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Chapter 1254: A Currency Reform

The treasury sat between the castle and the Administrative Office, its walls thick enough that the world’s noise didn’t reach inside. Roland passed through three guarded gates before the last door swung open and he stepped in.

He had been here before, many times — but the change was still striking. Back in the Border Town days, a few cases of gold royals had been enough to keep a small town breathing. Revenue had climbed as the steam engines and magical artifacts moved to market; it had kept climbing as the territory expanded and the industries compounded. For a long time Barov had not raised the alarm once.

The treasury was built large on purpose. Roland had designed it to double as a production space, its dimensions suited to something other than coin storage — though Barov hadn’t known that at the time, and the decision had drawn considerable argument. A noble spending everything on territorial expansion was unusual enough. A noble opening his treasury to departmental directors was nearly unprecedented. Only Barov had understood, in those early days, that Roland simply didn’t care about personal wealth.

Barov was waiting near the shelves.

“Your Majesty.” He gestured at the remaining cases with the expression of a man presenting a wound. “Twelve cases of gold royals.”

Roughly two thousand royals per case. Twenty thousand in total. Mounds of silver and bronze occupied more space but represented far less value.

“How long will it last?”

“Two months. Perhaps slightly less.”

“Faster than I expected.” Roland walked the shelves slowly. “Payroll is the largest drain?”

“Over half the total expenses. The construction teams and welding units have grown with the immigration, and we pay the Fjords Chambers of Commerce four to five thousand royals monthly. If we suspended those payments, we could hold until the Joint Chamber’s profit share arrives — ”

“We need people,” Roland said.

Barov’s hands stilled. He had been waiting for this conversation since Roland had mentioned a permanent solution in a meeting months ago. “Then — is it time? You did say there was a way.”

“I said there was.” Roland turned to look at the open space around him — the high ceiling, the broad floor, the shelves already half-cleared. It would serve well. “When is payroll due?”

“One week.”

“Store the gold royals. We won’t need them for now.” Roland nodded once, the decision made. “Come to my office. I need to establish a new department.”

The groundwork had been laid half a year earlier. Roland had run a quiet pilot — distributed test notes to the Witch Union and the Sleeping Spell, then watched what happened. No witch had managed to forge them. The anti-counterfeiting architecture held. He had been ready since then; the timing simply hadn’t demanded it.

It demanded it now.

“Yes, Your Majesty.” The anxiety visibly left Barov’s face — a man who had feared poverty restored to the prospect of solvency. The lines around his eyes smoothed. “What is the new department called?”

“Bank,” Roland said.


Five days later, a notice appeared on the central square bulletin board in Neverwinter, and the city argued about nothing else.

It was rare enough that the Administrative Office sent a spokesperson to explain a posted notice directly — that alone told residents the matter was serious. The Graycastle Weekly ran it as the lead item. The king, it announced, intended to introduce a new currency to replace gold royals, silver royals, and bronze royals.

The argument spread through every tavern, every worksite, every delivery route — and reached the hotel where Victor Lothar had been staying far longer than he’d planned.

Victor had originally meant to return to the Port of Clearwater after the magic movie. Then the Bloody Moon had risen, and the logic of staying in Neverwinter — the safest city on the continent, as events tended to confirm — had outweighed the logic of leaving. He had been summoned by the police several times as a witness to the theater incident, answered their questions, and settled in to wait.

He had been preparing to leave when the currency news broke.

The shock it produced dwarfed anything the Bloody Moon had stirred. The Bloody Moon was a catastrophe from outside. A currency reform was the king reaching into every transaction that had ever occurred, every debt, every deal, every coin sitting in every merchant’s counting room, and saying: this changes.

The four kingdoms had used the same monetary system since they were founded. Gold didn’t become worthless overnight. Victor had assumed, reading the first report, that someone had been drinking.

Then Twinkle brought him the newspaper. Then the tavern talk all pointed the same direction.

The first provision: All old currencies shall be exchanged for the new ones. The new currencies shall be used exclusively for transactions, at face value.

A piece of paper for goods. In practice: the king could buy anything brought into Neverwinter with paper. Victor had read that provision three times, testing whether there was an interpretation he’d missed. There wasn’t.

“Many people are already leaving the city with their cargo,” Twinkle said from the bed, her voice cautious. She was lying on her stomach, watching him read, and he couldn’t tell whether she was worried about him leaving too or about the Rainbow Stone inventory.

Victor smiled, but it was the smile of a man calculating. Twinkle didn’t know that his fortunes ran along a track laid by the King of Graycastle. Without Leaf’s seeds, the brand collapsed. He was not leaving.

And Roland Wimbledon was not robbing anyone. Victor knew that much. A king with this man’s instincts didn’t throw away public confidence for a single short-term seizure. He had spent years building something here.

Victor kept reading.

The second provision: All salaries in Neverwinter to be paid in new currency.

The third: All Administrative Office and Convenience Market transactions — food, real estate, everything — to be conducted in new currency.

The fourth — the one that required the most thought: The Administrative Office will offer long-term currency exchange services. Residents may exchange old currencies for new or new for old at face value. A five percent transaction fee applies when exchanging new currencies back to old.

Victor sat with that for a moment. Then he saw it: a blade aimed, with great precision, at traveling merchants who had never paid taxes.

Neverwinter had always been, by accident of its governance, a near-perfect tax haven. The previous patrol teams had extorted merchants directly — not collected taxes, just taken what they wanted — and the new regime had eliminated that without replacing it with proper commercial taxation. Merchants with property paid something. Merchants who leased premises or moved goods through the city paid almost nothing.

The fourth provision changed the ledger. Not by force — by arithmetic.

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