Darkstone Code

After getting their father's permission, the children quickly left, each wanting to prove they were the most suitable successor.

After the children had all left, the Provincial Governor still sat in his chair, his elbow resting on the armrest, supporting his chin. He was lost in thought.

The butler came in and tidied the study again; many important things were here, so maids were not allowed in.

Watching the butler who was about to leave, the Provincial Governor suddenly asked, "Whose method do you think is the best?"

The butler was outside the door earlier when the Provincial Governor was inquiring about the solutions from the five children. The Provincial Governor did not shy away from him. In fact, sometimes the butler knew more confidential matters than the children.

The butler bent slightly at the waist, lowering his head, "Master, I don't understand these things."

The Provincial Governor chuckled, "You understand, you understand better than anyone, better than them...", he sighed, feeling a bit desolate.

The butler grew up alongside him since he was about eight or nine, initially serving as his protector.

At that time, the mutual wars and struggles between the ruling classes of the entire country had become stable, but some ripples still remained. Various conspiracies and schemes, traps, and attacks would occasionally occur.

Instead of expecting a Provincial Governor father with many children to care about the mental and physical growth of one particular son, or whether he was safe, it was better to rely on oneself.

To say something rather cruel, when the Provincial Governor, including his father, grandfather, and even the children who would succeed him, face the choice between power and family, which might be difficult for most people, they would unhesitatingly choose power.

As long as they have power in their hands, they can have as many family members as they want.

From childhood to adulthood, in some ways, the butler filled the emotional gaps in the power family's offspring during their growth process—the father-son bond, brotherly bond, and family bond.

They are not family, but they are closer than family.

But... they are ultimately not family, which is even more true for those in power. The butler is well aware of this, which is why he never speaks out of place.

No matter how many mistakes the Provincial Governor's children make, he will only punish them to make them uneasy, but if the butler made a single mistake, he and his family could disappear. So, he never takes the Provincial Governor's emotional musings seriously, unless he no longer wishes to live.

Watching the butler always bend his waist and lower his head, the Provincial Governor felt a moment of annoyance followed by some feeling of desolation and a sense of futility. He changed his sitting position and moved his shoulders, "What has the eldest been up to recently?"

The butler's heart tightened. If such words came from an ordinary family, it would probably just mean an old father showing some concern for his eldest son's work and life recently. But in such a concentrated power family, it implies a change in the Patriarch's attitude towards the eldest son.

"The Young Master has recently been very enthusiastic about attending some salons...", the butler spoke with his head slightly lowered. It wasn't that he was lying. He dared not lie in front of the Provincial Governor, but he was a bit worried about the Provincial Governor's eldest son.

The Provincial Governor indeed frowned, "Salons?"

"Yes, it's just chatting together, really. The host will pose a theme, and everyone shares their views on this theme." Although the butler's description might not be entirely accurate, he was not far off.

The Provincial Governor let out a sneer, "It's just an excuse to eat, drink, and have fun!" He accurately characterized it and then furrowed his brow again, "Who are the hosts?"

Who else could it be? Merely some merchants, who know well how to use their wealth to gain influence. They have built various clubs and salons in this backward and ignorant place of Nagariel, holding various recreational activities at scheduled times.

For this backward, poor country, all entertainment and information from developed countries became their pursuit goals. Clubs and salons meet these needs.

The latest magazines, records, cinema films, and even some items unseen elsewhere can be found here.

These people have become loyal partners of the merchants, who never make demands of them, and people are increasingly willing to join these activities.

But even these seemingly harmless, people-meeting activities made the Provincial Governor's expression turn unhappy.

He understood more than anyone how fragile human life is. Before he turned thirty, he had never considered the issue of death, thinking it was far away from him.

Before he was forty, he had not contemplated the possibility of one day lacking energy. Back then, even without rest through the night, he merely felt a bit tired at most.

Before fifty, he never paid particular attention to his health, believing himself so healthy that illness couldn't touch him!

But now he understood life is fragile, and everyone knows the intentions merchants have in drawing in the offspring of those in power, be they with opportunities or without.

Because opportunities are created by people.

The Provincial Governor rubbed his face, "Have someone keep an eye on him, and I feel something's off with the current situation, arrange for more guards..."

Finishing speaking, he looked at the butler. Without raising his head, the butler could sense the Provincial Governor's piercing gaze, as sharp as a knife, which made him uncomfortable, causing his heart to race and mouth to dry.

"I know what to do!", he replied.

Only then did the Provincial Governor's expression ease a bit, "You understand me still, having grown up together, you're like a brother to me, at times you don't need to be so cautious."

The butler quickly glanced up at the Provincial Governor, then lowered his head again, "Master, I am a servant."

"Alright, alright, as you wish, have those two girls give me another massage, just sitting here a short while made me feel uncomfortable again...", he complained, extending his hand, "Come, help me up."

While the Provincial Governor was talking with his children, someone else was looking for Lynch.

The one who sought him out was a local tycoon, a foreign merchant named Simon.

Lynch noticed an interesting phenomenon that Mr. Simon, along with some other merchants he met from other places, seemed more enthusiastic about wearing local traditional attire than the locals themselves.

This practice, in a sense, was an expression of a message, conveying that everyone was "one of us," and they sought a sense of belonging.

Among many avenues, nothing was more direct and effective than "cultural assimilation," which is why they were more eager to don the traditional garments of the natives.

Seeing the Divine Plate hanging from Mr. Simon's chest, Lynch felt it was necessary to wear such a token himself, at the very least representing his acknowledgment and support of indigenous culture.

"Mr. Lynch, I hope I'm not interrupting your rest?", Mr. Simon spoke softly, very politely.

He was a man in his forties, about five feet six inches tall (about 1.7 meters, it was customary to round up an inch), on the heavier side, fair-skinned gentleman.

Lynch welcomed him, extending his hand for a shake, "Of course not..." After a brief exchange of pleasantries, the two sat in the parlor.

Mr. Simon's visit was indeed connected to Mikhail. He was backed by another family and had reported the matters involving him, Lynch, and the Provincial Governor's son up the chain.

To not speak out now could mean taking all the responsibility if something happened in the future. Those higher up would somewhat shield him if they were informed.

Once a third person knows, there will be a fourth, a fifth, and more, soon Mr. Preton also knew about the matter. He immediately sent someone to visit Lynch to assess his attitude.

If they could cooperate, they would band together to become reliable business partners, not minding sharing a bit to whet Lynch's appetite.

If cooperation wasn't possible, they would need to begin preparing some measures, so either way, gauging Lynch's stance was the first step.

Mr. Simon was a major merchant in the Magulana Province, primarily handling the spice export trade here.

Each year, a large volume of spices from here would pass through his hands into the international market. These spices, which might only cost thirty to fifty galirs locally, could, with some hype, some packaging, quickly be sold at a hundred or a thousand times their price.

Merchants employ every conceivable means in their pursuit of profit, even drawing in royal families from a few small countries, designating some spices and products as royal or exclusive to the imperial family through shared profits.

This significantly elevated the value of certain products in the international market. People say feudal rule is outdated, yet everyone desires to add a touch of prestige to their lives and fill their lives with a sense of dignity.

Undoubtedly, using products exclusive to various royal and imperial families is the simplest, most direct, and effective method.

However, these people might not realize that the royal or imperial families they look up to might not have more power than their mayors.

Some small countries even have populations less than an international metropolis, so the standards of these royal or imperial families can be imagined, with tales of kings who even personally farm!

The semi-monopolistic business brought Mr. Simon an enormous fortune, but now he encountered some danger threatening his business.

He concealed the thoughts in his mind from his face. Every merchant and politician is an outstanding actor, always able to show the most appropriate expression at the right time.

"Mr. Lynch, do you know the Pretton Trading Company?"