Blackstone Code-Chapter 589: Contempt for the Enemy

“There will be a formal reception ceremony tomorrow morning…”
In the hotel room, the Federal delegation was discussing the schedule for the next day’s formal events.
When it comes to international diplomacy, most countries maintain a certain level of formality. Gephra also had its own protocol—from the reception to the farewell, the entire process followed a set routine.
Since it was already late, the delegation had checked into the hotel for the night. Tomorrow morning, officials from the port city would arrive to represent the Emperor of Gephra and greet the delegation for the first time. Both sides would make favorable remarks for the media, things like “We hope to achieve fruitful commercial cooperation” and so on.
Afterward, the delegation would travel by train to the imperial capital to be granted an audience with the Emperor.
It’s worth noting that while they would meet the Emperor, he would not discuss any substantive matters related to the cooperation. As the supreme symbol of national power, it would take at least the Vice President of the Federation, and a political or military-oriented visit, to warrant such engagement.
This meeting was purely ceremonial—a show of respect for the Emperor of this
backward
monarchy. One had to play along with their outdated traditions.
Whenever Federal citizens spoke of monarchies, there was always a strange sense of superiority in their tone.
The schedule was tight and full. The members of the delegation gathered to finalize the details before the start of an intense working period.
At that moment, there was a knock at the door.
They were staying on the top floor of the hotel—an entire floor had been reserved for the delegation. Alongside the diplomatic personnel were security officers tasked with protecting them.
No one in the room thought the person outside was a stranger; no unrelated person could get this far, let alone knock on this door.
The lowest-ranking person in the room went to open it. Lynch stepped inside.
“Good evening, gentlemen!” His face bore that ever-present confident, sunny, and clean smile—hard to dislike unless you were dark-hearted.
It took the people in the room a few seconds to realize it was Lynch.
You couldn’t blame them. He had been listed in the final roster, but he hadn’t traveled with the group. Mr. Truman had said they would meet Lynch here.
They had assumed Lynch had gone ahead to the imperial capital and would meet them there—after all, for such a serious diplomatic mission, arriving early usually meant preparing the ground.
No one had expected to see him here. After a moment of surprise, the delegation leader stood up. “Mr. Lynch, I thought we would meet in the capital.”
Originally, Truman was meant to lead the delegation. But the president couldn’t spare him. The just-concluded state elections hadn’t calmed the public mood, and the general election was approaching.
This was the most politically charged time in the Federation. State elections were immediately followed by national ones. People hadn’t even recovered from the state-level political fervor before plunging into the chaos of the presidential campaign.
Experts argued this sequence had its advantages—the outcome of state elections often hinted at national results. In essence, they served as a warm-up for the year-end showdown.
States won in the state elections could now be ideologically solidified, reducing volatility.
States lost would become battlegrounds for all three parties. More resources and attention would be concentrated there, increasing efficiency.
At this crucial moment, Truman, as the president’s most trusted deputy, could not be spared. Even if the diplomatic mission failed, it would be considered a minor issue in the grand scheme of national development. For Truman, the president was everything.
After several rounds of reconsideration, the position was handed to the Deputy Foreign Minister—someone who already knew Lynch from past negotiations involving Nagaryll.
Seeing Lynch here gave him a strange sense of reassurance.
He stepped forward to shake Lynch’s hand, and everyone else in the room took note of the change in the perceived hierarchy.
Introduced by the Deputy Foreign Minister, Lynch met the delegation’s key members.
Besides the Deputy Minister, there was the top official from the Federal International Trade Office. It had previously been called the International Trade Approval Office, but the current president had dropped the
Approval
to distinguish his administration from the previous one.
It was rumored that this office would soon be expanded into a full administrative department. For now, the head of the office, soon to be its first-ever minister, still held a relatively low rank—just right for the scale of this visit.
Then came the third-ranking official in the Office of International Affairs/Policy, a subordinate of Truman, followed by second- and third-ranking officials from the Department of Domestic Industry, and the Department of Education and Scientific Development.
Overall, the delegation wasn’t high-level. To Lynch, it felt more like a probing mission, with little expectation of substantial agreements.
That was normal. The Federation had just annihilated Gephra’s so-called
invincible
fleet. Now they were coming to discuss cooperation. Naturally, there were domestic concerns and speculation. Gephra, being a
backward
monarchy, might respond unpredictably—what if the Emperor decided to execute them all?
These people were still trapped in a mindset of saving face rather than realizing the core truth: in international relations, interests are the only constant.
Forget the First Fleet—even if the Federation had destroyed every one of Gephra’s fleets, even if the president had pissed on the imperial palace gates, as long as the benefits offered were good enough, the Emperor would still smile.
After getting to know everyone, Lynch sat beside the Deputy Minister. He was a delegation member and an advisor.
“Mr. Lynch, I heard you’d arrive before us,” the Deputy Minister said, still thinking Lynch had just gotten there.
Lynch nodded. “I arrived two days ago.”
The Deputy Minister silently thought, Do you know how confusing that sounds? But he responded quickly—this was the Foreign Ministry, not the Department of Transportation. “Mr. Lynch is already familiar with the area—do you have any advice for us?”
He kindly added, “Anything we should pay attention to? Local customs, for example?”
“Blossom Street nearby is quite fun. Plenty of good drinks, and some girls in need of… a helping hand.” Lynch said this with a serious expression.
No one thought anything of it at first. The idea that
Mr. Billionaire
would say something so crude just didn’t compute—until a young man couldn’t hold back a laugh.
Maybe he found Lynch’s words funny, or maybe Lynch himself. Either way, once he laughed, everyone else’s expressions turned strange.
The Deputy Minister was still wondering if Lynch had lost his mind when Lynch continued.
“I know some of you think I’m being immature, saying things like that at a moment like this…” He curled his lips. “But I want to make a point—don’t overestimate the Gephrans.”
“Before the naval battle, we might have feared their unbeatable fleet and carefully weighed our position.”
“But, gentlemen, we were the victors. Gephra’s Grand Princess Fleet was nearly annihilated. We crushed their morale!”
“Right now, it’s they who should be speculating about our intentions—not the other way around. We are the victors.”
“If you act overly cautious, solemn—even timid—it will cause major problems for our upcoming negotiations.”
“They’ll start probing our bottom line, testing us step by step, pushing unreasonable demands. Because you won’t look like a delegation from a powerful federation, but like envoys from some defeated country, forced to sue for peace after being crushed by Gephra!”
“That will make them believe our victory in the naval battle was unreliable. They might even think that if we fought again, we’d lose. So, gentlemen, we must project confidence—not hide in this hotel!”
“I’m certain there are countless eyes watching us, both inside and outside this hotel. They’re analyzing us, deciding how to approach the negotiations based on what they observe right now.”
“While we show, on the surface, that we’re unfazed by the Gephrans thanks to our naval victory, behind the scenes we’ll be quietly preparing our full strategy and response plan.”
The Deputy Foreign Minister stroked his beard. “What you’re saying makes some sense. What do you propose?”
Ten minutes later, Lynch took a few less important delegation members and headed straight for Blossom Street, throwing money around and
assisting
the girls in need—drinking and partying.
News of it quickly reached the Emperor of Gephra. He raged for a while, then all his fury turned into a helpless sigh: “Outrageous.”
When you can’t beat someone, you can only swallow your frustration. For the first time, he understood how the smaller countries once felt when facing Gephra—it didn’t feel good at all.