I Resign From the Coin Mercenary Knights

The 18th district of the Imperial City.

A refugee camp formed as those displaced by the Demon King’s offensive or monster waves flocked to the relative safety of the Imperial City.

The residents here either subsisted on charity or worked menial labor jobs. Needless to say, their living conditions were abjectly impoverished.

Simultaneously, this was also the location of my new workplace.

‘No, ‘workplace’ might be too generous a term.’

A martial arts academy.

The kind of facility retired knights of middling prowess, having sustained injuries or grown feeble with age, would establish in their hometowns as a pastime and source of income. Many were run by charlatans or apathetic sorts.

‘But an academy founded by a vigorous former Imperial Knights member would be a bit different, or so I thought…’

Yet upon actually establishing it, reality seemed less accommodating than I had envisioned.

A martial arts academy consisting of a fenced perimeter with makeshift canopies.

I had expected swarms of starry-eyed youths, sweat beading on their feverish faces, undeterred by the intensity in my gaze – like how I had once yearned to learn swordsmanship from the retired village knight in my childhood.

But the actual student intake defied my expectations.

“How old are you, by chance?”

“Twenty-eight, sir.”

“So you’re my senior. Do you have children as well?”

“Over there, watching. My wife ran off though.”

A man who looked ill-equipped for childrearing wanted to learn martial arts?

“With that physique, you couldn’t even wield an arming sword properly. No, your build isn’t the issue – may I ask why you’re missing two fingers on your left hand?”

“Heh. Bit of a work incident.”

Around my height but likely half my weight, this skeletal youth was even missing two fingers on his left hand. At that level, he should be more concerned with mere survival than swordsmanship.

‘Martial arts wasn’t the real issue here.’

If my goal was to produce knights, I should have rejected such applicants outright.

But I chose to accept them all the same.

The preparations had already been made – I had procured bread, spending modestly. Large, beautifully crafted loaves that could likely feed a family of four for two days – hundreds of them.

Simply distributing that bread would have earned me heroic acclaim in this place.

“Any of you heard of Codanas, by chance?”

“Coda-whats?”

“Never mind. Take some bread.”

While the Imperial City had been upended by Codanas, this place remained an exception.

They were oblivious to the Church Empire facing an unprecedented crisis due to Codanas, to the nobility on the verge of explosion, or to a former Imperial Knights member (myself) feeling threatened.

Of course, I wasn’t distributing bread to find inner peace. I simply deemed this the optimal location to achieve my objectives.

‘It’s about time…’

I had recently dispatched a sizable relief shipment to Lancart, including medicine, food supplies, and even footwear.

Footwear might seem an odd inclusion, but it was a commodity in surprisingly short supply in war-torn regions. The shipment would likely arrive within a couple of days.

I hadn’t provided aid out of mere compassion, but rather as part of a calculated maneuver. If successful, it would eliminate future threats to my life and assets.

Amelia and I had just finished distributing a few loaves of bread when the visitor I had been expecting arrived.

“Eric, you here?”

I deliberately hesitated before turning to face him.

An average build with a full head of hair, he appeared around forty at a glance but was actually in his late fifties – Rufus Weinricht, the Imperial Knights Commander.

Dressed humbly, as if to avoid drawing attention, he instead stood out due to the gaudy sword at his hip – a legendary dragonsteel blade bestowed upon him by a past emperor with the charge of defending the realm.

‘He thinks such an ostentatious weapon won’t draw eyes?’

The reason for his ability to move so brazenly was simple – whether Imperial Guards or nobles, all would feign ignorance if they surmised the Commander wished to remain incognito.

“Commander? To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”

I rose slowly, feigning surprise while holding the bread I had been distributing.

Weinricht studied me intently before speaking in a troubled tone.

“It has been a while, Eric… Since you seem preoccupied, I’ll be brief. Is it true you sent relief supplies to Lancart?”

“Yes. When I retired, I mentioned my intent to honor my comrades’ wishes by supporting charitable endeavors. This was simply an extension of that.”

“I see. A noble deed, to be sure. You’re doing what the nobility should… However, Eric, if you demanded an ennoblement as a condition, that changes matters. Is it true?”

“The letter accompanying the shipment may have contained similar sentiments… But how did you learn of it, Commander? It was a sealed missive.”

My feigned bewilderment seemed to give the Commander pause. I added one more remark:

“If the Margrave accepts the proposal, I intended to send a donation as a gesture of gratitude. That was also stated in the letter.”

The mention of a ‘donation contingent on acceptance’ only deepened the disappointment etched on his features.

Had I been anyone else, he might have erupted right then and there – which was precisely why I had procured elixirs as a precaution.

“…Eric, if you simply retract that request, I’ll leave matters be. Purchasing a noble title with money is a shameful act.”

Responding to the Commander with an awkward smile, I replied, “Retract, you say? I had thought you would welcome such a development.”

“Welcome it? You don’t mean to imply I would simply turn a blind eye?”

A chilly tension settled between us. I clasped my hands deferentially as I studied his demeanor.

“Commander. Why such a reaction?”

“Eric, Lancart is a place that values honor. More importantly, is it not the same territory where your comrades perished? Phillip died fighting the humanoids, and Ramsey was crippled. The very comrades who saw you off on your final day as a knight.”

“Which is why I have made this overture. I assumed the margraviate’s dire circumstances would compel them to grudgingly accept.”

“You dare speak of it so lightly.”

The Commander’s expression contorted further.

“Ah, but I can see how it might appear as if I’m simply trading a title for money. Yet in the end, it will also benefit the people of Lancart…”

“Eric!!”

Unable to listen further, the Commander raised his voice in rebuke.

The projection of his aura, honed over three decades as a master, had already left my students aghast.

“Commander, I do not insist that my actions are unconditionally justifiable. However, I do not believe they warrant such outrage.”

“Enough talk.”

After a momentary pause to collect himself, the Commander noticed a practice sword in one corner and let out a mirthless chuckle.

“At least you have the proper equipment. Come at me.”

“You wish to instruct me after so long? But Commander, might I suggest dismissing these students first?”

“I would not have you display such unsightliness before your disciples, Eric.”

I studied the Commander intently, as if still uncomprehending, before finally feigning resignation and taking up the practice sword in a plough stance.

Even on the cusp of our bout, he afforded me one last chance.

“Eric. Last warning. Retract this, so we may correct your mistake together.”

“I still fail to understand why you are so enraged, Commander. Nor how you even learned of a sealed letter’s contents before its arrival at Lancart’s destination. Unless… No, it cannot be.”

“That letter you sent arrived before any physical shipment. They contacted the margrave via communication crystal to apologize on your behalf…”

“But I do not believe there is any need for apologies.”

In the next instant, the Commander charged with ferocious intensity.

Not invoking aura techniques or aiming to slay – merely wielding a practice sword lighter than half the weight of a true blade. Yet this man could slay knights with a simple staff.

I would surely sustain numerous blows, and felt regretful towards the Commander who had shielded me however leniently until now. But to preserve my life and assets, I had no choice.

For what I needed was not mere lenient protection, but an existence that could aid in exposing the true culprits behind this crisis who still lurked in the shadows.

Our bout between an active and former knight unfolded before dozens of impoverished spectators.

Though the assembled had initially anticipated an enthralling display, they now watched with trepidation instead.

While the exchange had begun on relatively even terms, it had effectively devolved into a brutal chastisement before even thirty bouts.

Weinricht struck with his practice sword, unconcerned by the onlookers’ reactions.

“Kuhh!”

Weinricht’s practice sword struck Eric’s wrist yet again. He narrowly avoided dropping his own weapon, but his stance had already collapsed long ago.

‘Even so…’

Weinricht couldn’t help an inward sigh of admiration.

Eric’s skill was indeed formidable. With live blades, the bout would have concluded far swifter, but across the entire Imperial City, perhaps only six or seven knights could have lasted this long against Weinricht himself – all of them Eric’s seniors.

The current Eric undoubtedly qualified as a peak expert.

But what use was talent without proper character?

His attempt to effectively purchase the vacant margravial title in the desperately rebuilding Lancart was problematic, though still somewhat understandable given Weinricht’s own complicity in Eric’s expulsion from the order.

‘I can fathom his desire for nobility, given the loss he must have felt upon retirement.’

The true issue was Eric’s utter lack of remorse or even basic comprehension of why his actions were unacceptable. No, he had even cocked his head as if questioning the objection, shamelessly stating he would only provide the ‘donation’ if the title was conferred.

It was that brazen attitude that had ultimately provoked Weinricht’s wrath, though he had restrained himself to using a practice sword.

Pwack!

“….!”

A single strike dropped Eric to his knees, unable to even cry out.

Seeing his utterly spent form, Weinricht felt a tinge of excessive cruelty. He had been cautious to avoid lasting repercussions, but Eric would likely still struggle for some time.

Weinricht tasted bitterness. He took no joy in this. If only Eric had uttered a single word of retraction, or even displayed a shred of shame, this could have been avoided.

‘Still, I should at least cover his medical expenses…’

He began to retrieve some gold coins, only to freeze as Eric furtively produced a vial around the size of a pinky finger from his pocket.

As a scion of an affluent noble house, Weinricht immediately recognized it as an elixir – a premium concoction that dramatically accelerated recovery.

Seeing Eric hastily imbibe that precious elixir for mere bruising left an unfavorably crass impression, as if he were defiantly protesting unjustified violence.

“Go on, drink it… And take this as well.”

Feeling any residual compassion dissipate, Weinricht tossed a few coins towards Eric, who was struggling with trembling hands to consume the elixir.

Upon noticing the fallen coins, Eric’s eyes widened momentarily.

“However, Eric, I regret to inform you that the title you desire will be difficult to obtain. No matter how dire Lancart’s circumstances, the margrave will not sell a nobility for money. Had you genuinely wished to contribute to Lancart’s defense, without monetary motives, you might have been welcomed. But not like this.”

“My intent was not… Or could it be, Commander, that the Second Prince…”

Eric trailed off, head bowing as if gripped by sudden trepidation.

A pitiful sight. Without sparing the still-kneeling Eric another glance, Weinricht turned and departed, the impoverished residents parting before him with tense expressions.

The following evening, Weinricht received an urgent request from Lancart’s margrave via communication crystal, asking for a dialogue.

‘No doubt regarding that brat Eric.’

Weinricht readily agreed, intending to apologize on Eric’s behalf.

“Commander, are you familiar with this Eric fellow?”

“…I am.”

“We received relief supplies from him through the Guild. Urgently needed medicine arrived, with the heavier shipments expected within two days. A generous act, to be sure, but the accompanying letter contained a rather outrageous request.”

“Eric’s transgressions are my responsibility to apologize for. Simply reject the request.”

“Oh, I can reject it? What a relief. I had been hesitating over such an unreasonable demand.”

“Yes. The fault lies with me for failing to properly guide him…”

“But even so, we could hardly appoint a crippled former knight as our lord.”

“…Pardon?”

A moment of bewilderment.

“Was it Ramsey, I believe? That friend with the seaweed-like hair. I had assumed his local ties meant I could gladly take him in… But a knight who can barely grip a blade cannot serve as viscount over such a perilous domain. Blunt as it may sound, the circumstances differ from other territories.”

“Wait, what are you talking about?”

The margrave paid no heed, only repeating his gratitude. Apparently, there had been many residents on the verge of starvation, so he felt indebted for the supplies despite being unable to fulfill Eric’s request, asking that his regrets be conveyed.

“That said, such camaraderie is admirable. The request for a title was rather outrageous, if I’m being honest, but I couldn’t help respecting his personal motivations. As you’ve no doubt experienced yourself, Commander, few would go to such lengths for former comrades.”

As the margrave spoke, Weinricht’s expression rapidly hardened to a degree comparable to the nobles who had lost their entire fortunes in Codanas.