Lord: Starting with Biological Modification

Chapter 223: Chapter 218: Anonymous Vote

Marquis Lorenzo’s gaze swept past the crowd and landed on his old rival.

"Iron Wall Marquis, I heard you recently acquired a new shipment of red wine from the Empire. It seems after today’s meeting, I won’t have the chance to trouble you for a glass."

The Iron Wall Marquis’s cheek twitched, which served as his response.

Then, Marquis Lorenzo slowly rose to his feet.

His movements weren’t fast, but as he straightened his back inch by inch, his previous languor vanished without a trace.

He surveyed the hall, a gentle smile on his face.

"First, I propose that we thank the Holy Second Empire."

The statement left the entire hall stunned.

The nobles in the Iron Wall Marquis’s faction looked delighted, while the hearts of Viscount Brian and the others sank.

Marquis Lorenzo continued, as if he hadn’t seen everyone’s reactions.

"Let us thank our powerful neighbor for their profound concern for the safety of the Duchy’s shipping lanes. The Empire is willing to extend a helping hand to assist us with our ’domestic affairs.’ We appreciate the sentiment."

He picked up the petition from the Sea Serpent Commerce Association on the scribe’s desk, holding it with two fingers as if the parchment were stained with something foul.

"The Iron Wall Marquis’s earlier analysis was brilliant. That Barbossa is indeed no longer a simple pirate."

Without any warning, Lorenzo’s tone shifted, adopting a peculiar, academic quality, like a scholar dissecting a subject in a lecture hall.

"He has backers, new types of weapons, and a tight-knit organization. This isn’t harassment, but a... ’proxy’ war."

A proxy?

In the hall, the vast majority of nobles wore expressions of confusion; the term was beyond their comprehension.

Only the Iron Wall Marquis’s pupils contracted sharply.

"Certain powers with ulterior motives can, without deploying a single soldier of their own, choke our Duchy’s maritime lifeline by funding these pirates."

Lorenzo’s finger traced an arc in the air, the very same trade route Velin had traced on the map.

"At that point, a bloodless ’economic blockade’ will take shape. And the mastermind behind it all can reap the benefits they desire without getting a single drop of blood on their hands."

The entire council hall erupted into a buzzing uproar.

Those nobles who had been lost in the fog just moments ago were now jolted awake. The quicker ones had already figured out who this so-called "mastermind" was.

’Marquis Lorenzo, what a meticulous mind!’

A muscle in the Iron Wall Marquis’s face twitched. He stared at Lorenzo as if seeing his old rival for the very first time.

Lorenzo placed the letter gently back on the desk, not with a shred of anger, but with an air of "understanding."

"So, I completely understand the Empire’s ’goodwill.’ When faced with a neighbor like us, whose throat can be so easily choked by a ’proxy,’ of course they would feel concerned."

"But," his voice suddenly rose, echoing under the epic-painted dome.

"This concern—shouldn’t we be the ones to eliminate it ourselves?"

"To let our powerful neighbor bleed for us, to bear risks for us—is this the Duchy’s glory, or its shame?!"

"We do not need a foreigner’s ’charity’!"

Having said all this, Marquis Lorenzo finally turned his gaze to Velin in the gallery, his tone returning to a calm pace.

"We should be glad that Baron Velin Klein is willing to step forward at this time. He is building a brand-new port in Sharp Teeth Gorge and has already reached an agreement with the Golden Sail Commerce Association. This means he will have enough ships to deal with the pirates."

"He has also forged a close partnership with Dwarven craftsmen. This means he has the ability to equip his fleet with the most reliable weapons."

"I propose that we grant him the development rights to the southern archipelago."

"Let his actions tell our esteemed neighbors—the lands of our maritime Duchy are ours to protect! We have no need to trouble our friends from the Empire!"

The speech ended.

The applause in the hall was sparse. Viscount Brian and the others clapped vigorously, but they couldn’t get more people to join in.

Many of the neutral nobles kept their heads down, their eyes flickering, clearly still weighing the pros and cons.

The Iron Wall Marquis watched this scene and sneered inwardly.

He knew that while Lorenzo’s speech was inflammatory, in the face of tangible benefits, so-called "glory" was worthless.

These neutral parties might talk about the Duchy, but what they really thought about was the safety of their own trade and territories. He had paid a very small price to win over many of their votes.

He stood up.

"Marquis Lorenzo’s speech was quite brilliant."

He first offered a compliment, then his tone shifted.

"But this matter concerns the future of the Duchy and will have far-reaching consequences. To prevent our colleagues from facing unnecessary retaliation in the future due to their differing stances, I propose that this vote be conducted anonymously."

’In an open vote, many would be forced to vote against their conscience due to the power of the Lorenzo family. This was his trump card to break down the psychological defenses of the neutral faction.’

The hall was in an uproar.

Everyone’s attention was fixed on Marquis Lorenzo.

Awaiting his reaction.

To their surprise, he gave a crisp nod, a... peculiar smile on his face?

"Very well."

"We shall do as the Iron Wall Marquis suggests."

This reaction made the Iron Wall Marquis’s heart skip a beat.

’Something’s not right.’

’But there was no turning back now.’

He told himself that Lorenzo was just pretending to be calm, that the old fox had no other cards to play.

The scribes began to distribute paper and quills.

The nobles wrote down their choices behind screens and dropped them into a locked black wooden box.

From the gallery, Velin quietly watched everything unfold below.

The process of counting the votes was long.

Under the supervision of the chief scribe, three scribes unfolded the ballots one by one and sorted them.

The hall fell so silent that everyone could hear each other breathing.

Finally, the chief scribe stood up, walked to the center of the council, picked up the first ballot, cleared his throat, and began to call out the votes in a clear, steady voice:

"In favor of ’trusteeship by the Empire,’ one vote!"

The Iron Wall Marquis sat upright in his seat, the corner of his mouth curling into a barely perceptible arc. His fingers began to tap a rhythm on the armrest, as if playing an overture to his own victory.

"’Trusteeship by the Empire,’ one vote!"

"’Trusteeship by the Empire,’ one vote!"

Seven or eight votes in a row went to the Marquis’s side.

A slight stir went through the hall. The nobles supporting the Marquis smiled, casting knowing glances in his direction.

The vote-calling continued.

"Granting development rights to Baron Velin Klein, one vote!"

The first dissenting vote had finally appeared, but it was quickly drowned out by the calls that followed.

"’Trusteeship by the Empire!’"

"’Trusteeship by the Empire!’"

When the number of votes for "trusteeship by the Empire" reached fifteen, the smile on the Iron Wall Marquis’s face became quite obvious.

After all, there were only a little over seventy nobles with voting rights present. This opening was enough to prove his influence; the fruit of victory already seemed to be in his grasp.

The vassals by his side even began to quietly exchange words of congratulation.

However, at that very moment, the situation took a strange turn.

The chief scribe picked up a new stack of ballots, and for the first time, a note of hesitation entered his voice.

"Granting development rights to Baron Velin Klein, one vote!"

This time, the call did not revert back to "trusteeship by the Empire."

"Granting development rights to Baron Velin Klein!"

"Granting development rights to Baron Velin Klein!"

"Granting development rights to Baron Velin Klein!"

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