Chapter 96#
Chaise a la ReineChapter 96#
The Marquis of La Baille turned his gaze to the Emperor, who sat at the head of the table, the only one resting against a chair with a back, watching over the officials’ meeting. The Emperor, though attentive to the gathering of opinions, offered none of his own. The golden eyes of the imperial house lowered slightly as he sat in silence, as though lost in thought.
However, in this ‘Chamber of Eustace’, there was no one unaware of his formidable presence. The officials, tense as hounds watching their master who might tug the leash at any moment, quietly observed the Emperor’s expression.
Compared to the past, the difference was staggering. The Marquis, who clearly remembered the day twenty years prior when a ten-year-old boy ascended the throne, found the scene before him newly striking.
There are memories that do not fade, even as everything slips away like sand through fingers. Some remain vivid, like names carved in stone, and disturb the mind long after.
The Emperor was still a man of striking appearance, but in childhood, he had been an unearthly beauty. His golden hair shimmered like threads spun from sunlight, and his features, as delicate as porcelain, were always met with admiration.
Even seated upon the throne, the child had seemed more like a finely crafted doll than a sovereign. And yet, in hindsight, that too had been no flaw. Had it not been that very air of harmlessness that bought him the time he needed to grow?
His political foes, beguiled by the lovely exterior, had long failed to perceive the forging of a strong and merciless ruler within.
Had even one of them ever raised a child, perhaps they would have seen through it sooner.
But most nobles never personally raised their own children. The only one who had ever felt even a vague sense of dissonance in the presence of the ever-perfect boy was the Marquis of La Baille himself, whose eccentricity in personally raising his young son was well-known in high society.
“The market turmoil following the elimination of the national bonds is certainly a concern, but the greater issue is how to secure funds for the reconstruction of the East, which we presently lack the means to do.”
“None of the issues raised are easy to resolve. What do you think should be done?”
“-Considering all circumstances, perhaps it would be best to defer the repayment deadlines on the bonds.”
“That may be the simplest option available….”
After a lengthy discussion, a conclusion finally emerged, one that, save for Marshal Basin, most had likely anticipated from the start. At last, as the true subject was broached and all eyes turned toward him in silent unison, the Emperor, who had said nothing until now, cast a dry glance toward Count Pharamond.
“If we were to mint 1.5 million dinars in gold coinage immediately, what would the total cost be?”
Count Pharamond, startled by the sudden question, hesitated before answering.
“Pardon? Does Your Majesty mean the total cost? To begin with, we would require gold equivalent to 1.5 million dinars. Excluding that, the minting process alone would cost no less than one hundred thousand dinars.”
“l See.”
“But, Your Majesty, that is an exceedingjy reckjess course. A sudden withdrawaj of such a vast amount of gojd woujd depjete the empire’s reserves and destabijize our economy, which is based on the gojd standard. However, the greater probjem jies ejsewhere. A dramatic increase in the money suppjy woujd cause the currency’s vajue to pjummet. Have you forgotten the ‘Dajbernier Disaster’?”
Currency is not something one can simpjy print at wijj. One need onjy jook to the reign of Ebroin V’s predecessor, Armand jV. jn a frantic attempt to revive the economy after defeat, he opened the royaj treasury and minted a massive vojume of gojd coins.
But contrary to his intent, the overabundance of dinars in circulation caused their value to nosedive, and prices soared in response. It was the common citizens who bore the full brunt of the failed policy.
The years of economic stagnation that followed dealt a heavy blow to Armand IV’s rule. The magnates later named the incident the “Dalbernier Disaster,” after Marquis Dalbernier, the finance minister who had drafted the policy at the time. It became the only blemish on Armand IV’s otherwise unremarkable reign.
In cleaning up after that disaster, the imperial finances were nearly driven to bankruptcy. It was then that the Crown, struck with urgency, began to separate royal assets from state finances. The Treasury, once under the Ministry of Finance, became an independent institution as a result… Surely, a ruler as thorough as His Majesty has not forgotten all this?
It seemed unlikely he had.
“What is the difference between what you just proposed and Our proposal?”
“Pardon?”
“You speak of integrating the existing bonds into the currency system and deferring repayment. And yet the outcome you foresee is no different from what We just described. Is it not merely a matter of whether the turmoil arrives swiftly or slowly? Even the cost of minting new coins is a trifling sum compared to the annual interest we must pay.”
Though the Emperor’s point was not entirely false, it felt somewhat unfair to have it reduced to that. At least, that was how the Duke of Chirac saw it. Even if the same amount of rain falls, a monsoon is far harder to endure than a downpour.
Their proposed policy was partly motivated by personal gain, but ultimately, it was meant to buy time. There is no such thing as a perfect policy. Even with long-term risks, what choice was there when the coffers were empty? This plan, at the very least, would put out the immediate fire.
But such justifications held no sway over the Emperor. Having learned statecraft at the knees of the Empress Mother since he was barely able to walk, he saw right through such polished excuses.
“Ordinary bonds bear three percent interest, and even war bonds go no higher than five. Only the Landrienne bonds guarantee a third of their value at a monthly interest rate of one percent. When We promised such excessive terms during the war, it was not only to secure funds, but to stir public confidence and stave off economic collapse throughout the conflict. And now the war is over.”
Ebroin V looked down on the faces of the officials and asked carefully.
“Do you think We are the sort to cling to a thing that has outlived its purpose?”
The quiet question sent a chill through the chamber, both in meaning and in tone. If he had scolded them openly or shown overt irritation, it might have been easier to bear. But his voice remained even, his gaze cold as autumn frost.
“Let this be your warning. Enough.”
It was a reprimand no one could afford to ignore. The Duke of Chirac’s face paled slightly. The Marquis of La Baille watched the scene unfold, clicking his tongue inwardly. The wily old fox had finally miscalculated. He had always known where to insert himself for gain, yet somehow he’d failed to watch where he stepped this time.
The Marquis, with his own means of gathering information, had already guessed at the forces behind the Duke of Chirac’s recent maneuvering.
It was not widely known, but in the early days of the national bond issuance, the Ministry of Finance had discreetly purchased a portion of the war bonds to bolster sluggish sales. It had not been done for investment purposes, but regardless, the amount was considerable, and the resulting profit would flow directly into the Emperor’s personal coffers.
There was no way the Duke of Chirac would have missed such a profitable tip. No doubt he had judged that it was a matter on which compromise would come easily, after all, it would allow His Majesty to increase his wealth with little effort, and he had proceeded accordingly.
In the Estina Empire, it was practically customary for officials to exploit the affairs of state for personal gain. Receiving bribes under the table was commonplace; many engaged in private investments or political dealings using classified information obtained through official duties, so many, in fact, that it was difficult to root them out one by one.
This deplorable practice had become entrenched because the official stipends granted in service to the court were hardly sufficient to maintain the dignity expected of the nobility. Emperor Ebroin V, aware of this reality, often turned a blind eye to a certain extent.
Perhaps their senses had grown dulled from indulging in such corruption for so long. But even with that consideration, this time, they had clearly crossed a line. That high-ranking officials, no less than the Chancellor himself and senior finance officials, would lay hands on the national treasury for personal enrichment was a disgrace by any measure. Should this ever come to light, there would be no avoiding a grave scandal for all involved.
While the Marquis of La Baille was alone in his thoughts, the atmosphere in the office grew ever colder, nearing the freezing point. The finance officials and the Duke of Chirac, who had assumed they shared a mutual understanding, now looked visibly stricken in the face of the Emperor’s reaction, far more severe than they had anticipated. The Emperor gave a cold, derisive snort and turned his gaze away from them.
No further questioning followed, but no one believed this to be the end of the matter. The senior officials who had served under Ebroin V for years knew full well that the Emperor would not forget what had transpired today.
“What is the next item on the agenda?”
The Emperor posed the question, unmoved by the stiffened air in the room. Count Pharamond resumed the meeting at his prompt.
In a somewhat faltering voice, the Count reported on two matters: a supplementary budget proposal for the renovation of the Alpens Road connecting the capital to the eastern provinces, and recent speculative trends in the stock market regarding the increasingly in-demand timber from the southern mountains. The Emperor listened to both reports with calm composure.
The meeting proceeded smoothly, as if the earlier incident had been entirely forgotten. In truth, there was little other choice. Even under ordinary circumstances, defying the Emperor’s will was no simple task, and today, the atmosphere made it near impossible to voice dissent.
The initiative had shifted entirely into the Emperor’s hands. Since the Duke of Chirac, the Chancellor himself, had been reduced to mute silence, there was no chance that lesser officials would dare to speak up. They kept their heads down, watching the Emperor’s The oppressive air began to lift, if only slightly, only as the final matters were addressed and the meeting neared its conclusion. By then, the ministers’ nerves, stretched taut throughout the session, had relaxed a little.
Having incurred the Emperor’s wrath, it still felt as though a finely honed blade hovered just above their necks, but fortunately, there had been an unspoken signal that, for now, they would be let off the hook. If the meeting ended without further issue, they would at least have weathered the immediate storm, and it was no surprise that some measure of relief began to stir.
But that naive hope was thoroughly shattered the moment Count Laforet, the second treasurer of the Imperial Treasury, who had remained silent throughout the meeting, presented the final item.
“Is that the last of it?”
“No, Your Majesty. There is one more. The Imperial Treasurer, Count Laforet, has a report for Your Majesty.”
Though he had completed the items he had prepared, Count Pharamond had been informed in advance of this report and thus spoke accordingly.
“Count Laforet?”
Ebroin V turned toward him and gave a brief nod of assent. As he was granted the imperial permission, the Count drew a thick volume bound in maroquin leather from his coat, held it reverently in both hands, and approached the Emperor on bended knee.
“What is this?”
“The record of meritorious service, as Your Majesty commanded.”
For the first time that day, a faint smile touched the Emperor’s lips. He took the volume from the Count without hesitation and began to flip through it.
“Ah, so it is finally complete? You have done well in such a short time.”
Count Pharamond, who had taken Laforet’s request lightly, nearly leapt out of his seat in astonishment at the sight. The Duke of Chirac, who had mimed silence through the entire meeting, looked no less stunned.
“Count Laforet, what are you saying? A record of meritorious service? Did you say you compiled it yourself?”
Count Pharamond stammered, aghast, his tone laced with clear reproach.
“It is as you have heard, Count.”
“You dared to take that task upon yourself? You are not even part of the Ministry of Finance.”
By all rights, the compilation of the record of meritorious service belonged to the military. Based on that record, the scale of rewards would be determined, and the budget executed by the Ministry of Finance. Given the massive sums involved and the entanglement of numerous other interests, the matter drew the keen attention of not only the Emperor but many senior officials as well. That such a critical duty had been undertaken, indeed usurped by an official of the Imperial Treasury, who had neither connection to the task nor jurisdiction over it, was beyond outrageous in Count Pharamond’s eyes.