The sergeant didn’t get embarrassed by Lynch’s teasing like Cook would have. He shook his head. “Of course not. I’m not thinking about marriage right now.”
His job was dangerous. Even though he was no longer a federal army soldier, the nature of his work hadn’t changed—still full of risk. Who knew when someone might try to hurt Lynch? And in a world full of unregulated firearms and ammunition, his life could be on the line at any moment.
During his service, like most of his comrades, he looked down on non-combat personnel, thinking those soft types belonged in an office, not on the battlefield with a weapon in hand.
But now, he envied them. He planned to work on the frontlines for a few more years—by then, he’d only be about thirty-four or thirty-five, still not too old. Once he had saved enough money and gained Lynch’s trust, he’d move into a desk job. That’s when he’d consider getting married.
Maybe he’d marry someone his age. Maybe someone younger. That was the trend, after all.
Seeing the smile on the sergeant’s face, Lynch couldn’t help but tease him again. “I’ve heard a lot of foreigners are getting married around here lately. Some even want to take more than one wife…”
To be honest, Nagaryll’s practice of polygamy had attracted many foreigners. Some men who had, for various reasons, started drawing federal pensions early—mostly in their fifties—were actively preparing to settle down here.
They received two to three hundred a month from the federal government. That wasn’t much back home, but in Nagaryll, it was a high salary. That kind of money could support not just one family but several. These people were becoming a unique cultural bridge between the locals and the outside world, contributing to the spread of federal values.
To Lynch’s half-joking question, the sergeant simply smiled. “I wouldn’t let myself do that, boss…”
“Since I was a kid, I was taught that our country is the best in the world. When I became a soldier, everyone told me to love my country, to fight for it.”
“Maybe some people don’t carry that into their personal lives, but I do. I won’t marry anyone who isn’t from the Federation. I certainly won’t get married here.”
He paused, realizing if he kept talking like this, he might never get to the point. “Boss, let’s talk about something useful. We need to recruit some locals.”
When it came to business, Lynch’s expression turned a bit more serious. “Are we facing some trouble?”
The sergeant nodded. “There’s a big gap between us and the locals. We can’t blend in. We’re taller, lighter-skinned. As soon as we show up, they spot us instantly, which makes our work harder.”
“If we can recruit some locals to work with us, it’ll make certain jobs a lot easier.”
“For example, investigating the Nagaryll Youth Party. Since the unrest, their activities have gone silent—until that last big protest. I think they’ve gone underground. That makes it even harder for us to catch them. We need people who can infiltrate their ranks, but…” He gave a regretful shrug.
“Look at me. I can’t even get close to their organization. They see me from afar and go the other way.”
It was a real problem. The reason Gephra and the Federation could send spies back and forth undetected was because they looked alike.
The Federation was an immigrant nation with no core ethnicity—made up of adventurers, gold seekers, exiles, and criminals from all over the world. This led to a population with highly mixed ancestry.
Since the physical differences between people from subtropical and temperate zones were small, it was easy to blend in when sending spies to such regions. But in equatorial countries, that diversity became a disadvantage. There just weren’t any federals who looked like tropical locals.
Sending reliable federal agents to Nagaryll was basically impossible.
“How do you want to do it?” Lynch didn’t offer his opinion right away. He looked at the sergeant. “If I agree, what’s your plan?”
“Recruit some locals!” The sergeant responded quickly. He had come prepared with what he believed was a solid plan.
This was part of his effort to transition to a desk job. If he could show he could handle it, it would be easier to bring it up with Lynch later.
“Go on.”
“I’ve been paying attention to the local situation and studying the social structure. I’ve found there are some people who aren’t quite like the others…”
To better protect Lynch and his clients, the sergeant didn’t just sit idle. Besides personally guarding Lynch during outings, he also took on various other tasks, like analyzing potential threats.
That habit came from his army days. Federal soldiers hadn’t seen much real combat—many had never even been deployed abroad—so their practical skills were often considered weak.
The global image of federal troops was that they feared combat. Cartoons in other countries often showed them trembling at the sound of gunfire. Even Gephra had propaganda posters like that—giant images of federal soldiers cowering behind cover in ill-fitting uniforms, while Gephra troops marched boldly into battle.
The posters proudly declared: Only we can save the world!
The message was effective—assuming people believed federal troops were the weakest in the world.
Despite that, in theory, federal soldiers might have had the strongest intellectual training of any military force.
While other nations’ soldiers focused on staying alive in the field, federal soldiers—wasting taxpayer money—developed elaborate, untested theories, one of which was the
early warning theory
.
This theory aimed to identify potential enemies in a hypothetical zone, based on distinctive traits, so soldiers could categorize threats immediately.
The benefit? They wouldn’t have to wait for danger to strike. If a potential threat appeared, they could act right away.
For example, the most common trait was
weapons
. In a combat zone, anyone carrying a weapon and not wearing a federal uniform was considered hostile and could be shot without hesitation—even if it meant hitting the wrong target. War, after all, was humanity’s dumbest decision, and they were just making it dumber.
The sergeant had applied early warning theory after arriving here. In analyzing the local population, he realized not all locals were hostile. Some actually wanted relationships with foreigners—even wanted to work for them.
These people weren’t rare. They were common. And they were exactly who the sergeant wanted to recruit.
They would become the most reliable allies of foreigners—helping Blackstone Security and Mr. Lynch identify and take down their enemies.
Lynch listened, nodding continuously. He knew the sergeant was working hard and appreciated having someone dependable on his team.
After a while, Lynch asked, “How do you ensure their loyalty?”
“If we can’t trust them, the Youth Party might use that as a way to infiltrate us.”
The sergeant scratched his head. “That’s actually why I came to you, boss. Maybe you can give me some advice?”
“I’ve thought of a lot of things—money, power, status—but it still doesn’t feel like enough.”
“There will always be people who aren’t moved by those things.”
Idealists, principled people, and awakened youth weren’t easily swayed. Beyond those incentives, the sergeant didn’t know what else to offer. So he turned to Lynch for help.
Lynch thought for a few seconds. “We know some people don’t care about money, power, or what others think of them—because they have conviction.”
“Then… how about we offer them an ideal future?”
“Allow them, after working a certain number of years and achieving certain
results
, to become Federation citizens along with their families—or give them a chance to realize their dreams and aspirations.”
“I approve your plan. Handle the execution as you see fit. And if there’s good news, be sure to let me know.”
The sergeant looked excited. He stood at attention, saluted, then turned and left.
As the door slowly closed, Lynch shifted slightly in his chair, gazing toward the distant beach, humming an unknown tune.
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