You are bankrupt

With the voice reading the contents of the documents, Ed went through everything he found in the study: the real estate papers, the ledgers, the promissory notes. He wasn't an economist, but even he knew this was bad. Not just bad. It was a real disaster!

"You're bankrupt," Ed informed the voice of his conclusions.

"My contribution really isn't that much. Of all the promissory notes, only ten are mine. The rest are still father's."

Ed covered his face with his hands and exhaled. "How did things get so messed up? Does the Duke's family have so little income?"

"The income is considerable, but so are the expenses. How much do you think it costs to maintain this palace, the servants, the horses, the kennels, the hunting lodges, the city mansion in the capital, to buy supplies, clothes, etc.? Wearing the same outfit to a formal reception twice is mauvais ton. Unfortunately, the taxes from the peasants and craftspeople on our lands do not cover all our expenses. And we also owe half to the royal family."

"You have a lot of land, with rivers and lakes in your territory. Can't you set up some kind of manufacturing? Or open a shop?"

"Pfft," the Duke snorted indignantly. "I am a nobleman. It is not proper for an aristocrat to engage in such lowly activities as craft, trade, and enterprise. There are other classes for that. We were born for noble occupations."

"And going to those other classes to borrow money is noble?"

"Well... As a matter of fact, a few days before you took over my body, I found a few ways to fix things and pay off big debts."

"For example."

"A grain merchant from Silverhill wants to buy land on the riverbank where the rapids are."

"And what's so good about this land?"

"I think he mentioned something about a mill," the voice said uncertainly. "To be honest, I didn't really get it."

"Selling the land is a one-time thing that may solve the debt problem for the moment, but it doesn't solve the global income problem."

"All the aristocrats are doing it. Do you think we're the only family in Ryven that lives in debt? Even the royal family borrows from the merchant guilds."

"If everyone lives like that, that's no reason to repeat a way of life that has become inefficient," Ed piled up all the papers. "How do I get in touch with this grain merchant? I have a plan."

***

"What are you doing?" the voice asked him warily.

"Solving your problems." Ed replied, looking curiously out of the car window.

"No, that's not what I mean. What aristocrat would go to see a commoner himself? You should have written a letter, arranged a place and time to meet..."

"And how long would that have taken?"

"Well, an exchange of letters could take a week or two."

"Are you sure it was only you he was negotiating with to buy the land? As long as you're emailing back and forth, he might find a better deal."

"You think he would cheat me?" The Duke was shocked.

"Where do you see cheating? It's not like you signed a contract. He has no obligation to you yet. Neither do you to him. It's just business - you look at all the right options and choose the best one."

The voice fell silent, as if pondering what he had heard.

"Ahem... by the way," the man scratched the back of his head and remarked awkwardly. "My name is also Edward, but you can call me Ed. I guess the coincidence of names is what got me into your body."

"Can't say it was a happy coincidence for me," the voice grumbled, then continued condescending. "You can just call me Edward, without the 'Your Grace'. You don't really care about etiquette anyway."

"I'm sorry, Your Grace. I'm just not used to it. There's no aristocracy in my world, or rather, there are, but very few. And I certainly don't have the opportunity to meet them in my life."

"I told you, you can just call me Edward."

"'Alright, Edward," Ed smiled and looked out the window.

Golden fields of wheat floated past the carriage, the sky above them blue with occasional white clouds. The day was sunny and warm, with a pleasant cool breeze. The initial shock of being in another world had passed, and the current situation did not seem so bad to Ed. Maybe the new goal had helped. He knew it had always helped him deal with stress. Whenever he had a problem that needed an instant solution, he immediately became very confident and active.

***

When Ed appeared on the store's doorstep, the employees were as shocked as the Duke when the man informed him of his intention to visit the merchant himself.

The shopkeeper immediately jumped out from behind the counter and began bowing to greet him, inserting "Your Grace" every two words. The customers who were in the store at that moment chose to simply retreat. Ed had not expected such an effect and thought that an exchange of letters might indeed be a good option. His shiny boots, embroidered cloak with fur trim, and jewelry seemed out of place here.

While he looked curiously at the grain store, the shopkeeper kicked the boy and ordered him in a loud whisper to call the owner.

The nervous merchant appeared a few minutes later. He shushed the workers, ordered them back to work, and with a flattering smile, led Ed up to the second floor.

The store on the first floor was poorly furnished with a simple counter, roughly hammered benches, and large scales. The merchant's study had a touch of luxury.

"Your Grace, please sit down," the merchant offered, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his handkerchief. "I'm sorry, it's very simple here. If you had announced your visit in advance, I would have reserved a room at the best restaurant in town. I'll do that right now..."

Ed sat down in a velvet-covered chair and waved his hand. "Don't bother. It'll be fine. Have a seat yourself."

"What's his name?" the man asked the Duke in his head.

"I don't remember. It's not like I have to remember the names of all the commoners."

Ed mentally rolled his eyes at the answer.

"I'd like to discuss your offer to buy the land by the river, if it's still relevant to you."

"Yes, yes, of course," the merchant sat down in a second chair.

Ed leaned back in his chair. "I've considered your offer, and I've decided to decline. I have plans of my own for these lands."

The merchant wiped his forehead again. "I understand, Your Grace, but you did not have to come in person to tell me that. You could have sent a letter..."

"That is not all. I have decided to build a mill on this place myself. But since you were the first to consider the commercial potential of this piece of land, I have a business proposition for you."

The merchant stared at him in great surprise. It was as if Ed wasn't about to announce a business proposition, but rather swallow a burning torch right in front of him.

"As you can guess, if it weren't for the shortage of money, I would never even consider selling the land that has belonged to my family for centuries. So I suggest you invest in building a mill on this land."

" Excuse me?" the merchant asked, puzzled.

"My offer is that you lend me the money for the build of the mill. In return, you will receive a lifetime discount on the mill, as well as a percentage of its total income."

The merchant was confused. "Forgive my impertinence, Your Grace, I am a simple man, I did not go to university, and I probably do not understand how this is different from my original offer. However, in this option, the mill would be built at my expense, but it would not belong to me.

"First of all, it would be cheaper. You won't have to buy the land and pay the land tax to the royal family. Second, you won't have to worry about running the mill, hiring staff, and so on. You'll get your money back faster and start to profit."

The merchant thought about it. Ed could see that he found the offer interesting, but he hesitated. It was too unusual for him. It was a way of doing business the merchant had never experienced.

***

The man left the shop, accompanied by the merchant and his employees.

"You have time to consider my offer. You're the first person I've offered to participate in this project, out of respect. But if you're not interested, I'll start looking for other partners," "How much time do I have to think about it, Your Grace?" the merchant asked.

"A week, I think," Ed replied, fixing his cape. "When you make your decision, send a letter to my estate."

"Goodbye, Your Grace. Good day to you," the men bowed, Ed feeling awkward as he looked at them.

"Well, goodbye," he said a crumpled goodbye and ducked into the carriage.

Inside, he leaned back on the cushioned couch and exhaled. "I didn't go to those management and marketing classes at the uni for nothing."

"It sounded pretty convincing. But I'm a little confused," the voice said. "Anyway, the main thing is to get money out of him."

"But there's a problem," Ed covered his face with his hand.

"What's that?"

"I still don't know his name."