Blackstone Code
Chapter 338:

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"Mr. President, have you ever watched a boxing match?"

Instead of answering the president's earlier question directly, Mr. Truman posed an unrelated one.

There was no doubt that the four people in the room understood the gravity of this conversation. And Truman, more than anyone else, knew exactly what he was doing and what he intended to achieve.

The president didn't respond immediately. He paused to consider why Truman had asked such a question, then nodded. "Yes, I've seen them."

Mr. Truman gave a slight nod. "Then you must know that boxing is divided into weight classes. Before each match, the fighters are weighed to ensure they're evenly matched before stepping into the ring."

The president nodded again. "Yes, I'm aware of all that." He remained patient, not rushing Truman through these seemingly tangential topics but responding thoughtfully.

"Gevra is like an exceptional heavyweight boxer—someone with an impressive track record who has knocked out countless formidable opponents to claim his championship belt. On today's stage, he stands as the undisputed strongest contender. As for us…" Truman shook his head. "We're nothing more than rookies just stepping into the ring. No one pays attention to us; no one takes us seriously."

"So far, we've been playing defense on the international diplomatic battlefield. Excuse me for framing our diplomacy as warfare, but it's clear we've been losing ground. We haven't proven our worth or strength to Gevra or any other nation. Even if they pretend to treat us as equals, deep down, they look down on us because we've never flexed our muscles in front of them."

"This is our chance—a golden opportunity—to show the world what we're made of. If we can demonstrate our power convincingly, people will start respecting us—and fearing us."

"This isn't just another fight. It's a battle over whether the Federation can rise amidst the rapidly shifting global landscape. It's a war we must wage, and it's one we cannot afford to lose."

"In truth, we have something others don't—an opportunity to face the world's number-one naval force. This conflict will serve as a litmus test for our own capabilities. Such chances are rare."

"Other nations wouldn't even qualify to challenge Gevra, yet here we are, presented with this chance. A victory in this war would earn us respect on the world stage."

The president listened intently. Truman's analogy of nations as boxers brought the abstract concept of geopolitical struggles to life in vivid detail. The image of two powerful fighters squaring off in the ring crystallized everything. With that mental picture firmly planted, the president found himself more receptive to Truman's arguments.

But he raised a counterpoint. "What if we lose?" He shifted in his seat, resting his chin on his hand. "You seem confident we'll win, but what happens if we don't?"

Truman fell silent. Beside him, the Deputy Minister of Defense cleared his throat and took over. "Respectfully, Mr. President, let me remind you—we won't lose."

The president turned to look at him, waiting for an explanation. The forty-two-year-old deputy minister spoke calmly and deliberately.

"First, we're better prepared than Gevra. We hold the initiative in this localized military conflict. They know little about our ship models, their performance, the range of our cannons, or the destructive power of our warheads… In fact, they know next to nothing about us. But we? We know them better than they know themselves."

Though constrained by isolationist policies (or rather, escapism, as it was now called), the Federation's military development hadn't stagnated entirely. Even while diplomacy languished, spies and informants continued gathering intelligence worldwide, including detailed information on Gevra's military equipment—ship models, specifications, strengths, weaknesses. Entire rooms were filled with data, analyzed meticulously, with every naval engagement dissected repeatedly.

Unable to participate directly in wars, the Federation compensated by immersing itself in studying battles vicariously. And since the rest of the world remained unaware of the current state of the Federation's navy, this secrecy provided a significant advantage. Naval strategists could exploit this information gap to execute an unpredictable, asymmetrical battle plan.

Over the past two days, the admirals and staff officers at naval headquarters had conducted over a dozen simulations, crafting a strategy for a dynamic, tempo-shifting naval engagement designed to dismantle the familiar structure of Gevra's Royal Navy.

"Second," the deputy minister continued, "our secret weapon is ready for deployment. Apologies, Mr. President, but given your relatively short tenure, some classified projects may still be unknown to you. Over the past few years, the navy has been developing a program codenamed 'Wolf Pack.' Now, we're entering the harvest season. This new technology will revolutionize naval warfare."

Submarines had existed for decades, but limitations in materials and technology had relegated them to minor roles, primarily hit-and-run attacks against supply lines. However, recent advancements spearheaded by Vipe Industries introduced a groundbreaking torpedo system. These innovations transformed submarines from stealthy nuisances into lethal predators lurking beneath the waves.

A company named Schep received a contract to design and manufacture combat-ready submarines capable of holding their own in modern naval engagements. After five years of refinement, the prototype—dubbed Ghost-I—was launched successfully.

"From a purely military standpoint, Mr. President, I see no reason why we should fear defeat against Gevra's navy. On the contrary, our odds of success are quite high," the deputy minister declared emphatically, his eyes gleaming with fervor.

Defeating the vaunted Royal Navy would catapult the Federation's reputation onto the global stage. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Both nations currently belonged to the same alliance, making direct confrontation nearly impossible unless circumstances aligned perfectly—or until the next world war.

Most agreed that another global conflict was inevitable. Missing this chance meant waiting years—or even decades—for the Federation's navy to prove its mettle. For the Ministry of Defense and the military brass, the urgency was palpable: they needed to throw a punch.

Listening to their unwavering conviction, the president began to reflect. These men assured him victory was within reach, and he wasn't inherently opposed to the idea of clashing with Gevra. Some things required no repetition to grasp. As Lynch had said, the Federation needed a war to reunite and a victory to restore confidence.

"But what if Nagalier refuses to establish relations with us?" the president asked cautiously.

At this, the head of the National Security Council's Operations Division, seated beside Truman, adjusted his posture slightly. "Mr. President, how should we respond if the Kingdom of Nagalier unjustifiably harms Federation citizens, seizes their property, or colludes with pirates to attack our merchant vessels?"

Politics was a dirty game, especially on the international stage. Framing rival nations for crimes carried no moral weight when sufficient incentives were at play. Anything could be justified—or fabricated—if the stakes were high enough.

The NSC official's words left no room for ambiguity. The decision had already been made. Whether the president supported or opposed it, hesitation would only undermine his authority. He turned to Truman. "Is this the war you spoke of?"

"Yes, Mr. President. While we'll do everything possible to avoid escalation, there's always a chance this scenario could unfold. We must prepare accordingly."

"Fortunately," Truman added, "given the current geopolitical climate, even if we initiate hostilities, we likely won't face the full might of Gevra's forces. Their main fleet probably won't engage us directly. Everyone needs time to rebuild quietly. Whoever disrupts that peace will bear the blame."

The president exhaled deeply, holding his breath for several moments. After roughly ten minutes of deliberation, he finally nodded. "I agree in principle to authorize this military operation—but under two conditions:

"First, we must emerge victorious.

"Second, whether it's a localized skirmish or a broader campaign against Nagalier, the entire operation must conclude within sixty days."

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