Disciplinary Action
Word was that the Imperial Capital’s Prosecutor’s Office had formally recommended my disciplinary dismissal just yesterday evening.
Though the recommendation had nominally been submitted under the name of some junior prosecutor, it was obvious who was pulling the strings from behind the curtain: Amber’s father.
‘He’s usually such a mild-mannered gentleman... I suppose he couldn't withstand his daughter’s relentless pestering.’
For a civil prosecutor to demand the punishment of an officer in the Imperial Guard—an elite order answering directly to the imperial crown—was exceedingly rare. Quite frankly, it was a brazen overreach of authority.
Yet when the target was me, things played out differently. I was already a marked man.
“Eric. A moment.”
The moment I reported for duty, Rufus Wainwright, Commander of the Imperial Guard, summoned me.
He was in his late fifties. Any ordinary knight would have long since succumbed to the ravages of age, their strength withered by time, but Commander Wainwright looked at least fifteen years younger.
The reason was simple: he was one of only three Sword Masters on the entire continent.
To a certain extent, he had overcome the physical constraints of mortality. If he so willed it, he was a superhuman capable of cutting down hundreds of armored soldiers as effortlessly as parting water.
To me, Commander Wainwright was an absolute presence. Merely speaking with him felt like an overwhelming privilege. To those of us who earned our bread by the blade, he commanded nothing short of reverence.
I squared my shoulders into a crisp, disciplined posture. For now—yes, at least for now—I was still a member of the order.
“Don’t just stand there. Have a seat.”
Even as I dutifully obeyed his instruction, an unpleasant dampness settled over my chest. A fleeting hope crossed my mind that, of all people, this man wouldn’t bring up Kodana.
If only he would just reprimand my conduct, how wonderful that would be. But bad premonitions had a terrible habit of never missing their mark.
“Eric.”
“Yes, Commander.”
“Because of you—or more precisely, because of the Kodana coins in your possession—the atmosphere in our ranks is in absolute shambles. I tried to avoid intervening if possible, but the situation has far exceeded its boiling point. ...As the head of this order, it is my duty to restore shattered discipline.”
“I am not quite certain what you mean, Commander.”
‘Please, don’t do this.’
Commander Wainwright immediately furrowed his brow, shattering my faint hope.
“...Are you truly feigning ignorance? The finest knights of the Empire are neglecting their training just to track the market price of Kodana. The younger recruits waste their days whispering in corners about coins they don't even own.”
“That is hardly my fault, Commander. Please, just state plainly what it is you wish to say.”
“I am telling you that the time has come for you to make a decision. You may consider this your final notice.”
“……”
Wainwright glared at me with a hardened scowl as an unspoken standoff stretched between us.
Though I had my sights set on the pinnacle, I was still merely an upper-tier Expert. Commander Wainwright, on the other hand, was a Sword Master at the apex of martial prowess, revered by every knight across the Empire. It would likely take another ten years before I could even dream of facing him on equal footing.
An insurmountable chasm separated our abilities, yet for some reason, I felt no intimidation whatsoever.
Because right now, he didn't wear the face of an exalted Master commanding the reverence of all swordsmen. He wore the face of an administrator.
Unlike the rank-and-file knights who shamelessly bared their greed, he seemed to have little personal interest in Kodana itself, which was a small mercy. Having been born into an illustrious, wealthy noble house and reached the summit of swordsmanship on his own merit, he possessed no petty lust for material wealth.
‘Which is precisely why he sees me as nothing more than a nuisance stirring up needless discord. In his eyes, I could simply share the wealth and be done with it, so my stubborn hoarding must look absurdly foolish.’
Expecting a man born with peerless talent into immense aristocratic wealth to understand the plight of a commoner knight was asking for the impossible.
“Eric, I understand why you cling to these coins. Men turn petty in the face of sudden fortune. But your appointment to Hero Kwon Hee-jin's expedition was not something earned purely through your own sweat, nor was your acquisition of that massive hoard of Kodana. Am I wrong?”
“...Commander.”
“Besides, the knights aren't demanding everything you have. ...I gathered their opinions, and they are willing to settle for thirty percent. Surrender just thirty percent of your Kodana, and I will personally take responsibility for restoring harmony to the order.”
“Commander. Do you have any idea what thirty percent of my holdings would fetch at current market value? It is a sum greater than what a knight could earn from two centuries of active service in the Imperial Guard.”
“So you insist on keeping every last coin for yourself?”
“Yes. With all due respect, I do. No matter what you say, thirty percent is out of the question.”
At my refusal, Commander Wainwright stared vacantly into the empty air, looking utterly drained.
“...To think you were such an unreasonable man. I truly misjudged you.”
Without another word, he waved his hand dismissively, shooing me out like an irritating gnat. It was no longer the demeanor of a commander addressing one of his sworn men.
And that very afternoon, my disciplinary sentence was handed down.
Eric of the Imperial Guard is hereby stripped of his rank and dismissed from service for conduct unbecoming an officer (excessive search of civilian residences).
A concise notice, tacked across bulletin boards throughout the garrison.
Looking at the stated charges, it appeared they were citing an incident from last year, when I had tracked a band of deserters into a rural village and supposedly searched the local houses with excessive force, intimidating the residents. No doubt Amber's father had rummaged through the office archives to dig up an old petition filed by the village elder.
Frankly speaking, it was embarrassing to even call this a legitimate charge.
Back then, I had been pursuing a group of over twenty deserters. And these weren't merely disorganized runaways; they were a coordinated deserter unit led directly by a commissioned officer. Had they turned to banditry, a remote rural fiefdom would have been completely defenseless.
‘Excessive search? I didn’t smash a single piece of furniture, nor did I seize any of their supplies.’
Convening a disciplinary committee over something so trivial was utterly absurd. If this was the standard for dismissal, there wouldn't be a single innocent knight left in the entire Empire.
Furthermore, the penalty itself was excessively severe. An outright discharge.
It wasn't that the Imperial Guard had never forcibly expelled members before.
However, those who had received dishonorable discharges in the past were invariably monsters who had crossed every line of decency.
Men who slaughtered prisoners of war for sport, raped female knights, or committed outright mutiny during active operations. And by mutiny, I didn't mean grabbing a superior by the collar during a drunken scuffle.
Of course, an internal dismissal from the knight order was not finalized immediately. An officer had the right to file an appeal within seven days, granting them an opportunity to defend themselves before a formal hearing. After all, the Imperial Guard was an elite military asset, and tossing away high-tier talent on a whim wasn't a matter taken lightly.
‘They expect me to break within those seven days and come crawling back.’
The delusion that I would still want to remain in this order after they had dragged me through the mud was almost comical.
Granted, a dishonorable discharge from the Imperial Guard meant the end of one's career as a knight. The Commander of the Imperial Guard answered to no one save the Emperor himself, and no noble possessed the audacity to hire a swordsman personally branded and cast aside by Rufus Wainwright.
Yet I felt not the slightest shred of anxiety.
‘Good riddance. In fact, this is infinitely better than some lukewarm probation or demotion.’
Now it was time to put my wits to work to secure my own future. Quickening my pace, I walked out of the barracks—only to bump into familiar faces on my way.
“Well, well, Eric. Why did you have to go bullying harmless commoners in the first place?”
It was Celine. Standing beside her was junior knight Katie, whose eyes darted anxiously between Celine and me.
Without sparing Celine so much as a glance, I looked straight at Katie. She was a young female knight who resembled a little baby bear.
“Katie, you don’t need to treat me with formalities anymore. I’m just a commoner now, not a knight.”
“...Senior Eric.”
“Don’t look so distressed. It’s entirely my own fault for conducting myself so poorly. The one who urged the order to discipline me was actually my fiancée’s father. How careless must I have been to get stabbed in the back by my own future father-in-law?”
As I delivered this nonchalant confession, Katie fidgeted with increasing discomfort, while Celine cocked her head before letting out a smirk.
“Quick to accept it, aren’t we, Eric? I suppose even you realized how badly you messed up.”
Ignoring whatever drivel came out of Celine’s mouth, I kept my eyes fixed solely on Katie. Seeing the hesitation in her eyes told me that not every member of the order was foaming at the mouth to tear me apart. That was a useful piece of information.
“Oh, and if the seniors ever order you to shovel horse manure into my locker, just do it. If you refuse, they’ll only turn on you next. I’ll be gone in a few days anyway, so what do I care about petty hazing?”
“Senior, please, stop...”
“Don’t worry about it. Unlike me, you’re an aristocrat.”
“...Hey, Eric.”
Realizing she was being blatantly treated as invisible, Celine growled under her breath, but I turned my back and walked away without giving her a second thought.
I handled the other knights I ran into along the way in much the same manner.
One senior knight took one look at me and smirked, dripping with sarcastic amusement. It was Ramsey, a knight with hair like limp seaweed.
“Eric, don’t push yourself so hard trying to act tough.”
“Did you say I’m ‘acting,’ Sir Ramsey?”
“Of course you are. In my ten years with the Guard, I’ve never seen anyone handed an outright discharge. It must tear you apart inside. I understand, Eric. Truly, I do.”
He patted my shoulder with an air of theatrical sympathy. No doubt he thought I was putting on a brave face just to hide my wounded pride.
A dishonorable discharge was, in truth, a mortifying humiliation.
To a knight whose lifelong pride rested entirely on being part of the Imperial Guard, it wouldn't be surprising if such an expulsion drove them to suicidal despair. Others might have shut themselves away, weeping tears of blood over the stain left upon their family's name.
Yet such agony required one prerequisite: affection and pride in the order.
Fortunately, I harbored no such foolish sentiments.
“Thank you for your heartfelt condolences, my Lord Baron. Should our paths cross in the future, I shall be sure to greet you with the proper noble etiquette.”
“...What?”
“Ah, my apologies. You don’t have succession rights to the barony, do you? Still, a noble is a noble.”
It was just a light verbal jab, but Ramsey glared at me as if ready to murder me on the spot, muttering under his breath, “You son of a bitch...”
Watching him seethe, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for the Empire’s children, diligently swinging wooden swords in the hope of one day joining the Imperial Guard.
In any case, now that things had escalated to this point, I needed to prepare for life after my departure. And the first step was liquidating all 108 of my Kodana coins as quickly as possible.
‘We’re barely at the solar plexus! We have to sell near the crown of the head!’
My friend Bingo had insisted that Kodana was still far from its peak, babbling about holding out until it reached the crown of the head. But I couldn't afford to wait that long.
‘I need to sell and convert them to cash as soon as possible. Only by diversifying my assets will I have any chance of protecting them.’
And that opportunity arrived far sooner than expected.
Two days later, news broke via the Imperial Capital Gazette that the Hero had crushed the army of yet another of the Four Heavenly Kings.
Riding this monumental wave of euphoria, Kodana went into a speculative frenzy, skyrocketing to a staggering 380 million liras per coin.
At this rate, we weren't at the solar plexus anymore—we were right at the nipples.
And the nipples were more than high enough to cash out.