Chapter 1856 - 512: The Oracle Heard by All, Even the "Shoe-Loser" (2)

Wickton was silent.

Of course, he knew what Hanock was saying, and he also knew things that Hanock did not, such as where exactly the money had gone.

It wasn't the fire extinguishers; those cost little money, and they weren't paid for by the King but by the people's sweat and toil, and could even be considered revenue.

The real hitch in the Kingdom's stride was still Campbell Duchy's "Winter Moon Coup."

Although the King never admitted that the coup was related to him, anyone with eyes could see where Earl Derek's funds came from.

They weren't donated by the peasants, at least not the peasants of Campbell.

To support the nobles of the Campbell Duchy, Your Majesty had delivered massive supplies to the rebel army, but Edward not only survived, he quelled the rebellion with thunderous means, making this huge investment go down the drain without even a sound.

Another gap was the tax shortfall in the Twilight Province and the Lion Heart Knight Order struggling in that quagmire.

The cost of feeding and purchasing for thousands of heavily-armored cavalry was astronomical to begin with. Add to that the greedy local nobles and the roving Salvation Army obstructing the supply lines, the Knight Order was forced to purchase supplies locally at several times the usual price, with many supplies even being bought from Campbell merchants.

Those greedy local nobles, unscrupulous merchants, and unruly people were like bloodsucking horseflies clinging desperately to the Kingdom's unreachable ankles.

"...The Kingdom spends money every day, and Your Majesty's purse is like a leaking cask." Facing his silent superior, Hanock continued with a worried face, "The palace renovations, the Knight Order's salaries, and the endless banquets... We must open up new sources of income and cut expenses, or I'm afraid this money won't last long."

And then, there's the interest on the borrowed funds.

Any Royal Family would borrow money from the nobles and priests, and the interest on these loans took up a significant portion of the Ryan Kingdom's fiscal expenditure.

He always felt that they should have paid off some debt when the finances were relaxed instead of repairing the Royal estates and further increasing court expenses.

"Give me a number." Wickton spoke after a long silence. "At this rate, how long can we last?"

Hanock hesitated for a moment.

"I don't know... Maybe half a year? If there's any major action by the Lion Heart Knight Order over there, or if His Majesty whimsically builds another garden, that time would have to be halved."

Half a year.

Wickton felt a dizzy spell and almost couldn't hold the wine glass in his hand, having to place it on the long table beside him.

He could hardly imagine what they would do if they couldn't come up with money in six months.

Instinctively, he looked towards the high platform in the middle of the dance floor.

King Theo was smiling and toasting to the nobles in the dance floor, his face radiating a fatherly smile as if he were the guardian spirit of this prosperous land.

Was he supposed to go over there now and tell this old man, immersed in his dreams, that his Kingdom was bankrupt?

Wickton's eyes flickered with struggle.

The Westley Family, although not prominent, had a long history, and he had no doubt that he was a noble man, just like his noble ancestors.

Yet, at the same time, he was well aware that if he could not preserve himself, all his political ambitions would become empty talk.

If he poured cold water on the situation now, not only would the financial crisis remain unsolved, but his position as Minister of Economy might also reach its end.

"...I understand."

"Understand? My lord Baron, forgive my bluntness, understanding alone is not enough—"

"Keep your mouth shut, Hanock. Tonight is His Majesty's good night, don't let this stench of copper ruin the Royal Family's elegance."

Unceremoniously interrupting Sir Hanock's argument, the King's Minister wiped the wine stain on his sleeve and reached out to pat the Sir's shoulder.

"I'll report to His Majesty personally after the ball. As for now..."

Wickton looked towards the endlessly spinning dance floor, a hint of deep exhaustion flashing in his eyes.

"Let the music play on a little longer."

...

As the last carriage left the palace and disappeared at the end of the kerosene lamp, the noisy ball finally ended, and the manor once again fell into the tranquility of night.

In the King's study, the flames in the fireplace flickered like wild grass on the roadside, stubbornly licking at the already charred wood.

Theoden Devalu sat behind the wide walnut wood desk, his wrinkled eyelids drooping, as if he might fall asleep at any moment.

If it weren't for that annoying Baron Wickton disturbing him, saying there was an important matter to report, he might have already fallen asleep under the maid's care.

But now, he had to sit in the high-backed chair by the fireplace, draped in that expensive silk shirt, listening to this tedious fellow's ramblings.

Baron Wickton Westley stood before the desk, his hands trembling as he handed over the thin fiscal report.

What was written on the paper was even more shocking than what Hanock had narrated, and he only received the report after the ball had ended.

The king casually took the report, initially just glancing through it as if perusing an inconsequential menu.

However, as his gaze moved downward, his murky eyes gradually squinted, like an eagle awakening from a dream.

"Pa!"

The report was slammed across Wickton's face fiercely, the pages scattering all over the floor.

"Eighty thousand gold coins? This is your answer to me?"

Theoden suddenly rose from his chair, his face devoid of any sleepiness, his voice twisted and hoarse with anger, scaring Baron Wickton into silence.