“Father,” Allen’s tone grew serious, “what exactly is the debt crisis our family is facing? You’re the Tax Farmer—why can’t we collect the taxes owed to us? How did our family’s financial hole get so deep?”
This question struck directly at the family’s hidden wound, the truth Bernard had long tried to hide from his son.
Bernard looked at his son’s eyes—mature beyond his years, perceptive and clear—and knew there was no point in hiding it anymore.
Worse, keeping secrets might cause them to miss a chance to turn things around.
He sighed deeply and decided to lay everything bare.
He began recounting the Laval family’s history of fortune: their ancestors earned their first pot of gold by adventuring, providing rare treasures for nobles.
Later, the family became merchants specializing in building materials, and eventually, they rose to become a well-known construction contractor within the Noble Circle of the Capital.
Bernard himself had climbed into the ranks of the robed nobility by building mansions and gardens for the nobles, accumulating both connections and wealth.
In theory, monopolizing the Capital’s noble construction contracts should have kept the Laval family far from ruin.
However, years of natural disasters and calamities in the Kingdom of Lorraine eventually engulfed even the once-indulgent noble class.
The contracting model was such that Bernard, as the general contractor, took on projects for fixed prices, shouldering any cost overruns himself.
Noble patrons paid in installments based on the progress of the projects.
In practice, Bernard often had to front large sums for materials and craftsmen wages.
When natural disasters caused prices to soar, construction costs skyrocketed, and the advances he made snowballed uncontrollably.
Worse still, many nobles faced severe income drops themselves, leading to abandoned projects, and Bernard’s advanced funds were lost without return.
The final straw came with the City Hall’s Royal Central Plaza Project.
This should have been a lucrative, reliable government contract.
But after completion, the mayor of City Hall indefinitely delayed paying the remaining balance—over two hundred thousand livres—citing excuses like “the Minister of Finance not approving funds” and “an empty Treasury.”
On top of that, Crown Prince Charles forced the Laval family to purchase an utterly worthless Tax Farming Permit, one they could never realistically recoup in taxes.
This confiscated Bernard’s last bit of liquidity, leaving him with only the infamy of “milking the common people” and a debt pit impossible to climb out of.
This was the truth behind why the Laval family had sunk so deep.
The sands of time fell like a heavy mountain upon the nobility’s shoulders.
Allen let out a heavy sigh himself after hearing the story.
He hated that before crossing over, he hadn’t studied more guides on “Getting Rich in the Medieval Era.”
“How much does our family owe, exactly?”
Allen asked the most critical question.
When Bernard struggled to utter the staggering number, even with prior mental preparation, Allen sucked in a breath and exclaimed:
“Three hundred thousand livres?!”
To understand this number, you must place it within the current economic context:
The Kingdom of Lorraine uses a silver standard, with the main currency being the livre silver coin.
Initially, 1 livre contained 373 grams of silver, but due to debasement, its real value is now below the silver price.
Within the Kingdom’s currency system, there are two smaller denominations: the sol and the denier, exchanged at a ratio of 1 livre = 20 sols = 240 deniers.
An average household in the Capital earns roughly 100 to 200 livres annually.
Three hundred thousand livres equals the combined annual income of thousands of ordinary families!
The Kingdom’s top hereditary nobles—like the Bourbon Duke, the Kingdom’s Marshal—have annual incomes of about 50,000 livres from their vast lands, mines, and trade.
Three hundred thousand livres is six years’ worth of their income!
Meanwhile, the royal government’s entire annual revenue, gathered through layers of Tax Farmers squeezing every penny, is approximately 5 to 6 million livres.
A debt of 300,000 livres consumes 5%-6% of the Kingdom’s yearly treasury—enough to fund the Kingdom’s entire regular military budget for a whole year!
This is a terrifying figure capable of suffocating any mid-level noble and seriously hurting even the great ones!
No wonder Allen’s countless previous lives were so hard—his father truly had done all he could!
In past cycles, the family held on for three years before final liquidation, a testament to Bernard’s remarkable ability.
“Father, you really…should have told me sooner. I thought you were just a prodigal!”
Allen smiled bitterly.
Those expensive “collectibles” Bernard had splurged on were probably nothing but stolen goods laundering other nobles’ corruption.
Bernard saw the first time such a grave and conflicted expression cross his son’s face and hurriedly reassured him: “Actually, the cash debt is not as high as you think! Over two hundred thousand livres are just the unpaid balances owed by City Hall and those abandoned noble projects. I’m desperately trying to collect what I can, though I’ve made even more enemies because of it…”
He sighed wearily, unwilling to burden his son with too much pressure.
“Son, don’t worry about this debt. I’ll find a way to solve it! I promise!”
Allen fell silent.
Three hundred thousand livres…
In this pre-industrial era, with such low productivity, how could they possibly earn that astronomical sum quickly?
Soap?
Glass?
Neither would solve their immediate thirst for funds, especially since the Glass Guild already dominated the market here!
Financial speculation?
The tiny profits wouldn’t even cover the risks!
For the first time, Allen felt his knowledge as a time traveler utterly powerless before the vast scale of their problem.
But when he lifted his eyes and saw the despair buried beneath his father’s forced calm, the old steward’s furrowed brow, and Marianne’s worried gaze, a stronger force surged from within him.
He sprang up abruptly, circled the table, and approached his father.
Taking Bernard’s worn, anxious hands firmly in his own, Allen’s eyes burned like stars as he met his father’s gaze.
“Father!”
Allen’s voice was resolute, filled with unwavering determination.
“Our family is like a fragile boat caught in a storm, on the verge of capsizing and drowning in the abyss. The more perilous the moment, the less we can afford to flee! And you cannot bear this burden alone!”
“For decades, you have carried this family on your shoulders, bearing unimaginable pain and pressure, step by step bringing us here! Now, as your son and a Laval, I, Allen de Laval, will not shirk my own heavy responsibility!”
His voice rose, vibrant with fighting spirit and faith in the future: “Let us fight side by side, each in our own way! We will survive! As long as our family stands together, as long as we live, there is always hope! Living means that one day, we will reclaim everything!”
“Allen, my dear son…sob sob…”
Bernard de Laval, the dignified forty-year-old noble, could no longer hold back.
The fear, grievances, and despair bottled up for so long shattered completely under his son’s powerful words.
He broke down like a child, sobbing uncontrollably as tears flooded his cheeks.
He gripped his son’s arm as if it were his only lifeline, his body trembling violently with the intensity of his crying.
In his cries lay endless sorrow for the hardships of the past, deep terror for their dire present—but above all, a profound comfort and gratitude kindled by his son’s courage and resolve.
The pressure on him was immense.
Maintaining this declining family gave him no moments to rest.
Seeing their master’s heartbreaking breakdown, the old steward Jean Leclerc’s eyes also welled up.
He stepped forward quietly and placed his calloused but warm hand on Bernard’s shaking shoulder, silently conveying support.
Marianne approached as well, standing calmly beside Allen, holding out a clean towel. Her crimson eyes glistened with unshed tears.
To face such a dreadful crisis alongside the young master was truly a blessing!
“Master, we are still here.”
The steward’s voice was steady with the weight of years.
“We stand with you and the young master, through thick and thin.”
“Mm!”
Marianne nodded emphatically.
Feeling the warmth from the hands on his shoulder and the towel nearby, Bernard’s sobs gradually softened to restrained sniffles.
He took the towel, roughly wiping tears and snot from his face, then looked up at the three people surrounding him—his son, the old steward like a big brother, and the chief maid like a daughter.
In his tear-washed eyes, the sharpness of a young merchant and the hard edge honed by life miraculously rekindled!
“Good! Good!”
Bernard’s voice was still nasal but filled with reckless determination.
He slammed the table and stood up.
“We will get through this! We will overcome this crisis!”
His gaze swept the storm still raging outside the window, growing fierce: “Anyone who dares stand against us, we’ll crush them! Crown Prince? Great nobles? What are they? My son alone scared those mercenaries senseless. If our family unites, what is there to fear?”
Watching his father switch so quickly from weeping to a fiery “let’s take on the world” mode, Allen chuckled and shook his head.
“Father, that’s a bit exaggerated.”
Yet beneath Allen’s smile was a subtle worry.
“By the way, Father,” Allen thought for a moment, deciding that since some things couldn’t be avoided, they might as well maximize benefit, “regarding the debt, I have another idea.”
He paused, glancing at Marianne and his father.
“Tell me, how much is my betrothal to Livia von Stern worth as a dowry?”
“Eh?!”
Marianne and Bernard both exclaimed simultaneously.
Premium Chapter
Login to buy access to this Chapter.