There Is No Mercy

Chapter 39

People who were involved with each agenda freely voiced their opinions, and if needed, a vote was taken.

The meeting was pretty boring, with mostly simple, peaceful topics.

After about an hour, when most people were starting to lose focus, Count Ricardo threw a big topic into the discussion.

“The fifth item on the agenda is the export tax reduction, which was postponed in the last meeting. The proposer is Count Oxiad.”

Ricardo handed the floor over to Count Oxiad, who slowly got up, proudly showing off his thick belly.

With a greasy smile, made even worse by his double chin and sagging cheeks, he looked around the room and spoke in a firm voice.

“It’s the same as what was proposed last time. In this saturated internal market, it’s almost impossible for smaller businesses like mine to survive. The only way to stay afloat is to expand into the external market. However, the heavy taxes on exports are strangling us. I believe the right thing to do is to reduce these taxes to open up more opportunities for exports.”

When Oxiad finished, Count Ricardo glanced around the room, clearly looking for someone to oppose the motion.

But no one seemed interested in raising their hand.

Not surprising. This had been debated so many times before, people were probably sick of hearing about it.

It was obvious how this would go.

“Well then, let’s proceed with a temporary vote.”

There wasn’t much to see. Most people just sat back and observed without raising their hands.

On the other hand, those who agreed with Oxiad’s proposal were quick to raise theirs.

Out of the hundred people present, less than half raised their hands.

Ricardo looked around, counting the hands as a formality.

“It seems it will be difficult to pass again. Not only are the opposition members absent, but we also couldn’t sway the moderates.”

“The moderates?” I asked.

“Marquis Mormond. He’s the most recognizable moderate who doesn’t belong to either side. If we can’t convince him, we won’t secure the votes.”

I looked over at Marquis Mormond, who was sitting there with a bored expression, and sure enough, no one around him had raised their hand.

After counting the votes, Ricardo made a note and spoke.

“Out of a hundred people, twenty-eight votes in favor, so the motion is rejec—”

“I support it,” came a deep voice that cut Ricardo off.

Everyone turned toward Marquis Mormond, who had been sitting quietly until now.

His sudden shift caused murmurs to ripple through the room.

“…Did you just say you support it?”

Ricardo asked again, looking surprised.

Mormond didn’t answer, just raised his hand.

And that wasn’t the end of it.

All the other neutral parties seated around him raised their hands as well.

With the combined support of the moderates and those already in favor, they easily passed the majority threshold.

The room buzzed with surprise.

Mormond’s unexpected move had thrown everyone off.

As the crowd reacted, I subtly signaled to Ripert.

“…Do it”

I whispered quietly when he approached. Ripert nodded, handed over his responsibilities to another guard, and quickly exited the room.

I watched him leave, my mind racing.

“This is ridiculous…!” murmured Chelano in shock.

Most people were still frozen in disbelief, but Count Oxiad stood there calmly as if he’d seen it coming.

It was like he knew all along.

“… I hereby inform you that the motion has passed as a result of a provisional vote with a majority of sixty-two out of a total of one hundred members.”

Count Ricardo’s slow voice sank low like a heavy wind.

***

The heavy, closed door swung open, and Marquis Mormond walked in, followed by Count Oxiad.

Mormond casually made his way to the cabinet, grabbing a bottle of wine as he turned around and asked lazily.

“Care for a drink?”

Oxiad, in high spirits, immediately replied with exaggerated excitement.

“I am also an alcoholic who is incredibly good at judging the taste of alcohol.”

Mormond smirked slightly at Oxiad’s overeager reaction.

He opened the cork, letting the subtle scent of white wine fill the room.

Drawn by the aroma, Oxiad approached, watching the wine pour into the glass with awe.

He quickly grabbed the glass by the rim and took a big gulp without a second thought.

Mormond, sealing the cork back, gave Oxiad an indifferent look.

“This guy’s practically a beast.”

The Mormond family had a long-standing reputation as one of the most powerful families in the empire, with a rich history.

Naturally, Mormond was a noble and a soldier, someone who valued dignity, elegance, and proper etiquette above all else.

To him, Count Oxiad was nothing more than a pig in nobleman’s clothing.

Normally, Mormond wouldn’t even waste his breath speaking to someone like Oxiad, let alone look him in the eye.

People like him, driven by greed and blinded by money, were repulsive and lacked any sense of grace.

But Mormond wasn’t one to ignore orders from higher-ups—especially when they came from the Duke of Bozbourne, a family so powerful they stood above even the imperial family.

“This wine’s amazing! You must be quite the enthusiast yourself, Marquis! Haha!” Oxiad exclaimed, filled with excitement from being one step closer to the tax reduction.

Mormond remained silent, sipping his wine.

Oxiad, riding high on his success, continued his lavish praise.

“This room is incredible, truly fitting for someone like yourself, Marquis Mormond—one of the top five most powerful families in the empire.”

“Thanks for saying so.”

Mormond replied, hiding his distaste.

He didn’t care much for people, but compliments about his power?

Those were always welcome.

With a twisted smile, he turned away, wine glass in hand.

“I’ve heard you’re quite the promising businessman. They say you stand to make a fortune once the export taxes are reduced.”

Oxiad chuckled, “Haha, you flatter me, but yes, that’s true! You’ve got a sharp eye, Marquis.”

His cheap words and casual tone were more fitting for a street merchant than a nobleman.

Marquis Mormond couldn’t help but wonder if Oxiad had won his title from a gambling table, but he didn’t care.

“The Duke of Bozbourne has quite the interest in your business as well. That’s why I decided to back you. You’re aware of that, aren’t you?”

“Hehe, of course! The duke has already hinted as much to me.”

“You’re a talented one, aren’t you? Not many can get Bozbourne to move for them. Countless people have tried to align themselves with the Duke of Bozbourne, only to have their legs broken and be buried. But you managed to make it work, which means your business must be as promising as they say.”

Mormond took another sip of wine, watching Oxiad’s smug expression.

Oxiad, noticing Mormond’s stare, smiled sheepishly and nodded.

As Mormond observed the piggish face before him, he tilted his glass and asked, “Do you think you can surpass them?”

“Pardon? Surpass who?”

Oxiad asked, caught off guard.

“Brilloxen”

Mormond replied, dropping the name like a weight.

Oxiad’s eyes widened, clearly not expecting that.

His face asked the unspoken question: *Why bring them up?*

Mormond frowned at his hesitation, and Oxiad quickly spoke up.

“Br-Brilloxen is a natural-born business! Even among us, they’re seen as an impenetrable wall. Their wealth, built up over centuries, is immeasurable. Their assets and businesses are massive. It’s hard to find a industry in the empire that isn’t tied to Brilloxen. They control the primary and secondary sectors, the backbone of all industries…”

“Do I look like I don’t know that? Just answer me.”

“It’s impossible.”

Oxiad blurted out.

“Well, maybe with long-term investment, it could be done, but relying solely on external markets would be extremely difficult without a strong internal foundation.”

“How pathetic.”

Mormond clicked his tongue and drained his glass, leaving Oxiad feeling like he’d fallen from a higher cloud straight into the dirt.

Why bring up Brilloxen all of a sudden…?

As Oxiad nervously glanced around, Marquess Mormon frowned.

‘A mere provincial count’s family…’

From Mormond’s lofty perspective as a central aristocrat, provincial nobles like Brilloxen were barely worth his time.

But during various meetings, Brilloxen’s influence had often matched or even exceeded his, which was a bitter pill for Mormond to swallow.

The sound of grinding teeth echoed as Mormond clenched his jaw in frustration.

The chilling sound made Count Oxiad instinctively shrink his thick neck.

“The tax reform will pass. The chairman’s vote, which requires unanimous consent, is already in my hands, so just focus on your business.”

Marquis Mormond said, his tone calm but firm.

“Understood.”

Oxiad replied, bowing low as he placed his glass down.

Mormond watched him for a moment, then stepped closer.

With a smooth motion, he grabbed Oxiad’s chin, lifting his head so their eyes met—Mormond’s cold gaze boring into Oxiad’s dull, frightened eyes.

“Remember this.”

Mormond warned, his voice dangerously low.

“It’s impressive that you’ve managed to bring in both Bozbourne and Mormond, but if you fail, the fallout will be more than that hefty body of yours can handle. Got it?”

Oxiad quickly nodded, his head bobbing in agreement, too scared to say a word.

He stepped back, hastily wiping his hands as if to shake off the tension.

“Now, go,” Mormond said, turning away without another glance.