Blackstone Code-Chapter 698: One Trap After Another

If people cannot live happy lives, the ruling class’s position becomes precarious.

Everything happening in Nagaryll is proving this point. People aren’t concerned with changes in the political system—they just want to make more money.

Some might think this has nothing to do with the stability of the ruling class, that money and politics are separate. But thinking that would be a grave mistake.

When the public focuses on making money while ignoring political reform, it means they feel no sense of belonging to the nation. Everything unfolding in Nagaryll is the result of seeds sown by the rulers themselves.

In trying to better control and enslave the people, they’ve reaped bitter fruit.

Even more ironic is the new national name following the regime change—The New Federation of Nagaryll.

That name seems to hint at something, though perhaps it means nothing.

Just as tensions between the world’s two major blocs began to rise slightly, ships carrying Nagaryll laborers safely docked at the port of the Amellian province.

Crates were offloaded onto the docks by cranes, and soon after, people began to pour out of them.

Their expressions were grim. To save on shipping costs, they hadn’t been given individual rooms or beds. Instead, they were crammed into shipping containers.

Each container had a basket-like structure fixed to the ceiling, where people could rest or sleep—this setup maximized the number of passengers per container.

People could also sleep on the floor. Fitting 20 to 30 people in a single container wasn’t difficult.

But the real reason for their pain was the toilet situation.

Freighters aren’t designed like passenger ships, with proper sanitation. Cramming people into shipping containers made it impossible to handle so much human waste. So, they were instructed to eat and defecate less to reduce the load.

Even so, after three days, people still had to relieve themselves at least once or twice. The stench inside the containers became unbearable. If the doors hadn’t been left open, they might have suffocated—not from lack of oxygen, but from the smell alone.

Body odor, vomit, and the stench of excrement combined with the summer heat, and with no shade over the containers, the sun began baking them from as early as 7 a.m.

The smell was so bad even the crew couldn’t stand it.

Thankfully, it was finally over.

People felt as if they had escaped hell and entered paradise. Smiles slowly returned to their faces.

Akumari, cigarette in mouth, watched his fellow countrymen and fell into deeper thought.

Back in Nagaryll, people’s faces showed only numbness and suffering—maybe a flash of cunning or bitter humor, but mostly numbness.

Since the Federation arrived, however, his people had started to smile more. Opportunities they had never dreamed of before—like going abroad—were suddenly within reach.

Watching them now, he came to a new realization: the economy matters more to people and society than politics.

Politics is too far removed from the everyday person. The economy affects every detail of daily life.

The team leader in charge of picking people up tapped on Akumari’s truck, signaling that he could leave.

His truck was packed with people.

Despite the overwhelming stench from their journey, their faces were filled with hope and joy for a new life.

Less than an hour later, a phone call landed on the desk of the president of the Juris Chamber of Commerce.

“…I hired them through Lynch… Yes, I didn’t know beforehand… You can talk to him yourself!”

The call came from a Gephra citizen in a port city. Things there were slightly better than inland—locals weren’t as hostile toward Gephrans, and they could recruit laborers. But workers never stayed long.

Most would quit after just a few days or a week or two, only returning to work once they’d spent all their money. That was life in the port cities.

These bustling cities were full of temptations. People lacked the patience to sit in a factory all day. And tensions between locals and Gephrans made things worse. Factory owners were powerless.

Without long-term workers, they couldn’t train skilled labor. As a result, they had to hire experienced workers at high cost—an extra burden.

When they saw a group of Nagarylls arriving, they immediately recognized an opportunity.

Unlike the still-hostile locals, Nagarylls—who had no history with anyone—were perfect for working under Gephrans.

Once they found out these workers were brought in by the Juris Chamber of Commerce, the call was made.

After hanging up, the Chamber president frowned. He went to the safe, opened it, and took out a copy of the contract he signed with Lynch.

He read it carefully, even brought in his lawyer. They confirmed the contract never stated the workers had to be locals.

A headache.

The president sat down, feeling troubled. He had assumed Lynch would source local labor through other means. During their talks, they had both avoided explicitly discussing it. He thought it was an unspoken agreement—a “tacit understanding” between them.

He hadn’t realized Lynch had set a trap for him.

Using Nagarylls on such a large scale might solve the labor shortage, but it would also worsen tensions between Gephrans and locals.

But the contract was signed. Seeing the long list of penalty clauses, the president’s jaw clenched.

In Gephra, no matter how detailed a contract is, it can’t compete with a noble’s word.

The next day, the president and other businessmen met Lynch on the outskirts of Juris, per Lynch’s request. He had things to clarify and also wanted them to pick up the workers directly.

“I didn’t think there’d be this many. It looks like more than forty thousand!” the president said, astonished at the crowd.

Lynch bluntly corrected him. “This isn’t forty thousand—barely ten thousand. The rest are still in transit. Our shipping capacity is limited. Everyone will arrive within five days. You’ll need to coordinate among yourselves who starts first and who later.”

Then he smiled—a smile that pleased no one.

“Of course, you’re free to wait until everyone arrives before dividing them up. But from today, wages begin.”

The president frowned, displeased, but said nothing.This wasn’t Lynch making things difficult—just the reality.

The local transportation system had been completely destroyed during previous clashes with the anti-government forces, and the entire regional railway network was paralyzed.

The government had limited manpower. Repair efforts were slow and focused entirely on railways connecting to border checkpoints.

One of these railways transported goods from the port nearest to Gephra to Amellia via land—a long route that took time. It was currently the most important supply line.

Until the joint military exercises concluded, sea transport couldn’t be considered.

Without new forces stepping in, the rail system wouldn’t be fully restored anytime soon. Trucks were the only viable option.

Lynch’s transport fleet was currently the largest and most capable in Juris. Even pushing it to the limit, this was the best he could do. It wasn’t intentional obstruction.

But the Chamber of Commerce president sensed something else in Lynch’s gaze. It was subtle and strange—almost instinctive.

Sometimes, when you meet someone’s eyes, you can immediately feel something: hostility, indifference, contempt, disregard—no words needed.

Right now, the president sensed a faint but clear malice in Lynch’s eyes. He hesitated, then cautiously asked, “Are you hiding something from me?”

Lynch laughed. “You’re very perceptive, Mr. President. And you’re absolutely right.”

He waved over a small group of people nearby. They hurried over eagerly, plastered with obsequious smiles. “Mr. Lynch?”

“This is the president of the local Gephra Chamber of Commerce, a well-known figure here. From now on, you’ll report to him,” Lynch said seriously. “Make sure to follow local laws and customs in your work. Do not undermine unity. Understood?”

The group nodded repeatedly, like minor characters out of a film.

“And they are…?” the president asked, trying to suppress his curiosity.

“They’re heads of the labor union. They’ll be setting up a local branch, primarily to mediate any potential disputes between workers and employers.” 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

By the time Lynch finished, the president’s eyes were wide with shock. He glanced at the young men, face turning serious. “I’d like to speak with Mr. Lynch privately.”

He stared at the young men, who quickly and tactfully stepped away without complaint, leaving space for the two.

Once they were gone, the president’s tone turned reproachful and angry. “You never told me anything about a labor union.”