The atmosphere in the Throne Hall was grim.
Lacey sat in the master seat at the long table. To his left was the ice-cold Gertrude; to his right, Leinia, who wore a smile, but whose eyes held no warmth.
Opposite them were a dozen merchant representatives, led by Jeremy Richter, chairman of the "Weissfurt" Merchant Guild.
These merchants, accustomed to a life of comfort and privilege, were now shifting anxiously in their seats.
Jeremy Richter was the only one who could maintain his composure.
He was in his forties, slightly overweight, with shrewd eyes—a typical rentier who had thrived under the old order.
"Your Excellency, the esteemed Elector."
Jeremy cleared his throat and was the first to speak, adopting a humble posture, but his words held a hidden edge.
"First, we wish to congratulate you on becoming the new master of Wasser Fief."
"Your victory was the will of the people. We who run humble businesses are also genuinely happy for you."
He paused, then his tone shifted. "However, Your Excellency, some of the… new policies you have recently implemented have left law-abiding businessmen like us feeling very confused and alarmed."
"The staff from your Ministry of Economy are seizing our ledgers like bandits and even trying to freeze our assets."
"Your propaganda teams are painting us as demons who feast on the blood of the people in every street and alley."
"Your Excellency, commerce is the lifeblood of Wasser Fief, and credibility and a stable environment are its cornerstones. What you are doing is tantamount to severing your own arm!"
His voice grew louder, taking on a threatening tone. "If this 'unfriendly' atmosphere continues, I'm afraid we will have no choice but to take our assets and leave Wasser Fief for a place that is more welcoming."
"When that happens, trade routes will be cut, factories will shut down, and tens of thousands of workers will lose their jobs…"
"I trust that is not an outcome you wish to see, is it?"
What a brazen attempt to turn the tables!
A guard standing behind Lacey had veins bulging on his arm. If not for a look from Lacey that stopped him, he might have already rushed forward to haul the fat man up.
"Chairman Richter."
Gertrude let out a cold laugh and pushed a document to the center of the table.
"You say you are a law-abiding businessman? Then please explain why, during the period Otto imposed his death tax, over three hundred families had their properties forcibly seized under your guild's name for failing to pay, and how those properties ended up in your pocket for less than thirty percent of their value?"
She tossed out another document. "Furthermore, in exchange for the salt monopoly, you bribed Otto's Minister of Internal Affairs with fifty thousand gold coins."
"That money ultimately became the exorbitant price of salt weighing down on all the people of Wasser Fief. You call this a humble business?"
With every sentence Gertrude spoke, Richter's face grew a shade paler.
Cold sweat was already beading on the other merchants' foreheads.
"You… you're slandering me! This evidence is forged!" Richter roared, his ferocity a thin veil for his fear.
They had never expected their opponent to have dug up all their dirt so completely in such a short time.
"Whether it is slander or not will be decided by the Special Tribunal." Gertrude leaned back in her chair, crossed her arms, and said no more.
A dead silence fell over the hall.
The merchants' breathing became heavy.
"Chairman Richter."
Lacey finally spoke, his voice calm and devoid of any discernible emotion.
"We will discuss what Minister Gertrude has mentioned later. First, let me ask you a question. Do you think a broken-down carriage can pull a heavy load of cargo?"
Richter was taken aback, not understanding why Lacey was suddenly asking this.
He answered instinctively, "Of course… not."
"Correct," Lacey nodded.
"A broken carriage cannot pull cargo."
"I agree with your point. Commerce is the lifeblood of Wasser Fief. But the Wasser Fief of the past was that broken carriage."
"Its economic model was built on the endless exploitation of ninety percent of the populace to fatten less than ten percent."
"Sooner or later, a model like that is bound to crash and burn. Otto's fate is proof of that."
He stood up and walked over to a map.
"Now, I am going to build a new carriage."
His gaze swept over every merchant present, his eyes turning fiery.
"You only see me seizing ledgers, but you haven't seen what I am about to do."
"My government will soon launch the largest infrastructure development plan in the history of Wasser Fief."
"We will build a comprehensive road network connecting every mine and town; we will dig new canals to lower transportation costs; we will establish new smelters, textile mills, and food processing plants, giving tens of thousands of workers jobs and stable incomes!"
"Just think about it!"
Lacey's voice was filled with a captivating power. "When the hundreds of thousands of people in Wasser Fief have money in their pockets, what will they need?"
"They will need new clothes, new shoes, new furniture! They will need meat, wine, and bread!"
"What a colossal market that is! A brand new market a hundred times larger than the one you built by squeezing oil from the bones of the poor!"
The merchants' breathing quickened.
They were born speculators, and the blueprint Lacey described made them smell money—the scent of an unprecedented, massive amount of money.
"And what will these projects require? They will require stone, timber, steel, and cement! They will require transport fleets and professional construction teams!"
"I cannot do all this alone. I need partners."
Lacey walked back to the table, placed his hands on it, and leaned forward.
"Now, I am giving you a choice."
"First, you can cling to your blood-stained old accounts, debate me in the Special Tribunal, and then get the hell out of Wasser Fief penniless, or perhaps go to the mines for re-education through labor."
"I imagine many people would be quite happy to fill the commercial vacuum you leave behind."
He paused and smiled, a smile that sent a chill down the merchants' spines.
"Second, you can take a portion of your past ill-gotten gains and invest it as a 'Special Contribution Fund' into this new carriage."
"This money is the price of your admission ticket to the new world."
"In return, you will receive priority contracting rights for the new government's infrastructure projects and the qualification to compete fairly in the new market."
"Will you cling to a rotting corpse and be destroyed with it, or will you invest in a brand new future and share a slice of an unprecedentedly large cake?"
"Gentlemen, you are all intelligent men. I don't need to teach you how to choose, do I?"
The entire hall was silent.
These merchants did not fear the executioner's blade or coercion, for they always had ways to maneuver.
But there was one thing they could not resist: profit.
So-called merchants are just such creatures.
With a suitable profit, they become bold.
For a 50% profit, they will take risks; for a 100% profit, they will trample on all human laws; for a 300% profit, they will commit any crime, even at the risk of the gallows.
Lacey didn't preach morality or justice to them, nor did he make any threats. Instead, he slapped a business proposal right on the table in front of them.
A proposal with both immense risks and immense rewards.
Either lose everything or make a fortune.
Jeremy Richter stared intently at Lacey, the fat on his face twitching.
In the young Elector's eyes, he saw something more terrifying than Otto's brutality—an absolute rationality that calculated everything, including human hearts, morals, and hatred, as mere resources and bargaining chips.
After a long moment, Richter slumped into his chair like a deflated ball.
"Your Excellency… we need time… to discuss this with the members of the guild." His voice was dry and hoarse.
"Of course." Lacey sat back down, his composure restored.
"You have three days. In three days, I expect to see a list of partners, not a list of enemies."
The merchants left, utterly dejected.
Gertrude watched their retreating backs with a complex expression.
She walked to Lacey's side and said in a low voice, "You've given this pack of wolves a bigger sheepfold to entice them away from the sheep in our own pen."
"That's right." Lacey picked up his teacup and gently blew on the steam.
"But first, we have to build that sheepfold and fatten up our own sheep."
"Once we have our own sheepdogs, we will no longer have need of these wolves."
A chill went through Gertrude's heart, and her reverence for Lacey deepened another layer.
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