“What exactly might be bad for us?” Francesca asked softly, her gaze locking onto his tense face.
Miller leaned back against the pillows. “We initially speculated that Lord Ivan would be lobbying the neighboring lords for a restrictive environmental building law, something that would serve as a legal barrier for craftsmen to stop us from building more mountain roads, right?”
“Of course... That is the entire reason why we are secretly trying to construct the cable cart system to catch my family completely off guard,” she replied, nodding thoughtfully. “With the lifts functional, we will be able to easily trade across the mountain peaks without needing to make any more roads, effectively rendering their road restrictions completely useless.”
“We thought they would propose a specific law to the neighboring lords that would heavily tax any commercial labor working in high-altitude regions, aiming to restrict us from hiring outside craftsmen for our road construction,” Miller explained, laying the parchment out clearly between them so Francesca could read the text. “But... it seems Lord Ivan’s proposed policy has absolutely nothing to do with labor or geography at all.”
He paused, a dark shadow crossing his features. “It’s a lower-tax mutual trade agreement framework.”
“What exactly is that?” Francesca questioned, sitting up completely now and leaning her back against the wooden headboard of the bed.
Miller sat up right next to her, matching her posture. “The policy proposes an aggressive, heavily imposed tariff tax on any and all businesses that choose to trade with territories that are not currently part of a mutual regional trade agreement.”
“What... that is completely absurd! Why would the neighboring lords even dream of agreeing to such a restrictive policy, even if Ivan offered them massive bribes?” Francesca argued, her mind racing to analyze the structure of the play. “Doesn’t a law like that mean practically every neighboring territory situated under the Ironwood mountain range would be forced to maintain a strict mutual trade deal, just so their common folk don't end up paying double for everyday goods?”
“T-that is the exact core of the issue, Francesca. Unlike our isolated Ironwood Viscounty... literally all of our neighboring territories already possess existing, long-standing mutual trade agreements regarding their regional imports and exports,” Miller replied with a heavy, frustrated sigh. “We fully anticipated that Duke LeonCraft would specifically target our high-altitude logistics, but... we never truly considered that he would use a sweeping embargo like this against us instead.”
Francesca let out a long, defeated sigh, her golden eyes widening as the devastating realization clicked. “If this policy successfully passes to regional lords... even if we completely finish building our secret cable cart system, the goods we import and export will still end up costing the exact same inflated price as they do right now. All because we don’t possess a formalized mutual trade agreement with any of the territories operating below the mountain peaks.”
“Yes... it’s exceptionally bad for us,” Miller muttered. He reached out, pulling her back down into a supportive, tight hug against his chest. “To make matters worse, we actually used to have a functional mutual trade agreement with the neighboring Hollowland Viscounty, situated right under the base of the Ironwood mountain… specifically concerning our gemstone trade. But I personally dissolved that contract a while ago, since I was legally obligated to transfer those exclusive rights directly to Duke LeonCraft as part of our original marriage negotiation and to secure a steady supply of gem trade orders.”
“Then... this economic trap must have been his master plan right from the very start,” Francesca replied bitterly, holding her forehead in her hands as a massive headache began to form.
She stared down at the crinkled report, her sharp past-life business instincts desperately searching for a loophole. “Is there truly nothing else we can offer as a viable, high-value export to any of our neighbors... something that could force them to form a new mutual trade agreement with us before the deadline?”
“Even so... why would the neighboring lords agree to such a restrictive regional policy in the first place?” she mused under her breath, her eyes narrowing in deep thought.
Miller shifted his weight, tightening his arm around her. “Remember how I told you before that exclusive mining rights in the North can legally only be signed between blood relatives or family members? Why do you think such a heavily restrictive policy exists in the north?”
Francesca paused, her analytical mind filtering through the historical context for a few minutes before her eyes suddenly lit up with the answer. “To protect the mineral-rich North from the capital’s wealthy nobles and aggressive merchant guilds! With the massive capital those southern snobs possess, they could have easily entered the northern territories, bought up the land, and set up highly profitable mines for themselves. But because of this isolation law, the mines and their immense wealth strictly stay in the hands of the northern people.”
“Exactly. Though southern families marrying directly into northern houses to gain exclusive rights for mining is still a prominent legal loophole for that policy... which is precisely how our own marriage contract came to be,” Miller said with a heavy, regretful sigh. “Lord Ivan must have framed this new mutual trade tariff policy to the Warden of the North, Duke Goldance, and the other neighboring lords as a protective policy… one designed to artificially boost internal economic trade between the northern territories while blocking southern market encroachment.”
“Argh... Since northern nobles are historically so fiercely protective of their regional resources and local markets, this framing is actually highly likely to succeed!” Francesca frustratedly called out.
Collapsing back against the pillows, she stared blankly up at the dark wooden ceiling of their bedchambers, a wave of bitter defeat washing over her. “My father must have already taken all of this into account before he ever decided to marry me off to you... Why on earth didn’t I think of the grander strategic reason behind my marriage more carefully? If I hadn't been so distracted, we could have easily seen this ambush coming from miles away...”
Miller gently stroked her arm, drawing her shivering frame securely back into the protective warmth of his chest. He planted a soft, reassuring kiss against the crown of her head.
“Get some sleep, Francesca. It is not your fault,” Miller whispered softly, his deep voice carrying a wave of steady comfort. “We will put our heads together and think this through properly come morning... But for now, you need to get some well-deserved rest.”