Chapter 258: A Visitor
"People talking nonsense?"
Simon frowned. He had never really thought about that before. But now that Ysabeau mentioned it, he suddenly understood.
This phrase came from the old rule of ’three obediences and four virtues’ for women. So, when the female workers mentioned gossip, it likely meant that some people were criticising them for working instead of staying home and serving their husbands.
"It’s true." Said Ysabeau. "Because of this, many female workers quit midway. Every few days someone doesn’t show up to work."
Simon sighed and shook his head. Once again, old customs and traditions were getting in his way.
He said. "In that case, I’ll write about it in the newspaper. I believe there are still many open-minded people out there. Oh, by the way, how much are you paying the female workers?"
"Ninety copper coins a month." Ysabeau replied, holding up nine fingers.
"Ninety copper coins?" Simon’s eyes widened in shock.
At that time, one coin could only buy about 100 grams of rice in Brambleford. That meant 90 coins a month were worth just 3 kg of rice, or about 6 modern-day dollars. No wonder the workers were quitting. It was such a low wage that it wasn’t even worth the effort. If it weren’t for the lack of work opportunities for women in ancient times, no one would even take the job.
Plus, in traditional farming society, families lived off their own production. The men farmed, and the women wove. So if they could already weave at home, why bother working outside for such little pay?
"What’s wrong, Your Highness? Is that too much?" Ysabeau asked innocently.
Joan couldn’t hold back and said. "You’re usually smart; how could you not see this? His Highness isn’t saying it’s too much. He’s saying it’s too little. These women came because it’s His Highness’s workshop. They respect him. But if you pay them less than what they’d earn sewing at home, of course they won’t stay."
Simon smiled and patted Joan’s head. "You’re smarter than your sister. Ysabeau, you’re acting too much like an old-fashioned housekeeper, just like Roland. Too stingy. Let’s fix that. From now on, I’ll set the pay: one silver cap per month for each female worker."
"One cap? That’s too much!" Ysabeau gasped. "That silver all comes from the castle!"
Simon asked. "Then tell me, how much do you plan to sell each padded jacket for?"
Ysabeau’s eyes sparkled, and she said playfully. "At least three silver caps!"
"And how much does it cost to make one?"
"With materials and wages, around two caps at most."
"There you go," Simon said. "Right now, the textile workshop has 100 workers and makes 30 jackets a day. That’s 900 silver caps profit in a month. If we had 1,000 workers, that’s 9,000 silver a month. That’s not a small number."
Ysabeau finally understood. "You’re right! The key now is recruiting more workers."
Simon nodded. "Exactly. One cap a month means 12 caps a year; that’s as much as a season’s harvest. Do you think people will still refuse to come?"
"You’re right, Your Highness! In that case, please help write about this in the newspaper." Ysabeau said excitedly.
Simon nodded. The new city wall was almost finished. The reavers would have a very hard time attacking it now. That meant Simon could finally focus on developing industry.
He chatted and joked with the two girls for a while. Then, a servant arrived to report: an envoy from Prince Gerad was waiting outside, with a formal letter.
"Prince Gerad’s envoy?" Simon frowned.
Since their parting in Eldora, he hadn’t heard much from Prince Gerad. But he had heard that Prince Gerad kept asking the court to get cannons from Simon, using the excuse that pirates were attacking the coasts.
After thinking for a moment, Simon said. "Let him in."
The servant left. Ysabeau and Joan excused themselves.
Not long after, a young man in white robes approached, led by a servant.
From a distance, Simon felt like this man looked familiar, but when he looked closer, he couldn’t remember where he’d seen him.
"I am Gordon Highcastle, chief aide to Prince Gerad. Greetings, Prince Simon." Said the man in white with polite confidence.
"Your surname is Highcastle?" Simon raised an eyebrow. "Are you from the Highcastle clan of Lutton Town?"
Gordon replied respectfully. "No, Your Highness. I’m not from the Lutton Town Highcastle clan. Many people share the Highcastle surname. I’m just a commoner."
"Is that so?" Simon narrowed his eyes. "You’re young, yet you’re already a top aide to my third royal uncle. If not from the Highcastle clan, then you must be incredibly talented."
"You flatter me, Your Highness. I was only lucky to earn Prince Gerad’s favour." Gordon replied.
Simon looked him over again but didn’t press further. Instead, he asked. "So, why did my third uncle send you?"
"I’m here about the cannons, Your Highness," Gordon said seriously. "Prince Gerad already has the Emperor’s permission. He hopes you will sell cannons to him."
"When was this decided?"
"While Your Highness was in Dunmere for several months, the Emperor agreed to it a month ago."
Simon frowned deeper. "So Father still favours my third uncle after all."
Gordon said. "Your Highness is mistaken. This isn’t about favouritism. The coastal regions are suffering. While you were in Dunmere, 30,000 pirates landed on the coast, captured Reef County, and killed thousands of people. The county is now a pirate base. Your Highness, how could His Majesty watch his people suffer and do nothing?"
Simon suddenly laughed. "Only 30,000 pirates, and my third uncle is already panicking. Then what should I have done when I faced 100,000 reaver soldiers? Wet my pants?"
"The whole country knows how rich he is, and how strong their army is. Losing Reef County, isn’t that Prince Gerad’s own failure?"
Gordon was stunned. Everyone had praised Prince Simon’s victory at Dunmere. He had planned to use patriotism and righteousness to persuade Simon. But now, Simon ignored the big picture and instead blamed Prince Gerad for being incompetent. Gordon didn’t know how to respond.
Simon laughed silently to himself. He could see through this envoy’s tricks.
Since Alaric, the Emperor, had already approved the sale, and Prince Vael in the south would surely follow next, this business deal was now official. He had no choice but to accept.
But if they thought they could use words like ’patriotism’ or ’national duty’ to pressure him into selling cheap cannons, they were dreaming.
Compared to him, these other princes had no right to speak of loyalty or righteousness.