Blackstone Code-Chapter 476: Subtle Silence

“Promoting Nagaryll’s currency appreciation will greatly benefit our cooperation and support Nagaryll’s industrial independence!”
In the heart of Eminence, Mr. Truman was talking with a diplomat from the Kingdom of Nagaryll, discussing the issue of raising the value of the Valier currency.
They sat in a courtyard with fresh green turf beneath them—each square foot costing 450,000. Beyond the modest fence was a bustling street.
The contrast of quiet within activity gave the place a unique charm.
Passersby occasionally glanced at the two chatting on the lawn. Some showed puzzled expressions, recognizing one of them but unable to place where from.
Busy with their lives, few had time to stop and reflect on matters unrelated to work. They left with a mix of envy and curiosity.
Grass priced by the foot at thousands of Sol was no ordinary luxury.
These turf patches would only remain for two or three months before the homeowner replaced them once their color deepened.
The lawn covered at least a hundred square feet, and the cost of replacing it was beyond many people’s reach. That’s why it sparked both envy and motivation—it symbolized that here, wealth meant everything.
The two men on the lawn, seen as part of the scenery, continued their conversation.
The Nagaryll diplomat stirred his coffee absentmindedly, a little distracted.
Since the presentation of credentials, Mr. Truman had advocated for Valier’s appreciation, but the diplomat and Nagaryll’s central government had insisted on postponing it. They doubted the Federation’s goodwill.
From Nagaryll’s perspective, currency appreciation was beneficial because it made their money more valuable. While this wouldn’t drastically affect the domestic economy, it would clearly impact foreign trade, especially imports.
For example, if a Nagaryll citizen wanted to buy an item priced at 100 Federation Sols, they might now pay 10,000 Valier. After appreciation, that cost might drop to 8,000 Valier for the same item.
Without increasing or decreasing the money supply, they could buy more for less—an unqualified benefit to Nagaryll and its people.
This was exactly what they needed for faster development—economic support.
But everyone doubted the Federation’s goodwill. Throughout the diplomatic process, the Nagaryll delegation, government, and diplomat had grown wary and suspicious of the Federation’s intentions.
Many called Nagaryll backward and savage, but they felt the Federation’s ruling class was the real savage.
“Mr. Truman, I understand your intentions. I am actively communicating with my government,” the diplomat said with a helpless expression. “But I’m just a diplomat; it’s pointless to pressure me.”
He sounded pitiful, but everyone knew this was just routine small talk.
Mr. Truman smiled faintly, removing his sunglasses and fiddling with them before putting them back on. “How do you find your time here in the Federation?”
Caught off guard, the diplomat quickly recovered and joined the casual chat.
“Not bad. Life here is richer and more interesting than in Nagaryll. But the people value money and power too much, losing themselves in their desire.”
“That’s unlike Nagaryll, where we have firm faith. Even money and power cannot shake our beliefs. We may be poor materially, but spiritually rich.”
He explained the term “spiritual wealth,” a phrase he’d only recently learned. It best described their situation.
“We are poor in material wealth but rich in spirit.”
He couldn’t lie that Nagaryll was wealthier or equally wealthy compared to the Federation, nor claim they preferred poverty. So, he used spiritual richness to offset material lack, saving face for himself and his country.
Mr. Truman chuckled. “You’re an honest and witty diplomat.”
They both understood the meaning behind
witty.
“The Federation leads the world in science and technology, allowing us to create greater wealth and better living standards.”
“We also enjoy a free social structure—everything is free, including elections.”
Mr. Truman was a skilled speaker, and the diplomat could only nod in agreement.
Then Mr. Truman shifted the topic: “Have you considered settling here?”
The diplomat nearly fell off his chair, hastily straightening his pants to hide his embarrassment. “I am a Nagaryll citizen and diplomat. Mr. Truman, your question insults my dignity. If this is your intention, I think we should end this talk.”
He was firm and clear in his stance.
But Mr. Truman wasn’t done. “I’ve looked into you. You belong to one of Nagaryll’s top clans and weren’t sent here to oppose us diplomatically. They merely use you as a scapegoat.”
The diplomat’s background was well known—he studied at Gephra, where Nagaryll’s wealthy rulers sent their children abroad.
Yet, diplomats returning from Gephra faced distrust. His ideas often conflicted with Nagaryll’s ruling class.
For instance, improving the people’s quality could strengthen the nation but also spark dangerous thoughts. Building a strong nation required all clans and rulers to unite, which was impossible given centuries of conflict.
Political, religious, and power struggles were brutal—losers risked extinction.
Unity was unthinkable, making him an outlier.
In truth, his time at Gephra had indoctrinated him with imperialist ideas, though he claimed to see Nagaryll’s flaws. He was not popular.
Sent to the Federation to be abandoned, his failure would justify blame.
“I’ve heard stories from your time at Gephra Royal University,” Mr. Truman said with a knowing look. “You’re a visionary, but Nagaryll can’t support your dreams—they may even see you as an enemy.”
“You must remember Lynch. He once said something I agree with: you have exceptional talent and need a perfect stage. Nagaryll doesn’t have that, but here, you do.”
“Your impractical ideas have a chance here. I, for one, like some of them.”
“You just mentioned spiritual wealth. Neither material nor spiritual wealth falls from the sky—they both require pursuit. What about your own pursuit?”
With that, Mr. Truman finished his coffee in one gulp and stood up. “Think about my offer. Stay here, and you’ll have a much broader stage.”
“Call me when you’ve made up your mind. I’ll be waiting for your good news.”
Watching Mr. Truman’s car drive away from the roadside, the diplomat’s expression was strange.
He knew the Federation had investigated his past, but he didn’t see it as an intrusion. Instead, it showed how much they valued him.
Because you only care enough about someone to learn everything about them—you’d seek every detail about a stranger you like, but never bother to understand why a homeless person wanders.
The Federation valued him, and he felt a mix of pride and absurdity. He also knew the olive branch extended to him was meant to encourage him to contact his government and persuade them to agree to Valier’s appreciation.
He was the bridge between Nagaryll and the Federation. Though some saw him as a nuisance and had pushed him here, his opinion still commanded respect.
Back in his seat, bathed in warmer sunlight, enjoying brighter rays, gentler breezes, and richer coffee, his thoughts swirled like leaves caught in the wind—somewhat tangled and restless.