. I owe him a lot, after all…”
Yes, this is about politics, but at the same time, it’s about goodwill.
I can’t just dismiss someone’s goodwill—especially when it doesn’t lead to a bad outcome—just because of my own feelings, can I?
“Alright… well then, Tris. Could you tell me a bit more detail about, uh, the Fief?”
Right, I should listen to the explanation first.
“Yes, of course.”
And so, Rosalinde and I received a detailed explanation about the Fief…