The Finance Minister, who had just enjoyed a fine meal, was now far from happy. The satisfaction from the food was nothing compared to the damage this phone call inflicted.
His face was ashen, but when he spoke, his tone carried a strange cheerfulness. “Good, I’m glad you’re safe. Many people are looking for you—don’t show yourself anytime soon.”
“Of course, if you trust me, you can give me your address. I can send you something to help you through this difficult time.”
A harsh laugh came through the receiver. “Helping me go to hell?”
The minister’s expression softened slightly. Some things, after a while, one can come to accept calmly.
“If you don’t trust me, then there’s no point calling. You know, I can find you in less than half an hour.” He pressed a hidden button beneath the desk.
As he spoke, he took out paper and pen. “Listen, Preyton, things aren’t as bad as you think. Others and I are working on ways to get you off the hook.”
The study door quietly opened, and the butler stood outside.
Pressing the button was a signal to the butler to enter.
As Finance Minister, he often met with various imperial nobles and privileged elites.
Some meetings were pleasant, others not so much.
When faced with unpleasant visitors, the best solution was to have the
unaware
butler subtly urge them to end the meeting quickly—allowing the minister to avoid a direct confrontation.
He waved the butler in, handed over the note, and with a look and a finger pointed at its importance, silently urged him to act swiftly.
The butler left with the note, but the call continued.
“Actually, whether it’s the Federation or the Empire, conflict between us is inevitable—just a matter of sooner or later.”
“A lion may tolerate flies, but it won’t tolerate wild dogs. The Federation acts like a bothersome wild dog, and you just happened to play a part in pushing things along.”
“Even without you, within two or three years, we’d still spark a limited war. So don’t worry—the Emperor won’t take it out on you.”
“Forgive me if what I say next offends you, Preyton. You always think you’re important, a
key man
. You imagine yourself far more significant than you are—we simply don’t care about you!”
“The Emperor doesn’t even know your name. He doesn’t have time or energy to remember the name of an insignificant nobody. Do you understand?”
“You’re just a small-time player. You think you matter too much.”
The minister belittled Preyton harshly. The more he did, the more he created an illusion that Preyton really wasn’t as important as he imagined, that even if he appeared publicly, no one would dare touch him.
Such words might trouble an ordinary person, but Preyton was no ordinary man. Nearly half the wealth Preyton pulled from Nagaryll each year ended up in the pockets of imperial ministers—sometimes even more than half.
Not everyone was a gentleman—some simply took what they were given and thanked you. Others outright demanded large sums.
To the Emperor, Preyton might be a nobody, but ministers dared not let him roam freely. If Preyton revealed years of deals with ministers, even naming only a few, it would cause serious trouble—and deaths.
The empire’s elite were experts at snuffing out danger early.
“The whole world is after this
small-time player
,” Preyton said sarcastically, “Looks like I really am nobody!” His calmness and laughter on the phone gave the minister a bad feeling—as if Preyton had nothing left to fear.
“Are you not in the Empire?” the minister suddenly asked.
Lynch laughed. “Of course not. Disappointed? You should thank me—I didn’t say your name on the phone.”
The minister’s first reaction was to slam the phone down. Gephra’s communications to the outside world ran through underwater cables.
Though unbelievable by today’s standards, Gephra, an island nation, was still connected to the continental shelf underwater, allowing engineering submarines to lay cables relatively easily.
From Gephra to the nearest land, a cable linked their telecoms. Calls from outside the island first reached a switchboard, then operators connected them to city telegraph offices and finally to local phone accounts. Calls were recorded for monitoring.
International calls required operator prompts—like
You have an incoming international call; do you want to accept?
—and were expensive.
Most people lacked the means to make or receive such calls.
The lack of such a prompt led the minister to mistakenly assume Preyton was calling from within the country.
Domestic calls weren’t recorded, so Preyton spoke freely, and now the minister regretted falling into Preyton’s trap so easily.
A long silence followed, allowing the minister to regain composure. As long as Preyton didn’t say his name aloud, things might still be manageable.
“Where are you now?” the minister asked again.
Preyton didn’t hide anything. “I’m in a very safe place, watched closely. If I make one wrong move, they’ll hit me.”
“That’s no joke…” The minister initially thought Preyton was joking, but then realized the truth. “Wait—are you captured? Who has you?”
“The Federation.”
“So you don’t need to worry about me betraying you or your people. You’re more valuable than I am, understand?” Under tight guard, Preyton felt a strange sense of schadenfreude.
If he said their names on the phone, it would cause major trouble. He had never expected this role reversal—now he wasn’t the one to fear.
“What do you want?” The minister’s scalp tingled. Being in Federation hands was no better than in the Emperor’s. He even considered whether surrendering to the Emperor might be a better choice.
“No matter what you want, I must warn you—I will neither betray Gephra nor sell out His Majesty the Emperor.”
More than half an hour later, the butler entered the Finance Minister’s study with a letter. He placed the envelope on the desk and lowered his head slightly. “We found three phones in that house. Two of them had been modified.”
“The call first came through one phone, then was transferred here. When we arrived, the room was empty and left no clues.”
“I learned from the realtor that the house has been vacant for a long time…”
After listening, the Finance Minister waved the butler away. His gaze darkened as he stared at the letter. After a long moment, he picked it up and cut it open with a letter opener.
No wax seal, no fragrance. He took out the paper—no gilded patterns, no family crest. A commoner is a commoner.
He unfolded the letter. His expression shifted strangely. In a way, what Preyton demanded was also what the Empire needed. In other words, he was here to solve the Empire’s problem.
For several days, dark clouds seemed to hang over the imperial capital. The situation in the Amellia region remained unclear. The Empire had sent substantial reinforcements to Amellia to carry out military operations.
But these underperforming troops seemed to be fighting elite imperial forces—they showed no real progress and suffered heavy casualties.
Several prominent locals who surrendered voluntarily had expressed their dissatisfaction with the current situation to the Governor and the Emperor through various channels.
If the Empire failed to crush these persistent rebel groups quickly, the situation would worsen, possibly sparking unrest across the entire region and threatening imperial sovereignty.
After all, no one wanted to live every day under such oppressive terror. Maintaining this status quo would only drive more people to join the resistance.
The next day, in the ruler’s hall, the Emperor asked again, “Who can solve this trouble?”
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