In the end, Lynch gave up on the idea of reimbursing the girl. Thirty thousand Sol wasn’t a large sum, and if the agency found out, they would only think it was too little, not too much.
Connecting with Lynch ant a lot. As long as Lynch supported them even once, three hundred thousand wouldn’t be considered too little.
The unrest continued. By the third day, the entire province was in chaos.
By the fifth day, other provinces’ cities also began to erupt in turmoil. By late October, nearly everywhere in Nagaryll except the capital was in disorder.
The unrest ca quickly, showing signs of orchestration. It also revealed a previously unknown organization: the Nagaryll Youth Party.
Almost every city and province had Youth Party presence. They led many reforms.
During the upheaval, the Youth Party popularized a slogan that gained wide support: Take responsibility for yourself; decide for yourself.
Unlike louder, flashier slogans, this one was more provocative. Many, especially young people, were moved by it and joined the Youth Party.
Soon, the slogan evolved: Take responsibility for your future; control your own destiny. The Youth Party grew rapidly in the turmoil, faster than anyone imagined.
“We must suppress this unrest.”
Local governnts didn’t seem to care much about the chaos. They rely reassured the public in newspapers that everything will be fine, while doing little of substance.
anwhile, more and more wealthy people were vanishing. Foreigners, locals, even moderately well-off families all beca targets.
After a short spell of riotous, carnival-like violence, the now-prominent Youth Party headquarters issued a ssage to all provincial branches: the unrest had to be suppressed quickly.
A chaotic Nagaryll benefited no one—neither poor nor rich. Chaos only destroyed; it never created.
In Magulana Province, once the order arrived, the local Youth Party leader—short in stature, sharp-featured, radiating righteousness—convened a eting.
They were no longer the powerless band that had once hidden in the forests outside the cities. They had grown into a force that could not be ignored.
Now they sat inside Mr. Simon’s forr mansion. A grand house, unimaginable for them only weeks earlier. Back then, they weren’t even allowed near such estates, let alone to tread the lawns with mud-caked shoes or bare feet, or to step inside.
Now, they reclined on soft sofas, sipping drinks once reserved for lords, smoking imported cigarettes and federal clove cigars. Life was full of surprises.
The short young man tapped his finger on the coffee table, making a sharp tok-tok sound that drew everyone’s attention back. He repeated his demand: “We must end this unrest as soon as possible.”
Mr. Simon’s son… he now had a na: Jardon. Simon had nad him according to the tradition of his birthplace.
After watching his father gunned down by bandits, he had once wanted to change it. To keep that na felt like a mark of sha, fear, hatred, and grief he couldn’t put into words.
But he gave up on that thought. Instead, he resolved to prove to his late father—and to the elder brother he never t—that he was Simon’s most capable son. So he kept the foreign na, Jardon—or Gordon.
When locals pronounced Gordon in their accented Common tongue, it ca out closer to Jardon. Either way, the na itself beca a hybrid, born of two cultures.
In less than two weeks, Jardon had matured quickly.
His whole deanor had changed. No longer the sad but still youthful, lively, sunny boy—he now looked darker, harder to approach. His slightly sunken eyes gave him a sinister edge. Being stared at by him too long was unsettling. Ｒ𝐚ΝO͍ВĚꞩ
He rarely spoke at etings, but today he questioned, “Why end it so soon? Can’t we gain more?”
During this ti, the Youth Party had protected eight foreign-background rchant families, safeguarding heirs despite their fathers’ misfortunes.
They could seize assets from those who resisted, easier than future competition.
Building a solid foundation now ant better odds against the Federation later.
Ironically, the Federation suffered almost no losses in this unrest.
Youth Party attempts to attack Federation positions at docks and warehouses were t with strong resistance; the Federation killed many protesters labeled rioters by the dia.
They left behind dozens or even hundreds of bodies at every site before withdrawing. Aside from used ammunition, the Federation remained unscathed.
This unrest, which shouldn’t have erupted, only unsettled internal relations and a few leftover foreign rchants from the Preyton era. It did nothing to stop the Federation’s gradual, peaceful encroachnt.
The only way to resist the powerful Federation was to compete comrcially.
Jardon, exposed to these dynamics, learned much. Determined to prove himself, he was smarter than Simon expected.
His plan was to use the Youth Party to strengthen himself.
The short young leader paused, then shook his head. “Continuing this unrest only hurts ourselves. Our enemy isn’t us, but the foreigners.”
“Destruction won’t make our nation strong. We must be wary of the Federation but also use their strength to develop ourselves.”
“We never intended this unrest. Now it must end.”
There was a deeper reason: the true ruling elite had yet to act. The clans were firmly entrenched and unaffected by the chaos outside. For them, the unrest was irrelevant.
They were watching. If the unrest wasn’t quelled before the elite intervened, the Youth Party’s growing power would beco a problem.
They had to show harmlessness to the ruling class, manage relations between people and rulers, and end the unrest. Even if soone had to take responsibility, it shouldn’t be them.
No one objected. The short young leader continued, “It’s calr here now. Let people return ho, and then…” He glanced at Jardon and the other mixed-heritage mbers beside him, “…I need your help.”
Jardon nodded. “Tell .”
Among the mixed-heritage group, Jardon held a high status. Only his father was killed by his own hand; the others’ fathers had died at the hands of Youth Party mbers and mobs.
They either knew or watched helplessly. Compared to Jardon, they were inferior by nature.
“I need you to post recruitnt flyers outside. Mark that no one with a bad record should apply. This will help people return ho faster. No matter how many you hire, the presence must be strong!”
Recruitnt would bring those wandering around looking for opportunities back ho. It was also ti for them to hide and consolidate the gains they had made from the unrest.
Jardon nodded without objection—he did plan to recruit.
Unlike Mr. Simon, he believed there were still considerable profits locally and no need to abandon everything and leave.
“Also, I want you to donate so money,” the short young man said after a few seconds of silence, stating his second request.
He looked the heirs in the eye. Except for Jardon, who t his gaze, the others quickly looked away.
“Donations from Lynch and the Federation have put us in a passive position. So international observers think we started this unrest, then had the Federation clean up the ss.”
“As this idea spreads, the victims of the unrest will co to believe it too.”
“If the rulers steer public opinion a little, our reputation will quickly be ruined. So we must donate, to help people and stabilize what we’ve gained during this period…”
While he spoke, gunshots suddenly sounded in the distance, accompanied by faint commotion.
The short young man stood up, startled and uncertain. He slapped the cadres on his right, urging them to find out what was happening, then ran upstairs to see the situation.
The gunfire grew more frequent, his face darkened, and a ssage soon made him realize the severity of the problem.
“The fur traders’ hunting team has entered the city…”
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