Blackstone Code-Chapter 700: Biscuits

The weather was getting hotter. As midsummer approached, even stray dogs were rarely seen on the streets.

Inside the room, the television was broadcasting reports from the frontlines of the joint military exercises.

Ever since preparations for the joint military drills began, global attention had been drawn to this major event. International trade was affected as well, with transaction volumes clearly dropping.

There was no way around it. The joint exercises, held in the waters of the Western Ocean—one of the world’s most critical shipping hubs—had blocked several key routes. During the drills, both cargo ships and passenger liners were strictly forbidden from passing through these areas.

Technology had not yet advanced to the point where radar could automatically distinguish friend from foe. In fact, even standard radar was lacking.

Any unidentified vessel entering the exercise zone could be treated as a “target ship” and come under fire.

These drills weren’t just ships sailing around aimlessly; they were meant to showcase military capabilities, especially offensive power.

A strong offensive capability is the best deterrent against greed. At the request of the Joint Exercise Command, all participating nations had prepared target ships—decommissioned vessels—anchored at designated spots for live fire practice.

With key shipping lanes closed, trade volume naturally dropped. But at the moment, nobody cared. All eyes were on the drills.

“…The Gephra Empire’s fleet has left port. We’ve noticed that their navy now includes submarines as part of its operational units. Based on the official data we received, their performance isn’t much worse than the ones the Federation provided us.”

“In fact, in some specifications, Gephra’s submarines even outperform those of the Baylor Federation…”

In some ways, this military exercise was a kind of indirect declaration of war.

Direct military conflict was unlikely in the short term, but the Emperor of Gephra couldn’t just sit back and let the Baylor Federation ride a naval victory to dominance.

Even now, there were voices within Gephra saying that if there were a rematch, the Imperial Navy might not lose—and the Federation might not win.

The Emperor knew Gephra couldn’t continue in decline. The Federation’s recent leaks about its military expansion and new projects had inspired him. After discussions with his ministers, they decided to show the world that Gephra had neither lost nor would ever concede defeat.

Military drills, a surge in defense contracts and R&D for new weapons—all of this sent a clear message to the international community: We do not admit defeat, and we are actively working to surpass the Baylor Federation!

That message was important. It gave Gephra loyalists hope. It was motivational.

Each country began announcing their own military projects. One commentator noted that war had moved from the battlefield to the press conference.

Now, through press releases, countries competed in military numbers, boasting weapons specs so exaggerated even laypeople knew they were fake. It was a numbers game—a performance contest.

This numerical competition in military development earned a name among commentators: arms race.

The current drills were simply a test run for some of the claimed projects—like an athlete saying they could run twenty meters in one second.

Whether they could actually do it had to be proven on the track.

Countless people followed the joint drills. Lynch was among them. But his focus differed—he was watching the submarines that remained unchecked.

At this stage, no country had an effective way to counter submarines. They had become strategic weapons of mass deterrence.

The more unstoppable submarines seemed, the more attention his aircraft company received.

From what he knew, several military and private firms had received support for anti-submarine programs recently.

“Utterly chaotic! Completely senseless!” Governor Sedel commented on the outrageous figures displayed on the screen—this time from a small country.

All the ship specifications were so exaggerated that even amateurs could tell they were fake. Sedel turned off the TV and looked at Lynch, who had been watching with him for a while. “Some people think they can get attention through hype. But that’s clearly pointless.”

“Military development isn’t casting actresses. It doesn’t need exaggerated numbers. That’s irresponsible—to themselves and their allies.”

It was a strange metaphor, not particularly funny, but oddly apt.

“So, Mr. Lynch, what brings you here today?” He looked at Lynch, whose unannounced visit puzzled him.

Lynch was often unpredictable—like that Labor Union company of his—so Sedel didn’t bother guessing and asked directly. Sometimes that was simpler.

Lynch didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he pulled a packet of small biscuits from his pocket and asked the butler for a plate.

He placed the biscuits neatly on the plate.

“Biscuits?” the Governor asked with slight surprise. “You made these yourself?”

He picked one up, sniffed it. It had a strong aroma and a hint of spice. It didn’t smell bad, and it looked decent—there were visible bits of crushed nuts on top.

He took a small bite. He never worried that Lynch might poison the food. He knew Lynch understood that if anything were wrong with the biscuit, he wouldn’t be leaving the room alive.

As for slow poisoning?

He’d make Lynch eat some too.

He casually broke the biscuit in half and handed one piece to Lynch. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Lynch took it and shook his head. “Not at all,” he said, then took a bite.

“Crispier than I expected. The flavor’s decent. The texture is a bit odd…” Sedel offered an earnest review.

In Gephra, sharing homemade pastries was an important part of social culture. Every year during the holidays, the Empress would send cakes and biscuits to the noblewomen to show goodwill.

The Federation had similar customs. For instance, a new family moving into a neighborhood might bring cakes or fruit pies to make social connections—the sweeter and tangier, the better.

Sedel assumed this was just one of those gestures. After eating half, he put the rest on the plate. “Not bad, but if we’re talking about practical use…” He shook his head. “It’s still far from being a success or truly delicious.”

Lynch also put his half on the plate. He took a towel from the butler and wiped his hands. “Governor, the biscuit you just ate is my newest product. I plan to use it to replace the current relief food distributed in Amellia.”

The butler froze. So did Governor Sedel. So the biscuit he had just eaten… was for the peasants?

Fortunately, the Governor had some self-control and grace. Though irritated, he didn’t show it.

Lynch didn’t care. He asked directly, “What do you think of the taste?”

Considering that Lynch had eaten it himself, the Governor frowned and thought for a moment. “I’d say it’s average. Nothing special. Apart from the strong aroma, it has almost no redeeming features.”

Lynch nodded noncommittally and asked, “Pardon me, but have you ever tasted the relief food currently being distributed on the streets?”

The Governor shook his head. “I haven’t.”

Lynch said, “I have. Tastes like shit. Not only is it bad, it doesn’t fill you up.”

“I want to talk business. I’m proposing to take over the relief food distribution—at least for the city of Zhuris. In other words, those shitty rations would be pulled from the streets and replaced with biscuits.”

“Its specs are impressive. It meets basic nutritional needs, keeps people full, and performs excellently in terms of hunger resistance.”

“Three to five pieces a day is enough for an adult to last until the next meal. For kids, maybe just one or two…”

Governor Sedel remained composed. He looked at the biscuits and asked, “What benefit does this bring me, this city, or the whole region?”

That was his way of saying, Convince me.

Lynch now turned to what he did best—persuasion.

“First, it saves money. I don’t know the total cost of distributing relief food across Amellia, but I can save you at least five percent.”

“Five percent a day equals one hundred fifty percent a month. You might think I failed math, but let’s look at it another way.”

“If you’re spending a million a day, handing the job to me means you’ll save at least 1.5 million each month.”

“Second, Zhuris needs to get back to production. You can’t have people working on empty stomachs. Feed them, and they’ll have the strength to work, live, and study.”

“This isn’t the old days anymore. Distributing solid food also helps ease tensions between the people and the government…”

Lynch laid out his case with practical arguments.

Governor Sedel listened carefully and gave his response: “I’ll think about it…”

At that moment, Lynch knew the deal was done.