I chuckled softly, pondering the situation.
Throughout this disaster reconstruction effort, I had been paying particularly close attention to potential corruption and fraud.
I had spent a long time thinking about how to handle such issues.
In a sense, anything that arose on that front was within expectations and could be dealt with accordingly.
However, this was an entirely different matter.
The skyrocketing price of Rien was a product of the Empire's own systemic design.
It wasn't any single person's fault—or rather, if pressed, it was the fault of every ruler who had governed the Empire up to this point.
No individual had committed a specific crime.
I turned my gaze back toward the man.
Perhaps because he had finally vented his frustrations, his drinking had picked up in earnest.
Slumped half over the table, he let out a heavy sigh.
It was understandable, I thought.
To put it in simple terms, suppose the man's tax bill for this year was 1 Rien.
If he could exchange his currency today, his tax burden would amount to 1,100 wen.
However, he didn't have enough on hand today, and he had been told that by tomorrow, it might take 1,150 wen.
That was a difference of 50 wen.
Even though the tax owed was the exact same 1 Rien, the actual amount he had to pay differed depending on the day of the exchange.
If he were a wealthy merchant earning in Rien, it wouldn't be an issue, but the deep sigh he let out clearly marked him as a commoner who earned his living in wen.
His actual tax bill was likely higher, meaning the disparity would be even greater.
Of course, the rate could sometimes drop into the 900s, falling below the statutory rate of 1,000.
That was simply the nature of supply and demand.
Still, the man before me clearly understood the reality; in fact, he had just explained it himself.
With reconstruction underway, the market was booming, and the value of Rien remained persistently inflated.
For the foreseeable future, it was far more likely to rise than to fall.
I put on a smile for him.
I let out a quiet chuckle.
"If you don't mind, would you be willing to exchange that Rien for 1,100 wen?"
Saying so, I retrieved 1 Rien from my breast pocket.
I placed it onto the table—a Rien gold coin, glittering with a radiant golden sheen.
"Huh?"
The man blinked, bewildered.
His face flushed red, he froze, slumped halfway across the table.
"W-Why...?"
"I was just thinking that I needed some smaller change. I have a bit more shopping to do, and having loose coins would make things much easier."
"Huh? But what I've got on me isn't 1,100—it's barely over 1,000—"
"Consider the difference compensation for the trouble I caused."
With that, I pointed to the stain on his clothing.
It was dipping sauce, smeared across his worn but thoroughly washed clothes.
I had deliberately bumped into him and stained it earlier merely as a pretext to invite him here.
Using that incident as a further excuse, I offered him an exchange rate far better than what the money changers gave.
The man looked at the stain on his shirt, then back at me.
Shifting his gaze between the two, an uncertain, troubled expression crossed his face.
"Is that... really all right?"
"Please, I insist."
"...Thank you. I'll take you up on that."
After a brief hesitation, the man reached into his clothes, pulled out a leather pouch, set it on the table, and slid it toward me.
Only after watching me take it and hand it over to Zoe did he reach out and pick up the 1 Rien resting on the table.
☆
The man departed, leaving Zoe and me behind. I remained seated while Zoe stood beside me. Together, we watched him descend the stairs and leave the tavern.
"A shortage of Rien, is it?"
I muttered, turning over the conversation in my mind.
"Should I arrange for countermeasures?"
Catching my murmur, Zoe offered a practical suggestion.
A fluctuation of that degree in the exchange rate was only natural, and from the money changers' perspective, they were merely conducting legitimate business.
Of course, we could enforce the statutory rate with an iron fist. In the past, however, doing so alongside wild swings in the value of copper and mining accidents had led people to melt down coins and sell them off as raw precious metal.
In essence, the Empire had chosen a constant, minor inconvenience over occasional, massive chaos.
And now, with disaster reconstruction accelerating the flow of capital, a temporary shortage of Rien had gripped Enlil Province.
If that was the case, the only way to resolve it was to inject more Rien into the market.
Having served as a magistrate and thoroughly acclimated to the administrative side rather than remaining a mere maid, Zoe understood this dynamic well and made a sound proposal.
It was certainly practical, but...
"No... wait a moment."
I paused to think.
I weighed the possibilities from every angle.
A spark of an idea began to take shape in my mind, and I worked on forging it into a concrete plan.
"Either way, a shortage is still a shortage, huh...?"
After muttering under my breath, I looked up at Zoe.
Zoe immediately straightened her posture.
She clearly recognized that I had reached a decision and was about to issue an order.
I gave the command.
"Make the arrangements. Have a larger reserve of cash transported here."
"Understood."
Zoe looked slightly relieved that her recommendation had been accepted.
Without missing a beat, I gave the next directive.
"And one more thing."
"Y-Yes!"
Caught off guard, Zoe gave a small start, pulling herself even more upright.
"Issue a public notice—announce that this year's taxes may be paid in wen, converted at the statutory rate."
"Doing so would mean incurring either the cost of transporting the currency to the imperial capital or a significant loss if we exchange it all in bulk here. Given current market rates, it could result in a revenue loss of up to twenty percent. Furthermore, transporting such a massive volume of wen coins to the imperial capital would require mobilizing thousands of guards and laborers. That would only amplify our losses—"
"We will use communications drafts."
"Pardon?"
Zoe blinked in confusion.
"We've begun integrating promissory drafts into our communications network. We will utilize that system."
"...!"
Understanding dawned on Zoe's face.
"If we transmit the tax records to the imperial capital via communications and balance it on the ledgers, there will be no need for physical transport..."
"Exactly."
"That is brilliant, Master! We can drastically cut both labor and financial losses. When you factor in security, the benefits are immeasurable."
Zoe's eyes sparkled brighter than I had ever seen before.
Communications drafts—promissory notes capable of near-instantaneous settlement, merging Humbaba thread with the credit of the Empire.
By transmitting the collected tax amounts to the imperial capital and handling the transactions entirely through ledger entries, the burden of physical transport vanished.
This was possible precisely because vast sums of reconstruction funds were currently flowing in from the imperial capital.
Furthermore, hauling tax revenue in Rien all the way to the capital always carried the risk of bandit raids.
While the imperial army provided escorts, history proved that shipments were not entirely immune to attack.
There were losses from stolen cargo, not to mention the immense cost of mobilizing military escorts to prevent such raids.
With communications drafts, those overheads could be reduced virtually to zero.
"And there is one more benefit."
"W-What would that be?"
"By using drafts, we won't need to spend our wen on immediate expenditures. We can simply convert it later when the value of Rien drops."
"—! Then, far from losing twenty percent, we might even turn a profit..."
"Indeed."
I nodded.
In short, unlike that commoner earlier or the general public, the Empire—or at least Enlil Province—was under no obligation to convert wen into Rien immediately.
That was especially true now that Father's villa had been liquidated into cash as an inheritance.
"Well, I have no intention of getting greedy to turn a profit. The Empire officially issues currency at a fixed rate of 1 Rien to 1,000 wen, so simply adhering to standard operations will ensure we suffer no loss."
"You are truly remarkable, Master!"
"Strike while the iron is hot. See to it."
"Yes, sir!"
Zoe bowed respectfully and, with a bright expression, hurried down the stairs and out of the tavern.
After watching her depart, I turned my thoughts inward.
"Still, I'll need to reform this entire system eventually..."
I murmured to myself, continuing to ponder how best to untangle the intricate web of bureaucracy that bound the economy together.