Blackstone Code-Chapter 477: Powerless Roar

“He agreed?”
The president, who had been sunbathing on the balcony of his office, turned around and sat up from his lounge chair.
People are really interesting.
Not long ago, they complained about the harsh sun, but now that October had begun and the weather cooled slightly, everyone started sunbathing madly, as if their bodies could store solar energy to use in winter.
The beach was full of young people dressed lightly. Some fashion-forward youths had recently made big news.
A group of young people held a nude beach party on a private stretch of sand—no clothing allowed except shoes. The event attracted many participants and extensive media coverage.
What was usually unseen was everywhere here. At first, people were excited, openly enjoying the sight of naked women. But soon, the novelty wore off.
With so many people watching, the quality of women attending declined sharply—there were no pretty girls left, and it got boring.
Some unattractive troublemakers deliberately paraded around, making everyone uncomfortable.
Moreover, more and more tourists and media with binoculars gathered around, and eventually, the number of men at the event far exceeded the number of women.
But that was just part of it. Worse, a sexual assault occurred during the event—a young man attacked a woman while she was swimming.
Although he was caught, the private beach soon became male-only.
The incident sparked a large controversy—not so much because of the assault itself but because of the backlash from traditional society against public female nudity. Women’s rights groups fiercely protested.
Both sides exchanged insults in the media. Feminists even held several nude marches, claiming the right to be naked was natural to women, giving people another visual spectacle.
The funding for these marches came from the same owner of the private beach that hosted the nude parties.
In short, as the federal economy began to recover, interesting news reemerged—unlike before, when headlines were about starvation or boredom at home.
All these
good news
brought smiles to the president’s face, softening his wrinkles.
He wore a shirt and a vest; his jacket hung on a hanger. He lay on the lounge chair, his upper chest shaded by the eaves while the rest basked in sunlight.
Then he stood up and hugged Truman, his capable assistant who had helped him through the toughest times. Public approval of the president was rising sharply, and his party was more united than ever.
Previously, a competitor who ran alongside the president had started helping with his campaign—a political signal that he had given up running and was now showing goodwill.
Such shifts were normal. Campaigns consumed huge resources, and if a challenger’s backers saw no chance of winning, they demanded stopping.
Once the competitor quit, campaign funds were returned per regulations, avoiding waste on a lost cause.
Everything was going smoothly, thanks to Truman’s help. Naturally, the president was happy to show their close friendship with a hug.
“He didn’t agree!” Truman quickly said as they separated and sat down.
The president’s office faced a huge balcony, with pure white floor-to-ceiling windows opening onto the vast lawn of the presidential residence.
The fresh green was vibrant and refreshing. A breeze carried the last heat of summer mixed with autumn’s chill.
A pleasant season, perfect temperature, and gentle wind.
“He will agree, it’s just a matter of time!” the president encouraged with a smile.
Truman nodded casually. Dealing with small countries offered many options.
Some of his earlier ideas had changed under Lynch’s actual approach. International relations were never about favors—only raw power.
From the standoff with Gephra to establishing relations with Nagaryll, the reality was clear.
Gephra had stubbornly made commercial negotiations difficult, but after losing the naval battle, they quickly compromised and offered more concessions.
Ultimately, they feared the federation might find a reason to attack again.
Nagaryll, too, was defiant before the naval battle but surrendered afterward, showing no resistance.
This wasn’t courtesy or diplomacy—it was power.
If gentle diplomacy failed with a certain diplomat, then toughness was applied.
But Truman wasn’t here mainly for this; he had other news.
“The Federal Mining Group discovered two open-pit mines in southeast Nagaryll—one gold, one bauxite.”
The president nodded, acknowledging the news.
“No iron or copper mines?”
His focus wasn’t on gold or bauxite. No matter how rich the gold mines were, the government only got taxes; he personally gained nothing unless mining officials sent him gifts.
Compared to gold, which had little industrial use, and bauxite, which wasn’t widely applied yet, he preferred discovering iron and copper—essential for national industrial development.
Recently, a copper mine in the Amellia region was destroyed, driving copper ore prices sharply up. The country’s copper ore and refined copper imports had hit record highs in the past six months—and were still rising.
The economy seemed far from fully recovered. Many didn’t understand why importing raw metals in large quantities was necessary; industrial progress was often invisible.
Good news in this area would boost public morale and financial markets.
“They are advancing internally. Some s about Nagaryll’s rich mineral resources might be true. But this news could cause… trouble. I wanted to inform you first.”
“Trouble?” The president frowned. “What could still count as
trouble
for us now?”
He smiled again. As the leader of a world superpower, he could look down on most other countries’ leaders—that was his power. Trouble didn’t faze him.
Truman was less optimistic.
“The copper mine in Amellia still hasn’t resumed production. Gephra’s demand for copper is increasing. They may request joint development of Nagaryll’s mineral resources or seek to buy copper ore directly from us at low prices.”
This was backed by evidence. Gephra had many new projects requiring industrial raw materials like iron and copper, yet they lacked supply.
Considering Lynch’s indirect control over Amellia, Gephra’s emperor might use approval of their involvement in Amellia’s security as leverage to gain support from Nagaryll.
Though the federation’s ruling class treated Nagaryll as a backyard, officially they remained equal sovereign states. If Gephra formally requested diplomatic talks with Nagaryll, the latter might not refuse.
The think tank in the Office for International Affairs and Policy Office believed the Emperor of Gephra would likely propose a trade-off to gain the upper hand—an approach easier for others to accept. As for Nagaryll, no one cared about its stance.
The president nodded slightly after hearing this. “What should I do?”
“We can sell the ore if we find copper, but under no circumstances can we let them interfere in Nagaryll’s development. That’s the bottom line.”
“The price is negotiable, but the position must remain firm.”
Less than a week later, the whole world knew: Nagaryll had discovered unexplored gold and bauxite mines. Rumors about rich mineral resources underground in Nagaryll stirred up once again.
Many countries sent geographic survey and exploration teams, along with natural science researchers, applying to Nagaryll’s central government to conduct studies. They also informed the Federation, promising minimal fees if mineral veins were found, emphasizing the scientific nature of their work.
Naturally, the Emperor of Gephra learned of this news.
Compared to the smiling, sunbathing Federation president, the Emperor of Gephra resembled a large loaf of bread—big on the outside but full of anger inside.
As time passed, his frustration only grew, nearly bursting.
“Why, why hasn’t the Amellia region stabilized yet, while those Federation thieves hold all the best cards?”
In the throne room, the Emperor of Gephra’s roar echoed through the palace once more.