Although the feminine temperament of Baron Steinmeier, the head of the court, made Frank feel unhappy, he had to admit that the other party was still very quick in handling things. Within half an hour, he walked out of the dormitory with the documents stamped with the imperial seal.

"Your Highness, this is the document you need." Steinmeier smiled meaningfully, "Good luck." ”

Frank's mind was so focused on the document that he didn't care what he said, and he hurried out of the palace with a vague answer.

Half an hour later, Frank took the signed papers, accompanied by Earl Müller and President Carlisle, and drove back to the Weinstein house, handing the "unequal treaty" to Jacob Fogel, who was waiting in the living room.

"Mr. Fogel, I have agreed to all the conditions you offered, and it is your turn to fulfill your promises." Frank couldn't suppress the resentment in his heart, and his words were filled with anger.

Old Fogel laughed, looked through the papers slowly, and then stood up and stretched out his right hand to the crown prince.

"Your Royal Highness, please allow me to take the liberty of giving you a suggestion, go back to the palace now, lie down in bed and sleep well, when the sun rises again tomorrow, you will find that all your troubles are gone, and the world is still so beautiful."

"I hope so." Frank sighed wearily and turned to leave the living room. Perhaps, as old Fogel suggested, he had already done everything he could anyway, and all that was left was a good night's sleep.

Old Fogel walked down the hallway with the papers, his fat frame looking out of place with his light gait. Like a gust of wind, he swept from the living room to the dining room, pushed open the door to Weinstein's dining room, and strode in.

A long table was set up in the Weinstein family's large dining room for banquets, and Alberton Weinstein, a sick old man, was struggling to cut a piece of veal stew.

The long dining table was flanked by well-dressed and successful people, and the famous millionaires and even multi-millionaires in the holy city were mostly engaged in finance and industry.

If the wealth of the gentlemen in the dining room is combined, it is enough to equal the wealth of the other million inhabitants of the holy city of Assan. However, the atmosphere of the most important dinner ever was not pleasant, except for the old Alberton concentrating on eating, and the guests were chattering and complaining. The content of the complaints is also the same, accusing the imperial government of indiscriminately issuing gold money, causing a financial crisis, causing much trouble to their industry, and losing how much profit, and now the people have risen up to protest and march, and the government can't handle it, and they have come to demand that these unlucky businessmen pay money to eliminate the disaster, and take out real money to buy gold banknotes that have become waste paper, so as to calm the panic of the people, isn't it difficult for a strong man?!

The crowd blamed the ruling authorities, expecting this group of iron roosters to pay to save the market, which was like a dream.

No matter how the guests complained, the old man Alberton remained unchanged and did not say a word. It wasn't until he saw Jacob Fogel return to the dining room that the old man stopped eating, picked up a napkin and wiped the corners of his mouth carefully, took the document handed by old Fogel, and threw it on the table without looking at it.

There was a sudden silence in the restaurant, and the financiers and industrialists, all the millionaires, stopped complaining, and countless pairs of eyes were focused on the document, like hooks, trying to lift the cover of the document and peek into its terms.

Old Alberton stood up in the strange silence, and spoke slowly in a gentle and irresistible tone.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I need not say much about how bad the situation is, and if you don't want to see an angry crowd outside your window storming your banks and factories, looting your property, burning your houses, then you have to stand up and do something to quell the anger of the people."

"This turmoil stems from the collapse of gold money, and the only way to quell the resentment of the people is to take out real money and recycle the gold money in their hands, and the imperial government cannot afford this budget, so it can only turn to us for help."

"My friend Jacob brought a document, this is the remuneration paid by the imperial government to repay the rescuers, wait a minute, you have time to see, the problem now is that we urgently need to establish a fund pool, at least 300 million gold duga ammunition must be injected into this pool to win this difficult war, Jacob and I each bear 100 million gold duga, and the remaining 100 million gold duga will be entrusted to all of you here."

"Ugly words ahead, I don't care how you apportioned the 100 million bailout fund, no matter what kind of deal you make with each other, you have time to argue about these topics, anyway, I want to see enough checks on the table before the sun goes down today."

After saying this, the old man Weinstein ignored the surprised guests, left the table, walked out of the dining room accompanied by Jacob Fogel, turned around and performed a spell to close all the doors and windows of the restaurant.

"Take me for a walk in the garden and come back at dinner." The old man said lightly.

"Willing to help." Jacob Fogel took off his hat and bowed in a comical manner like a penguin.

No one could tell what happened in the locked restaurant while the two uncrowned kings who were in charge of the financial and industrial lifeblood of the Assanian Empire were strolling in the garden and enjoying afternoon tea.

When the afterglow of dusk stained the western sky, Jacob Fogel accompanied Old Man Weinstein back to the dining room, opened the door and walked in, and saw a group of exhausted and staggered beings.

The richest people in the Assanian Empire, as if they had just come out of a protracted war, looked exhausted and just wanted to go home and sleep as soon as possible.

On the table with cups and plates, only the central area was cleaned, and there was a crystal fruit pot. The fruit in the bowl was casually thrown on the table, replaced by a pot full of cheques with different amounts and signatures.

Jacob Fogel and Old Weinstein didn't need to count it themselves to guess that the total amount of all the checks in the pot would not be less than 100,000,000 gold dugg.

The 100 million gold duggard, together with the 200 million gold duggard provided by the Fogel family and the Weinstein family, will converge into a huge pool of funds, which will be put into the market step by step, and the gold bills in people's hands will be bought back at a discount of three to five percent of the face price. In fact, there is no need to take back all the gold banknotes in private circulation, as long as the acquisition trend is maintained, and with the passage of time, the credit of gold banknotes will increase day by day, and it will naturally come back to life and be re-accepted by the public.