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In a dimly lit room, Delage, the Provincial Governor of Magura Province, lay sprawled on a reclining chair. Two young women in their early twenties were diligently working to ease the tension in his back muscles.

To extend his lifespan and prolong his grip on power, he had spent a fortune inviting renowned physicians from regions like Sedoras to serve as his private health consultants, tending to his physical well-being.

These consultants had informed him that years of prolonged sitting had caused severe damage to his spine and back. Consequently, they recommended daily physical therapy—massages involving pressing, kneading, rubbing, and pinching—to relax his muscles and fascia, alleviating the chronic back pain that plagued him.

This was perhaps the most carefree moment of his day. The girls' touch was just right, lulling him into a drowsy state.

"Master..."

Just as he was about to drift off, a voice from outside the door shattered the fleeting tranquility. Irritation flared within Delage, but it quickly subsided. He opened his eyes and raised a hand. The girls ceased their ministrations, stepping aside to help him don a luxurious robe—even casual attire for him was opulent.

When he reached the doorway, the butler bowed deeply. "Master, the young masters have arrived..."

The interruption by his useless sons only deepened his displeasure. The butler knew this was the Provincial Governor's most relaxed time of day. Normally, he would have delayed any visitors until after the Provincial Governor finished his treatment or woke from his nap. But these young masters' demands could not be ignored. No matter how long the butler had served the family, no matter how much trust the patriarch placed in him, he was still just a servant. Blood ties meant everything here; without them, even the most trusted aide remained an outsider.

Thankfully, Delage was not one to vent his frustrations on others. Though his anger surged again upon learning who had disturbed his rest, he tempered its expression this time.

By the time he entered the study, he already knew the gist of the matter from the butler. As he settled into his seat, the eldest son began to speak but was silenced with a single glance.

After the butler brought pastries and light tea, Delage leisurely nibbled on the treats and sipped the mildly sweet brew. It wasn't until several minutes later that he finally nodded in satisfaction.

"The pastries today are excellent!"

The butler inclined his head slightly. "The chef said he modeled them after some foreign trends. He was quite anxious about it."

Delage nodded approvingly. "Give him a reward. We need people who are ambitious and capable of thinking for themselves."

The butler bowed again, cleared the table, and left. As the study door closed, the atmosphere grew heavy.

Delage surveyed his sons, who had been standing for over ten minutes. Only the eldest and second-born maintained composed stances. The other three fidgeted restlessly. If not for his authority, they would have likely sprawled on the couches, ordering snacks and drinks to indulge themselves.

The more he looked at them, the more dissatisfied he felt—a common sentiment among highly capable individuals. These men were superior to ordinary people in every way, and thus they harbored disdain for those beneath them. Even their own children weren't spared. In fact, their familial ties sometimes made Delage treat them worse than strangers. With outsiders, he might feign kindness, but with his sons, he revealed his true self.

"Speak," he commanded, though he already knew what had transpired. Still, he wanted to hear it directly. After all, the accounts given by these fools would surely differ from the butler's.

No, they definitely differed. This was a lesson Delage had learned over decades as a ruler: everyone spoke through the lens of their own interests, shaping their narratives accordingly. As someone in power, it was crucial not to rely on a single perspective.

The sons babbled over each other, recounting the events. Delage listened silently before asking, "What are your thoughts?" He added, "Start with the eldest."

"I think we should give it to him!" The eldest son's bold declaration immediately set Delage's nerves on edge. Had age not mellowed him—had he not cultivated inner peace to better harmonize body and soul—he might have hurled something across the room.

Lynch was no ordinary individual, and Provincial Governor Delage had been well aware of this from the start. A young man with no official backing, barely twenty-one years old, rapidly amassing a vast fortune in the cutthroat society of the Federation—such an achievement was far beyond the capabilities of an ordinary person.

Even within the confines of Nagalier, a closed and relatively uncompetitive society, it was no small feat for the offspring of the ruling class to establish themselves independently. This fact alone was enough to underscore just how extraordinary Lynch's accomplishments truly were.

Opportunity, luck, and personal ability—all were indispensable. Could a person like this, possessing such a rare combination of qualities, be someone easily manipulated?

Truthfully, Delage hadn't anticipated things escalating this far. He knew his sons had created trouble for Lynch, expecting him to resolve it by aligning with an influential group—or even approaching Delage himself. Once Lynch became his partner, minor players like Mishahaya wouldn't dare offend him further, and the troubles he faced would vanish.

Of course, aligning with Delage came at a cost. Still, it was the most practical solution in his eyes.

But Lynch hadn't chosen any of the expected paths. Instead, he'd opted for the most astonishing approach, turning the tables and leaving the problem squarely in Delage's lap.

Was this issue easy to resolve? Not at all. Agreeing to Lynch's demands meant handing control of Magura's internal and external trade to him. The importance of financial power was undeniable. If Lynch gained a stranglehold on Magura's economy, complications would multiply.

Yet refusing wasn't simple either. Lynch had agreed to their extortionate terms, but now they couldn't accept his counteroffer. Word of this would spread quickly, humiliating Mishahaya, Delage's sons, and ultimately Delage himself.

He had hoped his sons might surprise him with clever ideas. Instead, the eldest's opening remark only fueled his irritation.

Delage sipped his tea to calm his rising temper, then glanced at his eldest. "Continue."

The eldest son, smugness flickering across his face, elaborated, "We're agreeing to his demands merely to placate him. His vested interests will make him more invested in Nagalier. We can influence his decisions."

"He'll secure resources we need—heavy industrial factories, technologies, metal formulas—from the Baylor Federation. Once we've obtained everything, we can nullify the agreement under some pretext and arrest him!"

Delage eyed his eldest son, his wariness ratcheting up another notch. He wondered if the "pretext" mentioned involved the transfer of power—his eventual retirement. It was a thought that lingered uncomfortably.

In truth, Delage understood well that the healthier he remained, the more restless his sons became. The longer he clung to power, the less time his sons would have to rule once it was finally theirs. If given the chance, they might even wish for his sudden demise—though he didn't fault them for it. Such thoughts and emotions were only natural. He too had once resented his father for clinging to power despite exhaustion. Why not pass the torch to a younger, stronger heir?

Still, understanding didn't negate caution.

Setting down his teacup, Delage chuckled dryly and looked at his second son. "And you? What are your thoughts?"

All five sons detected the disapproval in their father's laughter. While the eldest scowled, the others exchanged amused glances.

The second son grinned sheepishly. "Father, my idea is similar to Big Brother's, but with a twist..."

The eldest sneered, lips curling into a forced smile.

Delage frowned. "Speak."

Unfazed by his elder brother's icy glare, the second son continued, "My plan aligns with Big Brother's at first, but diverges later. We can pit Lynch against other merchants."

"These foreign traders have profited immensely from us—no, excessively so—but they show no gratitude. Often, they reject our requests outright."

"We can orchestrate a conflict between Lynch and them. When the timing is right, or when intervention becomes necessary, we can terminate our agreements with the merchants and expel them."

"No one can accuse us of wrongdoing. They've disrupted society, and our actions will be both justified and lawful."

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