Darkstone Code

The Provincial Governor in Nagariel roughly holds a status equivalent to that of a Governor in Bail Federal, yet there are some differences.

Here, the Provincial Governor oversees both military and political affairs, but he is not without opponents; his opponent is the High Priest.

People adhere to the power structure but hold a stronger faith in the divine, which maintains a peculiar balance between the regime and divine authority.

Overall, the Provincial Governor wields significant power but cannot dominate everything single-handedly.

"Did your boss not come with you?", Asir's father warmly grasped his hand, inquiring about Lynch's visit.

Asir had mentioned in a letter sent around New Year's that his boss might come here to invest. He knew his father well; the old man couldn't hide his feelings, or rather, enjoyed flaunting them.

He loved to show off his success to others: having a son with foreign residency rights, receiving a monthly allowance from his son, having a son who is a big-shot in a company, a manager...

He enjoyed talking about these things, which earned him respect from others. Whenever he went out, he no longer needed to bump into those lowly folks, relishing privileges only the noble could enjoy, such as keeping distance.

Resentment?

This is a local culture. Perhaps previously Asir's father believed in the power of curses, but now he doesn't care.

When local officials heard from certain sources that Asir's boss was going to invest, Asir's family's standing significantly improved.

The officials constantly asked about Asir's boss's arrival, the scale of investment, and the type of factory to be established...

Apart from these officials, locals also showed great interest in these matters, as it would affect their lives.

Forming a small ecological economy around a factory is the norm in this era. Once the investment is confirmed, it means the factory will recruit workers, allowing some to secure steady jobs while more people will experience changes in income.

Many visited Asir's father, gradually making him a somewhat famous figure in the city. Occasionally, he was invited to participate in festival activities, political events, and religious ceremonies, increasingly feeling important.

At this moment, the steam whistle of the supply-complete departing passenger liner sounded; the captain seemed disinclined to stay here any longer than necessary.

Mind you, at every supply point en route, the captain and the sailors would engage deeply with local native girls needing help, leaving a mark. Only here, after supplying, they were leaving immediately, as if they detested this place.

The loud whistle made Asir glance back at the departing liner, turning back with an unexplainable sense of loss.

The father and brothers appearing before him felt extremely unfamiliar, not at all the warmth shown in their correspondence. Each seemed a most familiar stranger, their faces masked with friendly but false smiles, eyes gleaming with greed, making Asir uncomfortable.

Nonetheless, he answered the question, "They will probably come around mid-March; my boss still has some things to sort out..."

"So, about two weeks from now?" Asir's father clapped his hands, "That's such a good time!"

As for why this time is good, he didn't know either; he spoke out of habit, the habit of starting to integrate into upper society, habitually affirming everyone and everything, which is a characteristic of Nagariel.

"Let's go home; you must be very tired!"

Under Asir's surprised gaze, his elder brother arrived in a car that looked like it was made ten years ago or even earlier.

It still retained the most bizarre yet common aesthetic features of the past era.

His elder brother patted the car body, "You didn't expect it, did you? We've started driving..." His tone carried a sense of pride unfamiliar to Asir, even amusing, as he asked, "Did you have your car when you were in the Federation?"

Asir smiled, and his elder brother didn't pursue further; however, his expression vaguely conveyed a belief that Asir might not own a car.

Riding in the car with the stinking wind blowing against him, Asir suddenly realized something.

Back home, the tiny shabby house he remembered vanished, replaced by a standalone house no less than the one he had in Bail Federal, possibly even more exquisite and grand.

Nagariel's religious culture had long penetrated every corner of life, even in buildings, where every brick and stone pillar bore religiously-themed patterns or carvings.

All these elements combined made the house appear not merely luxury; it exuded a dignified aura due to divine authority.

The house sat within a courtyard; Asir grew curious, "I recall we had some neighbors beside us."

His father proudly nodded, saying, "Yes, but because we built a new house, they left!"

Driving the neighbors away was not a shameful act for Asir's father but rather a source of pride. Most people in this society couldn't do such things, but he could. It became his point of pride.

Asir paused, thinking of the culture and education he received in Bail Federal, providing him with precious values, such as morality. He didn't find it worth boasting about making your house look better, having a larger yard, while demolishing others' houses and forcing people out—a cruel, terrifying act!

But the people before him regarded this as pride; he increasingly struggled to adjust to everything here. His father and brothers differed entirely from the descriptions in the letters.

Quietly, he followed his father and brother into the room; his mother and sisters-in-law knelt at the door, welcoming the male owners back.

Nagariel is a typical patriarchy, where women hold no status whatsoever. Asir felt awkward when his elder brother's wife removed his shoes, washed his toes, and helped him put on new shoes; he felt embarrassed, while others believed it normal.

The men in the house gathered in the living room, sitting on long chairs woven with dried vines which boasted great flexibility. Some High Priests or leaders had these vine chairs at home.

Men sat while women knelt in a row, handing them milk boiled with spices, some local specialty cakes. Saying they were the female owners of the family was more like calling them servants.

"Why does your boss suddenly want to invest here? Is there anything worthy of investment?", Asir's father voiced a question held inside for long.

Everyone knew how impoverished Nagariel was. Despite claims of hidden mineral riches, no substantial deposits had been found so far.

The only asset worth mentioning was probably spices, which were renowned many years ago. But with chemical development, costly spices were replaced by fragrances, making them not very valuable.

Besides a few top-tier rich demanding natural spices, the ordinary people didn't care whether the taste came from leaves or chemical additives.

Asir remained silent for a moment before speaking according to Lynch's advice, "Labor here is very cheap..." As he talked, he received the cup handed by his elder brother's wife, containing milk boiled with spices.

Before tasting, an odd scent filled the air.

The milk was freshly milked, and the spices freshly picked, emitting a scent strangely mixed with fishy, musky, and fragrant hints. Seeing the continuously boiling spice leaves in the milk, Asir didn't want to drink.

Though unwilling, he still said, "Thank you" with courtesy.

In Nagariel, it's customary for the wife of the eldest son to serve guests when family hosts relatives.

Asir was accustomed to being cautious in Bail Federal, and his thanks mildly shifted his father's and elder brother's expressions.

Both coldly glanced at the woman already prostrated on the ground before Asir's father smiled and said, "You don't need to thank her; it's her duty."

"She eats ours, drinks ours, wears ours; we provide her shelter, what she does is all she's supposed to do."

"I know it's a habit you developed in the Federation, but now you are home; you don't need these!"

His father casually plucked some black and yellow crystal-like powder from a spice jar, scattering it into Asir's milk cup, "Drink it quickly; if it cools down, it won't taste good."

Suppressing the chaos of flavors and drinking a mouthful of freshly boiled milk, Asir nearly spat it out. Forcing himself to swallow it down, he decided never to touch it again.

His father continued to ask, "What does your factory do, and roughly how many workers are needed?" Then, starting to boast again, "At least now I've gained some reputation, and can handle some matters for you; Do you understand?"

Asir nodded, relaying things Lynch had instructed.

The more they conversed, the more alienated he felt from this family, not only this family; the entire Nagariel seemed different from his memory.

What made him even more uncomfortable was, on the verge of sleeping at night, his elder brother's wife entered his room wearing thin clothes, with a flushed face...