Chapter 1855 - 512: All Can Hear the Oracle, Even the "One Who Lost a Shoe

Roland City, the manor of the Devalu family.

To celebrate the completion of renovations on the three-hundred-year-old Royal Manor located in the suburbs, a grand ball is underway, one worthy of being recorded in the annals of court history.

Huge crystal chandeliers hang like inverted glaciers, reflecting dazzling lights that illuminate the entire hall as if it were daylight. Countless nobles in splendid attire dance gracefully in the ballroom, their swirling skirts like blooming tulips.

The court orchestra is playing ancient and melodious tunes, hymns that praise the glory of the Devalu family. The soothing melody drowns out the occasional cold wind outside the windows and masks the heavy sighs of this ancient kingdom.

King Theodore Devalu sits atop a platform draped in dark red velvet, his aged fingers lightly tapping the armrest in time with the music.

Although the burdens of foreign and domestic affairs have hastened his aging, the prosperous scene before him brings a hint of intoxication and satisfaction to his wrinkled face, providing solace to his troubled heart.

Such is the kingdom under his rule, like a Knight in his prime, visibly growing stronger…

Theodore has no doubt that all of this is due to his wisdom, having kept those who corrode the kingdom at bay.

However—

The "corroders" do not see it that way.

In the shadows at the edge of the ballroom, Sir Hanock, the kingdom's Finance Director, struggles through the bustling crowd, having no time to admire the prosperity within the ballroom.

His face is as pale as a freshly whitewashed wall, and despite repeatedly mopping his forehead with a handkerchief, cold sweat continues to gather.

In his haste, he nearly collides with a Baroness holding a glass of Champagne but doesn't have time to apologize, heading straight for the Minister of Economy who is sipping wine in a corner.

Baron Wickton Westley is swaying the glass in his hand, admiring the amber liquid clinging to the glass walls, pondering the next step in his career.

Seeing the sky-falling demeanor of Sir Hanock, his brow furrowed slightly.

"…Mind your demeanor, Sir Hanock, this is the Royal Manor. Our Majesty is in high spirits, no matter how urgent your news, do not forget elegance."

Although he had already guessed the purpose of the knight's visit, he still scolded to prevent him from indiscriminately speaking aloud about all matters.

"I am sorry, my lord, but the news I bring is likely more severe than merely dampening His Majesty's spirits…"

Seeing the minister's tightly knit brow, Hanock remembered some etiquette, leaned towards Wickton's ear, and whispered with a trembling voice only audible to the two.

"...After settling accounts for this month, there are only eighty thousand Gold Coins left on the treasury's books."

Baron Wickton's hand holding the glass trembled involuntarily, a few drops of expensive wine spilling onto his immaculately pressed cuff.

"How much did you say?"

He fixed his eyes on Hanock, trying to discern any hint of jest in his face but only found a bitter smile.

"Eighty thousand, sir... I can assure you, the accountants under me didn't miscalculate."

Looking at the dead-serious Sir Hanock, Wickton took a deep breath, attempting to draw some coolness from the restless air.

Eighty thousand Gold Coins!

This sum is undoubtedly a fortune for a typical wealthy merchant, enough to smooth the path to the Royal Palace and gain an audience with the king—

And enough for ten times!

However, for a vast kingdom, this amount isn't even enough to maintain the Ryan Royal Capital's expenses for a quarter!

"What about silver coins?" Wickton asked, holding on to one last hope, "Including the stockpile of silver coins and unrefined silver ingots, how much can we amass?"

Hanock shook his head in despair, shattering the minister's final illusion.

"Those are included... my lord, the figure I just reported already accounts for all liquid assets. Moreover, silver coins constitute a full seventy percent of that eighty-thousand-Gold-Coin estimate."

Wickton's pupils contracted slightly.

Ryan Kingdom holds minting rights only for silver coins, while Gold Coins can only be acquired through trade with the Imperial, equating to foreign exchange income, and also serving as a store of value.

That silver coins comprise seventy percent of the treasury is not a good sign.

While the Imperial saps the vassal state through Gold Coins, the vassal state, in turn, "leeches" the Imperial through "duty-free, extensive markets," forming a mutual symbiotic relationship.

Now that the reserve of Gold Coins is nearly depleted and silver coins are massively flowing to the neighboring countries, it undoubtedly exacerbates the kingdom's economic woes.

Adding the silver coin's devaluation against Gold Coins and appreciation against copper coins, the "short-term sweetness" is morphing into a shared bitter fruit for both commoners and nobles.

"What about the Coinage Bureau?" Wickton's tone turned stern, "Can they think of something?"

"...My lord, our Coinage Bureau has never slacked off. They are working diligently to find a solution, but it's akin to trying to extract olive oil from stones, to brew wine from water," Hanock stated bitterly, "Unless we suddenly discover a rich silver mine in the backyard, there's nothing more the Coinage Bureau can do to resolve the current predicament."

He paused, swallowing hard.

"Unless we further reduce the silver coins' purity, but this requires the King's approval. Moreover... I'm afraid further reduction would lose its appeal, as silver coins themselves are depreciating against Gold Coins, and the nobles are clutching their Gold tightly. This is absolutely not the right time to reduce the silver coin's purity."