Blackstone Code

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The scene unfolded in a quiet room, where soft music played in the background. Lynch sat relaxed on a couch, while Delage, the Provincial Governor, occupied the seat across from him. A few aides accompanied the governor, and they were all engaged in an informal discussion with Lynch.

Though this kind of private meeting wasn't technically against the rules, it wasn't exactly above board either. Such encounters often invited suspicion. However, neither Truman's side nor the Nagalier delegation seemed particularly concerned about appearances.

The situation had grown increasingly complicated. Pretton's decision to involve Gevra's Royal Navy hadn't resolved his predicament; instead, it had pushed matters into uncharted territory. Back in Gevra, debates raged over what was likely—no, inevitable—a looming naval battle. Some even floated the idea of waging a "defensive war" on Nagalier soil against the Federation.

Those advocating for this plan shared a mindset not unlike that of the Federation—or Lynch himself. Greed for Nagalier's resources lay at the heart of their reasoning. Whether those resources existed or not didn't matter much. If they did, great—the spoils could offset Gevra's military expenses incurred while aiding Nagalier against its invaders. And if they didn't? That was fine too. Given Gevra's imperialist tendencies, turning Nagalier into a cash cow wouldn't be difficult.

This line of thinking had already garnered support within Gevra. After all, Nagalier could compensate for some of the losses Gevra had suffered during the global conflict but failed to recover. Still, there was hesitation—primarily stemming from uncertainty about the Federation's combat capabilities.

On one hand, Gevra instinctively believed its navy outclassed the Federation's. Yet, doubt lingered—a natural reaction before any battle is fought and decided. History was littered with examples of lopsided conflicts ending in shocking reversals. No one dared claim victory before the first shot was fired.

Gevra found itself caught in a paradox. It craved knowledge of the Federation's true strength and coveted Nagalier's untapped wealth. At the same time, it dreaded being dragged into a prolonged war that would drain its dwindling reserves of manpower and resources.

Silence hung heavy in the room. News from Nagalier instructed them to wait, but Delage and others were growing restless. The waiting felt like torture, underscoring their desperate need for change. Only when they grew stronger could they escape living at the mercy of others.

As the primary representative driving this diplomatic initiative, Delage now bore the responsibility of communicating with the Federation. Though domestic orders urged him to stall, the delegation had its own interests to consider. Nagalier wasn't truly unified, despite appearances.

Take Delage, for instance. He cared little about the fate of the Nagalier United Kingdom. His concerns revolved around how a potential war might affect his family and the province of Magura. As for everyone else? Their fates barely registered.

Delage had no connections in Gevra, leaving him without a foundation for negotiations. Thus, he turned to Lynch.

"I, along with everyone here, supports establishing diplomatic relations with the Federation," Delage began, glancing around the room. Heads nodded in agreement; these individuals represented various provincial governors or religious districts. His gaze returned to Lynch. "Before the next official round of talks begins, we'd like to discuss what we stand to gain if we reach an agreement and form a friendly alliance."

It was a gesture of goodwill—discussing post-diplomacy arrangements signaled sincerity. But it was also a pragmatic choice. Faced with two options, they leaned toward the Federation. Compared to Pretton's offer of higher profit shares and reduced import prices, the Federation appeared more appealing. Had Pretton not invoked Gevra's Royal Navy, Nagalier and the Federation might already have exchanged diplomatic notes.

In reality, Pretton Trading House covertly controlled Nagalier's customs authority, though it did so cleverly enough to avoid outright resentment. Reclaiming control of customs while gaining the Federation's technological support sounded promising.

Listening to Delage, Lynch shook his head slightly. "Our terms are already the most favorable possible—and those terms…" He chuckled dryly. "…may change due to your arrogance."

Confusion flickered across Delage's face. "I'm afraid I don't follow."

People often mistook politeness for deference. Setting down his glass, Lynch clarified, "Let me put it plainly. Your wavering stance displeases both me and the Federation government. Opportunists have exploited this instability, leaving us in a precarious position—all because you couldn't withstand pressure."

"All previous agreements are null and void. Moving forward, expect new terms, and they won't be nearly as generous."

Lynch watched Delage closely, observing the shifting emotions in his expression. "Let me speak frankly. Right now, the Federation prefers you reject diplomacy. That way, we can wage a vengeful campaign over Nagalier's seas and lands against Gevra."

"You people, Nagalier's land, resources, everything—it will all belong to the victor, to be divided and controlled as they see fit."

"Your constant shifts in attitude are tiresome, Mr. Delage. Both I and Mr. Truman have grown weary."

These words were blunt, yet Delage didn't react with anger. Though his face betrayed fleeting emotions, he maintained composure.

"I understand," he said, eliciting a faint smile from Lynch. He grasped the biting critique behind Lynch's words and recognized the shift in diplomatic tone.

At the core, it boiled down to one truth: neither Delage nor Nagalier possessed sufficient strength. They were powerless.

"I'll do my best to persuade the delegation to make a decision," Delage replied calmly, unfazed by Lynch's aggressive demeanor. "But what should I use to convince them?" Whether restraining himself or genuinely composed, Delage knew he had to endure.

Lynch paused thoughtfully. "Had you maintained this stance from the start, certain disputes wouldn't have arisen. Pretton is merely a man, a pirate trader. He represents no one, let alone a nation."

"When our fleet destroys his last maritime stronghold, he'll hang as a pirate—with no other path available."

After a brief pause, Lynch continued, "Broadly speaking, the essence of our earlier discussions remains unchanged, though some details will differ."

"First, the financial aid provided by the Federation can only be used to hire Federation personnel, construct designated factories and facilities, and import specified goods and raw materials. None of it may be diverted elsewhere, and every expenditure must be supervised and approved by us."

This was stricter than before. Previously, only half the funds required oversight, earmarked for specific purposes. Now, the entirety fell under scrutiny.

Yet, this change held little significance for Delage or the others. Their share of the pie was minimal anyway, with the bulk allocated to the central government—the nominal supreme authority of Nagalier.

Without much deliberation, the group nodded in agreement.

"Second," Lynch raised two fingers, "over seventy percent of the workforce involved in constructing the agreed-upon factories and facilities must consist of Federation citizens."

"Furthermore, Federation workers must comprise at least thirty percent of the labor force during subsequent production phases."

While somewhat stringent, Delage and the others saw no issue after brief consultation. Though hiring Federation workers meant paying higher wages, the cost ultimately came out of the Federation's pocket—not theirs. With no real downside, they accepted without objection.

A hint of satisfaction crept onto Lynch's face. "Third, the Federation Thor must become the legal, official currency of the Nagalier United Kingdom."

When this third condition was proposed, Delage didn't immediately agree. The group huddled briefly, whispering among themselves as Lynch observed their reactions.

Most seemed indifferent. Some even liked the idea; the Thor was an internationally recognized currency, usable in many countries. In contrast, their own galiar struggled to find places willing to exchange it at the official rate.

Delage remained wary, sensing a potential catch. But if there was one, it wasn't obvious—at least not yet. To him, it felt less like a trap and more like a hidden surprise waiting to unfold.

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