His Majesty the Golden King

His Majesty the Golden King—outside the Royal Palace, this might refer to the highest-denomination currency. Within the palace, however, it was equally fitting as a description of the ruler of the Holy Kingdom of Valois himself.

Charles XVI had inherited his family's build: short, fat, and lacking in majesty. Yet his court and his elaborate white-and-gold attire made it easy to see that he was the most illustrious man in the Holy Kingdom.

At the moment, he was chatting idly with the Captain of the Guard in his study while indulging in a private hobby: tinkering with clocks.

"Your Majesty." Their previous conversation had revolved around amusing incidents in Valuana. Seeing that King Charles was in a good mood, the Captain of the Guard hesitated before speaking again. "A fire broke out in the city center a few days ago."

Charles carefully set the uninstalled balance wheel onto a piece of velvet, his expression turning grave. "Captain, were any of my subjects killed or injured?"

"I don't know how to tell you this. Gods! It was Your Majesty's merchant guild—the Luowei Merchant Guild building. I am deeply sorry. This was a failure of my duty." If the Captain of the Guard's subordinates had been present, they would have been astonished: so their superior could look this grief-stricken after all.

"Why take this upon yourself? Isn't it the responsibility of the merchant guild itself and the guard corps? Just because their captain is an old friend of yours?"

"Your Majesty, you shame me by saying so!"

Charles found the Captain of the Guard's exaggerated performance a little dull. He used to enjoy seeing such overblown reactions from others. "All right, all right. Investigate the cause of the incident, tally the losses, and report them to me."

"His Eminence the Bishop requests an audience!" a guard announced from the hall.

"Let him in." "His Majesty grants an audience!"

Before the messenger had finished shouting, footsteps clicked across the marble floor. His Majesty silently gathered the clock and his little tools onto a tray and placed them in a desk drawer.

Here, "the Bishop" referred to one particular man, hated by the Captain of the Guard and most nobles: Duplessis. He entered with a cane, dragging his crippled right leg. Given his status and the divine favor he had received, it could have been healed, but for reasons unknown, he stubbornly kept his right leg impaired. That alone was enough to irritate everyone else.

"Your Majesty, preliminary estimates for this year show that grain production has fallen!" Though dressed in crimson clerical robes, he resembled a bird bearing ill tidings.

The Captain of the Guard composed his expression. "Your Majesty, I will certainly complete the task you assigned me." With that, he strode past the bishop without looking sideways and left the king's study.

Charles knew the bishop had more to say. Sure enough: "You should restrain those Tax Farmers of yours. Tell them to rein in their greedy teeth and fat lips, and leave His Majesty's subjects a way to survive."

"Lord Duplessis, our Tax Farmers are all carefully selected men of high virtue. Besides, the truly greedy ones are those fellows at the banks, and by the end of this year, I still have to pay them thirty-seven million gold coins."

"Your Majesty, I fear our tax revenue this year will be only eighty million gold coins. Nearly half of it going merely toward interest payments would be a disaster for the kingdom!"

"If I cannot fill those vultures' bellies with interest, they will stop lending me money! They will even threaten to demand repayment of the principal!" Perhaps farmers in the provinces could never imagine that the man of the wealthy Holy Kingdom was also the Holy Kingdom's greatest debtor, but this was an open secret among the nobles and bankers.

The cardinal spoke for a long while longer, and the conversation was far more unpleasant than the one with the Captain of the Guard. Before leaving, the bishop said anxiously, "Your Majesty, I have no authority to interfere in the kingdom's military affairs, but I must remind you that recent intelligence indicates the Empire's troop movements have become unusually frequent."

"I know, I know. May the God of Light and Order bless us!"

As the representative of the kingdom's most authoritative god, the archbishop gave no response. "Farewell."

The hall doors closed, leaving only the ticking of hundreds of clocks in the study. Large and small, they were all Charles's creations. Only the great clock that was the Holy Kingdom had resisted his repairs for more than twenty years, still unable to run smoothly or keep proper time.

Even during their break, they still had to show up at the research lab in the morning. Rorschach happened to ask the other two about clothing stores. There were certainly clothing stores on Pastoral Avenue, but the markup there was far too high for Rorschach's budget.

"Not going! I need to catch up on sleep." Pascal refused cleanly and firmly.

"Let me see." Paulina took the map Rorschach had gotten from the Mage Guild and marked it up. "I'll mark some shops for you. This one has good food. There are several clothing stores here, and their prices are decent. This merchant guild sells the alchemical medicines and other materials we need for experiments."

Rorschach saw that one street had been marked more densely than any other. "Dupont Street?"

"Dupont Street has lots of clothing shops, and they're much better value. The tailors there have noses as sharp as dogs'. As soon as the shops on Pastoral Avenue release a new style, you can find the exact same thing in a Dupont shop for less than a third of the price."

Is this the Huaqiangbei of ready-to-wear clothing? Rorschach thanked his senior sister.

"Come to think of it, I feel like I need some winter clothes too. Pascal, are you really not going?"

Pascal had already curled up in the leather chair nearest the fireplace, finding a comfortable position. "Not going!"

"What a pity." Paulina took Rorschach by the arm and shuffled toward the door step by step. As they walked, she said, "It's rare for Master Kano to agree to lend me his carriage. Only Junior Brother gets to enjoy such a benefit."

"Why didn't you tell me about something this unprecedented sooner?" Pascal sprang out of the leather chair as if his backside had been stabbed. "I suddenly don't feel sleepy anymore. Ah, it's really cold. Come on, come on, let's go buy clothes."

Rorschach was immediately released. Paulina grabbed Pascal instead and dragged him outside without another word, as though afraid he would change his mind.

Looking at the marked map, Rorschach thought, I could gather information about shops and make maps like this to sell at the city gates. People from the provinces would probably like them.

"Not just people from the provinces. Those idle Valuans would pay for them too." Pascal, still being dragged along, suddenly grew enthusiastic. He pulled out a small notebook and began writing while muttering to himself.

"We could also gather customer reviews and rate the shops. Once we build up a reputation, we can charge the shops to raise their scores. We can profit from both ends—"

Pascal had so much experience running an internet platform? Who was the transmigrator here? Speechless, Rorschach put away the map.

When they finally reached the research building's stable, the three discovered that their beloved Master Kano had lent them the carriage—but the coachman was on vacation too! None of them knew how to drive a carriage.

"Should we hire a carriage?" That had been Rorschach's original plan anyway, so nothing had changed.

"Hired carriages are getting harder and harder to find these days."

"I knew that old—Master Kano wouldn't let us get a bargain! Forget it." Pascal turned to head back inside, only to suddenly receive an icy glare. He shuddered.

"I'll think of something."

After a while, Pascal actually led a horse draped in thick woolen cloth out of the building. Snow followed behind him. "A masterpiece of the Alchemy Department! It only needs aether to power it. Tell it your destination, and it will take you there. Its intelligence is no less than a tower spirit's!"

Snow lovingly stroked the Alchemy Department's masterpiece. "Don't you dare bump or scratch this treasure. Tell me how it feels to use when you come back."