Blackstone Code-Chapter 410: New Changes

Around eight in the evening, the governor returned home to find Edwin waiting for him.

Edwin’s house was right next door—they were relatives from the same political family faction.

The governor’s reelection would determine the family’s future direction. If successful, they wouldn’t just settle for this term; they aimed to eventually propel him to the presidency.

But all of that hinged on a smooth reelection this time.

The governor shrugged off his coat, tossing it onto a low stool in the cloakroom. The maid would take care of it.

At home, only the governor and a few servants remained; his wife and children were at their country estate for the summer, unlikely to return before September.

Edwin sat on the sofa, chewing on something.

As people age, they tend to find something to occupy themselves—not always out of habit, but to avoid idleness.

Time felt increasingly scarce, bringing an unprecedented sense of urgency and anxiety, so they kept busy to avoid wasting what little time they had in boredom.

Chewing on that root was Edwin’s way.

When the governor entered, Edwin spat it out into the trash.

“How did the talk go?” he asked, turning to the governor—who was his nephew.

In public, Edwin was the governor’s chief of staff and maintained a professional demeanor, but in private, their relationship was more casual.

The governor sat across on the sofa, had the maid bring some drinks, and nodded. “Very enlightening. Lynch’s ideas are more concrete than yours or those experts’.”

He took a sip of sparkling wine with ice. “You know what I mean. Your staff and those experts talk in vague terms. Of course, I want to revive the economy, but no one tells me how to do it step by step. Lynch did.”

Edwin wasn’t offended. At his age, he was more stubborn—and persistent—about political pursuits than younger men.

He knew only the governor could win, and that meant their family could go further. Now, all family resources leaned toward the governor. They’d never been this united.

Everyone knew who the key man was.

“What did he say?”

The governor set down his glass. “Amellia, turmoil, and rebuilding from the ground up.”

His eyes sparkled. “Lynch makes a lot of sense. This might be the best way out of our current crisis.”

Meanwhile, in the night-shrouded Amellia region, peace didn’t come with the presence or absence of Gephra’s army. Instead, it became the frontline of rebellion against tyranny. 𝘳άꞐ𝐨ꞖΕš

International brokers, bankers, arms dealers, and mercenary groups roamed the area seeking profit. Whether cooperating with the Gephra governor or the rebels, as long as it paid, they’d even ally with the devil.

The tense martial law atmosphere of the day faded with nightfall. What should have been a fearful night instead brought a rare calm to the people of Amellia.

Gephra’s brutal soldiers didn’t storm into houses demanding everyone leave and lie face down. Night became nature’s shelter, protecting the people.

In the governor’s mansion, he stood by the window, staring into the dark night, worry etched on his face.

No one expected Gephra’s invincible fleet to lose to the Federation, nor the Federation’s stealth development of practical submarines and new torpedoes capable of threatening battleships.

The naval balance shifted dramatically. Until they could counter the Federation’s subs and torpedoes, Gephra’s homeland sent urgent orders—no more fleets would be dispatched to intimidate Amellia’s bays.

It was too risky. If the Federation continued surprise attacks, Gephra’s last defense would fall.

So besides some army reinforcements, the governor had no naval support.

Without the navy, the bay and smuggling routes couldn’t be blocked.

Since the first outbreak, he’d roughly identified the rebels and their supplies—the vile international speculators.

He knew armed resistance in Amellia had evolved beyond a simple conflict between rulers and the ruled—it had become a business. 𝚏𝕣𝕖𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚋𝚗𝐨𝐯𝕖𝕝.𝕔𝐨𝕞

That was the most terrifying part.

If it were mere ideological conflict, both sides might find compromise points and stabilize.

In that scenario, rebels sought respect—social, political.

But those who treated armed rebellion as a business were different; they chased profit.

Gephra’s strength had harmed many countries, including allies. When the fleet couldn’t patrol the seas, these vermin struck.

They bribed rebel leaders, setting up overseas accounts, funneling money, and supplying everything imaginable and unimaginable to those abroad.

The price was increased rebel activity against Gephra’s rule, all for money.

Such profit-driven rebels couldn’t coexist with the governor. Their goal was simple: money.

Before the naval battle, the governor knew some of this but didn’t worry. Once Gephra’s navy blockaded Amellia’s seas, no supplies could enter or leave.

The rebels might have reserves to resist briefly, but eventually, they’d run out and revert to mere ideological conflict.

Ideological conflict wasn’t too dangerous; the young generation would see the old struggles as worthless, even foolish.

Compared to developed Gephra, the so-called motherland of the elders was backward and indifferent—why hold onto past loyalties?

One generation, two, three—eventually, Amellia would truly become Amellian Province.

But all of that was shattered with the naval defeat.

“Governor, the Kobal Hydroelectric Plant has been attacked…” A sudden voice broke the governor’s thoughts. He turned from the dark sky, drank his coffee, and faced the officer at the door.

He sat, rubbing his temples. “What are the losses?”

“We repelled the attack, killed nine armed rebels, but captured no weapons or ammo. The enemy retreated quickly; our men didn’t pursue into the dense forest.”

The wording was careful—fear of ambush turned into caution. Reckless cleverly transformed cowardice into prudence.

Of course, the governor said nothing—avoiding unnecessary casualties was their top priority now.

He sighed deeply. “What’s the damage to the hydroelectric plant?”

The officer hesitated, then after a few seconds, lowered his head slightly and said, “The plant is under emergency repair. The attackers used floating logs tied with stones and explosives. It won’t be able to supply power to the surrounding area for a while.”

The governor didn’t even bother to sigh again. At some point, these aimless rebel groups seemed to have conspired, reaching consensus on certain tactics.

They’d abandoned low-value targets and instead ramped up attacks on infrastructure.

He wanted to ask the rebels: you’ve destroyed the thermal and hydroelectric plants, water facilities, railways, roads, city communication and power networks—what do you really gain from this?

Yes, the Gephra people suffer greatly, but the locals suffer even more.

No electricity? The Gephra have generators.

No water? They make locals fetch it.

No communications? They still send telegraphs.

But the locals live in unbearable conditions. What’s the point of this destruction?

Seeing the officer’s uneasy expression, the governor refrained from scolding. He knew the officers on the front lines were even more cautious, more anxious, and least wanted these incidents.

He couldn’t add more pressure. For now, they could only wait. Once the new army equipment arrived, things might improve.

Gephra had concluded that, besides gaining temporary sovereignty over Amellia during the war, their main failure was the army’s weakness—it lacked offensive power.

If they could have crushed even a small country, they wouldn’t be in such a passive, dire state.

So near the end of the war, their military industry began developing new army equipment. With their navy unbeatable, making the army effective too would almost guarantee future war profits.

They hoped the new army gear would change the situation here.

No—hope was not enough. It would change the situation.

The governor clenched his fist tightly.