Dany led Petyr to an empty table in the corner and asked, "You're not becoming a maester anymore?"
"Of course, I want to. A maester can ride a fine steed granted by a lord and proudly pass through the streets, admired by common folk—that was the most wonderful experience I've ever had in a dream. But I'm too stupid. After five years, I still couldn't forge a single chain link," Petyr said dejectedly.
How realistic—and self-aware.
The social hierarchy in this world is rigid, leaving almost no room for upward mobility among the lower classes. Becoming a maester is essentially a low-tier version of an imperial examination.
While maesters do hold a higher status than commoners, they are merely one of many advisors to a lord, and their treatment is far inferior to that of a fully-fledged scholar-official.
Yet, becoming a noble house's maester is far more difficult than passing an imperial exam.
Leaving aside the depth of knowledge required, the imperial examination happens every three years, ensuring a new batch of scholars is selected each time. Meanwhile, in Westeros, only two or three hundred noble houses of real power—counts and above—can afford to keep a maester, and once appointed, a maester serves for life.
Even more brutally, the maesterhood has no "thirty is old for a classics scholar, fifty is young for a top graduate" mentality. Typically, a lord selects a promising young maester to replace the aging one before he dies.
Someone like Petyr, even if he worked hard and finally became a true maester at forty, would likely find himself unwanted. He'd spend the rest of his life lingering in the Citadel, just like the countless gray-robed maesters without employment.
And that's not even considering the fierce competition from maesters of noble birth.
Dany asked again, "How much money do you have now?"
"Nine silver stags, forty copper stars, and two hundred copper pennies."
That's pretty rough.
One gold dragon = 210 silver stags,
One silver stag = 7 copper stars,
One copper star = 16 copper pennies.
Westeros' currency system is extremely complicated. Even copper coins alone are divided into five types: copper stars, copper grains, half copper grains, copper bits, and copper pennies, all exchanged in a binary system from highest to lowest.
For example, one copper star = two copper grains.
You'd think this system was designed to make giving change easier?
No—almost no one can correctly make change between different types of metal currency.
The exchange rates are so convoluted that even literate merchants struggle with calculations, let alone illiterate farmers or mercenaries. Without abacuses or calculators, mistakes are common.
Dany had experienced it firsthand. She once bought the same item twice with a silver stag, yet received a different amount of change each time.
At first, she couldn't understand why the people of this world made their currency system so unnecessarily complex. But after becoming a queen and accumulating tens of millions of gold dragons in Slaver's Bay, she started to get it.
In a word: extreme wealth inequality.
Take Westeros, for example. With over ten thousand years of history, Casterly Rock has mined gold for millennia. Given the Lannisters' shrewdness, they surely hoarded far more than they spent, amassing an uncountable fortune in gold.
For instance, Tywin Lannister alone lent Robert Baratheon at least three million gold dragons—actual, physical coins.
And yet, the entire Westerlands has fewer than a million people. On average, even a beggar in Lannisport should theoretically own three gold dragons.
But we all know how misleading "average GDP" can be. More than half the population is actually dragging the economy down.
The wealth gap in Westeros is so extreme that...
Sigh, it's hard to even describe. Just look at poor Petyr across from her.
His social status is already higher than 90% of the population, yet in a normal lifetime, he might never save up a single gold dragon of his own.
Even if luck was on his side and his life went smoothly without sickness or disaster, at his current saving rate, by the time he gathered one gold dragon, Rosie's daughter would already have become a mother herself.
Put simply, the highest denomination—gold dragons—are almost meaningless to him.
Gold dragons may be useless to commoners, but for an economy to function properly, there must be a well-balanced currency system.
In the real world, we have banknotes in 1, 5, 10, 20, 50, and 100 denominations.
See?
It's almost identical to Westeros' five types of copper coins, each increasing roughly in a binary progression—probably like how many people have never used a 2 RMB note in real life.
If there were only copper coins, most commoners could still do the math—after all, the highest denomination, the copper star, is only worth 16 pennies.
Basic arithmetic within ten digits isn't too hard for any decent merchant.
But once you introduce silver coins—especially the terrifying gold dragon—those astronomical figures can drive anyone relying on finger-counting into madness.
One gold dragon = 23,520 copper pennies!
If Dany used a gold dragon to buy a sausage worth two pennies, how would the vendor make change?
Count pennies one by one?
By the time they finished counting 23,518 copper pennies, not only would Dany have finished eating her sausage, but she could have downed a hundred more—assuming she had the appetite.
The only solution is to mix denominations when giving change, which leads to even more complex calculations.
Now, how many silver stags do I have? How many copper stars? How many—
MMP*... If I were good at mental arithmetic, I'd be forging golden chains in the Citadel, not selling sausages on the street!
That's probably what the street vendor would think.
But fixing this convoluted currency issue is actually simple: redistribute wealth.
Take down the Lannisters, the Iron Bank, and the Dragon Queen—those hoarding vast amounts of gold—and put their coins into circulation.
With more gold in the market, the silver-to-gold exchange rate would naturally decrease.
Given the world's massive gold reserves and tiny population, it would be entirely feasible to establish a simple currency system like:
1 gold dragon = 10 silver stags = 100 copper pennies.
But as always, the wealth disparity in the world of Ice and Fire is just too absurd.
A noble who refrains from buying luxuries can live comfortably for life on the economic and agricultural output of their own lands. In other words, a "stingy" lord could go through life with only income and no expenses.
Even if he only saves ten gold dragons a year...
In Westeros, if your house isn't at least a thousand years old, you'll be mocked as "nouveau riche"—assuming, of course, you have a fortune to begin with.
As for someone like Littlefinger—both poor and lacking heritage—true nobles don't even bother mocking him. To them, he isn't even a peer.
For example, if someone were splashed with a bottle of mineral water at a speech conference, Da and Xiao Ma would surely mock them in private. But if a certain unfortunate soul were pushed into a river, would Da and Xiao Ma even pay attention to them?
Obviously not. Even mockery only occurs within circles of the same social standing.
Back to the main topic: A minor noble family that has existed for a thousand years, accumulating ten Golden Dragons per year, would still amass ten thousand over time. Considering the entire noble class, the newly mined gold wouldn't even be enough to go around.
As a result, the social classes below the nobility and major merchants hardly ever get to use Golden Dragons.
Since Golden Dragons are rare, their value naturally rises—one would expect the state to intervene at this point.
But the nobility is the state. The nobles own all the Golden Dragons, so when the Golden Dragons appreciate in value, the nobles profit. When the nobles profit, the state prospers. A state like that would only push for further appreciation of Golden Dragons, distorting the exchange rate of metal currencies even more.
—Ultimately, commoners are oppressed to the point where they barely survive at subsistence level (at least in the summer). Meanwhile, even if the nobles indulge in debauchery, they remain immensely wealthy. Wealth grants power, and power ensures their rule for generations—what a carefree life!
And that is why Tywin can casually throw away a million Golden Dragons to buy a sword, while Pet struggles his entire life yet fails to protect his lover's chastity.
Dany pondered for a moment before asking, "If you elope with Rosy, do you think you'll be able to support your own little family in the future?"
Pet replied, "In my first two years at the Citadel, I studied astronomy. I didn't pass the Maester's exam, but I do have some basic knowledge of stargazing and predicting seasonal changes. Maybe I could help a noble lord manage his village."
Dany nodded. In a world where the seasons were unpredictable, Pet's ability to determine the right time for planting crops made him more than qualified to be a village chief.
Pet continued, "After failing my courses, I realized I wasn't the sharpest mind and that becoming a Maester might be out of reach. So, I chose a more practical subject.
I devoted more effort to attending Doctor Ambrose's medical lectures.
Three years later, I still didn't earn a silver chain link (silver represents medicine), but I did learn how to set bones and use leeches for bloodletting to reduce fevers. Becoming a wandering country doctor wouldn't be too bad."
"Not bad, not bad." Dany nodded in approval.
Though leech therapy seemed dubious, in this technologically backward world, it was one of the most mainstream branches of medicine.
No matter what illness someone had, applying a leech or two first was a common approach—who knows, they might get better!
Besides, there weren't many major side effects.
Because of this, the "leech industry" in this world thrived. A day of hard labor in the fields couldn't compare to catching a few plump leeches from the river to sell.
Yes, Maesters bought leeches in unlimited quantities.
Encouraged by Dany's approval, Pet, the struggling student, got even more excited and continued, "After failing the medical exam, I also took up barbering. Before long, I'll be able to cut hair and shave beards. I could make a living as a barber in the city and support Rosy."
"Very good, very good!" Dany admired the boy even more.
Though he struggled academically, he wasn't stupid. He had mastered several skills to make a living—he could work as a barber in the city, wander as a barefoot doctor, or return to his hometown to be a small village chief.
It seemed that the Citadel wasn't entirely useless after all!
Dany thought for a moment, then gazed into his brown eyes and said seriously, "To me, a Golden Dragon and a copper coin are no different, but I will never pay for a client's visit to a brothel.
If, one morning, I hear that you and Rosy have eloped, I will immediately pay Emma a 'bride price' that will satisfy her. That way, you and your little girlfriend will be completely free."
"Well?"
"Thank you, Lady Lyra. I will seriously consider it," Pet said solemnly.
Giving him a Golden Dragon now would be easy, and it wouldn't cost Dany much. But what if he was just acting on a whim, and after venting his emotions, he cooled down and decided to go back to being a promising Maester's apprentice?
That would disgust Dany to no end.
"I fear, my lady, that your kind intentions will go to waste," an old knight appeared beside Dany like a ghost, sitting where Pet had been moments before. "Young people's passions flare up quickly but fade just as fast. What was once a burning ideal may seem like a rash impulse after a quiet night of reflection. More importantly, he has many close friends at the Citadel—bonds of friendship are not so easily severed."
"Perhaps. But if I have a chance to help change someone's life for the better, why not?" Dany shrugged and asked, "What's your take on the current state of the Seven Kingdoms?"
(P.S.)
The exchange rates and purchasing power of Golden Dragons, Silver Stags, and Copper Stars are largely based on the original book's settings. However, this analysis of such a complex monetary system is purely my personal opinion—I haven't studied economics, so please forgive any inaccuracies.
This chapter exists because some sharp-eyed readers noticed and questioned the inconsistencies in the book's depiction of purchasing power.
Tywin spent hundreds of thousands on a sword, Robert racked up six million Golden Dragons in debt, yet an ordinary noble knight's ransom was only a hundred Golden Dragons. Meanwhile, a sausage that barely fills one's stomach costs just a single copper coin. With one Golden Dragon exchanging for over 20,000 copper coins, the numbers seemed exaggerated.
From my perspective, in societies with extreme wealth gaps, the monetary system naturally splits into two tiers: one for commoners and one for the wealthy. Though both exist in the same world, they operate on entirely different economic scales.
Some people buy goldfish in Japan for millions of dollars without batting an eye. Bill Gates' new yacht supposedly cost 500 million pounds (fake news). If you do the math, how many pounds of pork could that buy?
(MMP: A censored Chinese internet slang expressing frustration, akin to "FML.")
(End of Chapter)
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