Blackstone Code-Chapter 556: Swinging

On one side it was seventy-eight Valier, on the other, one hundred twenty-one Valier. The Nagaryll people simply couldn’t understand how the Federals could claim these two completely different numbers were the same.
The young man didn’t understand either—seventy-eight is seventy-eight, and one hundred twenty-one is one hundred twenty-one. What did appreciation or depreciation have to do with him?
He clenched the money in his hand and glanced at the fierce-looking overseers around him, holding sticks and cursing. His instincts told him: don’t resist. Endure it quietly. At least for now, he was still getting paid.
But the recent wave of protests and the rapidly spreading ideas among young people stirred something in him—he wanted to take back the money that was rightfully his!
He wasn’t lazy. He worked hard. He deserved to be rewarded!
He hesitated, then said in a low but firm voice, “I just want to get my money.”
The accountant looked at him. Neither of them backed down. After a moment, the accountant nodded and gestured, “Put the money on the table. I’ll give you what you deserve.”
The young man placed his crumpled money on the table, keeping a close eye on the accountant. If he tried to snatch it, the young man was ready to fight back.
But the accountant didn’t do that. He simply pulled a coin from somewhere in his pocket—a coin the young man had never seen before—and placed it in his hand. “This is your salary for today. One Federal Sol.”
He shook his head as he swept the rest of the money on the table back into the drawer.
He looked at the others. “Anyone else want to exchange their pay?”
Everyone had already heard about the
One Sol salary
. They had signed contracts stating it, and many had been told repeatedly:
your pay is one Federal Sol
.
But now, with the coin in their hands, they were at a loss. The coin didn’t feel as heavy or valuable as they had imagined.
It was… it was just like an ordinary, worthless coin. It didn’t carry the weight or value they thought it would.
“Anyone else?” the accountant asked again. Some of the young people stepped up to exchange their money. He gave them the Sols without issue. But the older Nagaryll workers stayed silent.
They had seen too much. They had learned to endure. To not resist. Even when their rights were clearly being violated, they said nothing.
This was not a country where the people had power. Protesting, complaining, or showing dissatisfaction would only bring more misfortune.
After asking one more time and receiving no further responses, the accountant nodded in satisfaction, then pointed at the workers who had exchanged their money and said to the overseers, “Starting tomorrow, don’t let them back onto the site…” Then, turning to the workers, “You’re fired!”
He packed up the contents of the drawer into his bag—just some worthless Valier—but his decision triggered an immediate outburst from the young people.
Some had been working there for two months. If they reached one hundred days, they’d qualify for weekly pay, which would increase their wages significantly.
Although even with weekly pay, it wasn’t much more than their daily rate, it would at least upgrade their worker level.
And with higher rank came better pay and benefits.
Now, their two months of effort were wasted. How could they not be furious?
The young workers started shouting again. This time, even the overseers’ batons couldn’t stop them. They didn’t back down until several armed guards raised their guns, and reality hit them like a bucket of cold water.
“We don’t allow violent individuals to work for us. People like you are a hidden danger,” the accountant said, standing among the armed guards. “If you have a problem, you can come talk to me in private. We can resolve it amicably without consequences.”
“But when you try to stir up others in public and put yourselves in opposition to us, you become dangerous.”
“I’ll tell you something else: in this city, and in this entire province, you won’t get another job. You’ve been permanently blacklisted.”
With that, the accountant walked away, shaking his head. What happened here was just a microcosm of the broader changes brought on by the Valier’s appreciation. On the very day the currency value rose and the exchange rate fluctuated, businesses in other provinces had already started paying less.
This immediately caused conflict, and in some cases, people were edly killed.
The official claimed these individuals tried to rob the accountant while collecting their wages and were shot dead by armed guards.
Whether or not that was true, similar incidents were erupting all over the country. People were growing resentful, but powerless. And all of this traced back to the Joint Development Company.
They drove up the Valier’s exchange rate, reaping enormous profits.
On paper, it seemed like nothing had changed for the workers. Before, they earned one Federal Sol’s worth of Valier, and now they still earned one Federal Sol’s worth. That was technically true.
But ordinary people didn’t deal in international trade or currency exchange. Domestic prices weren’t dropping to match the Valier’s new value. A product that used to cost 100 Valier wasn’t suddenly selling for 50.
Nagaryll’s monetary system had been relatively insulated from the international one. Now, with this foreign currency forcefully introduced into a closed economy, the resulting clashes were bound to cause drastic changes.
These changes wouldn’t necessarily show up in official economic metrics—but people were clearly receiving less money. This was daylight robbery.
In just three months, over a million Nagaryll workers were employed by the Joint Development Company or by Federal businesses.
If every worker lost just 50 Valier a day, that meant Federal businesses saved 50 million Valier daily—or even more. At current exchange rates, that was an astronomical figure.
Foreign capital, from highly developed countries, was cutting through Nagaryll like a scythe. Meanwhile, the local officials and elites—who should’ve defended Nagaryll’s people—were frantically transferring their wealth abroad.
With the appreciating Valier, they could now exchange it for more foreign currency than ever.
As international hot money poured into Nagaryll, some strange characters started appearing everywhere.
These people often loitered outside banks. Whenever someone walked in, they’d approach and ask,
Friend, got any foreign currency?
If ignored, they’d quickly change their tone,
Looking to exchange currency? We can talk…
as they flashed various foreign bills.
Amidst all the financial turmoil, Nagaryll was heading somewhere no one could predict.
“I don’t really understand…” the short young man said, staring at the coin in his hand, his mind unable to make sense of it all.
“I read the contract. It says the same thing the Federals told us. But why don’t I feel like the Valier’s appreciation brought us anything good?”
Others stood silently around him, equally confused. The recent exchange rate shifts had prompted them to gather here.
Many were frustrated and angry. They wanted to act, and they were looking to their leader for guidance.
But the short young man was just as lost. He’d read the newspapers and documents from the capital. He understood the reasons behind everything.
And that was what made him even more confused—why had it come to this?
“Why don’t we gather some people and stir things up?” said the hot-headed cadre beside him, fanning the flames.
Compared to learning to drive at the base, causing trouble with a crowd seemed much more exciting. He genuinely enjoyed the feeling of being relied on and watched by many—it was the only time he felt his existence had value.
The short young man hesitated. He looked at the worn, greasy Federal coin in his hand, then slowly nodded.
“This time, our goal isn’t the same as before. We want an explanation—a proper explanation. A solution. We can’t accept vague reasons to cut our pay. They must give us a clear answer.”
“And one more thing,” he emphasized, “try not to use any violence. Things are different now. Those Federals are a lot harder to deal with…”
Back then, the local police might have been rough, but the worst they’d do was beat some protesters and lock them up for a few days before letting them go.
But now, the Federals’ armed guards were ready to shoot. If they believed the people they were protecting were in danger, they wouldn’t hesitate to open fire. This had already dealt a serious blow to the Nagaryll Youth Party’s movement.
Not everyone could still raise their voice or defend their beliefs when staring down the barrel of a gun—especially one that would fire without warning.
The impulsive young man grinned. “No problem. Don’t worry.”