Chapter 125: A Businessman in War (4) To think I would encounter the famous Rothschild here.
The Rothschilds—the greatest financial dynasty in the world and a Jewish family that appears endlessly in various conspiracy theories.
Didn't the worst villain humanity ever produced, the mustached tyrant Hitler, once say:"Germany fell because of the conspiracy of the Jewish capitalists, the Rothschilds, who control Britain and America!"
Of course that wasn't true.
But the fact that such a claim could sound convincing showed just how much money that family moved.
Still, weren't the Rothschilds an Anglo-American family?
Yet here was the treasurer of a small principality belonging to the Holy Roman Empire.
America had only recently become an infant newborn state after its independence, so that could be overlooked. But why was he living in Frankfurt in Germany rather than in Britain's financial center, the City of London?
Perhaps the Rothschilds had not yet entered the noisy political and financial arena of Europe as players.
The Rothschild family—merely the treasurers of a landgrave.
If this were the stock market, it wasn't even a minor stock. It was the kind of worthless penny stock that nobody even bothered to glance at.
But looked at differently…
A financial stock that would not merely rise but eventually pierce the sky was, at this very moment, nothing more than a worthless penny stock.
A few years? A few decades? Or perhaps a hundred years?
In 1791, the year it was now, how long would it take for a mere treasurer family of a minor principality to evolve—like in some isekai fantasy—into the Jewish capitalist financial dynasty that would dominate Britain and America, appear everywhere in the twentieth century, and stand atop the front lines of the City of London and Wall Street, riding the dollar?
A few years was impossible.
At minimum, several decades. Perhaps even a century.
In that case, the middle-aged man in front of me—his eyes nervously darting around—must be the very first runner who would write the Rothschild legend.
If I could bring this man into Ears of the Nation, it would be the same as gaining the greatest financial slave—no, expert—this world would have for at least a hundred years.
And for Mayer Amschel Rothschild, wouldn't becoming the financial adviser of Ears of the Nation, which dominated Paris, the capital of France with its population of twenty-seven million, be far more appealing than remaining the treasurer of a mere landgrave?
Then I would make him an offer he could not refuse.
As I stroked the black cat now sprawled across my lap, I spoke.
"Sir, would you like to do some business with me?"
"…Pardon? Your Excellency, forgive me, but what exactly do you mean?"
Mayer looked at me with wide eyes, clearly taken aback.
I repeated myself.
"I'm asking whether Mr. Mayer would be willing to build a permanent cooperative relationship with me and my company, Ears of the Nation."
"Th-that proposal is rather unexpected…"
"I understand, Mr. Mayer. My words must have been quite sudden. Please take your time to consider."
"Thank you, Your Excellency. But what exactly do you mean by a permanent cooperative relationship?"
"A position managing accounting and finances for Ears of the Nation."
While Mayer pressed his lips inward and pondered, I quietly lifted my coffee and took a few sips.
"…Your Excellency."
"Ah, Mr. Mayer. Have you made your decision?"
"Yes, Your Excellency."
Good. As expected of someone who works in finance—his mind moved quickly.
"Very well. What decision have you reached?"
"I regret to say this, but I must decline Your Excellency's offer."
"Pff—! What? Wh-what did you say?"
Coffee shot out through my nose.
Decline? Why decline?
My offer should have been impossible to refuse.
I mean, wasn't becoming financial adviser to a major company in Paris, the center of Europe, far more desirable than serving as treasurer to a small landgrave?
Sure, there had been a little accounting irregularity during the founding of my company…
But right now, there wasn't a single company in Europe whose general ledger was cleaner than Ears of the Nation's.
On top of that, we had abundant capital and even military supply contracts.
And he rejected the position of financial adviser to such a company?
I set down my coffee cup and spoke.
"The Landgrave of Hesse must be paying you quite well."
"Ah. That is not the case, Your Excellency."
His answer was firm.
So it truly wasn't about money.
"Then what is the reason, Mr. Mayer?"
"I believe the answer is… trust, Your Excellency."
"…Trust?"
"Yes."
Mayer continued.
"Your Excellency also runs a business, so you must know that trust is important in commerce."
"Of course."
"The same applies to us financiers."
He paused briefly before correcting himself.
"No, actually… it would be more accurate to say that we financiers are even more sensitive to the word trust than businessmen are. We are entrusted with money by our employers—money we must safeguard and grow. If a financial steward were to change masters lightly, there would be no more troublesome label for a financier than that."
"Hmm."
"Furthermore, I have come here as an envoy on behalf of the Landgrave of Hesse. If I were to accept Your Excellency's offer under such circumstances, what would become of the reputation of the Rothschild family?"
What would happen?
It would be utterly destroyed.
I could only nod reluctantly at Mayer's words.
"I understand what you mean. I spoke thoughtlessly. I apologize, Mr. Mayer."
"No, not at all, Your Excellency! I am already deeply honored that you would extend such an offer to someone like me."
"The Landgrave of Hesse must be a very fortunate man to have a vassal like you."
What a pity.
Still, if he was speaking this firmly, clinging to him would only backfire.
Later, I could just send someone to keep track of whatever stocks the Rothschilds invested in and buy the same ones.
"Very well, Mr. Mayer. Our French army will not bring any harm to your country, the Landgraviate of Hesse. I give you my word as Guillaume de Toulon."
"Th-thank you, Your Excellency! On behalf of the citizens of Frankfurt and the Landgraviate of Hesse, I thank you!"
"Please travel safely."
At my words, Mayer bowed deeply and left the reception room.
Damn. If it weren't wartime, I'd go all the way to Frankfurt and drag him back no matter what.
"Your Excellency, did the conversation go well?"
"His defenses were like an iron wall."
I hung my coat on the rack as I spoke.
"Well, they say fate has its own course. If it is meant to be, another opportunity will come."
Deputy Robespierre spoke with regret.
"Hmm. Fate, huh."
"More importantly, we received messages today from Foreign Minister Lebrun in Paris, as well as Deputy Talleyrand, Your Excellency."
"Those two? What did they say?"
"They said it seems we may begin preparing to collect the price for the blood France has shed."
"Is Prussia surrendering?"
"Yes, Your Excellency. For Prussia, which must face several countries at once, this is already a considerable loss. Of course Russia still remains, but those barbarians would need several months to reach France."
"So we can finally breathe for a moment. Wait…"
That meant we had some time.
"Deputy Robespierre, how long does it take to reach Frankfurt from here?"
"About… a week, I believe."
"I'll take exactly one week and go to Frankfurt."
"All of a sudden?"
"There's a once-in-a-lifetime talent there."
Rothschildmon.
You're mine.
October 2, 1791.Landgraviate of Hesse, Frankfurt.
While the staff of our Ministry of Finance were busy calculating the losses Prussia had inflicted on France, sliding their abacus beads back and forth—
I left Trier and headed for Frankfurt.
"W-welcome. I am William I. I hope you enjoy your time in our Frankfurt."
"Yes. Thank you."
"But what brings you to our landgraviate…"
"Since Frankfurt graciously sent an envoy to our France, it is only proper that we send one in return."
"…."
The Landgrave looked at me with an expression that clearly said, Then why did you personally come?
I gave him a perfunctory greeting and hurried out of the palace.
I had no business with him.
All my attention was focused on one person.
No need for welcoming banquets or anything like that.
"…Your Excellency, to follow me all the way here… isn't this a bit excessive?"
"Come now, don't say that. For the sake of obtaining a once-in-a-lifetime talent, this is a small price to pay."
"I truly don't understand why you consider me such a rare talent…"
Why? Because you're Rothschild—the Jewish capitalist puppet master who will rule the world!
Sitting in the reception room of the Rothschild mansion, I spoke.
"This time, I want to meet not Envoy Mayer—but Financier Mayer."
"…Hmm."
"My offer still stands, Mr. Mayer. What do you say?"
"As I said before, changing masters…"
"Hm. May I smoke a cigarette, Mr. Mayer?"
"Of course, Your Excellency."
I took out a cigarette, placed it between my lips, and lit it.
Inhale. Exhale.
An iron wall indeed.
Now how was I supposed to break through that wall?
A transaction required a fair exchange—value for value.
What did Mayer Amschel Rothschild want most?
Jews could not coexist easily with Christians.
Could Christians forgive the Jews who had condemned Jesus to death?
Absolutely not.
Even a Jew owning a mansion could provoke resentment. If it looked too lavish, it might end with him being impaled on a spear.
So what did a Jew—especially one who lived carefully concealing himself—desire most?
I spoke slowly.
"I noticed the mansions around here earlier. They were all quite extravagant, yet the Rothschild mansion alone is rather modest."
"…My predecessors were not fond of excessive decoration."
"Ah, is that so? I thought it was because the Rothschild family is Jewish."
Mayer's brow twitched.
"I fail to see what being Jewish has to do with a modest mansion."
"Why, because if a Jewish household flaunts wealth, wouldn't they end up impaled on a spear, Mr. Mayer?"
"…I'm not sure what you're trying to say."
Mayer continued.
"More importantly, Your Excellency, I find your remarks somewhat unpleasant. Perhaps it would be better if we organized our thoughts and spoke again tomorrow."
"I will make you a promise, Mr. Mayer."
I crushed the cigarette in the ashtray.
"If you follow me, I will turn the Rothschild family into a second Baring family—one that no one can oppress and no one can ignore."
Would you like to pursue that dream in France?
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