Chapter 1070: Chapter 1013: The Saint’s Grandson Isn’t Rushed, So I’m Not Rushed Either

"Our King Jiji, are you accustomed to living in Huaqiu City?"

Charles VIII leaned on the scepter of civilization, stepping onto the ancient city walls of Huaqiu City.

This king, who had just returned from the battlefield at Windmill Land, compared to the past, had a face that had been stripped of youthfulness, adorned now with a touch of majesty and wear.

Beside him, Prime Minister Lorenzo smiled gracefully: "He is very satisfied, has acquired several new lovers, and says Falan is too delightful, he has already forgotten Leia."

"Tsk," Charles VIII clicked his tongue lightly, "He still harbors thoughts, must keep a close eye on him."

"I know this."

The morning breeze carrying a coolness stirred Charles VIII’s cropped hair, mingling with the river mist and the clamor of the citizens’ cooking smoke.

Stopping his steps, Charles turned his head towards the city as if gazing upon his entire kingdom.

After fifty years, Windmill Land returns to my grasp.

Just this achievement alone is enough for the historians to paint Charles VIII’s story vividly in the records.

But Charles VIII was not satisfied; the ease with which Windmill Land was taken indicated that Falan’s fifty years of internal reform had indeed come to fruition.

At this moment, his ambition was not just small Windmill Land, but the entire empire.

He wished to ascend step by step to the highest point, aiming for a rare and absolute title.

Emperor!

Like Emperor Alexander, Emperor Theodora, Emperor Casste.

Charles the Great, what a splendid name.

He had already completed the first step, controlling the estuary of North Nao’an River—Windmill Land and controlling, in name, the King of Leia—Ginijis.

Even the Blood and Flesh Royal Court assisted, sacking Holy Seat City and seizing the Triple Crown.

Though it was a misfortune, it was also beneficial.

Because with this title, Falan took the opportunity to halt Leia’s civil war, and united Leia’s nobles, supporting Grand Duke Omes as regent.

But the discerning ones within Leia could see clearly that Grand Duke Omes was merely a dog of Charles VIII!

Next, it was just a matter of waiting a few more years, establishing the identity of the Pope, and then unifying the votes of the El people, the Pope, the Falan people, and the Leia people.

Four votes combined, to assume the title of Emperor of the Divine Ael Empire.

Even if the Norn people disagreed, what could they do?

Now, the only remaining step was to establish the position of the Grandiva Pope.

Truth be told, Charles had never looked favorably upon Grandiva.

But currently, the only one within Falan with enough fame and experience to rival the Saint’s Grandson was him.

Yet, where should the Holy Alliance Pope stand?

Charles VIII raised his head, gazing towards Huaqiu City under the morning light.

A silver gleaming river meandered through Huaqiu City, that being the downstream of the South Nao’an River.

The churning of the North and South Nao’an Rivers formed the fertile and prosperous Golden Plains, the center of imperial civilization.

Standing atop the wall of the city wall, Charles VIII could see flat-bottomed barges interspersed with a few flute-type boats slowly sailing by.

Red, blue, and white sails alternated, the tow ropes of the boatmen spread like spider webs.

These boats docked at the grand wharf of Huaqiu City, unloading grains, firewood, peat, stone, and wine.

Between the boats, one could see small ferries like little silverfish among black sharks, swiftly shuttling, transporting passengers and small cargo.

Beside Charles VIII, Lorenzo also gazed towards the city.

After a moment of silence, he slowly spoke, addressing the king returning from conquest: "The citizens within the city have been calling for a reduction in the peat tax."

"Peat is indeed better than firewood, it takes up less space and burns hotter and longer, just the smoke is somewhat suffocating, in this regard, it doesn’t compare to charcoal."

This was Charles VIII comforting the Prime Minister, for previously Lorenzo always felt Falan was vast and possessed everything.

Allowing the Holy Alliance to make a little money was no issue.

So during the first tariff negotiation with the Holy Alliance, aside from spices and sugar, he didn’t pay much attention to other things.

But reality dealt Lorenzo a hard slap.

Not only was peat all the rage in the cities, but the Holy Alliance’s mortar and cheap fabrics were also highly sought after by the common people.

As for the low-level workers and artisans, especially the poor laborers and vagrants in the border areas, they often preferred to buy Holy Alliance products.

Despite the fact that the products from the Holy Alliance were often mocked as uniform and shoddy, their low price and high volume were irresistible.

Even the Holy Alliance’s wool and ready-made clothing distributors within Falan, the Anli Trading Company, had initiated promotional offers such as bringing in five new customers to receive a free roll of wool, or ten new customers to enjoy a permanent 20% discount VIP service.

Not to mention, merely the title of VIP gave the middle class plenty of face.

Especially since these clothes often mimic Falan fashion, aiming at Falan fashion outfits for low-budget models.

This made the Holy Alliance notorious in this circle.

But it also revealed just how deeply the Holy Alliance’s goods had infiltrated Falan.

"What do you think the annual fiscal income of the Holy Alliance is?"

"Probably over a million gold pounds."

Charles VIII turned his head and looked at Lorenzo, asking in surprise, "Didn’t Duke Rabon say it was eight hundred thousand gold pounds?"

"That fool only thought about taxes and forgot the workshops are state-owned.

Just looking at the recent exports from the Holy Alliance, excluding the output from the Spice Company, it’s estimated that there’s a net inflow of twenty or thirty thousand gold pounds just from commodities."

Lorenzo is named as the Minister of Foreign Affairs, but in reality, the Minister of Finance is his puppet, and the finance department is also under his surveillance.

Over a million gold pounds...

Charles VIII’s eyebrows went from relaxed to slightly furrowed; over the years, the annual fiscal income of the Falan Kingdom has been between three and five million gold pounds.

According to the tax records of the church and the Leia Kingdom, the Thousand River Valley in the Armored Wood Province pays six hundred thousand gold pounds, the Shattered Stone Plain pays eight hundred thousand gold pounds, Black Snake Bay pays two hundred thousand gold pounds, totaling 1.6 million gold pounds.

Now this figure has increased nearly sevenfold, and that’s the empire’s frontier, at the foot of the barren Dragon Veins Mountains.

Falan has such high income, and there is naturally a reason for it.

Besides the ever-strengthening taxation agencies and the increasingly prosperous commerce, the most important point is the massive influx of precious metals and grain from the Blood and Flesh Royal Court.

If it is anchored by grain, then there’s no difference.

If anchored by commodities, the money is not as valuable as before.

The price revolution aspect...

It is precisely because of the influx of precious metals from the Blood and Flesh Royal Court that currency rent replaces physical rent, further strengthening Falan’s taxation ability.

Plus, with the Falan Royal Family and nobles having money to spend lavishly, big gold chains and big holy images are all arranged.

This leads to a large circulation of precious metals among the civilian population, facilitating taxation.

But what does the Holy Alliance have? It doesn’t have a seaport, nor fertile lands.

"Do you also feel this figure is abnormal?"

"Uncertain, let’s observe more." Charles VIII shook his head, "What do those guys say?"

The "guys" Charles VIII referred to were naturally the pro-Holy Alliance faction, a group not large in number but steadily growing.

"They say the Holy Alliance’s trade dumping towards Falan is a high-level form of tribute."

"Phew." Charles VIII couldn’t help but chuckle, "Saying such things, they’re truly anxious."

There must be a reason to say such things.

The wealthiest tiers in Falan are spending lavishly, forming a large commercial system revolving around the nobles.

A silk-floral decorative robe might cost a thousand gold pounds, yet the migrant workers can’t even afford a coat costing 2 Dinars.

According to an article from the "Papal Maxims," Falan’s industrial system is built around the expensive consumer goods, luxury items, and services for the middle-to-upper class.

As for the Holy Alliance’s industrial system, it’s precisely the opposite, established around the lower to middle tiers.

Throughout the Holy Alliance, besides sugar and spices, almost no luxury goods are produced.

Ceramics, silk, tea, perfume, curiosities, jewels, literature... nothing notable.

This actually makes many merchants scoff; in this world, money is earned from those who have it, not the poor.

In some sense, the presence of the Holy Alliance complements Falan, which is also what many Falan groups inclined towards the Holy Alliance advocate.

But Charles VIII always felt something was off, yet couldn’t pinpoint what was wrong.

In fact, Charles VIII’s attitude is also Falan’s attitude towards the Holy Alliance.

It always feels off, but exactly how it’s off is hard to say.

"How many troops can we deploy against the Holy Alliance on the border?"

Charles VIII provided a number, as he has always personally controlled the army, and Lorenzo seldom intervened in this aspect.

"This force seems a bit small."

"The windmill ground is newly settled, the north also requires troops to suppress the great nobles, and the border needs to make a stance to pursue those Ogre Warlords..."

At this point, Charles VIII paused, as the combat ability of those Ogres was unusually high.

However, this was not the focus at the moment, so he temporarily set it aside in his mind.

"I see." Lorenzo pondered for a moment, "I think we should avoid a major war with the Holy Alliance, as it will disrupt our pace and give Leia people and Norn people a chance to exploit."

"I thought the same, can you give me a strategy?" Charles VIII sincerely gazed at Lorenzo in the morning light.

"First diplomatic battle, then military battle."

"Can you elaborate?"

"Your Highness, you have to answer me a question first."

Charles VIII frowned, "Please speak."

Clearing his throat, Lorenzo seriously asked, "When do you plan to marry? We’ve selected four noble ladies for you; are you not satisfied? You’re not young anymore."

"...You see, hasn’t that Saint’s Grandson from the Holy Alliance remained unmarried? If he’s not anxious, why should I? No rush, no rush..."