CHAPTER 484: CHAPTER 462: THE MANSION WORTH 200 POUNDS

"Of course not," said Sharet, amused and exasperated, "Atonement certificates are used to offset taxes."

The so-called atonement certificates had actually been popular within the Salvation Army long ago.

Back in the days of the Long Bloody Road, Horn used them to motivate soldiers with one hand holding a distant land title and the other an atonement certificate.

At that time, the Gulag Papal State had no money but had resources, so they used atonement certificates as temporary currency.

These land titles generally turned into pension subsidies and free housing, while atonement certificates were bought back by the Pope Country in cash.

Especially after they confiscated those monasteries and obtained a large amount of cash, a wave of repurchases made hundreds of old Gulag players suddenly wealthy overnight.

As prices rose, thousands of artisans who migrated from Joan of Arc Castle also benefited slightly from the war but not as dramatically as the old players.

To ensure the workshops could run smoothly, Hilov proposed a system for renewing atonement certificates, which was unanimously approved by the Senate.

Atonement certificates were clearly priced at 1 Dinar, 5 Dinars, 20 Dinars, and even a 1 gold pound denomination, though that was the largest value.

The City Hall would levy a high consumer tax on taverns with product prices exceeding the set standards, especially luxury goods.

The role of atonement certificates was to offset taxes.

According to the Senate, the Holy Path promotes thrift; if these product prices are so high, it’s wasteful, so naturally, they need to atone.

If laborers acquired atonement certificates, their sins were absolved, and naturally, they didn’t have to pay punitive consumer taxes.

This way, merchants and shopkeepers are motivated to acquire enough atonement certificates to offset high consumer taxes.

Thus, when the price difference between goods is not significant, the living costs for artisans and laborers in state-run workshops are reduced.

It indirectly completed a subsidy from the affluent class and the Pope’s Palace to the middle and lower classes using consumer tax.

However, it was tough on outsiders and transients, but they weren’t meant to stay long anyway.

Prices near the docks and countryside were not high; if not, people could just live in the countryside—the high prices were mostly in the town center.

Outsiders could find work, and workshops would give them atonement certificates; if they couldn’t find work, they didn’t need to work in the city daily, so high prices naturally had no impact.

"I see," Asle realized, but then wondered, "What if we receive so many atonement certificates that they offset all the taxes? Do we refuse them?"

"That won’t do, refusing atonement certificates—do you want the Cheka to knock on your door in the middle of the night to ask how devoted you are?" Sharet said vividly, mimicking the tone of a few authentic old Autumn Dusk Island people.

"Wouldn’t that mean a loss?"

"Not a loss; if it doesn’t work, you can sell goods to suppliers with atonement certificates, or if not, keep them for next year or sell them to other merchants for use."

According to Hilov’s policies, the Pope’s Palace has a deposit for issuing atonement certificates, and if there are too many on the market, repurchase stabilizes them.

The annual issuance of atonement certificates will be adjusted based on the previous year’s consumer tax, with strict control over printing large denominations.

After listening to Sharet’s explanation, Asle looked reluctantly at the tavern in front of him and said angrily, "Once I have my own workshop, this damned tavern won’t get a penny from me."

"I get it, I get it," Sharet urged Asle, "Let’s hurry back; the weather’s so hot, the meat might spoil."

The two returned to Insula, where Asle was arranged to live in the same room with Sharet.

Asle registered with the Hundred Households Captain, while Sharet found the aunt in the canteen, handed her the eggs, peas, and meat, and asked her to help process them.

The canteen and overall cleaning of the Insula courtyards were handled by these lonely elders or some struggling people without jobs.

Generally speaking, each Insula on the ground floor had a shared canteen and several open-air stoves.

Since they seized Joan of Arc Castle and eased the material shortage, the Pope’s Palace no longer forcibly required communal dining.

One could cook on the stove themselves, or pay a meal fee to the canteen to cook for them—certainly cheaper than the taverns outside.

But the taste, well, it was just average.

When Asle pressed his handprint and everything was handled, Sharet, who had long carried his luggage upstairs, had grown impatient.

"I asked Auntie Sari to make us some meat soup, but it’ll take a while, so meanwhile, let’s head to the public baths at Mansion Square." Sharet smiled and took out a Dinar, "My treat, to give you a warm welcome."

"Bath? Just wash off in the river," Asle, knowing that prices were high on Autumn Dusk Island and realizing his three coins wouldn’t last long, became stingy.

"Don’t say that," Sharet tucked the silver coins into a pocket, "You just got here; it’s good to have a warm bath, wash away the bad luck."

Let me tell you, that bathhouse is a remnant from the Ancient Aier Era, let’s experience how the El people lived.

Besides, His Eminence is holding a gathering at the Truth Cathedral tomorrow to discuss the employment issues of us refugees. You don’t want to go there looking all unkempt, do you?"

After several attempts at persuasion, Asle was somewhat tempted. He coughed lightly twice, "Does the Ancient Aier bathhouse have, you know, skilled women..."

"Absolutely not, it’s explicitly forbidden by law." Sharet quickly shook his hand, "Even if there were, we couldn’t afford it...

If you want, put on some cooler clothes, go walk around the beastman labor camp, you won’t have to spend a penny; they might even give you money."

"Get out of here." Asle punched Sharet and scratched his itchy back. "I’m not that kind of person. Where’s the bathhouse? Wash quickly, don’t let the meat overcook."

They took Asle, greeted the Ten Households Leader napping at the door, turned right, and headed toward the Mansion Square.

Due to ongoing renovations at the Mansion Square, they had to walk through the side streets and enter from the back alley.

"It stinks." As they approached the alley, Asle couldn’t help but cover his nose.

Sharet also covered his nose, looked around, and saw several sewage workers lifting a wooden board, poking at something with sticks.

Struggling to suppress his nausea, Sharet approached, nearly overwhelmed by the stench, asked the sewage workers a few questions, and then returned.

"The slimes crawled from the lake into the sewers, moving upstream, and blocked the drain. We can’t pass this area, so we have to take a detour."

"Are there a lot of slimes here?" Following behind Sharet, Asle pinched his nose and asked.

"This place was originally a swamp; what do you think, are there a lot of slimes?" Sharet said gloomily, "Do you know why people don’t live on the first floor here? When it rains, little slimes run everywhere.

But yesterday, during a casual chat at dinner, the Hundred Households Captain mentioned that in the future there might be a plan to build a dam around the island to prevent the lake water from flooding during the rainy season... Asle?"

While Sharet was explaining to Asle, he suddenly realized there were no footsteps beside him.

Turning to look back, he saw Asle standing there, four or five meters away, staring blankly ahead.

Sharet, exasperated, rushed over in a few steps and slapped the back of Asle’s head, "What are you looking at? If we don’t hurry, the bathhouse will change the water."

Asle rubbed his sore head, glared at Sharet, and then pointed at the houses in front of them, "Why can’t we live in these houses?"

Unlike where they lived in the Insula, in front of them were a dozen terraced three-story villas.

The small black tiles were neatly arranged, providing good protection from the rain, suitable for the rainy season in August and September each year.

These tiles extended from both sides of the slope to the top of the wall, forming a classic double-slope roof. The front had decorative gables with sculptures of gears or saints.

The outer walls were mostly made of red bricks with corners composed of white stone, with different colors of mortar and masonry, some houses presenting a deep brown or textured tawny color.

Key parts such as window and door frames and arched entrances were decorated with white or light gray stone.

Most windows of these terraced villas were large window grids, usually vertically rectangular design with a typical 6×6 or 8×8 grid layout.

The window frames were made of wood, painted with dark colors such as black or dark green.

The oak front doors were painted with black-red or dark green paint, generally related to the identity of the homeowner, and decorated with exquisite iron door knockers or copper door ornaments.

"Live in these houses, are you crazy?" Sharet dragged Asle forward as if just looking at it was a sin.

"This is the residential area north of Mansion Square, where martyrs’ families, officers, and senior priests live. How could we afford to live there?"

"How much?" Asle persistently asked.

"Priceless." Sharet widened his eyes at him, "These are allocated, not sold.

If you really want one, there’s a residential area just south of Mansion Square, only slightly worse than here. Do you know how much it costs?"

"I don’t know, how much?"

"The cheapest one, 200 gold pounds, and you can’t even buy it; the rich merchants from Joan of Arc Castle bought them before they were even built." Sharet seized his neck from behind, pushing him forward, trying to quell his thoughts.

"One day..."

"Alright, alright, stop daydreaming during the day."

That’s 200 gold pounds; not eating or drinking, it would take fifty or sixty years to earn that much. How could ordinary artisans like them afford it?

However, standing behind Asle, Sharet didn’t see the stubborn look in his lowered eyes.