Blackstone Code-Chapter 677: The Final Piece

Aside from lacking freedom, life wasn’t all that bad now.

Lying on the bed with his legs crossed, Preyton stared at the blue sky and white clouds outside the window, feeling a bit sentimental.

A peaceful life really wears down the spirit. Unknowingly, he had started getting used to this place. Though it was dull and monotonous, it gave him a sense of security he’d never experienced before.

At first, he deeply resented the soldiers outside. He saw them as the only thing standing between him and freedom. But now, he wished there were more of them—at least then he wouldn’t have to worry about someone pressing a gun to the back of his head in his sleep.

Just as he was watching a federal TV show and chuckling like a fool, the door opened.

“You guys really should learn to knock,” said Preyton, wearing only a robe and boxers, with no hint of a prisoner’s awareness—more like someone on vacation.

Turning around, he saw it wasn’t someone from the Security Council. It was Truman.

He casually turned off the TV and faced the approaching Mr. Truman. “What do you need from me this time?”

Mr. Truman looked a bit surprised. “You seem quite adjusted to life here.”

“Who wouldn’t be?” Preyton spread his arms and glanced around. “If you guys would just let me find some girls, it’d be perfect. You know, I’ve been handling things on my own for a while now…”

Since the news of Preyton’s capture hadn’t been made public, it was nearly impossible for him to satisfy his physical needs.

From the Federal perspective, letting him come into contact with outsiders could expose his whereabouts. So, not only was he cut off from the outside world, but he couldn’t see anyone from beyond, let alone hire someone.

“It’s illegal to solicit here in the Federation,” Truman reminded him. “The penalty is harsh—I have to warn you.”

Preyton scoffed. He’d been to the Federation more than once and had a stack of business cards from model agencies on Eminence. The Federals were hypocrites—pretending such things didn’t exist when they clearly did.

He shrugged indifferently. “Illegal? Fine. I’m a law-abiding citizen—I never break the law…” He paused. “So, what do you want from me this time?”

“We need you to leak some information…”

Less than an hour later, Mr. Truman left the facility where Preyton was being held. Before he went, he instructed the Security Council to deliver some new adult films to provide the pirate boss with a bit of entertainment.

At the same time, in Gephra, several ministers urgently requested an audience with the Emperor.

The Emperor, who hadn’t suffered a headache in a while, was in rare good spirits. In the side hall, he greeted the ministers with a smile.

“You all look quite anxious. Has something bad happened?” With a wave of his hand, the royal butler ordered tea and pastries for the Emperor and the ministers.

The relationship between the nobility and the royal family wasn’t entirely antagonistic. It varied with the times—complicated and nuanced.

The ministers exchanged glances. Finally, the Minister of Defense spoke up. “Your Majesty, I’ve just received word that the Federal President has approved over twenty military projects, including naval expansion and the construction of various new warships…”

The Emperor’s smile vanished instantly, along with his good mood.

“Military expansion?” he repeated. “You’re saying the Federation is expanding its forces?”

The Defense Minister looked helpless. “From what I’ve gathered—yes.”

The Emperor straightened up, inhaling sharply and pressing a hand to his forehead. The headache was back. He hated this feeling.

“They… are they trying to provoke a war? Expanding now, of all times?” His expression turned grim.

The Federation had long been downsizing its military and had no new military plans. Even though Gephra had lost a crucial naval battle, no one had been overly alarmed. The global community had remained calm.

A country actively downsizing, despite having strong military capability, was seen as non-aggressive—its strength purely defensive. Their forces weren’t enough to invade anyone, so there had been peace.

But now, a sudden military expansion—with numerous reported weapons programs—made the Emperor’s head feel like it might explode.

Maybe that President figured he had the election in the bag and was preparing to become an aggressor?

Not impossible. The bizarre politics and twisted ideologies of the Federation could produce just about anything.

“Spit it all out. Let’s hear all the bad news today.” The Emperor braced himself.

And yes—there was more.

“Recently, a Federal cargo ship was hijacked and sunk. Some in their country suspect we might be involved…” said the Naval Minister. “It’s only a suspicion, but… we need to make our position clear.”

“Also,” he added, “I’ve obtained internal documents from the Federation. The new fleet they’re building will surpass all our current warships in every technical parameter.”

“They plan to make up the gap between us with superior performance and technology. This must be taken seriously!”

“If their ships outperform ours by too much, our sailors’ experience won’t matter. Even without submarines in play, we’ll have a hard time winning on the front lines.”

He spoke gravely, repeating an old truth well known in Gephra: “Every extra kilometer a shell can fly is a kilometer of safety for us.”

This was a belief voiced by a Gephran naval minister during the Age of Exploration: “As long as we shoot farther, we can destroy enemy ships before they reach us—minimizing our losses.”

That philosophy still guided Gephra’s naval doctrine to this day.

Seeing the Emperor hesitate, the Naval Minister pressed the point. “Your Majesty, we must begin our own new shipbuilding program—at least to keep up in specs and performance.”

The Defense Minister agreed. “In addition to warships, we need to accelerate research on new gunpowder and artillery. If the Federation intends to challenge the world order, we may be the last line of defense.”

“Also, considering the strategic importance of the Amellia region, we should deploy a large number of coastal guns at the ports to prepare for a surprise attack.”

The Emperor rubbed his forehead. “You all keep talking about war. Is it really going to happen?”

The ministers fell silent for a moment. Then the Prime Minister asked:

“Your Majesty, if right now no country in the world could oppose us—and we had the strength to conquer the world—what would you choose?”

The Emperor said nothing more.

Ambition scales with capability. A factory worker’s greatest ambition might be to become a foreman or workshop manager.

Maybe a little more ambitious—but only within the confines of the factory—because his capabilities and their limits go only so far. Anything beyond that isn’t ambition; it’s delusion.

Or perhaps a bit more—but still limited to the factory itself, because that’s the extent of his ability. Anything beyond that isn’t ambition, it’s delusion.

For a senior executive, ambition might mean gaining more shares, tightening control over the company, taking it public, expanding with branches, or starting a business to achieve financial freedom.

Ambition scales with ability. The only reason the Emperor of Gephra could peacefully pursue development was because they had no way to counter the Federation’s submarines in the naval war.

But if Gephra had won that battle, its warships would probably be roaming the globe by now, maintaining world peace.

So whether a grand ambition can take shape still comes down to capability.

The Emperor of Gephra understood clearly—once the Federation believed it was unbeatable, it would begin reaching out to neighboring nations, using every means possible to gain more territory, profit, population…

“We can’t allow the Federation to expand unchecked. We have to act,” the Emperor said, snapping back to focus. “At the very least, we can’t let them expand too smoothly.” He rephrased it slightly.

At that moment, the Prime Minister stood up. “Your Majesty, we should publicly announce our plans to the international community and propose joint military exercises with our allies.”

“I believe when our friends see how aggressive the Federation is becoming, they’ll be eager to stand with us and defend our mutual interests!”

That very day, Gephra held a press conference to unveil its four-year military plan. The global reaction was explosive.

Even more baffling was that the next day, details of the Federation’s military expansion and rearmament were suddenly leaked. Simultaneously, Gephra and its Allied Powers announced they would begin joint military exercises in the Western Ocean.

In Gephran terms, it was remembering the cruelty of war even in times of peace, ensuring combat readiness through drills.

The rationale was strong—even the Federation was on the invitation list. The international landscape was thrown into chaos overnight.

“So… the military had no time to respond to the Merrick Consortium’s request to escort their cargo ships,” Lynch said calmly, legs crossed on the sofa, looking at Mr. Wadrick. “The final stone has been moved.”

Wadrick looked at Lynch with a dazed, drifting gaze. Unknowingly, Lynch had already grown to a point beyond anything he had imagined.

This was no longer something that could be called “strategy.” If Mr. Truman knew what was happening, he’d surely consider Lynch a kindred spirit.

In Truman’s eyes, the ability to reshape the international landscape through seemingly minor actions was a power wasted outside of politics.

After a moment, Mr. Wadrick snapped out of it, looked at Lynch, and exclaimed, “You’re a damn genius!”

Lynch gave a slight nod. “Thank you for the compliment.”