Chapter 699: On Currency
With a mix of nervousness and curiosity, Maggie followed Rebecca to the imposing building known as the “Magitek Research Institute.”
It was said to be the pinnacle of magitek research in Cecil.
Legend had it that many of those incredible devices—capable of unleashing tremendous power and effects, and once described by the old Royal Capital Mage Association as “perfect runes beyond luck’s explanation”—were born within this very institute and its affiliated facilities.
Maggie had once visited the southern territories with Victoria, but back then she never had the chance to tour this temple of technology. Today, however, she had been invited here to join a grand project. It felt like a twist of fate. Driven by intense curiosity, she couldn’t help but take in everything around her—everything here was utterly new and fascinating.
Unlike the Royal Capital Mage Association, which was the closest thing Maggie could think of to this place, the Magitek Research Institute wasn’t lavish or ornate. Yet this multi-story building possessed a unique beauty and solemnity of its own. It consisted of a main hall and three annexes. The foundation of the main hall was supported by neatly arranged pillars, while atop each annex was a single, simple word:
Curiosity. Rigor. Perseverance.
Perhaps these words reflected the scholars of Cecil’s approach to research.
“These three words were proposed by Master Kamail,” Rebecca said cheerfully, “They were the code of conduct for the scholars of the old Gondor Empire. Our ancestors thought it made perfect sense, so they had us hang these words on the roof of the institute.” She smiled brightly. “Stay curious about the world, and discover the unknown through curiosity; face the unknown with rigor, and find your research direction; persevere in your studies, and verify your results through persistence…”
The imperial princess spoke lightly, her face always smiling. Finally, she had shed the cumbersome, ornate court gowns that restricted her movement and changed into a simple, practical dress. Maggie noticed that since leaving Silverfort and arriving at this research facility, Rebecca seemed genuinely happy.
This “Princess” belonged here.
With a faint smile, Maggie followed the chatty Rebecca and a group of men and women working at the institute into the mysterious building.
Upon entering, the first thing that caught Maggie’s eye was a spacious, brightly lit hall. Crystals embedded in the ceiling cast a warm glow. Corridors and staircases branched off in all directions, leading to different parts of the institute. But the most striking feature was a statue standing in the center.
It wasn’t a hero or deity Maggie recognized, nor the current emperor of Cecil. Instead, it depicted an unremarkable middle-aged man in plain mage robes, holding the hand of a small, slender girl. They stood at the heart of this temple of knowledge and technology, bathed in a focused beam of crystal light. The man’s gaze was gentle and calm, as if watching over everyone who entered. Every magitek engineer or runesmith who came through the institute would first stop before this statue, bow deeply, and then proceed.
Maggie stared at the statue in surprise and asked, “Who are they?”
“That’s the founder of modern magitek and his daughter, Annie,” Rebecca said, her usual playful tone replaced by a rare seriousness. She stepped forward and bowed deeply before the statue.
Maggie felt a bit awkward but followed suit. Then she noticed the inscription on the base: “To the Pioneer.”
“He doesn’t have a name?” Maggie asked, puzzled.
“No… We only know he was a wild mage, maybe once affiliated with the Royal Capital Mage Association,” Rebecca said regretfully. “But we’ve searched all their records and found no trace of his name. He might have been just an assistant to a great mage, or his name was deliberately erased by the association. You know, in traditional mage circles, breaking away from your lineage is a grave offense. Names get scrubbed from all archives. And since nearly a quarter of the mages of Saint Suniel died in the siege, perhaps the last person who knew his true name died on the walls.”
Maggie was at a loss for words. Rebecca, however, smiled brightly again, facing the statue’s figure. “But it doesn’t matter. His creations haven’t been forgotten. As long as we keep working hard, the ‘Magic Network’ will be remembered by all.”
Maggie was momentarily stunned, her eyes thoughtful. Rebecca had already started walking toward a nearby staircase. “Come on, come on, I want to introduce you to a lot more people…”
In the city center, the square before the “Lord’s Manor” was guarded by a squad of sentries. Near the checkpoint at the main road, several workers were busy.
A short, stocky laborer climbed a metal lamppost holding a street sign with the help of a lift. Using a magitek terminal, he removed several rivets securing the sign. After some shaking, he took down the metal plaque that read “Cecil Lord’s Manor” and handed it to a colleague.
A new sign was brought over and installed on the steel frame beside the lamppost. The fresh words read: “Cecil Palace.”
A magitek engineer standing nearby looked up at the new sign and shook his head. “That’s a straightforward name if I’ve ever seen one…”
“The Emperor always likes simple, clear names,” another mage laughed. “Magitek-powered vehicles are called magitek cars, iron rails are just railways, and signal towers are broadcast towers. I’m used to it.”
“Then explain to me what the ‘electric’ in ‘magical capacitor’ means…”
“That’s your problem right there!!”
In a study, Hetty reported to Gawain, “Ancestor, the new road signs and map updates have been completed. The news about renaming the Cecil Lord’s Manor to ‘Cecil Palace’ will soon appear in newspapers and broadcasts.”
“That’s good,” Gawain sighed, then shook his head with a smile. “Honestly, it’s a bit embarrassing—I almost forgot this detail. It was only when I saw the ‘Lord’s Manor’ sign that I remembered the name had to be changed. Luckily, the Preparatory Committee at the Administration Office still had it on their radar.”
“Considering that handling such details is the committee’s basic duty, while your precious energy should be focused on bigger matters,” Hetty said seriously, “but to be honest… ‘Cecil Palace’ is a bit bland.”
Gawain gave her a wry look.
The “Grant Chancellor” was usually calm and serious, but when alone with his ancestor, he sometimes let his guard down and joked like a younger family member. Besides scheming for holidays, one of Hetty’s few hobbies was teasing Gawain about the strange new terms and inside jokes he came up with—something Gawain was well aware of, though sometimes a bit helpless about.
“I just couldn’t think of anything else—can’t very well slap a layer of silver foil on the house and call it ‘New Silverfort,’” he chuckled. “A name is just a label. It needs to be instantly understandable. Even if it sounds plain at first, after a few years people will accept it as natural.”
“Actually, ‘Cecil Palace’ isn’t bad,” Hetty said with a slight smile. “But Gordon mentioned in the meeting two days ago—should we consider expanding or even rebuilding the palace? It’s still functional, but as a palace, its scale feels a bit mismatched…”
Gawain shook his head. “No need. You’ve said it yourself—the manor is still sufficient, no expansion necessary. It’s already quite large, occupying as much land as a small castle, and it’s new. Rebuilding just for show would waste precious funds, materials, and manpower—especially when so many cities and roads on the Holy Spirit Plains still need rebuilding.”
“I figured you’d say that,” Hetty said resignedly. “But for an empire, the royal palace isn’t just a residence. It’s also an office for the royal family and part of the government’s operations. More importantly, it’s a symbol of national power and dignity. You have to consider that.”
This time Gawain thought carefully before replying, “You have a point. As the Supreme Administration Office grows and the empire’s management is reorganized, some offices will move here… But that won’t happen immediately, and even then, it won’t exceed the manor’s capacity. We can plan for expansion in advance, but actual construction can wait—at least until we no longer have to worry about feeding so many people on the Holy Spirit Plains.”
Hetty lowered her head. “Understood, Ancestor.”
Gawain nodded, then asked, “How is Patrick’s ‘new currency promotion’ progressing?”
“It’s going smoothly in several pilot areas. Thanks to the Administration Office’s call and your own authority, people are willing to accept ‘paper money’ as a daily transaction voucher. But most haven’t fully abandoned traditional metal coins, treating paper money more as a convenient supplement. Also, according to surveys, some small merchants see paper money as a special kind of ‘contract voucher’…”
Gawain raised an eyebrow. “Contract voucher?”
“Yes. Like a loan certificate or a receipt for exchanging gold and silver. They believe paper money is proof of wealth issued by the ‘bank.’ Each note is essentially an IOU, which can be used to buy things because it can ultimately be redeemed for gold or silver at the bank…”
Listening to Hetty, Gawain sighed softly. “…In the end, we’ve reached this stage.”
“‘This stage’ meaning representative money?” Hetty asked curiously. “Is there a problem with it?”
“Exactly. It’s the kind of representative currency Patrick is trying. Each banknote corresponds to verified gold or silver reserves. The total money supply depends on the amount of precious metals held by banks. It’s a simple and clear monetary system, but it has equally straightforward drawbacks.” Gawain explained seriously to the curious Hetty. “Its biggest risk is that factories can multiply the total wealth of society, but the rate of mining and producing gold and silver is limited. The amount of currency available for circulation is capped, which restricts the scale of investment and trade… leading to an inherent contradiction.
“When the conflict between total social wealth and the amount of currency issued intensifies, two outcomes are possible: either development stagnates, industry enters a downturn, and the economy shrinks—because progress is a ‘use it or lose it’ game; or banks are forced to over-issue debt-like tokens. No matter what form these debts take—special currencies or bonds—they cause the circulating money’s value to far exceed the value of the precious metal reserves.”
“This kind of situation, once it starts, won’t stop. When it worsens to a certain point, even the slightest social unrest could trigger a disaster for our economy—because if the public suddenly tries to exchange their substitute currency for gold and silver, the entire banking system won’t have enough reserves. The amount of gold and silver held can’t keep up with the total wealth produced by industry, let alone the volume of paper money in circulation. The substitute currency simply can’t be redeemed. Even the mightiest empire can collapse overnight.”
Gawain explained as clearly and simply as he could. Heddy wasn’t a fool—after being involved with the new policies for so long, she grasped the whole mechanism almost immediately. Her expression darkened in an instant: she realized this was an almost inescapable trap.
As long as the population grows and people’s needs increase, society must keep developing. And as long as factories keep running, the pace of social development will far outstrip the growth of precious metals like gold and silver. The “paper money” that can be directly exchanged for a fixed amount of gold and silver will inevitably lag behind the increase in societal wealth.
Once this contradiction emerges and accumulates to a certain point, society faces a stark choice: either stagnation and regression, or rampant inflation.
Whichever path is chosen, disaster is inevitable.
But if no monetary reform is implemented at all… the trap of stagnation still awaits. In a world that is far from peaceful and stable, that too would be a catastrophe.
“Patrick looked troubled when he reported this to me,” Heddy said slowly, frowning. “He said that when he was simulating the currency flow, he vaguely sensed there was a fatal flaw somewhere, but he couldn’t pinpoint it… Could it be that this trap is what he sensed?”
“He actually noticed it?” Gawain’s eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly regained his calm and natural demeanor. “Well… these patterns are, after all, conclusions drawn by people.”
“This ‘trap’ is terrifying,” Heddy said, still shaken. “Is there really no way to solve it?”
“There is another form of currency… but it’s hard to say which is worse,” Gawain frowned and shook his head slowly. “Very few things in this world are perfect, especially man-made ones. For now, we’re still in the data collection and social validation phase. Let’s have Patrick complete this pilot project first, and meanwhile wait for Daniel to gather more intelligence on Typhon’s currency reform. Once all the information is compiled, we can discuss the next steps.”
After the confrontation at the Longwind defense line, Gawain felt even less psychological burden about crossing the Typhon River. He’d heard they had already entered the paper currency application phase over there, and such precious social experiment data couldn’t be missed.
(End of chapter)