ALL NOVEL 21. Treasury and Finances
Kivamus asked Duvas, "What is the situation in the village? Do they have enough to eat in the winter?"
Duvas sighed with a deep rumble that spoke volumes. "They do not, my lord, but the village's problems are even worse than just low grain stores," he admitted, his voice heavy with worry.
Kivamus's brow furrowed. "Even worse? Explain yourself, Duvas."
The majordomo cleared his throat and launched into a detailed explanation. "Around a month ago, my lord," he began, "a fierce thunderstorm wreaked havoc on Tiranat. The rains were relentless, and unfortunately, they flooded the mineshafts. We were lucky to get everyone out safely, but…" he trailed off, his face etched with a mixture of frustration and helplessness.
"But?" Kivamus prompted, a knot of dread forming in his stomach.
"Since then, the mines have been unusable," Duvas finished grimly. "And with hardly any traders willing to brave the bandit-infested roads to buy our coal in the past few months, both of our coal barns are nearly filled to capacity. That's why I had to make a difficult decision…" The implication hung heavy in the air.
"You stopped mining altogether…" Kivamus breathed.
Duvas nodded with a trace of sadness in his eyes. "There was no choice, my lord. We couldn't afford to continue mining and pay the miners if we were unable to sell what we'd already extracted."
"And the miners?" he asked, his voice grim. "What about the men who rely on the mines for their livelihood?"
Duvas shook his head, his expression filled with sympathy. "They're out of work, my lord. Most of Tiranat's workforce relies on the income from working in the coal mines. With the mining halted, they have no other source of income, and that is what has led to the current dire situation in the village."
A heavy silence descended upon the room. Coal mining was the lifeblood of Tiranat's economy. Without it, the already precarious situation had become a full-blown crisis. The lack of trade wasn't just affecting their food stores, it was crippling the entire economy of Tiranat. The image of families struggling to survive, their hearths growing cold as winter approached, painted a bleak picture in his mind.
Duvas leaned forward, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "The meager funds we have left would barely be enough to pay the miners' wages for a full month, my lord. We simply can't afford to reopen the mines until we manage to obtain more money by selling the coal we already have. We won't be able to pay the miners otherwise… We simply don't have the funds for it, my lord."
He looked at Kivamus with a worried gaze and continued, "I could have let the mines run for a few weeks longer, my lord, but I had to hold on to some of the money, in case we got an opportunity to purchase some grain. We couldn't risk being completely depleted if a trader did come here."
Dwindling food supplies, unemployed workers, and a crippled economy - the situation was far more grave than he had initially imagined. The village was teetering on the brink of collapse. Kivamus, a man from a world of plenty, now faced a battle for survival in a land where every resource, every decision, held the potential for life or death. He gripped the arms of the chair, knuckles turning white. Winter was approaching, and without a drastic change in fortunes, many in Tiranat wouldn't survive the harsh season.
Kivamus forced himself to take a deep breath.
"Duvas," he began, his voice firm but laced with concern, "have you had a chance to assess what remains in our treasury?"
Duvas nodded grimly. "I have, my lord. Although we have a lot of coal stockpiled in the barns, which we could sell for more money if an opportunity arose to trade it, we have less than two hundred gold crowns remaining in actual currency."
Kivamus sighed, the meager sum doing little to ease his growing anxiety. "That's… not much at all," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "However," he continued, a hint of determination in his voice, "at least with my personal savings, we should have something to work with."
He looked at Madam Nerida once more. "How much grain do we need to feed the entire manor two meals a day, for the winter?" he asked. He thought for a moment, and continued, "Let's say for four months. That should be long enough for the snow to melt and for us to trade again. Isn't that right, Duvas?"
Duvas nodded. "It will be more than enough, my lord. I think it should be around a month until the snow starts falling, and after the snowfall gets heavy, the road to Cinran would be blocked for roughly another month after that. And then it'll take a few weeks for the snow to melt enough that traders can start coming again. So if we have enough grain stocks to last us three months, it might be enough to tide us over through the winter. But if we can afford it, it is always a good idea to have enough stored grain to be sure that we won't starve even if the winter lasts longer, or if the traders don't start coming right after the winter ends. Although, I think by the time winter ends, enough time would have passed since the previous Baron's murder for traders to visit regularly again."
"That will certainly be helpful." Kivamus declared, "And four months it is then. So how much do we need Madam Nerida? To feed the manor for four months."
Taking a minute to think it over, Madam Nerida replied, "Twenty sacks, my lord. That will easily feed the uh… around forty people now living in the manor, for four months. If we can add some meat to the meals from hunting, we can make it last even longer."
Kivamus nodded solemnly. "Alright, so twenty sacks to feed the manor." However, that was just a starting point, since he had to think about the whole village as well. "Duvas," he began, his voice firm despite the knot of worry twisting in his gut, "how many people live in the village?"
Duvas blinked, surprised by the seemingly simple question. "We've never done an exact count of the villagers, my lord," he admitted after a moment's hesitation. "But at my best guess, I'd say around three hundred people live in the village itself. Then, of course, there are the forty or so who reside here at the manor now, and that brings the total to around three hundred and forty."
Gorsazo added with a thoughtful frown. "However, my lord," he interjected, "if we're planning to feed the entire village, it might be wise to err on the side of caution. Grain can spoil or be eaten by rats during storage, and there's always the chance our initial estimate for the population is a bit low. It wouldn't hurt to factor in a buffer."
Kivamus appreciated his caution. With a nod, he acknowledged the point. "Indeed," he agreed. "Let's plan for three hundred and fifty people, and four months, to be on the safe side. That ought to be enough for the village to survive this winter."
He took a deep breath, the enormity of the task settling in. Feeding hundreds of people through the harsh winter was a daunting challenge, a far cry from the small teams he had managed back in his London life. Yet, there was no room for self-pity. These people, his people, were depending on him.
"Right," he continued, his voice unwavering. "Based on that number, we'd need approximately… one hundred and seventy-five sacks of grain in total to last us for four months, based on what Madam Nerida told us." His gaze moved towards Duvas. "How much would that cost?"
Duvas grimaced. "Last season, my lord," he replied, "the price for a single sack of grain hovered around three gold crowns and eight silvers, after accounting for the cost of transporting it here. However, if we were to purchase such a large quantity in bulk, there's a chance the seller might be willing to offer a slight discount."
He paused, scribbling some figures on a piece of parchment kept on the table next to him. "That still means we would require…" He trailed off, his brow furrowed in concentration.
Before he could voice the figure, Kivamus cut in, the answer already forming in his mind. "Around six hundred and fifty gold crowns," he said, his voice steady. "Perhaps a little less if we can negotiate a better price for purchasing in bulk."
Duvas sighed, a sound of weary agreement. "Your estimate seems right, my lord." He cast a sympathetic glance at Kivamus. "Unfortunately, as you know, our current treasury holds a meager two hundred gold crowns."
Kivamus offered a tight smile. While the cost of feeding the village over the winter would significantly deplete his savings, which was all he had to secure a long-term solution for the village's many problems, it would ensure no one starved over the winter. It would buy them time, time to find that solution, and time to get Tiranat back on its feet.
"So be it," he declared, his voice firm with newfound determination, "we'll add my savings to the treasury. Gorsazo, see to it after this. While it is not a permanent solution, buying enough grain to feed the village through winter is our first priority. We'll deal with finding a long-term solution once we can ensure that the village will survive the winter."