I Became A Black Merchant In Another World-Chapter 334: I’ll be a mess (3)

A building in the town of Nance, Lyon Kingdom.

Inside, Orsini and Fabio's agitators, along with other conspirators, were plotting and scheming.

What they were discussing was the welfare improvement of the workers and serfs in the Lyon Kingdom.

They absolutely had no intention of spreading the spirit of revolution or the bloodstained spear spirit to the Lyon Kingdom.

If such a thing were to happen, it would be an unfortunate result of some random coincidence.

"Is everyone spreading our boss's pure and clear truths well?"

"Yes, Director. Out of the 62 of us, 50 have successfully infiltrated the surrounding areas. 30 of them have been accepted as workers in the local factories, and 20 are now part of the farming community. The remaining people have disguised themselves as peddlers to establish contact with the other 50 and you, Director, or to build good relationships with the high-ranking officials."

"You'll be better at agitating the workers and serfs than I am, so I'll just receive reports and give general instructions."

Orsini had served Fabio for quite a long time.

And he had done his best to follow his lord's example.

He was certain that if he could become like Fabio, he would soon rise to a position where he could restore his family.

In just 6 years, he had risen from the second son of a mere baron to a count.

It was a level of success that even legendary war heroes would struggle to achieve.

‘It was all thanks to achievements that no one could dispute.’

Born into a merchant family, he had never been educated to live as a merchant, yet he had the ruthlessness to sell even human souls for a single page of a fairy tale.

Although he had never been trained as a leader in a noble family, he now ruled over everyone.

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As if he were a perfect leader drawn in a picture.

‘The count believes in you all.’

“The count believes in you. ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) That’s why he’s allowed you, who were once mere serfs, to take wives, provided good meals, and paid generous wages.”

“For the count, I would follow to the death.”

Fabio himself knew that it was an extravagant treatment for serfs who had achieved nothing.

In Korea, it would be like calling in people who earned 1.5 million won a month, marrying them off, building them nice apartments, and then offering a salary of 6 million won after taxes.

Although their families were held hostage, before that, the only way for Marx and the others to repay their favor was one.

They would have to devote their lives, even to the point of death, to serve the count.

“I am the same. And the count believes in you. That’s why he will only give you the necessary tasks to follow his directives.”

“We will repay that trust.”

“I heard you’re disguising yourselves as merchants to make contact with the nobles. What exactly do you plan to do?”

“The nobles and officials in Lyon Kingdom see the serfs and workers as tools that can be squeezed dry. So, we’re planning to worsen the working conditions and encourage them to extract more profits from it.”

"An excellent idea."

Serfs and workers are not machines.

Machines work until their engines burn out, and parts are damaged, operated by someone.

But humans, if made to work until they're about to break, will inevitably explode in dissatisfaction.

To survive, humans will kill their oppressors before them.

“Do as you wish.”

“Thank you.”

Friedrich Engels, now working under the name Fabian Russel.

“Thank you for meeting with someone as insignificant as me, Minister of Finance.”

"There is nothing more important than meeting an outstanding merchant like you and solving the problem."

Engels handed the Finance Minister a suspiciously shaped box filled with biscuits.

Thinking it was just biscuits, the Finance Minister was disappointed, but upon feeling the heavy weight, his face brightened.

“Merchants are usually all about money and lack manners, but you, you’re different. Your attitude towards nobles is well-polished.”

“You're too kind.”

"Well, this time, did you come here to ask something from me?"

"Rather than asking for something, I contacted you after seeing something unfortunate while inspecting the fief."

"Unfortunate, huh? What do you mean by that?"

Engels sighed and lowered his gaze.

It was just an act, but perhaps it was the precision of his posture and expression?

Anyone could see that it seemed full of regret.

“The serfs and workers are living too comfortably.”

“Too comfortably?”

“Well, as a merchant myself, that’s secondary, but you, Minister of Finance, are working day and night for the city and the fief, aren’t you?”

In truth, the Finance Minister was not working that hard.

Thanks to his subordinates handling the miscellaneous paperwork, the actual documents he had to approve came to only 5 or 6 a day.

Of course, each document weighed hundreds of gold coins, sometimes even 1,000 coins, so reviewing one document took at least an hour...

But in reality, his working hours were only around 5-6 hours a day.

The rest was spent either entertaining high-ranking officials, being entertained, or chatting with city council members or other officials.

But people, when they start studying, tend to include time spent tapping their phones at their desk as study time.

By the standards of their species, the Finance Minister's working hours were about 14 hours a day.

“Workers only work 13 hours a day. If we just increase their work time by one hour, production in Nance City will greatly improve.”

“I’ve worked 14 hours, and while it’s tough at first, you get used to it later.”

Entertaining high-ranking officials might be considered work, but being entertained by someone was definitely not.

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You could eat expensive food and drink without spending your own money, and a pretty woman would be brought to you to keep your side warm.

If the mood was right, you could just leave work early.

And chatting with others over a cup of tea was not work; it was just relaxing...

‘But all of this counts as part of the job.’

“Let’s increase the working hours by just one hour.”

“The factory managers in Nance are already complaining a lot. The workers cost a lot, but the productivity is not enough, and they’re in the red.”

Engels thought inwardly that it was disgusting.

He, too, served Count Rothschild and was now planning to plunge the lives of other workers and serfs into hell.

But he had once been a worker himself.

‘Do the factory managers not have a heart?’

"Just an extra hour of work won’t kill them."

“I’ll tell the factory managers that it’s okay to increase the workers’ hours by an hour. They’ll be pleased.”

"But the more urgent issue is the serfs."

“Serfs... Serfs.”

Among the nobles of the Lyon Kingdom, there wasn’t a single one who didn’t care about the serfs.

Because 80%, no, almost 90% of the kingdom’s population are serfs.

Most of the taxes come from the serfs, so if you don’t care about them, you’re disqualified as a noble.

“From what I’ve heard, the serfs only work about 8-9 hours a day. Can they really pay taxes and feed their families by working that little?”

"But the customary laws...”

The reason the workers work 13 hours while the serfs only work 8-9 hours is due to the customary laws set by the church and the nobles.

Serfs can only be made to work 8 hours a day, and they are legally guaranteed the right to inherit land for farming.

This rule is applied like a constitution on the Albanian continent.

Therefore, nobles cannot make serfs work more than 8-9 hours a day.

If they tried, the village priest in the church would immediately report it to the nearby city or metropolitan cathedral...

‘These guys are crossing the line.’

The message would be sent, and the church would threaten the lord by saying, “Are you heretics? You’re violating the customary laws set by Deus.”

“How’s the church monitoring the customary laws these days?”

Hearing that, the Finance Minister slapped his knee.

Even if they wanted to enforce the customary laws, the church's authority had long since collapsed.

"Let’s have them work about 12 hours a day. The first 8 hours will be for farming, as usual, and the next 4 hours will be for land reclamation or something.”

“You’re a genius.”

If they reclaimed land, the harvest would increase.

If the harvest increased, more taxes could be collected.

This meant the Finance Minister would become richer.

“Let’s implement this right away.”

And so, the working hours in Nance Baron’s domain were significantly increased by Engels.

All of this was Fabio's grace.