When Lady Granor awoke, her wayward son was by her side. Tears streamed down her face. "Do you realize you’ve lost your father?"

François was in disbelief. "No, how could that be... After the conference, Master Kano didn’t give Father any trouble. We left together... Do you know who that mysterious passenger was?"

"I don’t! But I know what cruelty and savagery are! You naive child... It’s true, Leonel isn’t that kind of person. But do you have any idea what your father was involved in? How many villains were behind him, waiting to tear him limb from limb?"

"Father is a Great Mage, he’ll be fine..." But the young man was already recalling his father’s final words. He began to feel regret. ’Why did I get out of the carriage? Why didn’t I realize he was in danger?’

"Enough, François Granor. You’re a grown man now, and your family is in its most perilous hour. At dawn tomorrow, as soon as the city gates open, your sister and I will retreat to the countryside for safety. You will go to the Royal Palace. Find His Majesty the King, find Lord Nekker. Tell them what has happened and get them to promise you can inherit the title as soon as possible..."

However, Nekker likely had no time to spare for his former ally.

At this moment in his office, all his secretaries were clutching documents, each with extremely urgent matters to report and handle. But they all held their breath and kept their heads down, because their superior was in a thundering rage.

"Valon! Valon! You ungrateful cur! Even a wolf cub from the Barbarian Race knows more gratitude than him! He’s no nobleman, he’s a bastard... a goddamn insatiable bastard!" Still fuming, Nekker walked behind his desk and drew the ceremonial sword gifted to him by His Majesty the King, which hung on the wall.

With a SHIIING, the sharp sword was unsheathed. The Minister of Finance was no martial artist; he simply poured all his strength and fury into a single strike, cleaving a newspaper in two as if it were Valon himself.

The newspaper’s front-page headline blared: "The Paper Gold Scam—An Exclusive Exposé on the Inner Workings of the Shaleanna Mining Company." With every glance at words like "source," "youngest general manager," "fraud," and "currency credit," Nekker’s fury burned hotter.

"Mage! Swindler! Useless piece of trash..."

The first newspaper to break the story was now shredded beyond recognition, but more were still being delivered. The Magic Guild’s building had indeed only been sealed for an hour before the news began to spread like wildfire.

Fortunately, this all happened in the evening after the stock market had already closed.

Unfortunately, the story had fermented overnight. Lengthy reports were rushed to print, and well-informed traders and Guild-affiliated trading companies fled at the first sign of trouble. The employees of the Mining Company and the exchange could only wait anxiously for their general manager, Valon, to appear, while helplessly watching the capital hemorrhage.

Twenty-three minutes after the market opened, the exchange was shut down. Guards from the Royal Palace appeared at the main entrance, attempting to disperse the frantic crowd.

"Sir..."

"Read it!" Exhausted and having regained some composure, Nekker was ready to hear more bad news.

"After the grain market opened today, prices surged by more than seventy percent. The price of gold rose by over ninety percent. Thirteen grain merchants have suspended their deliveries to Valuva..."

"Arrest every last one who defaulted on their contracts! Throw those animals in the cells of the Bastille Fortress to sober them up! Seize the grain and deliver it to the bakeries in the Royal Capital! I want to see smoke rising from every single bakery as usual!"

"Sir, Duke Melovinca is in a standoff with the Guards outside the exchange. He has many merchants and nobles with him..."

"Tell him to come to the Royal Palace alone. Alone!"

"Sir..."

"Can’t you people come up with a preliminary plan before bringing it to me for a decision? Where are your brains? Am I the only one in this office whose head is still working?"

"Sir, His Majesty requests your presence in his study."

The office fell silent.

Haaa... fff... Haaa... fff...

After composing himself, Nekker forced the same confident smile he always wore and stepped into the room, filled with the soft ticking of a clock.

The King and the Prime Minister were both present. Charles XVI had gotten a bit rounder—God bless the Holy Kingdom, His Majesty had not inherited his grandfather’s weak stomach. "Lord Nekker, I hear there’s been some trouble at the exchange and the banks today?"

Nekker bowed to his employer. "Your Majesty, I will handle it."

"I have faith in you, Lord Nekker! Everyone praises you as the ’Royal Alchemist,’ after all!"

The comment nearly made the poor Minister of Finance choke on his own rage. When he looked up, even the stern Red-robed Prime Minister seemed to have a hint of subtle mockery in his eyes.

"Lord Nekker, we have also summoned you to discuss the matter of that conference. Since both you and Count Dipresy insisted on holding it, We have agreed. Now, the two of you should present a plan."

Dipresy presented a document he had prepared to His Majesty, then handed a copy to Nekker. "His Majesty still seems to have doubts about the necessity of fiscal reform. Minister, please be candid with His Majesty and explain the Kingdom’s current situation."

Nekker ground his teeth. "Your Majesty, we are now facing a new crisis. Speculative merchants are reaping profits in the financial markets that exceed all reason and morality, yet the losses they cause must be shouldered by us—by you, Your Majesty. They are destroying the credibility of our currency, destroying the very foundation of the Kingdom."

"We will not allow such a thing to happen in the Holy Kingdom!"

"Yes, yes, and they have even incited your cousin, Duke Melovinca, to lead the charge, demanding that we make concessions. The Duke will be at the Royal Palace shortly. I implore you to cooperate with me in helping your noble cousin see the error of his ways..."

Dipresy watched Nekker’s performance with a cold detachment. He knew the Minister of Finance no longer had the capacity to interfere with the Noble Conference. When the time came, it would be the Red-robed Prime Minister’s stage to command—if all went according to plan.

"Melovinca! My cousin is an ambitious man. He wants my throne more than any Prince. Lord Nekker, let him come. We will deal with him together."

Charles XVI thought for a moment, then added a very important point. "But the meeting cannot take too long. I promised the Queen I would go see the swans gifted by the Istani Royal Family before lunch. I do hope they’re still in good spirits after the sea journey..."

"As you wish, Your Majesty," Nekker said, but in his heart, he felt a profound sense of despair.

The same news didn’t just reach the Royal Palace (and perhaps even Charles the Sixteenth’s brain); it spread to every corner of the continent with a Magic Guild communication node.

Meanwhile, the Nixingen uncle and nephew were in the capital of the autonomous region, supervising their company’s men as they took inventory of newly delivered equipment.

"Uncle! Look at this news from Valuva!" Antoine waved a coded message. Although they had lost their preferential tax rates in the autonomous region, as a Major Trading Company affiliated with the Guild, Hercules could still use the Magic Guild’s information network.

Pierre opened the letter, and his heart nearly skipped a beat. He read it again and again, finally murmuring, "He was right! The Rorschach Mage was right. The Mining Company is finished, the stock market is finished, the Kingdom’s Paper Currency is finished!"

...

In a temporarily vacated bedroom in the dormitory area of the Tower of Stars.

No matter how fiercely the storm rages, its eye is always calm. Valon—the protagonist of the newspapers, the man at the center of it all, the one Nekker was mentally dismembering and skinning alive—was currently lying on a bed.

"What are your plans for the future?" Rorschach asked, walking in with a stack of newspapers. This was the only safe place now. Valon had been brought into the Tower of Stars with his senses blocked, and was now under house arrest in an empty dorm room.

Valon sat up, took the newspapers, glanced at the headlines, and tossed them aside. "Go to another country, find a mountain sanatorium, and wait to die while breathing in the fresh air."

"In many people’s eyes, you can’t be allowed to die so easily." Rorschach took out a ’jar’ from the Tower of Forest. Inside the glass container was a slowly writhing mass of white slime, with mycelia clinging to the inner walls. "Let this enter your lungs and replace a part of them. It will cure you of your consumption and make you like a normal person."

Valon warily picked up the living mass. "If I let this become my parasite, does that mean I’ll be completely in your hands?"

"Symbiosis," Rorschach corrected him. "Whether you accept it or not, you’re already in our hands."