Blackstone Code

After the Prime Minister made a round through the Privy Council, he entered the inner conference room.

Since the Privy Council was an administrative body, there was naturally a hierarchy.

In the past, when the Council still exercised real authority, its highest-ranking members were known as Elders.

For a time, the Council was even nicknamed the Elder Council, implying that the Elders controlled everything and their word was law.

Beneath the Elders were the Senior Councillors. The distinction between the two was simple. Back then, nobles weren’t as obsessed with appearances as they are now.

They used to wear linen robes. Elders wore robes adorned with golden barley sheaves, while Senior Councillors had silver wheat sheaves—this was how their ranks were differentiated.

Other nobles wore robes bearing only their family crests, without any grain emblems.

As the Council’s authority gradually eroded, Elders began setting aside their pride in attempts to unify the nobility. Unfortunately, political reforms and power shifts rendered their efforts mostly meaningless.

The conference room here was once reserved for Elders and Senior Councillors. The nobles in the outer hall weren’t allowed in without permission.

The Prime Minister wasn’t a member of the Privy Council, but he entered without needing approval. That’s the nature of power—it overrides most rules.

Once everyone was seated, the Prime Minister looked around at the major nobles and smiled broadly. “Have you reached a decision on who will take the post of Minister of Finance?”

The nobles exchanged glances. One of the leading nobles cleared his throat, drawing attention.

“Your Excellency, we’ve been discussing the matter, but it’s an important post and the time we’ve had hasn’t been sufficient, so…”

The Prime Minister interrupted, shaking his head. “So, no result, right?”

The nobles nodded. One of them added, “There are too many qualified candidates. It’s hard to choose. The position is singular—choosing one means leaving the others out.”

“There’ll be disputes. Some may even question whether the selection was fair. You know how it is—those who lose always have reasons.”

The Prime Minister didn’t argue. It was like gamblers making excuses for losing—bad luck, didn’t wash their hands, faced the wrong direction, someone borrowed money from them…

Gamblers could come up with hundreds of excuses for losing. Disgruntled nobles were no different—claims of backroom deals came easily and without evidence.

Which is why choosing a candidate took time.

The Prime Minister frowned. “Time is exactly what we lack. We can’t leave the Finance Ministry vacant, waiting on your decision. That would delay critical matters.”

“This isn’t just any post—it controls the national budget and funding. We don’t have the luxury of time.”

“By the end of the month, you must have a candidate.”

One of the nobles reminded him, “Your Excellency, it’s already the end of the month.” freewebnovёl.ƈom

“It is?” The Prime Minister looked startled, then checked the calendar window on his wristwatch.

Watches with calendars were highly sought after, with only a few companies capable of producing them.

He glanced at the date and sighed, “It really is the end of the month. I hadn’t even noticed.”

He shook his head. “These days have been too busy—too many issues to handle. I miss the quieter times.”

“Dull, maybe, but at least I had more time to myself.”

The nobles in the room chuckled but didn’t take it seriously—just like their current discussion wasn’t necessarily connected to any real outcome.

“A few days may be tight, but should we give it a try?” the Prime Minister asked again.

He looked like he was asking, but everyone knew what he meant and how to respond.

“Your Excellency,” said the chief noble, “though people mock the Privy Council as a retirement home, it doesn’t mean we lack responsibility. We simply can’t make a proper decision in this short time. Perhaps…”

He looked around at the other nobles and said quietly, “You should take on the position yourself, at least temporarily.”

The Prime Minister was momentarily taken aback. He looked at the nobles before him and gave a wry smile. “That won’t work. I already proposed that to His Majesty before, but… he refused.”

The chief noble smiled and replied, “This time, we’ll speak to His Majesty ourselves. I believe he’ll agree.”

The Prime Minister seemed tempted but hesitated. “But what about those outside…”

The chief noble gestured gently. “Struggles for power will never outweigh the stability of the Empire.”

This was just a formal process, as Lynch had said before. From the beginning, the Emperor had no intention of fighting the Prime Minister to the end—he had been yielding all along.

But it wasn’t a complete surrender. The Prime Minister had paid a price.

If word of this conversation leaked, many outside nobles would be furious.

They had spent the past few weeks building alliances, hosting secret meetings, networking—all in pursuit of that position.

Even if they couldn’t get it, they had hoped to gain some advantage.

They didn’t expect the senior nobles in the Council to turn around and sell them out, helping the Prime Minister secure control over national finances. All their efforts were for nothing, and some even lost influence. If, at this moment, the Emperor extended a bit of goodwill, some of those nobles would defect to him without hesitation.

In other words, the Prime Minister traded a portion of the aristocracy’s loyalty to the Emperor in exchange for control over the national budget, moving one step closer to his own power consolidation.

Did the Emperor lose out?

It might seem so, but not entirely.

He lost financial control, but the national development plan was already in place. The Prime Minister couldn’t go against it, and both sides ultimately wanted what was best for the Empire.

The Emperor’s direct authority had shrunk, but in return, he gained the support of many nobles. These nobles would become his hidden card for the next time he sought to reassert control.

And the Prime Minister—he was getting old. No one knew how many more years he had left in that seat.

Three to five years—ten at most.

In ten years, a new global war is bound to break out. By then, the Prime Minister, already declining in physical strength, energy, and mental acuity, won’t be able to cling to his position any longer.

Once he steps down, with the support of the noble faction, His Majesty the Emperor will have the opportunity—and possibly the means—for autocratic rule. If enough nobles back him, he could even assume the roles of both Prime Minister and Finance Minister once war breaks out.

With imperial authority granting him control over the military, and now with potential control of both administration and finances, everything would be under unified command—a true autocratic emperor would be born.

Even if the nobles don’t fully support his authoritarian ambitions, he would at least have the chance to regain control over national finances. As long as he holds the purse strings, even if the choice of Prime Minister ends in compromise, real power would still lie in his hands.

Trading today’s opportunity for limitless possibilities in the future—this is a deal the Emperor is not losing on.

The Prime Minister clearly understands His Majesty’s intentions, but he doesn’t mind. In fact, he cooperates. They’re both gambling—waiting to see who slips up first.

The contents of the meeting hadn’t yet leaked, but it wouldn’t be long.

In three days, during Monday’s morning court session, the entire nation would know.

At that point, the real drama would begin. His Majesty, as the wronged party, would begin rallying disgruntled nobles to his side.

Of course, the Privy Council would try to hold the nobles together. They couldn’t just stand by and let them all turn to the Emperor—that would be irresponsible.

The Prime Minister stayed in the Council for less than an hour before leaving. Not long after he departed, rumors began circulating within the Council.

Somehow, word had gotten out—rumors involving Lynch.

It was said that Lynch planned to invest the profits they’d made in the financial markets into the Amellian Province, with His Majesty having granted them special policy incentives.

If this had been about someone else, it might have passed without much notice. But since it was Lynch, it drew immediate attention.

After all, not long ago, Lynch and his circle of worthless noble followers had made billions in windfall profits in the financial markets. Even now, many nobles still burned with envy at the thought.

The high nobility might not care, but not every noble was wealthy. Many only had their titles left—little money to their names.

As people were preparing to head out for lunch, a few nobles approached Lynch.

“Mr. Lynch, I heard you’re planning to invest in the Amellian Province?”

Lynch looked at them. The young Count quickly introduced them—they were all minor nobles, most of whom had some blood connection to the royal family.

No matter how ruthless a ruler is, he’s still human. And humans have their “little quirks”—like preferring to trust their kin over strangers.

So, among the minor nobility of the Gephra Empire today, nearly half have ancestors who were once part of the royal family or closely tied to it, earning them hereditary titles.

After the introductions, Lynch nodded with a smile. “That’s correct.”

The leading minor noble responded humbly, “Would you be willing to speak with us—about Amellia?”