Imperial Year 2515, August. The bustling trade and commerce hub of the Old World—Marienburg.
The Bretonnian knightly army was drawing closer to Marienburg.
But this time, the situation was entirely different. The entire city of Marienburg had decked itself out in celebratory decorations, offering the grandest welcome and highest hospitality to greet Ryan and his victorious knightly army.
Despite the lingering summer heat in August, the climate near the coastal and marshy Westerland was more tolerable, as the peak of summer had passed. The knights and soldiers managed the ten-kilometer-long column in good spirits as they marched. Marienburg would serve as a brief resting point—a chance to resupply and regroup. But, there was another reason for the stop…
High Elf noble Talleyrand sat in his shaded carriage, drenched in sweat and cursing the sweltering weather. The lame elf grumbled endlessly, comparing this heat to the coolness of Ulthuan. Slumped in his seat, he was a picture of lethargy, tilting his body at an awkward angle, his expression both annoyed and humorous.
As Talleyrand idly fantasized about commissioning a carriage with an air conditioning system—perhaps with help from the mother-daughter sorceress duo he'd been working with—his train of thought was interrupted by none other than King Ryan himself.
The King, astride his trusted steed Grape, approached the carriage with a sly smile. "Talleyrand, I recall I gave you a fine mixed-blood elven warhorse. It wasn't meant to pull a carriage, was it?"
The high elf quickly straightened up, pulling out a silk handkerchief to wipe his brow. "It's for the best, Your Majesty. A proud elven warhorse would never tolerate a limping cripple like me as its rider. And I, frankly, do not enjoy roasting under a sun that feels nothing like Ulthuan's warmth."
"Hahaha…" Ryan chuckled, then gestured toward the distance, where Marienburg's upper and lower council members were preparing for their arrival, braving the blazing sun. "And yet, they seem willing to endure the heat."
"That's because they're merchants," Talleyrand replied with a knowing grin. "And merchants are driven by profit. They can smell the wealth we carry, all those spoils of war. For them, the promise of profit is worth sweating over."
Talleyrand twirled his walking stick idly, continuing his musings. "Merchants care about two things above all else: growing their wealth and chasing ever-larger profits. Of course, merchants are still human—or elves or dwarves, in some cases. They have their personal interests and families to care for."
Ryan fell silent for a moment. Seeing this, Talleyrand smirked and asked, "Come now, Your Majesty. You know all this already. This doesn't sound like the Ryan I know. What's truly bothering you? How can this lame elf be of service to you?"
Ryan reached into his cloak and produced a gleaming medal—a First Class Golden Cross.
"For me?!" Talleyrand's eyes widened as he nearly leapt from his seat. Despite accompanying Ryan through countless campaigns, the high elf had only ever received a Second Class Lion Medal.
"It's not for you," Ryan clarified, handing the medal to Talleyrand. "This one is for the merchants of Marienburg."
The King's smile grew. "We have a significant task for you. This letter is from Sulia."
"The Queen's letter?!" Talleyrand immediately sat up straighter, beads of sweat forming anew despite the shade. Among the King's court, it was a well-known fact: offending Ryan was one thing, but offending Queen Sulia was a mistake no one could afford to make. Ryan might punish you fairly, but Sulia? She had her own ways.
The knights and courtiers who had served Ryan since his early days affectionately referred to her as "Madame," a term of respect and loyalty that extended beyond her royal title.
"Long live Madame Sulia!"
—One of the Old Guard's favorite battle cries.
Even private agents like Talleyrand and Belial, who weren't bound by knightly codes, referred to her as "Madame," signaling their allegiance. After all, Sulia didn't allow just anyone to address her so familiarly.
"This mission is yours, Talleyrand," Ryan said warmly. "I know you enjoy dealing with money, and you're especially skilled at handling merchants and nobles alike, aren't you?"
Talleyrand unfolded the letter and read it carefully. His eyes widened, and he let out a long sigh, shaking his head in admiration. "Your Majesty, you have a genius for a wife. Why didn't I think of this?"
"Sulia's idea is brilliant, but it must be handled delicately," Ryan cautioned, his expression turning serious. "And after some thought, I realized you're the only one for the job."
"Rest assured, Your Majesty," Talleyrand replied, bowing deeply. "I'll handle it perfectly. But… I'll need a degree of flexibility in how I proceed."
"Flexibility? Like the two wagons of 'gifts' you accepted from Metternich?" Ryan asked, raising an eyebrow.
"But I brought back two hundred wagons' worth of spoils for you, Sire," Talleyrand countered smoothly, bowing again. "Leave it to me. I know exactly how to deal with these merchants. Though… may I ask, is the highest award available only the First Class Golden Cross?"
"The highest honors—the Lady's Medal and the Grail Medal—can't be given lightly," Ryan said firmly.
"I understand."
Three Days Later: The Grand Banquet in Marienburg
The Marienburg city council hosted an extravagant banquet in their grand hall. Though King Ryan excused himself from attending, nearly every Bretonnian knight and noble in his entourage made an appearance.
The event reached a fever pitch when Marienburg's Grand Duke Schultz proudly displayed the medals he had been awarded by Bretonnia.
To honor his contributions to the knightly army's logistics, Ryan had personally bestowed upon Schultz two First Class Golden Crosses, a Swamp of Sorrows Commemorative Medal, and a Three Kings Battle Medal.
Likewise, Casanova, the president of the Gentleman's League, received a First Class Golden Cross and two commemorative medals during a personal audience with the King.
As the two influential figures paraded their medals at the banquet, the attending council members stared in stunned envy.
Medals! The dazzling glow, the sheer prestige—it was overwhelming!
Wait a moment… weren't Bretonnian medals notoriously difficult to earn? Didn't they require direct participation in a war and proven military achievement? How had Schultz and Casanova, who hadn't even joined the expedition, received such honors?
If they could be awarded medals, why couldn't we?
The minds of Marienburg's wealthy elite began whirring. Green with envy, they started digging for answers. How could they, too, obtain these coveted Bretonnian medals?
The craze wasn't limited to Marienburg. Across the Empire, participants in the war against Chaos proudly displayed the medals awarded to them by Bretonnia.
In Nuln, Lady Emilia caused a sensation when she appeared at a victory celebration, heavily pregnant yet adorned with a Special-Class Grail Medal. The room was electrified.
Nuln's nobles gawked at Emilia's glowing medal, imbued with the Lady's divine power, their expressions a mixture of admiration, jealousy, and longing. The celebration turned into a competition to flaunt Bretonnian honors, with those lacking medals feeling deeply embarrassed.
Soon, this fervor spread across the Empire.
For the aristocracy, owning a Bretonnian medal became the ultimate status symbol.
In Marienburg, merchants who hadn't donated or fought in the war, while outwardly silent, secretly harbored intense jealousy. They admired not only Bretonnia's wealth but also its unparalleled military glory and the recognition that came with it.
Now, with Schultz and Casanova as shining examples, Marienburg's elite were desperate to follow suit.
Bretonnian medals! They had to have them!
But how?
It didn't take long for a tantalizing rumor to spread throughout the city.
The benevolent and magnanimous King Ryan was willing to share the glory of his victories with the people of the Old World. He was offering them the chance to be part of his triumph over Chaos.
Ladies and gentlemen of Marienburg, this was your opportunity!
You, too, could declare yourself a defender of the Old World against Chaos. You could celebrate Bretonnia's greatness and proudly proclaim your participation in its historic victories.
All it took was a generous donation to support the knightly cause and its future wars.
Donate, and earn a medal!
Limited quantities available. First come, first served.
"Join the ranks of the Grail Knights and Old Guard in victory, citizens of Marienburg!" Talleyrand proclaimed, elegantly dressed as he toured noble gatherings and public events. "Because it's always the good day to buy!"
It was like tossing a spark into a tinderbox. Marienburg exploded with excitement.
Simply donate, and you could own a Bretonnian medal. Simply open your purse, and you could call yourself a defender of the Old
World.
Medals!
The entire city was abuzz. Nobles, merchants, guild leaders, and even artists flocked to Talleyrand, clamoring for medals.
"Swamp of Sorrows Medal, 10 gold marks per piece. Three Kings Battle Medal, 15 gold marks per piece. Wolfenburg Medal and March Storm Campaign Medal, 8 gold marks each," Talleyrand announced, waving his walking stick to maintain order. "All proceeds will fund future knightly expeditions. Register your name and address upon donation, and your medals will be delivered directly to your residence!"
"I'll take three of each!"
"No, five of each!"
"Buy, buy, buy! Not buying is unpatriotic!"
As the frenzy escalated, some turned their attention to higher honors.
"What about the First Class Golden Cross, Talleyrand?" a wealthy merchant's wife inquired, clutching a pouch of divine gold coins. "I don't care about the cost—I want the best medal!"
Talleyrand's response was calm but deliberate.
"Third Class Iris Medal, 50 gold marks each, limited to 300 pieces. Second Class Lion Medal, 200 gold marks each, limited to 200 pieces. First Class Golden Cross, 500 gold marks each, limited to 100 pieces. These will come with personalized engravings and official certificates of honor!"
"I'll take one for every member of my family!"
"Quantity is too low—it's not enough for all of us!"
The scene grew chaotic as people scrambled to secure their place. The limited medals sold out almost instantly, with latecomers leaving disappointed. Those lucky enough to secure higher-tier medals cherished them as prized possessions.
History would remember this period as the Medal Craze, when owning a Bretonnian medal became the height of social prestige.
Talleyrand, ever the opportunist, capitalized on the demand by accepting bribes and auctioning a handful of medals on the black market, where a single First Class Golden Cross fetched as much as 2,500 gold marks. Even at such exorbitant prices, demand far exceeded supply.
By the end of August, as Ryan's army neared Bretonnia's border and was welcomed by Marshal Roland-Marshall and the border garrison, Talleyrand presented the King with a detailed ledger.
The sale of commemorative and honor medals had raised a staggering 215,600 gold coins.
"Ah, making money has never been easier," Ryan mused with a grin.
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