[EDWARD’S POV]
August 7, 1338
In just three days, I'll mark my fourth year in this alternate world. It's still surreal how I've been inexplicably transported back in time, armed with knowledge from the modern era and bestowed with an otherworldly gift known as the "System." Speaking of which, these recent days have proven quite advantageous. I've utilized my spare points to acquire the third installment of the "Radiant Sword Styles" series. The dedicated practice has notably elevated my martial prowess, elevating it from 13 to 15, positioning me on par with some of the most esteemed figures in the realm.
Moreover, an intriguing purchase from the system shop caught my attention—a golden sheath priced at 15 SP. Despite its iron composition, the sheath is adorned with intricate designs crafted entirely in pure gold. Its ornate appearance holds significant value and would undoubtedly fetch a handsome sum in any bustling city.
Amidst the ongoing conflicts and the apparent lack of inclination from both nations to cease hostilities, a semblance of diplomatic efforts persists. Despite the lingering tensions, representatives from England have embarked on a significant journey to Amiens for peace talks with the French Clerics. This strategic location has been chosen as the meeting ground, serving as a symbolic gesture that both sides still harbor a desire for a peaceful resolution, despite the waning interest in such endeavors.
The English delegation, spearheaded by Archbishop John Stratford of Canterbury and Bishop Richard de Bury of Durham, stands as a testament to England's commitment to addressing these mounting challenges. Their presence in Amiens serves as a direct response to the prior threats issued by cardinals during the preceding winter. These warnings, stemming from the aftermath of the battles of Cadzand and Sluys, cast a looming shadow over Edward's reign. The cardinals threatened potential excommunication and the nullification of treaties forged between Edward and the German princes, prompting a proactive response from the English monarchy to navigate these precarious diplomatic waters.
In the absence of any recent French incursions along the English coastlines, my attention shifted back to managing my territory. Reviewing the financial records revealed a tax structure within my dominion. From Wymondham and Norwich, I collected a significant 15% in taxes. Other barons, serving as my vassals, contributed 8% of their holdings. Additionally, the Earls of Suffolk, Cambridgeshire, and Essex contributed a final 5% as an obligation to their Warden. However, a portion of all my collected taxes, specifically 20%, was directed towards the crown, while the remainder stayed within my coffers. Despite this, the tax revenue paled in comparison to the significant income derived from my cement industry.
With seven operational cement factories, five in Wymondham and two in Norwich, the production rate stood at an impressive fifty cement sacks per day per factory, totaling around 350 sacks daily. This resulted in nearly two thousand sacks weekly, of which I aimed to sell a hundred sacks per week, restricting noble buyers to thirty sacks each. At a price point of £50 per sack, my monthly revenue soared to £20,000. I discreetly kept these substantial earnings concealed from the king, knowing that disclosing such wealth could prompt increased taxation demands or unwelcome scrutiny into my innovative cement production methods.
Considering fluctuations and lean periods, I projected a minimum income of £200,000 for the year from cement production alone. In terms of future currency, this sum could amount to an impressive £150 million. This financial stability provided a substantial edge, affording me both independence and influence beyond the conventional bounds of noble income.
Our dominion stood as a formidable militaristic force within the kingdom, but in secrecy, it had also become the wealthiest. Initiating multiple road construction projects, I aimed to interconnect every barony within Norwich, developing a network of roads. These endeavors resulted in a substantial increase in trade, welcoming a surge of traders with each passing season. The enhancements in commoners' wages, the bolstering of infrastructure, and amplified support to merchants reverberated positively, multiplying the foreign traders' revenues as well.
Implementing a tripartite division within the army had multifaceted benefits; it significantly curtailed crime rates and fortified our defenses against banditry. Our constabulary system forms a tightly-knit network, strategically stationed across various baronies and major towns. Presently, fourteen constabularies operate in the Earldom under the central headquarters located in Norwich, collectively employing nearly 2,000 individuals. This extensive reach and manpower allocation ensured a robust security apparatus, fostering stability and safeguarding our territories from internal threats.
The primary army division of Norfolk, known as the 'Guard,' currently stood at 4,000 troops, excluding the 3,000 soldiers dispatched with my father to London. Summing up to 7,000 troops, Norfolk boasted the largest contingent in readiness for an all-out conflict.
The specialized unit, the 'Ranger & Scouts' or 'RnS,' operated as an elite force primarily engaged in espionage and reconnaissance. With only 500 soldiers, their select numbers didn't undermine their significant prowess, given their specialized roles.
Expanding my control over various establishments within my domain was a strategic move to solidify my authority. Currently, I command 85% of the smithies, 70% of the inns, 50% of the brothels, and 50% of the orchards. These establishments wield substantial influence and generate considerable profits, consolidating my hold over key sectors.
Moreover, my banking institution has initiated lending practices to prominent merchants and nobles, offering competitive interest rates that have enticed them. I intentionally approved loans for notorious, financially reckless nobles, knowing that their failure to repay could grant me the authority to seize their family estates or their possessions. This approach ensures a level of control and leverage over influential figures within the kingdom.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
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As the day drew to a close, I set aside my practice sword, reached for my book, and brushed off the sweat of training. Quenching my thirst with a goblet of beer offered by a servant, I made my way to the castle terrace. An expected letter from my father, delivered by Gosh, should have arrived either today or yesterday, yet it hadn’t made its way to me.
Taking matters into my own hands, I prepared a parchment I had already written, crafting it into a smaller note, which I then rolled up and securely fastened to the talons of Zephyr. With practiced precision, I directed Zephyr toward the capital, setting him on a familiar journey that he had navigated flawlessly on several occasions. Over time, Zephyr had become adept at traversing the route between our domain and London efficiently.
The sight of my impressive falcon had caught the attention of numerous nobles in the capital, sparking the imaginations of bards who incorporated him as a character in their songs and tales. Zephyr had acquired a reputation that extended beyond our realm, becoming a subject of admiration and fascination among those who had encountered him.
With Zephyr’s speed, I estimated the letter's arrival in London within an hour. By morning, he should return with a response after my father has identified him and tended to his needs.
Returning to my chamber, I arranged for my meal to be brought there and instructed the servant to notify my sisters about the change in plans. I wanted to ensure they wouldn’t worry if I didn’t appear at supper without prior notice. Communication was key to keep everyone at ease.
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August 8, 1338
Knock
Knock
Several frantic knocking jolted me awake from a deep slumber. Hastily, I rushed to the door, my voice filled with alarm as I demanded to know who was there.
"It's me, milord, Osbert," came his urgent reply.
I swung the door open to find Osbert, usually composed and unshakable, now trembling and drenched in sweat. His typically bright countenance was marred by a look of sheer horror.
"Are you unwell, Osbert?" I inquired, concern evident in my voice.
"No," he hastily replied, thrusting a small parchment into my hands. It was undoubtedly a missive brought by Zephyr, delivered to Osbert by the watchful guards. The fact that he was this distressed filled me with an overwhelming sense of dread. What news could have induced such terror in Osbert? Had my actions triggered an unforeseen calamity in the capital? Or worse, had enemy forces raided our coasts from Wales? But such events, while dire, didn't seem plausible reasons for Osbert's profound distress. Whatever my father had written must have been profoundly troubling to prompt Osbert's panicked rush to deliver the letter to me.
With a trembling hand, I swiftly unfolded the parchment, my emotions escalating with every line I read. Shock rendered me speechless, then anger ignited within me like a blazing fire by the time I reached the letter's end.
I gazed up at Osbert, my voice carrying an edge of command. "Prepare for Swanage immediately," I instructed firmly. "We leave at once."
Osbert, sensing the urgency in my tone, hastened off toward the barracks. I was grappling with the news I'd just received—how could he have vanished from the road, especially on his return to London? His departure hadn't been widely known, only a select few would have been privy to that information. Could it be those envious courtiers, threatened by his swift ascent in the London court? As Earl Marshal, he commanded the kingdom's largest army and held an influential position. His heir, with remarkable military achievements, stood as a loyal subject to the crown and held considerable sway over East Anglia. His prominence had earned him allies, but it seemed equally likely that he had made powerful enemies along the way.
A few minutes later, Osbert's voice echoed through the yard, breaking the silence of the morning. "Milord, I've gathered a hundred men for our departure," he announced loudly, reaching up to where I stood in front of my chamber on the first floor.
"Make it three hundred, Osbert. I'll be ready within the hour," I commanded, my mind already racing with plans and preparations. Swiftly, I went to visit Margaret in her chamber, with urgency etched into my expression I shared the alarming news. I entrusted her with the responsibility of managing the Earldom during my absence, knowing well that I couldn't grant her the regency of East Anglia due to its nature of ‘Warden’ as a non-hereditary military title in our patriarchal society.
Margaret, overcome with emotions, couldn't contain her tears, her fair skin muddied with distress. I offered my reassurances, but my own focus was on the mission ahead. With a heavy heart, I bid farewell to Margaret, urging her to inform Alice and our stepmother of my sudden departure and to encourage them not to lose hope. My determination echoed in my promise—I would retrieve Father no matter the obstacles that lay ahead.
I strode into the bustling yard, a multitude of men clad in gleaming golden armor preparing for our imminent departure. Osbert had evidently briefed them on the urgency of our mission, a somber air lingering among them. Despite their relatively recent induction, their loyalty to me was unwavering. I made it a point to regularly dine with them, fostering a strong bond between us; their concerns became mine, and vice versa.
Next to my destrier—a loyal companion over the past four years, residing steadfastly in Norwich—I stood prepared. This magnificent black-skinned Destrier, towering at 5'4", once required a raised platform for me to mount. But now, having grown to a height of 5'10", I could effortlessly saddle up without assistance. My youthful appearance still belied the maturity I sought; though I could muster a semblance of facial hair, it fell short of what truly marked manhood.
Mounting my trusty destrier, I signaled to lead the way. As the crowd parted to make way for our departure, I pivoted my steed and steadied myself. Drawing "Vanquish" from its golden sheath, I unleashed a resounding roar that echoed through the yard.
"For The Earl!"