All businesses must strive for sustainability.
Monopolies, too, require long-term strategies to ensure they remain profitable for generations. Naturally, having secured a monopoly on military food supplies, I must ensure that it remains intact, ideally until the empire itself collapses.
“Chris, what do you think I should do next?” I asked.
Chris, who was organizing documents beside me, put down her pen and responded, “You’ve secured profits comparable to gold and silver mines, and you’ve been pushing yourself non-stop since the battlefield. Don’t you think it’s time to rest?”
The odds of a major crisis happening if I took a break now were close to zero. The military supply contracts, if maintained at their current level, would guarantee that all food-related operations for the next ten years remain under the Rothschild family. The resulting enormous profits, after minimal taxes, would be safely stored in our family vault.
However, money—or more specifically, opportunities to make money—always comes with timing.
If you miss the timing, the chance to make a fortune could disappear forever.
“Everything has its season,” I mused. It’s like preparing for college entrance exams in high school and job hunting after graduation.
“As long as I don’t blatantly provide spoiled ingredients or exploit the soldiers’ inability to complain about military supplies by delivering subpar food, the monopoly should be safe for at least ten years,” I said.
Chris nodded. “From what I see, maintaining the current state could easily last twenty years.”
“Becoming a baron makes it harder for merchants to challenge us directly, but they won’t sit idle. Within a year, they’ll analyze our methods and spread bribes to convince officials that it’s unfair for the Rothschild family to monopolize the military supply chain.”
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Modern people often assume that those in the medieval era were less intelligent than us, but this is a misconception. The truth is, medieval and modern people are of equal intelligence. While a serf with no basic education might lack a broad perspective compared to a modern middle school student, merchants and nobles with proper education in this era would rival or surpass the intelligence of most university students today.
Naturally, even they understand that monopolies are detrimental, so persuading officials to allow competition wouldn’t be difficult. If I were in their position, I’d also encourage competition to reap the benefits.
Chris nodded thoughtfully. “But Your Lordship, the Emperor and the Duke both support you. Even if other merchants offer similar services, it won’t pose much risk.”
While true, leaving even a single vulnerability unaddressed is a poor strategy. As the saying goes, a small crack can bring down the Great Wall. I’d rather deal with potential threats now than regret it later.
“People die for the most absurd reasons. On the battlefield, I saw many die from minor wounds barely grazed by an arrow,” I remarked.
Before Florence Nightingale revolutionized military medicine with her emphasis on hygiene, countless soldiers died or were maimed in battlefields because of preventable infections. Among our fallen, hundreds could have survived if we’d had alcohol—or even rum—for basic wound disinfection.
“I’ll have to address this issue as well,” I thought. Improving battlefield hygiene could also generate significant profits.
“Merchants are no weaklings who can be dismissed as having suffered only a ‘scratch,’” I said. “They’re ruthless scoundrels who would sell their own countrymen into slavery for profit, their consciences buried in the dirt.”
Chris tilted her head at my words, biting her lower lip in thought. While I might’ve borrowed some British ingenuity for my methods, I was far more humane than the merchants or slave-trading magnates.
I hadn’t slashed wages to unlivable levels or sold my countrymen—or Ifriqiyan natives—into slavery. Nor had I exploited low-wage laborers to run vast plantations. All I did was sell weapons and armor to those who wanted war.
“I may not be a good person, but I’m no villain either,” I told myself.
Chris offered a carefully neutral response. “Merchants certainly are capable of anything.”
“Exactly why I’m planning to drive a nail into their coffins. Specifically, I’m looking for ways to supply soldiers with more meat.”
While I can easily afford pork, beef, or chicken for myself or others, that’s only because I’m wealthy, not because meat is cheap. In the Toscana Empire, meat prices are prohibitively high for the average commoner. A kilogram of pork belly feels like 40,000 won, and a single chicken might cost 24,000 won. Given that chicken is usually cheaper than pork and pork belly is one of the cheapest cuts, those prices are outrageous.
Still, the military needs to feed soldiers as much meat as possible to maintain morale, which is undoubtedly driving the army leadership crazy.
“What methods are you planning to use?” Chris asked.
“Raise chickens.”
Throughout history and across religions, chickens have always been considered the most cost-effective protein source. To increase meat supply, setting up large-scale poultry farms is the most efficient method, far better than letting chickens roam freely like traditional practices.
“Chickens are certainly the cheapest source of meat,” Chris agreed.
Even serfs could enjoy chicken soup with a bit of meat every fortnight in good years. On feast days, they might get a single chicken leg. Beef, on the other hand, was so rare that some serfs never ate it in their entire lives, while pork was only available on major feast days or during winter livestock slaughter.
“That’s why I’m planning to establish modern poultry farms,” I said.
“Poultry farming does sound interesting, but surely it’s not urgent?”
Since I’d already handed the architectural plans to our family’s in-house architect, there was no immediate need to rush.
“It’s not urgent. I’ll deal with it later. Speaking of which, how much loot did we acquire?” I asked.
Chris handed me a thin ledger.
Clothing might not seem as important as weapons or armor, but in a world where machine-made clothing is rare, even used garments are valuable commodities. Urban poor and even middle-class citizens often buy second-hand clothes.
“Wash the usable clothes and sell them. Repair the damaged ones and sell those too. As for the armor, swords, and muskets, ship everything to the tribes in Ifriqiya,” I instructed.
Selling clothing would yield modest profits, given the condition of the items, but weapons and armor sold in Ifriqiya could fetch a fortune. The 4,000 gold coins spent acquiring these items could easily turn into 20,000 after selling them there.
“Understood,” Chris replied.
With that, I finally set my pen down. All the urgent tasks had been handled.
“Looks like we’re nearly done. I’ll check the architectural plans and head home. Chris, finish organizing these instructions and pass them to Sebastian before taking some rest yourself.”
“Yes, my lord.”
At long last, I headed home for some well-earned rest.