I Resign From the Coin Mercenary Knights

Ding-dong

The crisp chime of a bell was followed by light footsteps – likely Amelia the maid leaping out of bed. I too emerged from my bedchamber.

I had no desire to receive visitors disturbing me at this indecent hour with incessant ringing.

‘Still, I cannot refuse them entry.’

I had become quite – no, remarkably renowned in the Imperial City.

A former prospective member of the hero’s party, the protagonist of a 40 billion rir windfall, and most recently, a viscount ennobled by imperial decree.

For them to seek me out at this hour implied a blatant disregard for my newfound status.

“Sir?”

“I’ll receive them myself.”

Upon opening the door, I found one of my former Imperial Knights comrades scrutinizing me intently, flanked by a haggard high-ranking court official – the very man who had delivered my golden scroll not long ago.

“…By imperial decree, Viscount Wellesley is to enter the palace grounds immediately.”

“Enter the palace?”

“Indeed. Abrupt, I realize…”

“No need. Grant me a moment to prepare properly.”

I swiftly readied myself without protest, for what reason could justify questioning a summons from the Emperor?

The public inquisition into the Second Prince had only concluded hours prior. While I could not be certain, the palace atmosphere was likely still in disarray.

There was no chance the Second Prince had slithered his way to escape.

Even if savaged by a dragon, one could potentially survive by keeping one’s wits. But once consumed, no scheme could facilitate an exit from its belly.

‘The punitive measures have likely concluded already. For me to be summoned amidst that…’

As the carriage carried me onward, my former comrade Alan, a five-year veteran who had once sided with Celine in coveting my Codanas, broke the silence.

Not that I harbored any ill will towards him. Not out of magnanimity, but because I had swiftly evacuated before facing any actual threat.

“Eric.”

“It is Viscount Wellesley.”

“…I get you’re feeling puffed up over the new title, but really?”

“I insist on the courtesy not out of arrogance, but out of respect for the title bestowed upon me by imperial decree. Would it be fitting for a newly ennobled court nobleman, a rarity in recent years, to be slighted by a former Imperial Knights comrade?”

“……”

“That aside, did you wish to say something?”

After regarding me briefly, Alan quirked his lips upward.

“To receive a summons at this hour is rather irregular. As a mere knight, I am unaware of the details. But I do know the chapel atmosphere was distinctly grave throughout the afternoon.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Even at this predawn hour, His Majesty remains in his study instead of his bedchamber.”

“My, for His Majesty to exert himself to such an extent despite his robust constitution.”

“Surely out of concern that some misfortune may befall our viscount.”

Not actual concern, I suspected, but a sense that if I did face adversity, so much the better for him. Not to the extent of actively praying for my ruin before the Goddess’s statue, but he would hardly object if I foundered.

However, the likelihood of me facing such dire straits was virtually nonexistent. Offering only a nod, I let Alan’s remark pass without further acknowledgment.

“I appreciate your concern. Whatever may come, I shall not forget your parting advice.”

“……”

By the time our exchange concluded, the carriage had reached the palace grounds.

Shortly after, I entered the Emperor’s study with nary a moment to freshen up.

Being a commoner-born upstart, I tended towards a certain brazenness. But I could not help feeling tense under these circumstances.

I immediately stepped forward, lowering my gaze deferentially.

“I present myself before the Empire’s radiance.”

Protocol would dictate appending lavish praises, but I refrained this time. Having just conducted a public inquisition into his own son, even depriving himself of sleep over the matter, the Emperor likely had no desire for such accolades.

Indeed, the Emperor gestured wearily, his gaze betraying his exhaustion.

“I have summoned you to seek your counsel. Let us make this brief.”

I regarded the Emperor, avoiding any semblance of disrespect – a man in his late forties with a healthy complexion despite the early hour.

The current Emperor could not be described as a tyrant.

Up close, it would be unseemly to speak so brazenly to one I met for the first time. But this was simply the most accurate assessment:

Neither a despot nor a benevolent ruler, his sole role was maintaining imperial authority through judicious applications of force and wealth.

Having already consolidated the Empire’s conquest, ruling over eight-tenths of humanity, the Emperor had scant opportunity to prove his abilities or character. Perhaps this Codana crisis represented his greatest challenge since accession.

After a momentary pause, the Emperor spoke heavily.

“…I am aware you made contact with the hero who had been in hiding within the capital.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“I do not mean to interrogate you over any improprieties. I have confirmed with every communication crystal operator and mage in the capital that you could potentially access. You likely met the hero unawares when summoned.”

“That is correct.”

“I also know you rejected the hero’s proposal to purchase the Second Prince’s remaining 70 Codana units… but I will not ask your reasons. Having been close to the hero, you must have sensed his untrustworthiness.”

“I apologize for failing to widely disseminate the hero’s dubious proposal. But I could not publicize the movements of one obliged to operate discreetly.”

“I understand.”

He had summoned me with full knowledge. Likely after thoroughly questioning the Second Prince’s retainers.

Nor did he seem to have summoned me to inquire about the hero’s whereabouts. He had already dispatched agents to the Second Prince’s safehouse location.

‘Though I doubt Kun Hei-jin meekly awaits there. But then why summon me…?’

The Emperor soon resolved my curiosity.

“…The Minister of Justice claims you are one of the few survivors of this market debacle. Of course, there are many who profited, but you alone purportedly survived through your own capability rather than mere chance… Which is why I seek your wisdom.”

“How could I possibly…”

“Simply speak your mind.”

With a demeanor devoid of expectation, the Emperor asked how I would resolve this crisis more swiftly. Summoned at dawn for such an inquiry seemed farcical, yet I had no grounds to refuse – nor any desire to do so, for that matter.

The Emperor had already made several profound decisions this day – arguably the most agonizing of his reign thus far.

First, he had disinherited the Second Prince, his own son.

Not merely stripping him of the privileges and treatment due an heir, but revoking even the basic courtesies owed an Imperial prince.

He would not bestow the ceremonial grand duke title conventionally granted to disinherited princes, nor any noble title whatsoever.

The subsequent punishment was asset seizure.

The 46.5 billion rir the Second Prince had pocketed by exploiting the Church Empire would naturally be confiscated. Though the precise allocation remained undecided due to conflicting noble opinions, the seizure itself was definite. The 5 billion rir purportedly given by the hero as asylum fees was also seized.

The final measure was expulsion from the palace grounds.

But this did not merely entail banishment from the palace precincts.

Plans were in place to exile him beyond the capital’s bounds, likely under a form of house arrest, though the specific location remained undecided.

If deemed insufficient, harsher measures might be required. Though efforts would be made to at least spare his life.

Disinheritance, asset seizure, exile.

Even with the Second Prince’s punishments decided, one crucial task remained:

Containing the calamity poised to engulf the capital just hours later.

The Emperor had sought wisdom from several sources, but no viable solutions had emerged. As the sense of desperation mounted, it was the Minister of Justice who had invoked Eric Wellesley’s name.

Not out of high expectations, but purely on the faint chance he might offer insights – for by dawn, it would already be too late.

Fortunately, the Emperor held sufficient authority to rouse even slumbering nobles for a single query.

“Speak freely.”

At the Emperor’s prompting, Eric appeared to ruminate for a moment before cautiously offering:

“…Your Majesty. First, the assets seized from the Second Prince should not be disbursed as cash to the Church Empire or affected nobles. While a considerable sum, it would still prove insufficient to compensate their perceived losses. It would be better to keep it within Your Majesty’s sphere of influence.”

What? The Emperor’s brow furrowed, struck by the apparent absurdity of the remark.

But as Eric continued, it made sense:

“I do not suggest absorbing it into Your Majesty’s personal assets. Rather, establish a relief fund to provide material aid to territories facing financial distress. By doing so, a significant portion of the nobles would be deterred from rash actions, knowing where to look for their proverbial money bags.”

A remarkably cogent suggestion.

Certainly, 51.5 billion rir was a vast sum, but woefully inadequate to appease the entirety of affected investors – especially considering the imminent crash that would unfold later today.

In that case, a selective and sequential approach to disbursement may have merit. If excluded from relief considerations, rational nobles would quickly fall in line.

‘This is…’

Having impulsively sought his counsel, the Emperor regarded Eric with a hint of disillusionment as the apt response emerged so readily. With a wave of his hand, he instructed:

“Go on.”

“And while utterly presumptuous of me, I believe it would have been wiser to delay deciding the Second Prince’s punitive measures.”

“For what reason?”

“The investors require an outlet for venting their fury.”

The Emperor immediately grasped the implication.

Rather than imposing punishments immediately after the inquisition’s conclusion, it would be better to first gauge the peak intensity of investor rage before determining the appropriate level of sanctions to deploy the Second Prince as an effective lightning rod.

An appalling proposition, yet appalling times called for appalling measures.

The hero had fled, the Church Empire teetered on the brink – had not an unprecedented national crisis befallen them?

Fortunately, the Empire still possessed sufficient military might to confront the Demon King’s forces independently – a strength monopolized by the Emperor himself. However, if the nobles were to face widespread ruin while senior officials descended into despair, even that advantage could prove tenuous. There were no guarantees the Demon King’s forces would maintain restraint indefinitely.

The Emperor, even before being a father, was the Empire’s ruler tasked with overcoming this existential calamity.

‘To resolve this internal strife as swiftly as possible…’

After contemplating further, the Emperor instructed Eric:

“You shall reside within the palace grounds for the day.”

An impulsive measure borne of a perceived need for a reservoir of readily available wisdom.

Admittedly, it was a paltry decision. Yet to effectively respond to the impending capital catastrophe, he would require any assistance he could muster.

After a momentary hesitation, Eric acquiesced to the decree.

An acknowledgment that in matters concerning Codanas, none could serve as his proxy.

The Emperor and Eric exchanged bitter looks before averting their gazes, as if foreseeing the trials the coming day would unleash.

And several hours later, dawn broke.

Ironically ushering in one of the brightest and clearest days of the year thus far.