Episode 100 — The Copper Coin Revolution

I was recalling Gustav’s face from last night, when he came to report with the lingering excitement of the banquet still written all over him.

"It was a massive success, Mr. Zect! Duke Daryl forgot all about his resentment. He left clutching that chessboard like a child who’d just found a legendary treasure!"

I ruminated on his words along with the taste of the potato chips I was munching on, narrowing my eyes in satisfaction.

(Good. The seed named 'Chess' that I planted at the banquet is sprouting faster than expected. In Duke Daryl’s territory, the strategists are likely already pulling all-nighters studying opening moves. With this, I’ve managed to lock their cognitive resources into an isolated environment called 'the board.' I won’t have to worry about external attacks for a while.)

Convinced of my victory, I was about to lean my recliner back and close my eyes when it happened.

"Ding-dong! Ding-dong! Ding-dong! DING-DONG!"

(...Again. I know this specific rhythm of doorbell mashing. It carries a distinct physical pressure.)

"Zect! I’m coming in!"

Garam stormed into the living room with a roar. His face was flushed with a dark, simmering frustration that had nothing to do with the heat of his forge.

"Oh, hey, Garam. Good work at the banquet. So... what’s up? You’ve interrupted my sleep mode, so I assume there’s a critical system error?"

"Error?! Error doesn't even cover it! Are you out of your mind?! You gave away the distribution rights for those chess sets to the other lords for free!"

Garam slammed his fist onto the table and leaned in close.

"My boys were already brainstorming the next version! We were talking 'Elven filigree' and 'Luxury editions with embedded jewels'! We could’ve had gold pouring into Felsen if we’d kept it an exclusive, so why the hell did you just throw the rights away?!"

(...I see. He’s so focused on improving the hardware specs that he can't see the platform strategy. The classic artisan’s curse.)

I didn't move from my Throne of Laziness. I took a sip of my lukewarm Cola and calmly laid out the logic.

"Garam. If we tried to monopolize Chess, we’d hit a ceiling almost immediately."

"Hah?! It’d sell like crazy! It’s a masterpiece!"

"Listen. The intrinsic value of Chess isn't in the craftsmanship of the pieces. It’s in the 'Rules' that govern the sixty-four squares. If you don't care about the aesthetics, you can play Chess with a board and some pebbles—heck, you can just draw lines in the dirt. It’s a game that can be enjoyed even if the set only costs a single copper coin."

Garam tilted his head. "A single copper coin...?" I ignored him and continued.

"There’s a concept called GNU—Open Source. To put it simply, it’s a declaration that 'these rules and specs are public property, so anyone can replicate and use them anywhere.' There are free programs that have come to dominate the world's core systems using this method. Because it’s free, everyone uses it, and it becomes the 'standard' for the world. Once that happens, the person who sets the specifications becomes the authority for the world's criteria."

Garam still looked unconvinced, so I added more detail.

"If we policed it strictly and kept it exclusive to Felsen, it would end up as nothing more than an expensive craft. It would sit on a rich man’s shelf and die there as a culture. What I want is to make Chess the 'common language' of this world. If we let artisans in other territories make it as they please, Chess will spread exponentially. And once everyone is obsessed with playing, the authority of the rule-setter—Felsen—becomes unshakable."

"...So by throwing away the rights, you’re looking to rule a much bigger territory?"

"Exactly. It’s better to grab the De Facto Standard than to chase immediate cash flow."

(Though, I can't keep the economy running on the casino’s foreign currency pool forever. It’s about time we stabilized the trade balance. I need a tool that functions as a common standard for users to use every day...)

I looked back at Garam, whose shoulders had begun to slump as his misplaced momentum drained away.

"...Actually, Garam. If your craftsmen have all this creative energy with nowhere to put it, I have another project. Something that would make Felsen the world’s primary supplier. Interested?"

Garam’s eyebrows twitched.

"...Oh? A new Felsen specialty? But look, there aren't many treasures that top Chess."

"We’re changing the target. Instead of selling a platinum-coin piece of jewelry to one noble, we sell a convenient tool that ten thousand commoners can buy for a few copper coins. For example..."

I brought two items from the kitchen and handed them to Garam.

"A 'Ruler' with zero deviation. And a 'Measuring Cup' that can measure exact volumes. Garam... do you think your apprentices could make, say, a hundred of these to this 'exact same specification'?"

"A ruler? Anyone can draw lines on a piece of wood. That’s not a job for a craftsman."

Garam scoffed, but I let a deliberate smirk play on my lips.

"...Can they really do it? Making one is easy. But making a hundred of them with 'identical precision,' with zero deviation... that requires far more advanced technology and process management than making a single piece of art. It’s the ultimate artisan’s challenge, don't you think?"

The frustration vanished from Garam’s face. In its place came the sharp, predatory eyes of a veteran master.

"...A hundred pieces, all the exact same dimensions? Heh... sounds interesting. Fine. Give me a week. I’ll make your eyes pop out of your head in a week's time."

Garam left like a whirlwind. That should keep him and his disciples busy with the high-difficulty mission known as "Mass Production" for a while. Silence returned to the living room, and I leaned my recliner back once more.

"Prrr... (So you’re planning to overwrite the world’s concept of 'length' with your own measuring stick.)"

(If Felsen-made rulers spread to every household, then construction, trade—everything—will become dependent on the standards I’ve provided. Bottom-up market capture. This is the true 'Forced Update.')

With Garam’s heavy footsteps echoing in the distance, the Felsen Industrial Revolution began its noisy ascent.

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