I Resign From the Coin Mercenary Knights

The Imperial Palace. The atmosphere within the Court Administration, entrusted with assisting the Emperor’s governance, had been gloomy since early morning.

‘Whew. We need to reach some conclusion today.’

The elderly Grand Chancellor let out a weary sigh as he tousled his thinning hair.

The Court Administration consisted of seven ministers overseeing their respective domains, headed by the Grand Chancellor, commonly referred to as the Court Minister.

Typically, only the ministers participated in meetings, though key appointees like the Imperial Guard Commander or Imperial Knights Commander would be summoned when necessary.

And today fell into the latter category, with nearly every Imperial authority gathered solemnly.

Unsurprisingly, this was due to the fallout from the Codana market crash that had swept through the Imperial City.

While meetings had convened on this topic multiple times before, each had concluded inconclusively, with other pressing matters left entirely unaddressed.

“Is everyone pre… No, where is the Minister of Justice again?”

As the Grand Chancellor prepared to commence the proceedings, he frowned towards the Justice minister’s vacant seat, occupied only by the undersecretary with an awkward expression.

“Well, the Minister of Justice has been… unavoidably detained.”

“Just like last time, feigning illness again? Is he truly that unwell?”

“Not so much a physical ailment as… To be frank, he seems afflicted by a sickness of the heart and mind… We are uncertain of his exact whereabouts ourselves.”

An inexcusable excuse, yet the Grand Chancellor chose not to rebuke it further. Faulting the undersecretary would achieve nothing.

After all, those present already understood the nature of the ‘sickness of heart and mind’ plaguing the current Minister of Justice, Earl Necker – he was among the Imperial City’s most fervent Codana evangelists.

Hahaha! It was only after Codanas launched that I finally earned some respect from my sons.

Let’s be honest here. As Imperial City residents, do any of us have territories or hereditary fiefdoms to bequeath our children? We live comfortably thanks to the Imperial family’s grace, but there’s still something… missing, isn’t there?

Buying additional units at 25 million was a brilliant move. The prices skyrocketed afterwards.

I made a killing for my wife’s family too.

The Minister of Justice had been one to boast incessantly about his Codana holdings and profitability to the point of appearing unseemly.

It was understandable to an extent. While territorial lords might envy the lifestyles of court nobles, the latter’s lack of lands or subjects inevitably bred a sense of emptiness.

But the Minister had now plummeted into utter ruin.

After fainting at the exchange on the day of the crash, he had remained a complete recluse.

“But you must be in a decent position, having entered early before the crash?”

“Haah. What does it matter? He had never cashed out a single rir, from what I hear. In fact, I believe he made additional purchases around 370 million… Yeah, when that Viscount Wellesley dumped 108 units on the market, the Minister stubbornly scooped up one more at an exorbitant price.”

“…Good heavens.”

“Come now, let us commence the meeting.”

The Grand Chancellor even clapped to regain the ministers’ attention.

But to no avail.

Most present had some entanglement with Codanas.

While some nobles had limited their involvement to modest donations of a few million rir when Codanas first launched, merely acquiring a handful, others had immersed themselves deeply in speculation.

“…My son spent all of yesterday at the exchange, only returning to hole up in his room and weep incessantly.”

“Well, you know better than to scold them at a time like this? Let them vent for now… Come to think of it, I hear the academy is a madhouse too.”

“The students aren’t the issue. It’s their parents causing problems. Utterly maddening.”

Observing the ministers’ idle chatter, the Grand Chancellor felt his patience waning.

In truth, he was not entirely uninvolved with Codanas either.

His younger brother, who ran a modest antique trading guild, and his eldest son, an academy associate professor, had both invested in Codanas, suffering losses in the billions.

Not that such figures were particularly catastrophic – more than a few families faced the brink of outright bankruptcy.

And it wasn’t just about the money. A diplomatic crisis loomed as well.

Due to the colossal off-market transaction concluded by the Second Prince prior to the market crash, the Church Empire’s liquid assets now faced total depletion.

For some reason, the Church Empire had yet to adopt an overtly aggressive stance, but it was doubtful how much longer they would wait.

‘We must resolve this situation, somehow.’

The Grand Chancellor could feel his lifespan dwindling in real-time.

It was then that an unlikely savior emerged.

“The crisis is grave. Let us commence this meeting.”

None other than Rufus Weinricht, the Imperial Knights Commander and the Empire’s mightiest knight.

Normally apathetic towards matters of state, his sole concerns were managing the knights’ order, campaigning to liberate territories, and honing his sword skills – an eccentric man.

Yet his interjection left the ministers gaping in silence.

Moreover, Weinricht did not merely restore order, but broached the crux of the matter:

“At this juncture, we have no choice but to demand the truth from His Highness the Second Prince.”

Audaciously demanding accountability from one of such lofty Imperial standing.

Certainly, the severity of the situation warranted such measures. On the eve of the nobles’ potential ruination, the Second Prince had recouped a staggering 46.5 billion rir sum.

While he was said to still hold around 70 units, influentially rumors claimed he had netted over 20 billion rir in profits compared to his initial investment – a mere consolation to him, no doubt.

Extracting himself ahead of the crash was not inherently criminal, but the timing was… suspicious, to say the least.

No, truthfully, they were already convinced – the Second Prince had been fully aware.

Yet directly demanding accountability from an Imperial Prince was a delicate issue, which Weinricht had now forced into the open.

‘Well now, even that man knows when to take action…!’

The Grand Chancellor regarded Weinricht with a sense of relief, anticipating further elaboration.

But regrettably, Weinricht’s daring seemed to end there – as the head of the order sworn to protect the Imperial family, he could only go so far in his defiance, it appeared.

Once more, the ministers lapsed into silence.

Not out of cowardice or ineptitude, but because initiating an inquiry against the Second Prince at this stage would unlikely conclude with a mere perfunctory questioning.

After hearing his account, demanding accountability would become inevitable.

And the sole conceivable outcome of that process was, frankly, his disinheritance.

Not just the revocation of his succession rights, but potentially his immediate expulsion from the palace as well.

The outcome might differ if the Second Prince relinquished his entire fortune, but even then, he would still be eliminated from the line of succession.

They could not recklessly proceed with such an immense matter that could be misconstrued as a challenge to the Imperial authority.

This was also the key to the Second Prince’s ability to stave off intense scrutiny until now by feigning illness.

Unspoken was the implicit threat: “Will you truly force my abdication? Even so?” Instilling a sense of dread in his observers.

‘Haah. Yet we cannot ignore the nobles’ voices either.’

While the Emperor and his direct lineage were the Empire’s most exalted presences, the Empire did not belong solely to them.

Dismissing a situation projected to render over a hundred noble and quasi-noble families ‘utterly ruined,’ with several times that number sustaining major losses, was untenable. And those were just the identified cases.

Naturally, those who had successfully realized gains had no incentive to protect the Second Prince.

As everyone cautiously assessed the delicate circumstances, an unexpected figure suddenly appeared in the council chamber.

It was the Minister of Justice, belatedly arriving after citing ‘a sickness of heart and mind’ to excuse his absence.

While appearing utterly haggard, he was at least still amongst the living.

“Oh, Earl Necker.”

“We must demand the truth from the Second Prince.”

Devoid of any expression, the lifeless words fell from the Minister’s lips.

Some ministers, who had initially nodded along unthinkingly, belatedly tensed upon realizing his omission of the honorific ‘His Highness.’

…Not ‘His Highness,’ but simply ‘the Second Prince?’

Regardless, the Minister droned on mechanically:

“None are unaware of the close ties between the Second Prince and the hero. Of course, the hero is one to directly publish his own exploits in the Imperial City News, but he likely reported the defeat of the Humanoid Lord to the Second Prince alone via communication crystal in advance.”

“Erm, Minister of Justice?”

“With the hero’s whereabouts currently unknown, who else can we inquire of other than the Second Prince? We must clearly ascertain when the Second Prince became aware that the hero had filed a false report. This is not a challenge to the Imperial authority.”

“Well, that’s true. But first, regarding the timing of the off-market transaction…”

“I am still speaking.”

“Eep, my apologies.”

“An academy student has already made the ultimate choice.”

The Minister’s tone carried an immense weight.

Gone was the frivolous manner in which he had once traded jovial banter with the Imperial Guard’s Deputy Commander at the Codana exchange.

“…Is that all? The commander of the Imperial Guard’s 5th regiment has gone missing, leaving only a despondent letter citing his investment losses. And a distant member of the Imperial family who had acquired 10 Codana units just before the crash is in such dire straits… Ah, you will learn of it soon enough. I refer to a nephew of the late Revered Emperor.”

“Hah. An elderly personage.”

“Countless others also suffer in silence. Not from realized losses, mind you, but merely from the depreciated value of the Codanas they still hold.”

The other ministers, even the Imperial Knights Commander, regarded him with tense expressions, as if fearing he might erupt if provoked further.

“…If the truth remains shrouded, if Codanas cannot revive, many more lives will be lost. My family and I included.”

A profound silence followed.

Ultimately, the ministers resolved to demand accountability from the Second Prince, swiftly receiving the Emperor’s sanction after the Chief Retainer conveyed the grave atmosphere he had witnessed. The moment had arrived for the Second Prince to be summoned from his isolation by Imperial decree.

At that very moment, the newly reopened Codana exchange witnessed a tentative resurgence in buy-side interest.

An unfounded expectation that the Second Prince’s revelations might resolve the relentless stream of negative catalysts.