I Resign From the Coin Mercenary Knights

After I announced my resignation, an icy silence hung in the commander’s office for a while.

“Eric…?”

Rufus Weinwright, the commander representing the Empire and revered by all knights.

This gentleman stared at me blankly, seeming unable to comprehend what I had said. Probably finding it unbelievable that there was someone willing to leave the Imperial Knights of their own accord, even after being severely disciplined just days ago.

‘Yeah, that’s him alright.’

Weinwright was a man intoxicated by the knightly order he commanded, hailing from an affluent prestigious family.

Since childhood, he had devoted himself obsessively to the sword, driven solely by his aspiration to become a knight – even possessing the talents befitting those lofty ambitions. In essence, he had led a life of boundless privilege.

Perhaps due to this, the commander tended to lack empathy for the worldly desires of individual members.

Why the members were neglecting their training, grinding their teeth at me over Codanas.

How demanding he relinquish dozens of Codanas for free was an excessive and violent imposition.

And why someone would willingly surrender the honor of being an Imperial Knight over “mere” money – these were things he couldn’t understand.

Even now, he simply gaped at me with a dumbfounded expression.

After fumbling for a while, he started voicing his own presumptions.

“Eric, do you perhaps feel the disciplinary action was unjust? It is true there was no precedent for such discipline. But consider the impact you’ve had on the order. The younger members are disregarding their training because of you, obsessing over Codana prices instead.”

Thankfully, the commander was reciting the very lines I had anticipated, making it easier to proceed according to my plan.

From here, what mattered most was my acting ability.

I pursed my lips as if too ashamed to meet the commander’s gaze, giving the sword issued by the knightly order a reluctant sidelong glance.

Finally, as if steeling my resolve, I began to speak.

“Commander. I admit it. While unintentional, I have undermined the order’s morale.”

“A misguided fool, you were…”

“At the time, I was unaware I was causing such a disturbance within the order. There were even moments when I felt the members wanted to rob me out of greed for material wealth. But now I understand that was not the case.”

“……”

At those words, the commander furrowed his brows while the glares from the members who had been ready to kill me began showing hints of bewilderment.

It was only natural they would be perplexed, after I had refuted their very intentions to forcibly seize my possessions.

Eventually, unable to contain herself any longer, Selina butted in with an indignant tone.

With her sun-kissed skin, lustrous golden locks, and voluptuous yet feminine physique taller than average, she had once been a comrade I admired for her looks and skills. But now, having descended into Codana madness and threatening me, she was nothing but an adversary.

However, this was not the time to show open hostility towards Selina. Instead, I gazed at her with a mournful smile.

“Selina, I understand now why you demanded the Codanas.”

“……”

“I’ll be honest, at first I thought it was unjust. There were times I thought you were persecuting a comrade who had struck it rich. …But now I realize you didn’t demand the Codanas for some perverse purpose. I apologize for the delay in understanding.”

“Of… course not. Just what did you take us for?”

Selina faltered, glancing towards the commander. Even she likely found it difficult to show her true face so brazenly before him.

“My apologies. But you must understand, my background differs from yours. …As you know, I’m a commoner. I grew up in squalor, a household teeming with rats and fleas, fighting with my siblings for scraps. Hard to believe, but there were times when we had to split a single potato four ways.”

“……”

“Growing up in an environment where days of starvation outnumbered days of meals naturally breeds a selfish disposition. It was only thanks to a retired knight living in my village recognizing my talents that I got the chance to escape poverty.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“Unlike you, I never had the opportunity to learn about knightly virtues and moral obligations from a young age. I studied them in writing at the academy, but never felt any resonance. My only thought was somehow becoming a knight and rising in status.”

“……”

As I painted this self-deprecating portrait of my supposed shameful upbringing, Selina and the other members began showing signs of impatience.

In contrast, Weinwright seemed absorbed in my story.

He likely thought something along the lines of “Ah, so I failed to consider Eric’s impoverished background differing from ours!” Or perhaps he was seriously pondering whether four people could realistically share a single potato.

Turning back to him, I continued:

“Commander, I truly did not realize the members intended to use my relinquished Codanas to fund relief efforts for refugees.”

“What…?”

“You were unaware? …Well, to be honest, I only learned of it myself last night. After I finished liquidating all my Codanas, a member approached me discreetly to let me know.”

Of course, no such member existed – I had hastily fabricated this fictional character while discussing with Bingo last night. Fortunately, Weinwright didn’t seem suspicious.

“What did this person tell you…?”

“The members wanted to use the funds to aid refugees displaced by the war against the Demon King’s forces. Especially those refugees in the Imperial City itself, subsisting in utterly destitute conditions.”

“Is this true?”

“Why would I lie when tendering my resignation? It is the truth. Of course, not all members may have been on board.”

It was a blatant falsehood, naturally.

Relief efforts, my ass. The members simply wanted a piece of my Codana pie for themselves. Sure, to avoid sounding like outright plunderers, they might have cloaked it with pretexts like “for the collective ownership of the order” or “for the order’s sake,” but that was it.

Even Weinwright eyed the members doubtfully for a moment, as if still unable to believe my words.

“Is what Eric says true?”

“……”

“I asked if it is true.”

Pressed repeatedly by the commander, the members eventually acquiesced. Ramsey, who had previously cursed me as a bastard, even gave me an awkward smile.

For their increasingly sullen faces, I provided additional embellishing details.

“As the commander knows, there is a refugee settlement in the 18th district of the Imperial City.”

“It seems these friends intended to use the funds from liquidating the Codanas to aid in the rehabilitation of those refugees. Considering the circumstances surrounding the Codanas’ creation, it is a most fitting expenditure – a commemorative coin issued to ultimately defend against the Demon King’s forces and protect the people, is it not?”

“After learning of their noble intentions, I was too ashamed to even show my face. I wish I could erase my past where I treated my comrades like common thugs.”

In this way, I fabricated from whole cloth a non-existent relief effort, elevating the moral righteousness of the members.

The commander nodded repeatedly, utterly engrossed in my tale.

He even cast admiring glances towards the crestfallen members, seemingly gratified that they had acted not out of jealousy towards a comrade’s wealth, but to uphold the order’s honor. Though using someone else’s money for charity was hardly a normal notion either.

However, the commander did not remain captivated by my story indefinitely. At some point, he furrowed his brows and looked back at me.

“However… Eric?”

“Yes.”

“Now that the misunderstanding with the members has been cleared up, why resign? Can’t you reconcile with them and pool your efforts, using the order’s name to support that refugee community? With the Codanas liquidated, you’ve already secured ample funds, have you not?”

At those words, I let out a wry chuckle.

“I would like nothing more. But the disciplinary action has made that impossible.”

“What?”

“I have effectively received a death sentence as a knight through this severe disciplinary action. Nearly 20 years without a precedent for discharge, they say. If I were to then offer the order a vast sum of money after such punishment, what would people think?”

The commander suddenly fell into contemplation, letting out a long “uh…”

His initially perplexed expression gradually turned solemn.

He must have realized that if the very person he had unjustly punished just days ago suddenly donated billions, it would inevitably invite suspicion.

“…Hah. What a conundrum.”

“Though unintentional, I apologize. But if the members had revealed the truth to me a little sooner… No, it’s not right to blame them now. It must have been awkward to propose using someone else’s money for charity efforts.”

“Nor can I fault you. …It was simply a tragic series of compounded misunderstandings that led to this calamity.”

The commander let out a long, gloomy sigh, as if accepting some responsibility.

He seemed to regret acting too hastily in disciplining me, yet also acknowledged that attempting to reverse the disciplinary action now would only invite further doubt.

I cleared my throat as if struggling to speak, then abruptly placed my sword on the commander’s desk.

Then I declared:

“Commander. I am still a person mired in base material desires. It seems one’s innate nature is not so easily changed. …Though I deeply regret saying this, I must live affluently off this money.”

“…Go on.”

“But I do not wish to simply flee, feigning ignorance of the members’ noble intentions. …So I intend to carry out relief efforts to some extent, honoring their wishes. At the very least, until this guilt is assuaged.”

“Eric. For a member of your talents to retire so soon…”

“I am no longer worthy of being an Imperial Knight. I am but a crass materialist, delirious at the prospect of indulging in luxury after my discharge. Just regard me as another knight fallen to the lust for money you are releasing.”

“……”

Unable to refute my earnest pleas, Commander Weinwright finally nodded in resignation. He even offered the reassurance that he would restore my honor someday. With a trembling expression, I grasped the hand he extended.

By now, guilt was likely welling up within the commander’s heart. He had essentially expelled someone who had nearly joined the hero’s party over a trivial misunderstanding. What’s more, he could not even undo this mistake for fear of losing face.

With this, I would be able to depart the knightly order while keeping my hundreds of billions fully intact.

Of course, I was not completely safe, but having the pinnacle of the Empire’s knights shielding me was an immense advantage. If I established something like a swordsmanship academy under the pretense of aiding refugee children, I could continually stoke the commander’s guilt.

After respectfully bidding the commander farewell, I turned to leave. But not before casting one last reluctant glance at the knightly order’s crest.