Reincarnation of a Hunter Chapter 22.2 - The First Step to Transformation (2)

 

The intimidated merchants began filling the seats, and once all the invited merchants had arrived, an official loudly announced:

 

“The leader of the territory of Marseille, a figure of exceptional leadership and wisdom, who tirelessly strives for the territory and its people, constantly seeking ways to ensure their well-being and prosperity, a truly outstanding individual—”

 

“Enough. Keep it brief.”

 

I cut off the administrator and stepped forward.

Then, I got straight to the point.

“I plan to close the private auction houses and establish public ones.”

 

—Murmur, murmur.

 

It really sounded like a ‘murmur’ as they whispered among themselves.

They were deliberately mumbling so I couldn’t hear—probably because most of what they were saying was curses.

 

One merchant abruptly raised his hand.

“Who are you?”

“I’m a wholesale agricultural merchant. Why are you consolidating the auction houses?”

“Because of taxes and inflation.”

“We can’t pay more taxes! Please withdraw this decision!”

 

If this were a tyrannical territory, such a bold statement could cost him his head. But even at the merchant’s life-risking protest, I only let out a quiet chuckle.

“Who said anything about raising taxes?”

“Huh?”

“The tax collected at the auction houses will be fixed at 10% of the item’s price.”

 

The merchants were all stunned by my words.

The current tax rate ranges from 20% to 40%, depending on the item.

What I was saying wasn’t about increasing taxes—it was about reducing them.

 

“The auction houses will only handle four categories: agricultural, livestock, aquatic, and miscellaneous goods, including spices. All auctioneers will be public officials, and the auction grounds will be expanded to allow wholesale shops to operate inside.”

“In what order will the shops be assigned?”

“Each will be contracted through public bidding. The lease will be for two-year terms. Subleasing and resale rights are prohibited.”

 

It was a simplified version of South Korea’s agricultural and marine product wholesale market system.

 

The merchants buzzed with chatter again.

“The Lord has made a bold decision.”

“Indeed. The money will still flow out, but the amount will be much smaller.”

 

Except for a very few merchants, most seemed to think the new system was actually better.

Between the exorbitant stall fees, high taxes, and under-the-table demands from officials, the previous private auction houses had been a massive drain on their finances.

 

Now, all they have to pay is a 10% tax and a small rental fee.

Of course, my goal wasn’t to make things convenient for the merchants.

Lowering the tax was meant to legitimize all transactions. I set the rate low enough that there was no need to take risks and resort to the underground economy.

With lower taxes, trade would naturally flourish, and prices would stabilize as a result.

Moreover, coupled with the nationalization of auction houses, every transaction would now be taxed.

In the end, even with lower tax rates, the total tax revenue would increase.

And the rental fees for wholesale stores wouldn’t be as cheap as the merchants expected.

After all, public auctions are still a matter of price competition.

The best spots would undoubtedly be auctioned off at exorbitant prices. The only difference was that the lord would now collect what private auction houses used to charge as seat fees.

Of course, many merchants had already figured out both of these points, but from their perspective, it was still a good deal.

 

“So Marseille is becoming a merchant-friendly territory?”

“What should I do with the money I save? Maybe buy a new carriage—60-month installments.”

“I’ll hold a discount event. You all better watch out. Heheh—”

 

Amid the cheerful atmosphere, one merchant raised his hand.

“My lord, I run a private auction house. What am I supposed to do now?”

“Why are you asking me that?”

“Well, it looks like my income is about to disappear…”

“Go ask your dad.”

 

There was a reason I responded so harshly.

According to my prior investigation, the merchants running private auction houses were all family members or underlings of foreign merchants.

It meant that Marseille’s wealth was being funneled out through these auction houses.

 

Suddenly, from all corners of the room, someone shouted loudly, “Those outsiders are the ones ruining Marseille! Get out of our territory!”

“Drag them out!”

“Kill them! Cut off their heads!”

 

They were agitators.

 

Of course, I planted it—I learned from watching agitators at shareholder meetings in Korea and put it to use.

The merchants, who had been slightly riled up, were swept up in an instant.

 

“Let’s kill those bastards!”

“Cut off their heads and decorate the auction house with them!”

“Selling a one-handed sword! Four silver coins!”

 

As the mood escalated rapidly, the private auction operators began scrambling to flee.

I ordered the soldiers to control the agitated merchants.

There was no need for bloodshed now. Those bastards would come for me soon.

And they’d do it secretly at night.

In this world, it’s only natural to stab anyone who messes with your livelihood.

 

⚔️

 

A few days after the public hearing, deep in the night.

Eric’s bedroom had two large windows.

One of them opened quietly, and two shadowy figures slipped in.

Their movements, as if only shadows had entered, were the assassins’ technique known as [Shadow Stealth].

The two shadows approached the bed and began stabbing the blankets with their daggers.

 

—Thud thud thud thud thud

 

The unnatural sensation in their hands.

 

“Bro, this isn’t a person. We’ve been tricked.”

“Let’s bail.”

 

Realizing they’d fallen into a trap, the shadows dashed back toward the window they came from.

And jumped outside.

 

—Crash!

 

But right below where they leaped, a net had been spread.

 

“Argh! Bro!”

“Damn it, we’re screwed.”

 

Even the most skilled fighters struggle to defend mid-jump. The assassins were caught in the wire net.

Soon, knights and soldiers holding torches appeared.

 

“These assassins—what were we supposed to do if they never showed? We’ve stayed up for nights.”

 

—Thwack thwack thwack

 

A merciless beating followed.

 

“Please, spare us! We’ll confess everything—who hired us, everything!”

“Orders are to hit first.”

“From who?”

“The lord.”

 

—Thwack thwack thwack

 

The soldiers, who had been gleefully beating the assassins, stopped when Eric appeared.

 

⚔️

 

“Did you take their weapons?”

“Yes, my lord. They were carrying daggers.”

“They must have poison needles too.”

At my words, the assassins pulled out something like a sewing kit from their pockets.

“Here are the poison needles. Please, spare our lives.”

Once the soldiers collected the needles, I crouched down to meet the assassins at eye level.

“Which guild are you from?”

“We’re from the Nightmare of the Night guild, sir.”

The tacky name almost made me comment, but I held back. Personal attacks aren’t my style.

“Where are you from?”

“We came from the territory of Catalonia, sir.”

Since I had prior intelligence, I quickly figured out who had sent them.

“I can guess who sent you, but you’ll testify in court.”

“Huh? You’re sparing us?”