Kano immediately understood what Rorschach meant. After a moment’s thought, he shook his head. "No, that won’t work. There’s no need for us to clean up this mess." In the commercially developed southern part of the continent, some Magic Towers also issued their own metal currency. Because of their advanced craftsmanship and low content of other metals, they were widely popular among the coastal city-states.

But things were different now. Valois had entered the age of paper money, and in Kano’s mind, whoever issued the currency had to be responsible for its credit. As it stood, there was no credit! The Gold Lang was originally exchanged one-to-one with Gold Coins, but its value had already dropped to one and two-thirds Langs to one coin—and that was without a large-scale bank run.

"That’s why I said the Magic Guild can’t do this alone. Even if we issued a currency, it wouldn’t be accepted. But I imagine His Majesty the King isn’t just asking us Casters and the merchant guilds for money, is he? What about those filthy rich Priests, or the Nobility who live in nightly revelry..."

If they roped in the other factions to strip Charles XVI of his personal money printer, it would effectively make the right to issue currency independent of the Royal Family, subject to the checks and balances of all parties involved.

"It’s not that we’d kick His Majesty the King out entirely. Instead, drawing on an idea I saw in Bayern, perhaps each faction could establish or hold a controlling stake in a bank—including the Royal Bank—and then these banks could form a Guild with a monopoly on issuing currency..."

’This is just an idea,’ Rorschach thought. He didn’t understand economics or finance, but he believed that if he just floated the rough outline of this idea and Kano adopted it, Kano would then promote it among other influential figures in his social circles, and true industry experts would then perfect the plan.

And thus, a world where only His Majesty the King got hurt was achieved.

"But I’m afraid there won’t be an opportunity to gather all the factions to compromise and draw up a pact..." Rorschach already had a vague idea of what was giving Kano a headache, so he deliberately prodded him.

Sure enough, Master Kano gave a wry smile. "Actually, such an opportunity is about to present itself... I’ve already received a notice. I will be representing the Tower of Stars and the Tower of Primordial Earth at the ’Noble Conference’."

"Even a Tower Spirit could guess that His Majesty the King intends to hold his ’noble’ head high and beg from people like us, while Dipresy and Nekker flank him and do a little barking on his behalf first."

However, Kano didn’t elaborate on why one Master could represent two towers, nor did he explain the specifics of the Noble Conference to the Empire’s "idea man," so Rorschach couldn’t press him further.

"Well then, Teacher, I’ll take my leave."

Kano nodded. Just as Rorschach was about to leave, he added, "Don’t neglect your magical studies. You must be clear on the very foundation of our power as Casters."

"Yes."

Rorschach agreed, but just like Kano, he was swamped with his own worldly affairs. After dealing with the informal verbal inquiry, Rorschach didn’t bother with any follow-up; he was in a hurry to make a trip to "Hercules."

For some reason, every industry in the Kingdom had entered a recession, and people were once again forced to remember how to live by tightening their belts. Mr. Pierre couldn’t remain immune; the output from his main beverage factory was gradually declining.

The "Fanta" operation in Bayern was already profitable and could funnel some cash back, but no kingdom would idly watch a large outflow of precious metals, so the relief it could provide to the headquarters was limited.

The solution Rorschach offered was simple: move out of Valuva!

"Move out?! That means investing in a new factory..." Pierre had thought the Mage would offer some grand insight, not give him an even bigger headache.

"Hear me out," Rorschach said, placating the dark-circled merchant. "We’ve already raised plenty of cash from the stock market. Going against the current now is how we expand our market share at a lower cost."

This was a classic counter-cyclical expansion. "Besides, you should remember what I told you..."

"You mean..." Mr. Pierre recalled the information Rorschach had shared back when they were developing canned goods. A thunderstorm of war was about to sweep down from the north. As a merchant, he not only had to know how to get out of the rain, but also how to sell umbrellas.

"His Majesty our King will soon be forced to convene a major assembly. The Royal Capital is sure to see unrest. We should move to the northwest corner of the Kingdom, to a region governed by an autonomous Third Level Estate Assembly. It also needs to be near a seaport and waterways so we can easily ship our products out... We need to temporarily shift our focus away from this powder keg."

"But the tax rates are higher in those regions," Pierre said, starting to seriously consider the proposal. "And the Magic Guild might not be able to offer its full protection there." After all, each tower’s sphere of influence was limited, and he was only affiliated with the Tower of Stars.

"Why not rely on yourselves? Mr. Pierre, with the scale of your business, you—or your nephew Antoine—should be able to get a seat in the assembly hall. Spend a little money, don a respectable robe, and become the honorable mayor of whatever small city you’re in..."

Rorschach was like a devil whispering in his ear, stoking Pierre Nixingen’s desire to reach a new peak in his life.

The hardworking merchant was moved. He, too, wanted a taste of life at the top. He was tired of constantly bowing with a wine glass in hand, calling others "My Lord." Why couldn’t he or his nephew be the one standing tall for a change?

"Alright, Mage Rorschach. You are always right. I trust you."

Rorschach also brought up the matter of rebuilding the High Master’s academy, but Pierre politely declined. He pointed out that even if they rebuilt it, couldn’t the court or the Elder Council just step in and shut it down again?

’The answer is yes, of course,’ Rorschach knew. ’That’s just how these people are. They don’t necessarily permit others to do what they can do themselves, and they absolutely forbid others from doing what they won’t. If the academy ended up being run even better than before, wouldn’t that be a slap in the face to the Royal Family and the Elder Council?’

He couldn’t make things difficult for Pierre. Besides, the beverage factory operated day and night and couldn’t provide a venue. The only thing Pierre agreed to was to help raise funds from other business owners.

...

Rorschach left the beverage factory feeling a bit down. It was late, so he bought a loaf of bread from a street vendor and chewed on it as he walked. He made his way to a familiar neighborhood and, going by memory, found the "school" at the textile factory.

A steam whistle blared. Women with faces flushed from the factory heat filed out in a line. They had finished their day’s work, clearing out the large workshop for the night school.

Rorschach waited at the entrance for a moment. Once all the workers had left, the departing crowd revealed two men holding stacks of paper, textbooks, and newspapers. Pascal and Andre were standing right in front of Rorschach.

"Teacher Rorschach!" Andre was clearly in much better spirits than when he used to work the night shift. Pascal, however, still looked lethargic.

Pascal noticed that Rorschach didn’t seem to have much energy either. He grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. "What’s up? Bad night’s sleep, or did the investigators wear you out? How about I treat you to a bottle of purple soda?"

Rorschach shook his head and explained Mr. Pierre’s concerns. It seemed the other business owners likely felt the same way and wouldn’t throw their money away by investing in the High Master’s academy again.

"We’ll find a way," Pascal said. "Don’t take it so hard. It’s not your fault or mine." Just as the words left his mouth, he and Rorschach both noticed a commotion on the street.

"COUGH... COUGH COUGH!" A gentleman and a beautiful lady had been strolling along the riverbank when the young man was suddenly seized by a coughing fit. Blood soaked through his handkerchief and stained his white gloves red.

"AH!" The lady shrieked, looking as if she might faint. Then she flew into a rage. "You diseased wretch! Get away from me!" She struck the poor young man on the head with her handbag, sending him collapsing to the ground, coughing up more blood.

The lady then took out an atomizer, sprayed herself liberally with perfume, and fled in the luxurious carriage that had been following them.

The sick young gentleman lay prone on the ground in the cold riverside wind as every passerby gave him a wide berth.

"This..." Rorschach cast an [Air Filter Bubble] on himself and Pascal, then took a few steps forward to check on the man. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢

Well, what do you know. It was an old acquaintance: Valon, the general manager of the Mining Company.

"Help... help me... COUGH COUGH!"