Blackstone Code

Spending a night in the palace was a rare experience. Lynch notified the deputy ambassador and settled in comfortably.

Everything here was the best in the world—from floor tiles reflecting one’s image to pure gold edges designed to prevent injury from collisions—every detail radiated the luxury and nobility only royalty could afford.

That night, after returning to his room, Lynch watched TV. Gephra’s programming was much more open than he had imagined.

In the Federation, adult channels only aired during certain hours with strict content controls. Here, they broadcast 24/7, with bold content and little restriction.

At first, Lynch was shocked. He thought this wasn’t typical for Gephra, a serious monarchy. But he soon understood that precisely because it was a monarchy, such content flourished.

What was illegal in the Federation was legal here, forming a whole industry. So adult channels were normal.

After watching the evening news, Lynch rested early. He needed energy for dealing with Gephra’s rulers.

Waking up in a ten-square-meter bed, maids had already prepared his bath and fresh clothes. After being served and guided, he arrived at a private dining room.

His residence was like a villa or suite with many rooms. Now, he enjoyed a royal breakfast few could access.

He ate slowly, reading newspapers. Gephra’s papers were more interesting than the Federation’s—more political news, less dominated by capitalists and entertainment gossip. Lynch found it engaging, but the attendant serving him seemed uneasy.

“You seem restless?” Lynch asked calmly, still eating.

The attendant smiled and shook his head. “No, Mr. Lynch.”

“Am I taking too long?” Lynch glanced at his wrist—about twenty minutes—but the attendant’s forced smile showed he did think so.

This meant the emperor and ministers were waiting anxiously. The major had succeeded in his mission.

Lynch smiled and finished the last bite. The breakfast was lavish. The special bread spread was a sauce made from lamb liver and fish oil.

It lacked the graininess of liver, instead silky and smooth like solidified animal fat—neither fishy nor gamey.

The flavor was well balanced, with a slight milky aroma and a rich, pleasant aftertaste.

After finishing the soup and wiping his mouth with a napkin, Lynch stood. “Alright, let’s go.”

The attendant exhaled in relief. Lynch had taken longer than the emperor himself. Now the emperor and nobles waited. The attendant worried that Lynch’s leisurely pace might cause complaints, not directly against him, but redirected at others for not urging Lynch to hurry.

The nobles wanted to vent frustrations but had no room to resist.

Luckily, Lynch was done.

After passing several long corridors, the attendant led him to the ruling hall. The emperor sat high on the steps. Upon seeing Lynch, his previous impatience vanished, replaced by a flicker in his eyes.

“Your Majesty, gentlemen, good morning.”

The nobles returned the greeting. Proud as they were, they followed protocol. Even the emperor greeted Lynch.

He pointed to a seat. “This is your place, Lynch. Here, we don’t have anyone standing while speaking.”

Lynch thanked him and sat. A servant brought coffee and delicate pastries.

He noticed nearly every minister had a small round table with coffee or tea and pastries—a strange experience.

“Last night, the Amellia governor called me. He told me your people captured Haiyan and destroyed his organization. He was very surprised…”

“But beyond surprise, he asked how you did it.”

Actually, the governor hadn’t asked this—this was the emperor’s question.