Chapter 458: Chapter 455: The Alchemist Re-emerges
After a fight at home, Lucas ended up on the streets. He wanted to go to a beer hall, but he was completely broke.
The newspaper he’d read at the Guild before the end of his shift became his lifeline. Clutching the page with the job advertisement, Lucas followed the address to a private room in a restaurant.
A waiter asked him to wait a moment. Soon after, a pot-bellied man stormed out, slamming the door behind him, his face flushed red. ’What was that about...?’ Lucas’s heart pounded with even greater anxiety.
When he was finally allowed in, he saw a flamboyantly dressed young man sitting by a tea table. His face was handsome, though a bit effeminate. Lucas felt a pang of disappointment. He had fantasized that if the interviewer was Rorschach, he could use their acquaintance to his advantage. ’How am I supposed to bring it up now? Should I just tell this guy I’ve met Rorschach once?’
"I’m Valon. A pleasure." He extended his hand to Lucas, then gestured for the other man to sit. "I assume you saw the gentleman who just left? Don’t get the wrong idea; he wasn’t here for an interview. Mr. Lu...cas, welcome. Do you not have a résumé?"
Lucas was at a loss for words for a moment before coming up with a plausible excuse. "I saw your advertisement and came straight here. You see, I just can’t stand another day at the Guild!"
Valon accepted this explanation. He only required Lucas to prove that he worked at the Magic Guild and had once been an Apprentice of the Tower of Secret Techniques.
After Lucas displayed his work ID and a faded Apprentice insignia, Valon immediately had him sign a letter of intent, which required Lucas to resign from his job at the Guild within five days:
"You will immediately receive a three-month salary advance, totaling forty-two Golden Eagle Coins. However, if you fail to resign from your current position within the next ten days, you will be required to pay double that amount as a penalty."
The moment the heavy leather pouch was in his hand, Lucas knew he had lost the ability to refuse. His face was flushed, just like the man who had stormed out of the room earlier, but his was a sign of joy and excitement. "This is too generous, sir! I can hardly believe it... Don’t you need to vet me more thoroughly? For example, I could prove that I’m a Caster..."
"No need." The young man’s frivolous demeanor returned as he shrugged nonchalantly. "I don’t know the first thing about Magic! I just handle the procedure... If there are no other questions, I hope you can start as soon as possible. The office is right next to the Balderom Chamber of Commerce in Munich... The exact address is in the contract."
"I don’t have to relocate to the Special Zone to work?" Lucas was overcome with another wave of joy.
"No, at least not for the foreseeable future." Valon had come to Munich not only to scoop up disillusioned employees from the Magic Guild and to make contact with Apprentices from the Tower of Secret Techniques; he had another mission as well.
...
Valois had a long-standing annuity system dating back to the time of the Kingdom. The Empire took this a step further, establishing the Ferolun Continent’s first personal pension and workers’ compensation systems through the Empire Council.
Although the intention was noble, Bayern had its own unique circumstances. Its well-developed trade associations had a more personal touch than cold, impersonal commercial insurance companies. Their members didn’t need annuities and insurance; Guild members enjoyed a mutual support system, much like a Brotherhood. Workshop Masters would promise their senior craftsmen a handsome retirement fund, guaranteeing them a decent life in their old age.
At least, that was how benevolently the Guilds treated their own members back when the Tams River Alliance was still prosperous.
But given this year’s market conditions, even the most powerful Guild in the land—the Magic Guild—was cutting wages. Other workshops were faring even worse. People suddenly realized that even the Workshop Masters’ coffers were running dry.
Seizing the opportunity presented by the changing times, a financial firm named "Bayern Stable Insurance" simultaneously opened for business in Munich, Newren, and Wertzburg. It hired numerous university students looking to earn extra money to sell annuities and accident insurance policies.
"Sir, I’m a student from the Munich University of Technology, working part-time to support my studies. May I have a moment of your time? Have you heard of Bayern Stable Insurance? Our policies..."
The sales script was highly standardized, its origin traced back to a single mysterious figure.
The company’s launch even became something of a running joke on the streets. ’People are already worried about where their next meal is coming from, and this so-called insurance company wants to pry money from our pockets?’
Logically, an insurance company was still part of the financial sector. If it wanted to carve out its own turf—even for personal insurance that nobody was buying these days—it should have asked for permission from the industry’s titans. But the titans actually agreed, because the newcomer had pitched a bombshell of a product to the banks.
"Are you saying... you want to insure our loans?" The manager of Grove Bank, one of the three titans of the Silver Association, had never heard of such an audacious play before.
Valon flashed a handsome, exceptionally confident smile. "That’s our product. You pay us the premiums, and if a loan defaults, we assume the loss and pay you the insured amount."
It was unbelievable. ’Are they complete suckers?’ This meant that the risk for all their loans and investments could be offloaded. Although the premiums were a little steep, it was perfectly acceptable at a time when the banks were plagued by bad debt.
The manager from Grove Bank was still studying the terms and conditions, but the manager from the other titan, Baldi Bank, simply laughed. He couldn’t believe something this good could just fall into their laps.
Valon put on an innocent expression. "Please, have faith in our capabilities. First, our registered capital of 110,000 Golden Eagle Coins has been certified by the City Hall. We won’t skip town in the event of bankruptcy and liquidation. Furthermore, our firm holds 5% of the original shares in the Kempson Steel Factory."
Andre, who had accompanied him, produced a sheet of parchment. It might have looked ordinary, but it bore a Secret Magic Mark left by Rorschach.
"Our only requirement is that in the event of a default, the debt is transferred to our firm, and you allow us to resell it on the market. The detailed plan is in this document." Valon pushed forward a prepared blue-covered book: *A Proposal for the Establishment and Development of an Asset-Backed Securities Market*.
Selling them off in a bundle? This made the bankers’ eyes light up. The unrecoverable investments and bad loans on their books had piled up, threatening their banks’ normal operations. If they could just sell them off—to anyone at all—it would finally give them some breathing room. Moreover, judging by the parchment and its Secret Magic Mark, the identity of this company’s backer was all but certain.
When something seems too good to be true, it usually is. But the managers, each thinking of their own bosses behind the scenes, all moved to pause the meeting without prior consultation.
A telegram went from Munich to the Tower of Secret Techniques, and a reply came back. The message from the Tower of Secret Techniques consisted of a single word: "Approved."
And so, a product that the general public could not possibly comprehend was born: the mortgage-backed security.
Almost simultaneously with the product’s debut, news suddenly arrived from the Special Zone. Due to production capacity issues, the Special Zone would be releasing military supply orders for the Bayern Kingdom, the details of which were currently under negotiation with the City Hall. Even the Brewers’ Guild, which had previously been unable to get a piece of the pie, suddenly received word that large quantities of aged wine were needed for distillation into alcohol to meet military demand.
The Royal Family didn’t understand the reason for this, but as it seemed like a way to alleviate the economic downturn, and after some lobbying from the Silver Association, King Albert took out loans from the three major banks to procure a large order of new winter uniforms for the army from the Wool and Textile Guild.
For a time, it seemed the market was recovering. However, the City Hall’s requirements were strict; to guarantee quality and quantity, a workshop had to be of a certain size to be eligible for the subcontracted orders.
Some Workshop Masters gritted their teeth and decided to make another trip to the bank. To their surprise, the loan managers who were previously so stone-faced now greeted them with wide smiles, approving any and all loans with a wave of the hand. Before, you had to jump through countless hoops just to borrow a little money!
As the workshops regained their prosperity, some clever observers noticed that those mortgage-backed securities were steadily rising in value. The reason was simple: the securities had been sold at a discount because they were bundled with bad loans. Now that the workshops were recovering and old debts were being repaid, the securities were generating substantial returns.
’Hmm? Everyone seems to have spare cash these days. The citizens earned their money, and the workshops borrowed theirs, but it’s all money, isn’t it? So what’s the difference...?’
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