Blackstone Code
Chapter 317:

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That evening, the High Priest summoned his youngest son upon returning home. He had many children, but this youngest one was his favorite, as their appearances bore the strongest resemblance.

It was somewhat peculiar—his older sons all looked different from him to varying degrees. While not entirely uncommon, it wasn't rare either. The mothers of these children had brought wealth, power, and intangible assets when they married into the family. During his struggle for the position of High Priest against his brothers, these alliances provided significant support. Thus, he chose to overlook questions about paternity.

Only the youngest son truly resembled him. He couldn't quite articulate why, but he felt it deeply, and so his affection naturally gravitated toward this boy.

The High Priest's youngest son was only seventeen. Had the girl who bore his child not committed suicide out of shame for becoming pregnant before marriage, this young man would already be a father himself. By Nagalier standards, the youth was handsome—not overweight like many local nobles, but rather slim and energetic.

"Father, you called for me?"

Stripped of the colorful bird feathers, ornaments, and body paint, the High Priest revealed his true self. He appeared aged, his face and arms covered in tattoos that sagged with his loosening skin, distorting their original meanings. This made him look both fearsome and unsettling.

"Do you know Lynch?" the High Priest asked, gazing at his youngest son.

The young man nodded. "I've heard of him. Everyone's talking about him lately."

The High Priest gave a noncommittal nod. "In a few days, he'll board a ship leaving Nagalier for the Baylor Federation. You'll go with him. Forget Ameliea—you're going to the Baylor Federation instead."

Originally, the High Priest had planned to send his son to Ameliea Province, where Gevra held a 120-year ruling mandate and was undergoing extensive development. It would have been an excellent opportunity: the boy could study while managing business ventures and building connections with local officials. With the backing of a High Priest father, doors would open easily.

Regardless of whether his son eventually returned to inherit his position and power, this path offered security. The High Priest even envisioned establishing a new religion in Ameliea—a mediator between locals and Gevrans. His son had prepared extensively for this role.

But then Lynch mentioned something that changed everything: freedom of religion, freedom of belief.

Gevra was a monarchy; preaching required permission, limited by the ruler's approval. The Federation, however, promised true liberty. If such freedom existed, why not let his son become a High Priest there? Wealth, advancement, safety—it sounded far better than being a petty king here.

"But I heard Lynch rejected Mr. Pretton's goodwill…" the young man ventured hesitantly.

The High Priest frowned, his tone sharpening. "Remember this: you are a child of Nagalier, not Pretton's. Don't speak for him, and don't fear him."

His reaction mirrored the growing unease among Nagalier's ruling class. Under foreign influences, the younger generation was drifting further away. Some couldn't even speak fluent Nagalier, preferring the international lingua franca. Their attitudes toward life and society no longer aligned with local traditions. This raised fears that future generations might cease to identify as Nagalier, becoming "foreigners" instead.

An unexplained irritation flared within the High Priest. "This matter is settled. You're going to study and explore the environment over there. Lynch tells me they're very liberal with religion and faith. If possible…"

The young man's expression shifted from surprise to delight. Unlike commerce, religion fascinated him more. Growing up in this household, he understood that money couldn't achieve everything—but divine authority often could.

News of the High Priest sending his youngest son with Lynch spread quickly through certain channels. When Mr. Pretton learned of it, he merely chuckled dismissively. Out of respect for the High Priest, he instructed his men not to interfere at sea.

Even the Provincial Governor's children refrained from making trouble, knowing full well that opposing the High Priest directly would provoke conflict between political and religious powers—a costly move for everyone involved.

Thus, the issue quieted down. A few days later, Lynch departed aboard a ship laden with goods—and accompanied by a wide-eyed youth eager to see the world beyond his father's shadow.

…..

"Why are there so many people?" Federal citizens disembarking from the cruise ship were surprised to see journalists with cameras and camcorders gathered at the port. They whispered among themselves, speculating if another foreign dignitary was arriving for an official visit.

With the Federation increasingly involved in global affairs, state visits had become frequent and normalized. Old players wanted to understand the new entrant's intentions and potential collaborations. What used to be rare diplomatic exchanges now occurred almost daily. Just days ago, Gevra's Prime Minister had departed, followed closely by the Foreign Minister of the Leyens Federal Republic, accompanied by a packed agenda.

This spectacle intrigued the Federation's populace, fostering national pride and unity. As the President declared in a televised speech, "We are participating in more international decisions, becoming more pivotal. Our status rises, and the great revival of the Federation is within reach…" Such words undoubtedly boosted morale.

Though the economy remained challenging, signs of improvement emerged. International orders revived some factories, reinforcing the importance of global integration. Meanwhile, investigations into the former president deepened, with rumors of charges like "negligence" and "endangering national security" looming.

Amidst rapid changes, passengers disembarking assumed the media presence signaled another high-profile visitor. Some lingered at the port, hoping to catch a glimpse of history unfolding. Though destined for disappointment, they wouldn't leave empty-handed—the sentence itself carried intrigue.

As a modest cargo vessel approached the harbor, the crowd erupted. Spectators surged forward, craning their necks. First came large cages unloaded from the ship. Camera flashes exploded, gasps filled the air, and murmurs of confusion arose.

"What is that thing?"

"Is it a lion?" A fashionable woman in a sunhat, blue dress, and clutch bag squinted uncertainly. "Its fur looks beautiful, shimmering in the sunlight!"

Her companion hesitated. "A lion's mane is thicker. And those spots—it might be a leopard."

"I've seen leopards. They don't have fur like that!" she countered immediately.

He opened his mouth to argue but caught her determined gaze—and remembered ending a month-long abstinence just recently. Instantly cowed, he conceded, "You're right, darling!"

She smiled elegantly. "I knew I was correct!"

More exotic items emerged from the ship: furniture crafted from crimson bloodwood, unfamiliar yet captivating. People buzzed, discussing their origins, ownership, and the reason for the media frenzy.

Meanwhile, the owner of these goods stood on the ship's deck.

"I feel it, Lynch…" After three days together, the seventeen-year-old had grown fond of Lynch. Leaning against the railing, he tilted his head back, inhaling deeply.

Air rushed into his lungs, inflating his slight frame. "This is the scent of freedom. I never imagined it could smell so sweet!"

Turning to Lynch with wide-eyed wonder, he marveled at the absence of the pervasive stench masked only by sachets back home. Even the salty tang of the sea felt refreshing to this first-time traveler.

"I told you," Lynch said with his characteristic infectious smile, "this is the best place in the world. You'll fall in love with it!"

At nearly the same age, the young man found himself easily swayed by Lynch's enthusiasm.

"I believe you now, Lynch!"

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