Blackstone Code-Chapter 558: The Changing of the Times

After reading the letter from Nagaryll, Lynch walked to the door, took out a ten-Sol bill, and handed it to the messenger.
The messenger was a young postman in his twenties. Nervous, he held his wide-brimmed hat with both hands. Normally, letters like this would just be delivered to the mailbox, but he saw this as an opportunity. So he waited at the door, hoping someone would answer. The good news was the door did open, and he got to see Mr. Lynch.
“This is yours,” Lynch smiled as he placed the ten-Sol bill into the postman’s hat, seeing his hesitation.
Just as Lynch was about to close the door, the postman spoke. “Mr. Lynch, I want to work for you.”
Lynch found it a bit amusing. The postman was about the same age as him, yet their statuses were worlds apart. He paused the closing door and looked at him. “You’ve already served me, Mr. Postman.”
Realizing something, the postman quickly wiped his empty right hand on his clothes and extended it. “I’m such an idiot. My name is Aldrich. I’ve heard about your achievements, and I want to work for you, like others do.”
He emphasized the word work, making sure Lynch understood it wasn’t just serve.
Lynch looked at the offered hand, then shook it.
Truthfully, Lynch was easy to approach. Unlike those from powerful families with arrogant airs who looked down on ordinary people, he didn’t have any of those flaws. Whether it was a president or a postman, as long as it came from goodwill, he would never reject a handshake.
Lynch sized up this bold young man. He liked people like this—those who had the courage to promote themselves. Whether or not they had unique talents, they had the courage to try.
Courage was the foundation of success. Like the saying goes: if you never try, you’ll never know if you can succeed—but if you don’t try, failure is certain.
“Got a pen and paper?” Lynch asked casually.
Aldrich fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a pen and blank stationery—postmen always carried these.
Lynch scribbled something on it, words the postman couldn’t understand, folded it, and handed it to him. “Do you know the Green brothers?”
“Of course I do! They’re very well known!” the postman quickly nodded. “No one doesn’t know their name, Mr. Lynch.”
The Green brothers had toned things down lately, but their notorious reputation lingered. If left unchecked, it wouldn’t be long before they ended up on the execution platform.
The Federation valued freedom and personal liberty, but crime was still intolerable. If things got out of hand, even local suppression wouldn’t be enough—the state or even Eminence would intervene.
Thankfully, they’d recognized the danger in time, which helped them avoid trouble.
Lynch nodded. “Take this to them. Tell them to find you something to do.”
He patted the postman’s arm and closed the door after Aldrich left, elated.
“What happened?” Landon asked as Lynch returned to the living room. He thought Lynch had been gone a bit too long.
Lynch didn’t explain. He walked to the sofa, and everyone sitting or standing nearby quickly got up and cleared a spot for him. After thanking them—a small gesture, but one that showed civility—he sat down.
“Nothing, just an interesting young man. Let’s continue.”
Mayor Landon nodded. “Mark plans to liquidate all his local assets…”
As Landon’s proxy, Mark had always managed those assets. Some tasks, like the distribution of relief food, weren’t appropriate for Landon to handle directly.
The current relief supplies all came from Mark’s food processing plant. Officially, he won the government contract through a public bid, but the truth was murky.
If the mayor had taken it on himself, it would’ve looked bad. But having Mark do it looked much better—and even earned praise for effective oversight.
There were many such examples. Mark controlled a wide array of businesses.
But with Mayor Landon stepping down, his local influence would vanish. Without that backing, those profitable businesses could quickly become money pits, potentially wiping out all of Mark’s earnings from over the years.
So Mark needed to offload them before Landon’s power completely expired.
“First, the food plant…” Landon looked around. No one volunteered to take over. Everyone was hesitant.
A food plant didn’t make much money—especially not in a downturn. Even with a municipal contract, profits weren’t guaranteed.
Mark could profit because the mayor was his uncle. The plant was practically Landon’s in all but name.
But for anyone else, without a
Mayor Uncle
, it would be a nightmare.
Landon understood the silence. He glanced at Ferrell, who cleared his throat to draw attention.
“After I take office, the city hall’s current policies and subsidies for the food plant will remain unchanged.”
Ferrell’s assurance had an immediate effect. Someone stood up, smiling, and expressed willingness to buy the plant—not for profit, of course, but to support families in need of relief food.
Others, unwilling to let one person take all the credit, joined in. What had been a dead asset suddenly became a hot commodity. Lynch remained calm; the mayor looked mildly sarcastic; Ferrell beamed with satisfaction.
Three men, three reactions. Whether Landon felt disdain for the businessmen’s greed, or Ferrell saw his influence surpassing the mayor’s, didn’t matter. The game continued, with no end in sight.
By the end of the day, nearly all of Mark’s assets had been sold—bringing in around two million. Had they not been scammed on the low-income housing project, they could’ve walked away with even more.
Today marked the end of an era in Sabin City—Mayor Landon’s era.
That night, after everyone else had left and Landon and Mark were preparing to go, Landon stood at the door to shake Lynch’s hand one last time. He would submit his resignation to the state government within a day or two and recommend a successor. Until the next election, the state would appoint an interim mayor.
In other words, this was likely Lynch’s last chance to see Landon in Sabin. There might still be opportunities once Landon moved to Eminence.
At that moment, Landon brought up a previous topic. “I’ll be taking part of the money with me. The rest, I plan to leave with Mark—for that business in Nagaryll we discussed.”
Lynch nodded. “I’ll arrange some work for Mark when the time comes.”
Landon gave a satisfied sigh, patted Lynch’s arm, said goodbye, and left quickly with Mark.
Standing under the eaves, watching the mayor’s car disappear into the distance, Ferrell let out a long, heavy sigh. “It’s finally over.”
Lynch turned to him with a smile. “So, how does it feel to hold power?”
Ferrell didn’t answer right away. It was a clear winter night, no clouds in the sky, stars scattered brightly above. He looked up, just like he did when he was a child, eyes fixed on the stars as he replied.
“It’s intoxicating. Did you notice? Landon hadn’t even officially stepped down, and people’s attitude toward him had already shifted. But the moment I spoke, everything went back to how it was—that’s the value of power.”
Even Ferrell didn’t realize he had dropped any formal titles. He hadn’t said
Mayor Landon
or
Sir
, just
Landon
.
“I want to say I don’t really feel much, but we both know that’s a lie. Power is truly captivating. I don’t know if I’ll feel pain when I lose it…”
“No, you definitely will. Everyone does. The only difference is whether they show it or not.”
He lowered his gaze and looked at Lynch. “So, what do we do next?”
“Once you officially announce your appointment, you’ll work with me to acquire a few factories. After that, you’ll create four to five hundred local jobs. People will quickly start supporting you.” These were all previously arranged. Lynch had even extended his stay in the country to finalize them.
Ferrell seemed a bit off. He asked a question he hadn’t intended to ask, hadn’t even thought of before. “Is it safe?”
“I mean, are we safe doing this?”
“Of course,” Lynch said, lifting his head to the sky. “Everything we’re doing is within the law. It’s all perfectly safe.”