Blackstone Code

He had heard the phone ringing for a while but didn’t want to get up because he was fed up.

Since becoming governor of the Amellian province, his mental state had deteriorated day by day.

At first, the resistance was sporadic—people refusing to exchange currency, tearing Gephran textbooks, burning their flags. Bad behavior, but manageable.

The response was simple: arrest them and publicly whip them until they complied.

But the situation rapidly worsened. Even enforcing collective punishment—“one person crimes, whole family punished”—failed to curb the rebels.

Many innocent civilians were executed due to association, fueling greater resistance. Now the situation was deeply chaotic with no easy solution.

Enemies were inside and outside the city; insurgents could be anywhere—old, women, even children.

He had personally ordered the hanging of a boy of twelve or thirteen and his entire family in the square. The boy had poisoned Gephran water tanks, causing over twenty people to be sick, five dead, and seven disabled and sent home crippled.

The resistance was everywhere. Patrols once maintained by three to five soldiers plus local auxiliaries were gone.

Patrols now wouldn’t even go out without armored vehicles—who knew when a bullet or bomb might strike? Chaos spread through the city. Civilians often blamed all attacks, looting, and violence—even those by their own—for the Gephrans. This blind hatred only worsened the situation.

The governor was already considering applying to return home. Even as a wealthy civilian, it would be better than the constant mental strain here. He felt he wouldn’t last much longer in this state.

The phone kept ringing, already for a minute. He didn’t want to answer, but the ringing persisted.

His temples throbbed painfully, his eyelids twitched uncontrollably, his pinky twitched, and his stomach hurt.

A long, persistent call at this hour was never good news.

Still ringing.

He sluggishly got out of bed, glared at the relentless phone, walked over, and answered, “It’s me…”

“Governor, a group claiming to be Blackstone Security personnel have just brought in Swallow and some members of the Independence Front…”

The governor seemed to hallucinate. He frowned, “They attacked? How many? How many do we have? Can we hold?”

The rebels had become reckless, somehow acquiring knowledge to make homemade explosives. Even behind defenses, safety was no longer guaranteed.

If defenders were too few or attackers too many, he would order an immediate retreat.

Even if these insurgents took a defensive point, they wouldn’t occupy it. The city was still Gephran territory.

They could quickly regroup and counterattack. Most rebel actions were harassment—a psychological tactic.

Both sides understood this. When defenders faced attacks, if outnumbered, the governor allowed retreat.

Sometimes, he even hoped the rebels would seize some land, giving them a target to attack, instead of scattering like now.

There was a pause and heavy breathing on the other end as the caller caught their breath.

After a moment, the voice resumed, “Governor, I’m a sentry at the outpost. A group calling themselves Blackstone Security mercenaries brought Swallow and key Independence Front members here. They have…”

The voice paused again amid other background noises, then continued,

“They operate under the Emperor’s lawful authorization to conduct military operations in Amellian province, dismantle the Independence Front, arrest leader Swallow and others, and confiscate important supplies…”

The governor’s breathing quickened. He paced, grabbed a pen, opened a book at random, and ordered the caller to repeat everything.