Blackstone Code

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This was a peculiar era, a magical time when everything seemed to be spiraling from good to bad, only to rise again like a phoenix from the ashes of destruction.

No one could put this age into words. People had shed their simple ways, becoming as mercenary as the caricatures in novels. Yet, society moved faster than ever before, outpacing the simpler times.

A new day arrived on schedule, the rising sun heating up the earth that had cooled overnight.

A deliveryman pedaled furiously on a green bicycle, its basket laden with newspapers, speeding through the community's roads. With one hand on the handlebars and without slowing down, he expertly tossed newspapers onto the lawns of houses.

Of course, this scene was typical of middle-class neighborhoods, where each house boasted its own yard and lush green grass.

A woman in casual wear and an apron hurried out of her house, picked up the rolled-up newspaper resembling a short stick, and returned inside.

She was preparing breakfast for her husband, who would read the morning paper while eating. It was her duty to ensure he enjoyed a peaceful morning, a small token of gratitude for his tireless efforts for the family.

Years ago, he used to enjoy cooking breakfast with his wife or indulging in some playful moments. But now, he lacked the same passion.

The grind of daily life and work had worn him down. These stay-at-home wives would never understand the burden on his shoulders or the immense pressure he carried, with no one to confide in. Perhaps leaving his rigid routine undisturbed was the greatest reward he could ask for.

Sipping his coffee with milk, he turned to the first page of the newspaper. The headline caught his eye: "The Baylor Federation's New Young Leader."

Glancing at the masthead, he recognized it as a progressive party newspaper, making such a radical title unsurprising.

If it were a conservative paper, the headline might have been "The Trendsetting Youth," subtly conveying a similar message but lacking intensity and impact.

Once, people appreciated subtlety, content with stability. But after so much, they grew weary of it all, craving something to jolt their numb senses.

Undoubtedly, the man saw the young, handsome face that inspired envy.

"He must be someone's illegitimate child..." the man muttered jealously, seeking solace.

His wife, bringing over sliced bread, licked the mayonnaise from her fingers and asked, "Who?"

"Who else but Lynch?" He wanted to turn the page but restrained himself. "He's been all over the news lately, and everyone's talking about him. It's like he appeared out of nowhere overnight, and now the whole world knows him."

In the man's mind, perhaps the Federation was his entire world, and this statement wasn't entirely wrong—it reflected the majority view within the Federation. For many, the Federation was the world.

The woman glanced quickly at the newspaper. She recognized the familiar young face; Lynch had been appearing frequently on television screens lately.

"He looks very handsome in this picture."

"Good looks don't put food on the table," the man grumbled, flipping the page. Though he hadn't finished reading it, he instinctively disliked his wife praising another man, even if they'd never meet.

The woman paused, then laughed. "But he's rich..."

The man pursed his lips, unable to refute this, and began to sulk. Just as he thought his morning had gone downhill, his wife kissed him.

"But in my heart, you're the most handsome. No one can compare to you."

Her words flowed like a gentle stream into his heart, instantly dispelling his irritation. "Thank you. Even though I know you're trying to cheer me up, I'm still happy."

He gazed at her face, so close, then glanced at the clock. "We still have time..."

Such scenes played out in many households. Lynch's words had profoundly shaken society, reminding people that they were stronger than they realized.

In truth, when engaging with the international community, the Federation and its people often felt a vague sense of confusion and fear. They believed themselves not strong enough, nor assertive enough.

They hadn't experienced the trials of war, and the previous presidential administration had failed to make any significant diplomatic strides, even struggling to honor war bonds. The government at the time was powerless.

They hesitated to express strong demands or issue commands. Instead, they bowed their heads and continued negotiations, causing the citizens to feel disheartened.

The nation's diplomatic weakness led to a lack of confidence among its people. Even now, under a new president, this insecurity lingered deep within.

Until... Lynch appeared. With unimaginable resolve, he told the people they were stronger than they thought.

This voice of the times invigorated some, sparking celebration, while others dismissed it as self-deception. But the youth believed, which is why radical newspapers hailed Lynch as the "young leader."

He revitalized the stagnant Federation, encouraging people to look up.

It was said his words even altered major policies. Plans to cut military spending and reduce active personnel, promised to countries like Gevra, were put on hold.

Some retired soldiers, still jobless, were called to join the militia, particularly navy veterans, who were urged to return to service.

This phenomenon spoke volumes. People began to realize that what they had feared for years now hindered their resurgence. Only by breaking these shackles could the Federation find renewal.

On the streets, even amidst hardship, the youth displayed an unprecedented vitality. They discussed war and how to achieve their ideals—a remarkable sight.

"But it's also dangerous," remarked a conservative congressman during a small meeting in his office.

The room was filled with conservative politicians, capitalists, and representatives of various interests. It was an intimate gathering.

The congressman had received political donations from Mr. Pretton—50,000 bucks—not a vast sum for a congressman, just adequate.

Additionally, Pretton had gifted him an anonymous bank voucher worth six figures, untraceable and free from federal oversight, allowing complete discretion.

This was why he had invited these friends to his office—to sabotage Lynch or, more broadly, the radicals.

Politicians' enemies were always those on opposing sides. External threats were left to the military and higher-ups. Their sole mission was to defeat their rivals—simple as that.

The people in the room, seated or standing, watched him. The congressman wielded considerable influence within the Federation's system, representing the highest governing body and power.

Though distributed among many, each individual remained a formidable force.

The congressman toyed with an exquisite pen costing thousands, one of dozens he owned. "Through certain channels, I've learned that Lynch's so-called pirate, Pretton, has ties to the Gevran navy. This pirate has been providing intelligence and doing dirty work for them."

"Gentlemen, in a way, Pretton Pirate Group is a pawn of the Gevran navy. If we rashly engage those pirates, it could lead to a naval standoff—or even war—with Gevra."

"This is perilous. We've just pulled the Federation back from the brink. Our focus should be development, not provoking Gevra's sensitivities with a war whose outcome we can't guarantee."

"If we proceed, our gains will be minimal, and our relationship with Gevra will fracture."

"If we refrain, we maintain friendly cooperation with Gevra and lose nothing."

"The choice is clear, I believe."

The congressman had been startled by this information, disclosed directly by Pretton himself, realizing intervention was necessary.

His actions weren't driven by money but by patriotism—for the Baylor Federation. A recovering Federation couldn't withstand a losing war.

Should federal ships be annihilated by these "pirates," the Federation's international standing would plummet, potentially excluding it from the ranks of victorious allied nations.

Thus, he had to prevent any armed conflict between the Federation's navy and Pretton's pirates—for the Federation's future.

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