Blackstone Code-Chapter 605: The People’s Choice

The sound of Governor Drag’s fist pounding the desk caught the attention of his son.
“What’s wrong, Father?”
Governor Drag looked up at his son standing in the doorway. After a moment of thought, he gestured for him to come over and handed him a letter. “One day, you’ll sit in my place and make these decisions. Tell me what you think.”
Everyone has their preferences. It’s natural. Even a father may have children he favors more than others.
To Governor Drag, his eldest and youngest sons were the ones he liked best.
The eldest had spent the most time with him—this is often the advantage of being the firstborn. Arriving earlier into the world, as long as they don’t mess up too badly, they tend to win parental favor.
His fondness for the youngest stemmed from a sense of indulgence—a change in himself. He had been strict enough with his other children. He no longer wanted to be that way. When his youngest was born, he was already older, and that softened him, giving way to a different kind of affection.
As for the second son, Governor Drag didn’t like him much. He was too calculating, too concerned with scheming, neglecting the natural authority a ruler should possess.
Not that scheming is necessarily bad, but it’s not a tool suitable for rulers. Rulers don’t need deceit—they simply post a proclamation and things are done. Cunning may appear to make power less cold and ruthless, but once exposed, it only brings trouble.
People may hate a tyrant, but they despise a deceitful and underhanded ruler even more.
Then there was the third son—the one standing before him now. He seemed smart, always able to synthesize the strengths of his brothers and combine them with his own ideas. No matter the test, his answers were always the safest. And yet, Governor Drag disliked him.
It doesn’t take many reasons to like someone. But disliking someone? There are always too many reasons.
He disliked that this son lacked original thought. He always mixed the ideas of the eldest and second sons, never offering his own opinions. Without their input, his answers were often inferior.
He even tried to win over the governor’s favorite youngest son to use as a shield, forcing Governor Drag to lean toward the third son’s suggestions out of consideration for the youngest.
He was constantly trying to win favor, pretending to be excellent—yet always transparent to the governor, which only increased his distaste. If he couldn’t be sincere with his brothers, how could he expect his father’s affection?
So when the time came for a difficult choice, Drag sent the eldest, the second, and the youngest to the Federation—leaving only the third behind.
The other sons were disappointed—especially the eldest—but they never realized this was actually Drag’s way of protecting them.
The third son, on the other hand, who always dreamed of inheriting the governorship, mistook being left behind as a sign of favor. But it was really an act of resignation. Sadly, he never understood this.
He respectfully took the letter and read through it quickly. Much faster than Drag expected, he gave his answer:
“Father, I believe we should be the first to advocate for separation from the Kingdom of Nagaryll.”
The speed of the answer stunned Drag—he hadn’t expected it.
In his mind, his son should have responded with fear and unease. Fear that someone would dare instruct the region’s most powerful man—his own father—on what to do, in such a disrespectful tone. The contents should have made him feel that even families like theirs were now under the thumb of the Federation, stirring dread over the loss of control.
Betraying the country should also have brought guilt.
But none of that showed. Only a young man suppressing his excitement, quickly making the one decision Drag least wanted to hear—yet knew was inevitable.
After a brief silence, he looked up at his son, who was trying hard to appear calm, and asked, “Why did you choose that answer?”
The third son responded without hesitation. “Father, everyone knows the Federation’s power in Nagaryll is only growing. You haven’t been out much lately, but if you had, you’d see that everything is different now!”
“I don’t even know how to describe it, but society is changing—like an old man near death suddenly becoming young again, full of life!”
“When you walk down the street, you no longer see idle people basking in the sun. Everyone is busy looking for work.”
“And when they talk during their breaks, the gossip has shifted—from trashy topics to things about work and life.”
“You may not like what I’m saying, but it’s the truth: the influence of the Federation is replacing that of us traditional rulers. The future of Nagaryll will belong to the Federation!”
As Drag watched his son speak passionately, it felt like he was seeing him for the first time. And it made him realize just how powerful the Federation’s influence had become—so strong it had already begun to reach those closest to the ruling class.
Suddenly, Drag understood that his choice no longer mattered to the Federation. Their plans were already in motion, already bearing fruit. No one could stop this societal transformation.
People no longer cared what the old rulers said. They didn’t even respect them anymore. Look—this is what the Federation had accomplished.
They were attacking the monarchy. Once the royal family fell, the secular power they symbolized would vanish from the public’s heart. Next would come religion.
In time, Nagaryll might become a
Little Federation
. Neither Drag nor any other governor, not even the royal family, could stop it—because this was what the people wanted.
His eyes fell on a newspaper in the corner of the desk. The headline,
Who Is Hurting Us?
, was half-visible. Who else but rulers like Drag could so recklessly harm the people?
This was the will of the times. There might be turbulence along the way—like the so-called Nagaryll Youth Party—but those were just ripples. They wouldn’t change the tide.
When history and the will of the times begin to exert force, individual will becomes insignificant.
“Go do what you need to do,” Drag said with a sigh, losing all interest. The old kingdom he once knew was beginning to blur in his mind. He almost laughed. How could people like them ever stop a volcano that’s been suppressed for a hundred years?
His son bowed and turned to leave. Just as he reached the door, Drag spoke again, “Get ready. Have the tailor make your clothes.”
The son suddenly turned, stunned, his face lighting up with uncontrollable joy. “Father, you mean…”
Drag said nothing, only waving his hand, motioning him to leave.
His meaning was clear—he was preparing to step down.
Watching his son leave with joy and a spring in his step, Drag suddenly found it all absurd, almost comical.
A son, ecstatic because his father is about to lose power—this… this must be what power truly is.
He let out a deep sigh and looked down at the letter in his hand, recalling what the butler had told him: “The third young master has been reading many books from the Federation lately and has made friends with some young businessmen in the city.”
Life is a series of choices. No matter how lost, afraid, or helpless you feel, you must still choose.
At the same time Governor Drag was making his decision, the High Priest was doing much the same.
Beneath his
throne,
priests from across the province had gathered. Looking at their cold, sinister faces, the High Priest felt a rare sense of discomfort.
He licked his lips, and his expression suddenly turned fervent.
“Last night, the gods spoke to me in a dream. They said they will choose a new High Priest. When you return to your temples, each of you must forge a golden idol of the gods and bring it to me.”
“The god will descend upon one of these idols. Whoever brings that idol will become the next High Priest!”
He forced open his heavy-lidded eyes. The tattoos on his sagging face made him look grotesque, but his eyes were sharp, his gaze pressing heavily on each priest.
As his eyes landed on them one by one, each priest bowed low, pressing their foreheads to the ground in reverence.
After all, the High Priest was seen as the earthly vessel of the divine. To honor him was to honor the god itself.
“This time, no one from my inner circle will be considered. The next High Priest will come from among you. Do you understand?”
Until now, the priests hadn’t been especially enthusiastic. Every generation, the aging High Priest would announce something like this—it was just a scheme to collect gold. In the end, the successor was always someone of his choosing. The outcome never changed.
But now, excitement rippled through the room. The High Priest’s words meant that the ruling religious family was about to step down.
And a new religious dynasty was about to rise.
They would stop at nothing to deliver heaps of gold, each hoping the High Priest would choose them.