Chapter 38

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter Title: There is No Mercy Chapter 38

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Sierra flinched back in shock at the unexpected words, and Kestian waved his hand.

"Ah, it's fine. No need to worry about it exploding. It's just a prototype—a fake model made to look like the real thing."

"......Please say that kind of thing first. You nearly scared me to death."

Calming her pounding heart from the sudden "bomb," she shot him a glare, and Kestian looked embarrassed.

She stared at Kestian for a moment before lifting her chin.

"So, why did you suddenly bring this here?"

"I was curious about what Lady Sierra would think, so I brought it. Bombs developed so far have mostly relied on magic tools. But this one was made purely with the Pallieva family's technology—no magic tools involved. The power is reduced, but the production cost is dramatically lower."

"So if it's not a magic tool, that means it's not made by an empire-approved mage?"

"Exactly. That's why it's so cheap to produce. It's at a certain level of completion, but as you said, Lady Sierra, empire law currently requires approved mages to manufacture bombs."

"Because they're safe."

Bomb-making technology had existed in the past, but stability was always an issue.

Magic had reinforced that stability, and from then on, only companies employing mages—under empire law—could produce them.

But the costs were exorbitant.

"Right. That's why mages have made them until now. But this is different. It's safe without mages, easy to produce, and allows for mass production. The only downside is slightly lower destructive power, but the real issue is......"

"You can't produce it legally without rewriting empire law, and to do that, you'd need approval from the Magic Association."

Kestian nodded with a look of relief, as if that was exactly it.

She lowered her gaze to stare at the bomb in Kestian's hand.

Even with reduced power for that size, if it was cheap and mass-producible, it had solid business potential.

No—it was revolutionary for bomb manufacturing.

But the path to getting there would be treacherous.

"So, why are you showing this to me?"

"What do you think, Lady Sierra?"

"Are you asking as a businessman, or for an objective opinion?"

"Both."

"As a business product, it's fantastic. If it gets approved, it'll rake in money. But objectively, approval is unlikely. Empire law aside, the Magic Association will raise hell, other bomb manufacturers will push back, and those keeping the Pallieva family in check will make noise too. It'll probably be tough."

"Is that so?"

Was she too blunt?

Kestian rubbed his chin thoughtfully for a moment, then grinned and nodded.

He took back the case, slipped the orb inside, and stowed it away.

"Thank you for the objective assessment."

"You're welcome."

Kestian turned to leave as if his business was done, opening the door.

As he stepped out, he paused for a second and looked back.

"If the Pallieva family decides to develop this, would you support us?"

"I can't speak for the family. But personally? Yes. I'd support it. As I said before, I back the Pallieva family's direction. As long as safety and transparency are secured, I'd raise my hand for it anytime."

The Pallieva family wasn't on good terms with the Bozbon family.

For someone like her, dreaming of revenge on Bellieta, she couldn't ignore using that rift.

It was too perfect an opening to pass up.

"Is that answer good enough?"

She tilted her head, and Kestian's round eyes curved into a soft smile.

"Don't forget those words."

The door closed slowly, and Kestian vanished.

Staring at the spot where he'd appeared and disappeared like the wind, she turned away.

What an odd man.

The taciturn future duke of the Pallieva family had long been erased from her mind.

By the time a red carpet unrolled across the western sky, the conference room doors opened.

Not everyone had arrived yet, but she stood first and gathered her things.

There was no need to arrive early and wait for people like at a banquet—unlike parties, in conferences, the early bird won.

The military supplies conference was a conference in name only; it was essentially a battlefield.

Her father had always said to enter first and chat with those coming in.

The truly vital info didn't come from formal reports or during the meeting.

You could always snag it before things kicked off.

Grab a seat early and tune into the chatter—that's how you caught the key bits.

"You're early."

Count Ricardo, already there, greeted her warmly.

As she approached, he glanced around and leaned in with a hushed tone.

"I was shocked. Lur white wine from the Rur region? That's rare—barely a hundred bottles a year. Reservations are always booked solid; I could never get it before. Thanks to you, I finally tasted it."

He liked the gift; Count Ricardo's face was flushed.

The faint wine scent suggested he'd been sipping just before.

"It's hard to come by. Consider it a bribe—you'll have to help me out later when I ask. Got it?"

At her joking tone, Count Ricardo's lips curved up broadly.

With a pleased smile, he nodded.

Soon, people began filing into the conference room.

She finished greetings with Count Ricardo, went to her named seat, sat, and organized her space.

People took seats on either side, exchanging light hellos.

Some familiar faces, some new.

Memories from her past life nearly made her chat too familiarly, but keeping quiet saved her from embarrassment.

As the start time neared, a woman entered late, pulling out a chair.

A quick glance revealed neatly tied brown hair and a cool demeanor.

Who was she?

Lost in thought, her gaze lingered, and the woman—opening her bag—looked over.

Blue eyes.

"It's been a while, Lady Brilloxen."

"I almost didn't recognize you. You've changed a lot, Lady Chelano."

Chelano Wolprokt.

Not close now, but until her death in the previous timeline, they'd been quite tight.

The finest knight from Viscount Wolprokt's house.

Someone she'd helped and been helped by often.

Seeing a forgotten face sparked joy, and a bright smile bloomed unbidden.

Chelano flinched in surprise at the smile, but whatever.

Smiling wasn't a crime.

"Everyone says that since I grew my hair out. Weird?"

"Not at all. It's beautiful."

Still sturdy and cool, but now with long hair adding beauty—Sierra tossed out praise laced with delight.

Chelano rubbed her nape, flashing an awkward smile.

Yet her hands moved briskly, stacking documents neatly and crisply on the desk.

"Come to think of it, your last conference was two years ago? I barely remember."

"About then."

"Then you won't know the vibe here. Mind if I share some valuable intel?"

Intel?

She tilted her head curiously, and Chelano scanned the room before nodding toward a direction.

Following her gaze, Sierra spotted a man with a ample belly.

Who was that?

"Count Oxiad. A commercial noble with no political ties."

"Ah, that Oxiad iron mine......?"

"Right. He owns a massive mine where the whole mountain is buried in iron. A tycoon—you can't produce weapons without his involvement, thanks to his huge share in iron production."

"I heard he bought a coal mine recently."

"Heat's essential for firing. Smart expansion. But that's not the issue."

Chelano shifted her gaze to the people around him.

"Everyone sitting by him is a commercial noble obsessed with piling up wealth. They specialize in production, processing, sales, and management. Know what they band together for?"

She shook her head, and Chelano murmured low.

"Exports. Massive exports. The empire controls volume with tariffs, but they're expanding markets even at tax cost. They'll probably push tax reforms again this time. Lower taxes mean more exports—which hands a win to neighboring countries ramping up military spending."

Sierra got what Chelano meant.

Once military gear flooded outward, the internal market would tank.

The Brilloxen family, supplying raw materials to that market for max profit, would take a huge hit.

No short-term issue, but long-term instability loomed.

It threatened the empire's security—and shook Brilloxen's foundation.

Had to block it.

She nodded curtly, and Chelano's lips quirked up.

As Chelano pointed out more key players, time came, and the doors shut.

Count Ricardo moved to the center.

In the slightly dimmed room, she looked up to see Kestian—late arrival—taking the last seat.

He met her eyes and gave a light wave.

A soft chuckle escaped her.

"Conference commencing. Refrain from unapproved movement and mind your words."

Count Ricardo flipped through his thick documents and started with minor agenda items.