Expulsion from the Palace
I was currently residing in the Imperial Palace.
It was hardly an unfamiliar experience, having spent plenty of time here during my days as a knight serving as the Hero's sparring partner. Even so, the sheer absurdity of the present circumstances was undeniable. Through a bizarre twist of fate, I had ended up serving as the Emperor's secret crisis advisor.
If I can secure even a shred of the Emperor's trust through this debacle, it works in my favor.
The Second Prince had dragged the imperial family's prestige through the gutter, but the Emperor remained the Emperor. While he did not hold absolute dominion over every inch of the Empire, he held an iron grip on its military might and treasury. The realm's two premier knight orders—the Imperial Guard Knights and the Black Iron Knights—answered solely to his imperial command. Had it not been for their presence, the various noble fiefs would have strained to the breaking point trying to maintain standing armies of hundreds or thousands of men. Furthermore, the vast yields harvested from his extensive crown lands served as the bedrock securing his imperial authority. It was hardly a coincidence that the Second Prince had been able to throw around tens of billions of liras in liquid capital.
Yet currying royal favor was not my sole motive for taking on this chore. There was another, far more pressing reason weighing on my mind.
I also have to worry about the Demon King's Army stirring up trouble.
The reigning Demon King was comparatively mild-mannered. While he launched sporadic incursions, he was not the type to marshal an army of thousands for a full-scale war of territorial conquest. If anything, he was the sort to look the other way while his Four Heavenly Kings ran wild as they pleased. But seeing humanity reduced to such a pathetic state, would he truly continue to sit idle? The Hero had stripped the nobility down to their breeches before vanishing into thin air, and the Holy Kingdom teetered on the brink of total collapse. Demon King or not, his hands had to be itching at an opportunity like this.
Since I was already burdened with an imperial decree, I wanted to help clean up the absolute mess suffocating the Imperial Capital. To that end, I had meticulously monitored public sentiment across the metropolis ever since the morning trading session opened.
• The situation at the Academy is dire. Many students have fallen into such catastrophic financial straits that continuing their studies looks impossible.
• Over two hundred people are sitting outside the exchange, staring blankly at the sky. A professor just submitted a sell order slashed to less than half the market price, and immediate despair swept through the crowd. Quite a few are collapsed on the pavement, weeping openly.
• If someone recruited a death squad right now to drag out the Second Prince and kill him, at least a hundred would volunteer on the spot. Roughly half would be Academy students, the rest middle-aged nobles.
After reviewing the dispatches gathered over several hours, the conclusion was brutally obvious.
Standard remedies aren't going to cut it.
The seething rage of the populace naturally converged on two targets: the Second Prince and the Hero. Surprisingly, the fury directed at the prince burned even hotter than that toward the Hero. Kwon Hee-jin had minted the cursed coins in the first place, but it was the Second Prince who had relentlessly peddled the scheme throughout high society.
Besides, the only pawn I could readily utilize right now was the prince himself. The Emperor had dispatched pursuit squads to apprehend the Hero holed up in a resort town, but there was little chance Kwon Hee-jin would sit politely waiting to be caught.
Which means...
How exactly should I butcher this man so that the volcanic wrath festering before the exchange did not erupt into violent rebellion? As I turned the problem over in my head, a distinct solution took shape. Carrying it out, however, required imperial sanction. After all, I was here strictly as the Emperor's advisor.
Having made up my mind, I headed straight for the Emperor's private office.
"...Your Imperial Majesty. The trading price of Kodana just plummeted to three thousand liras. All sell orders have completely stalled, halting the downward slide for now, but debating its value has already become entirely meaningless."
"I was informed the investors were surprisingly quiet."
"Silent rage is far more perilous, Sire. Right now, the vast majority are so crushed by their losses that they lack the strength to shout. But igniting that latent fury takes only a second. A single, petty spark will set off the powder keg."
The Emperor's brow furrowed slightly at my assessment. Hearing of an explosion had undoubtedly stoked his fears of treason.
"Are you suggesting they might raise the banner of rebellion?"
"Rather than an organized revolt, they are far more likely to resort to self-destructive violence. They have tasted an unprecedented catastrophe, Sire. That devastation alone will inflict a crippling blow upon the Empire."
"And your proposal?"
"We must grant them an outlet to purge at least a portion of their wrath."
The Emperor nodded slowly, weighing the logic. To be frank, he did not look emotionally invested in their plight. That was not born of malice or stupidity, but rather because the Kodana mania was completely alien to him. How could a sovereign born to supreme power truly empathize with individuals who had vaporized life savings accumulated over generations in the span of an afternoon? Even so, the monarch possessed one indispensable virtue: an open ear.
"In the end, you are telling me to sacrifice that boy."
"Yes, Sire. If we do not make a spectacle of him, I guarantee that within three days, vicious rumors will claim the Second Prince has fled to a luxurious retreat to live in lavish comfort. It is far better to display his absolute, undeniable ruin before their very eyes."
"......"
After a moment of grim contemplation, the Emperor set a solitary condition. I was to devise a method that ensured the Second Prince kept his life. It was hardly an unreasonable worry; given the sheer volume of hatred concentrated on the prince, assassins slipping into his bedchambers every night would have surprised no one.
I had no intention of claiming his life, either.
The Second Prince—or rather, former Prince Matthias—was seized by raw terror as the hour of his expulsion approached.
Where in the world are they taking me?
Would he be confined to a manor somewhere on the crown lands? How many servants would he be granted? Given the sheer number of furious nobles, they would surely assign him a security detachment. Ideally, he hoped for several Expert-rank knights to watch over him.
It was humiliating beyond belief that he was reduced to fretting over such petty indignities. Regardless of how much he had offended the nobility and the Church, royal blood still flowed in his veins. Granted, his conduct had crossed boundaries, but worrying about the head count of scullery maids felt absurdly surreal. Anxious dread over potential assassination was even more insulting.
"Whew. Damn it all... How did I fall this low?"
As he shook his head, spiraling deeper into misery, someone unceremoniously kicked open the door. Standing in the threshold was a tall, lean youth with shortly cropped hair and a somewhat prickly gaze.
Eric Wellesley.
Matthias glared at him with bared fangs. He remained convinced that this commoner's cunning, evasive maneuvers had dumped the entirety of the blame onto his shoulders. What Eric was even doing in the palace eluded him, but Matthias wanted nothing more than to slap that arrogant face—
"Your Highness, it is time for your departure from the palace."
"And why are you the one delivering this message?"
Matthias narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but Eric showed zero interest in entertaining his complaints. The words that tumbled from the young knight's mouth next were bleak in the extreme.
"His Majesty originally intended to dispatch Your Highness to the Enekia Barony. It is an eastern coastal territory currently devoid of an heir or any prospective claimants, which prompted the crown to install an imperial steward. For all intents and purposes, it operates as crown land."
A backwater among backwaters. Was he truly being cast out to such a desolate wasteland? Darkness swam before Matthias's vision.
Even so, a faint sliver of hope flickered in his chest. Dispatching him to an heirless fief implied that once the capital quieted down in a few years, his imperial father might bestow a new noble surname upon him and create him a baron. A rural baron was an utterly pitiful fate for a man who had stood on the precipice of ascending the imperial throne, yet it remained vastly preferable to indefinite imprisonment.
Right. I can accept that much for now. Once I manage to get in touch with the Hero later, I can orchestrate a comeback.
Matthias glared haughtily at Eric's lips, expecting some condescending warning like, 'You had better keep your head down out there.'
What came out of Eric's mouth, however, was nothing of the sort.
"However, the investors' fury cannot be placated by such a mild measure. Proceeding with that arrangement will undoubtedly invite physical retaliation upon you."
"Does that mean... guards will be assigned to protect me?"
"Why on earth would they do that?" Eric replied flatly. "Instead, His Majesty has decreed that Your Highness shall reside elsewhere. A location that will appease the nobility while simultaneously mending the severe diplomatic rupture caused by this incident."
By that point, even Matthias realized something had gone horribly awry. Deprived of sleep as he had been, he was not an utter fool. A penal labor camp? Or perhaps a punitive garrison on the frontier march? Every manner of grim fate flashed through his mind, yet the reality proved infinitely more horrifying.
"You are being sent to the Holy Kingdom."
"......"
"An accord was struck just moments ago: in exchange for ensuring Your Highness remains with all your limbs intact, the Holy Grail shall be returned in three months. It will be considerably safer than rotting under house arrest in some remote fiefdom. Once word spreads that you have been cast into the Church's custody, the nobility will see little point in pursuing personal vendettas."
"Wait... hold on!"
Being traded off to the Holy Kingdom in exchange for the Holy Grail? While the clause guaranteeing his limbs remain intact sounded reassuring on paper, it offered zero comfort. It sounded suspiciously like an open license for the theocrats to do whatever they pleased to him, so long as his arms and legs remained physically attached to his torso.
"Rest assured. The individual tasked with safely escorting Your Highness to the Holy Kingdom has already arrived. Upon reaching their territory, this person will oversee your protection."
A figure stepped out from the shadows behind Eric.
The newcomer looked completely out of place within the imperial palace. An elderly priest draped in coarse, sackcloth vestments, his head shorn in an uneven, patchy tonsure that looked as though a rodent had gnawed through his hair. His shabby attire was not the only striking feature. His ears and cheeks were grotesquely bruised and swollen, as if he had suffered a savage beating, yet his eyes shone with a bizarre, feverish gleam.
Worse still, Matthias recognized him instantly.
"...Your Eminence?"
It was the very same Cardinal who had wailed uncontrollably in the Imperial Chapel during the interrogation. How had he deteriorated into such a wretched wreck in just two days?
The Cardinal answered the unspoken question himself.
"To atone for this catastrophe, I have renounced my position as Diocesan Archbishop of the Capital and surrendered my seat in the Cardinalate. From this day forward, I shall serve in the lowest dregs of the Holy Kingdom as a humble parish priest before departing this world. And Matthias... you shall be by my side."
"Wait! This kind of petty vengeance—"
"This is not vengeance."
Let us atone together, Matthias. The former Cardinal offered a radiant, beatific smile as he extended a trembling hand, looking profoundly grateful that he would not have to endure the looming misery alone.
"No! Absolutely not...!"
Matthias leapt to his feet, screaming at the top of his lungs for an audience with his imperial father, but no chance of an imperial grace was granted.
Eric stepped forward, cutting him off without an ounce of sympathy. "It is nearly closing time. We must depart."
Why did they have to leave precisely when trading closed? Matthias stared at him in utter bewilderment, but Eric merely nudged him toward the doorway.
"Come now. Everyone is waiting."