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Nagalier was a land of poverty. But before one could define how poor "very poor" truly was, it was worth asking: what level of destitution qualified as extreme?

In Nagalier, at least twenty to thirty percent of the population lived their entire lives without ever holding a single coin of their own. It was difficult to calculate the annual income of ordinary people because most transactions were conducted through bartering—exchanging goods for other necessities, which were quickly consumed in their daily lives. By the end of each year, the only tangible improvements in their households might be a modest stockpile of food, an extra set or two of clothing, or perhaps a patch on a leaky roof. That was all they could hope for, and that was all they had.

Yet, the ruling class lived in opulence comparable to the upper echelons of developed nations. Their lives were filled with extravagance, evident from the gold-trimmed tables that adorned the Provincial Governor's chambers. It wasn't just him who basked in wealth; the merchants who served the ruling elite were equally affluent. Though these merchants lacked absolute political power, they had effectively become part of Nagalier's ruling class. Some even wielded more influence than the lower tiers of the governing hierarchy.

Take, for instance, the largest trading house in Nagalier—"Pretton Trading House." Its owner, Mr. Pretton, maintained close personal ties with most of the Provincial Governors. Every year, the rulers relied on Mr. Pretton to import goods and industrial equipment from abroad. The more dependent people became on him, the greater his temporary influence grew. People both needed and despised him—he was like a vampire, draining them dry. For example, a luxury car that cost less than 100,000 federal thors in its country of origin would fetch at least 300,000 to 400,000 federal thors by the time it reached Nagalier, simply because Pretton shipped it there.

But people couldn't escape him. The reason was simple: he controlled access to certain goods, and he held considerable sway over maritime trade routes. Even a century later, piracy would remain an unsolvable problem; now, it was rampant. Across the vast seas, numerous pirate factions roamed, some rumored to have connections with Mr. Pretton himself. Ordinary merchant ships rarely made it into Nagalier unless they belonged to Pretton or other favored traders. This monopoly meant anyone seeking to import lucrative goods from abroad had no choice but to go through these merchants.

Even if Nagalier's rulers attempted to establish their own channels, their shipments risked being plundered and sunk at sea. Sending military escorts? It sounded like a good idea, but several obstacles stood in the way. Would foreign ports allow Nagalier's warships to dock? Could the government afford the expense of deploying naval vessels, which likely exceeded the merchants' fees? And could they even stand against pirates? Even the energy costs alone were enough to give officials headaches.

Nagalier did possess abundant mineral resources, but none had been developed—not even a confirmed oil field buried deep within the jungle. When a team of explorers discovered the hidden oil reserve, their first thought wasn't local development but rather international exploitation. The leader of the expedition bypassed the indigenous population entirely, opting instead to contact domestic authorities and leverage political pressure to secure drilling rights.

However, word of this leaked prematurely. After urgent consultations between the central government of the Nagalier United Kingdom and the Provincial Governors, a staged accident was orchestrated. The exploration team was reportedly attacked by wild beasts and perished. To lend credibility to the story, Nagalier's officials dispatched search-and-rescue teams, capturing predatory animals whose stomachs contained identifiable remains of the victims.

From that point onward, Nagalier banned scientific expeditions from conducting mineral surveys within its borders. They lacked the ability to protect their underground resources, and they feared that these mineral riches might lead to a loss of control for the ruling class. Thus, they decided it was better to deny others the opportunity altogether. As long as no one mined anything, there wouldn't be any issues. Foreign powers remained confident about the potential riches beneath Nagalier's soil, but until actual discoveries were made, skepticism prevailed.

The central government's uncooperative stance deterred capitalists from inciting their home countries to wage war against Nagalier, especially since it was a theocratic state. One characteristic of theocracy was that when people invoked the name of their god, otherwise timid natives would transform into fearless warriors, undaunted by death. Developing mineral resources required venturing deep into jungles and establishing occupied territories. If foreign forces dared to invade, they would face relentless suicide attacks from the populace. Unless they exterminated every believer, prolonged guerrilla warfare would ensue, leaving the invaders bogged down in endless conflict.

For uncertain resources, dragging an entire nation into decades-long occupation battles seemed absurd. Without their own oil fields, Nagalier's military relied heavily on imported fuel. Even mobilizing their modest fleet necessitated purchasing oil from Mr. Pretton—a paradoxical situation where reducing dependence on him required relying on him first. In the end, satisfying the merchants' demands proved simpler and less troublesome than navigating such complexities.

The ruling class loathed these merchants yet couldn't survive without them. This dynamic explained why the second son of Provincial Governor Delage wanted Lynch to challenge the merchants. If Lynch emerged victorious while Pretton faltered, existing rules tied to Pretton's dominance would crumble. It would then take Lynch years—or even decades—to expand from a provincial merchant into a nationwide trading powerhouse. For the local rulers, this gradual transformation would ultimately be to their advantage, as they stood to gain significantly over time. Conversely, if Lynch lost, the rulers would suffer no losses. His assets could be seized under the guise of "confiscation," and Pretton, weakened by the struggle, might soften his stance.

To the second son, this was the optimal strategy—no matter the outcome, they would emerge as winners. Yet, seated behind his desk with half-closed eyes, the Provincial Governor hesitated. His instincts warned him against endorsing such a risky move. Over the years, he had come to understand the true nature of these merchants—they were no different from hyenas on the savannah: greedy, cunning, ruthless, cold-blooded, and driven solely by profit.

Hyena packs would experience internal strife every few years. Younger males would challenge the alpha, and upon defeat, a new leader would emerge, expanding the pack's territory until encountering another rival group. Eventually, smaller packs would merge into larger, more terrifying collectives—and so it went with the merchants. Initially fragmented and competitive, they had eliminated instability to form tight-knit alliances, indistinguishable from predators.

Throwing Lynch into this den of wolves was ill-advised. He wasn't an ordinary wolf; his presence could trigger unforeseen consequences, much like how he had turned the tables during this very discussion. No one anticipated that he would return the question, transforming it into a dilemma for those who posed it.

The Provincial Governor shook his head and turned to his third son. "What about you?"

The second son's smile froze, while the eldest, previously sullen, brightened slightly. He even consoled his younger brother, momentarily assuming the role of a benevolent elder sibling. The third son, younger than his brothers and educated abroad, possessed far greater insight into developed nations.

With composure, he countered with a question of his own: "Why not collaborate with Lynch?" He elaborated, "These merchants and capitalists ultimately seek more money. We can offer incentives, provided he delivers commensurate returns."

"He wants exclusive rights? Fine—but our terms shouldn't hinge solely on how much he deposits in the bank. Instead, we should demand tangible benefits."

"Father, with money, everything becomes easier. Moreover, once we partner with Lynch, Pretton and his ilk will view him as an enemy. With Lynch aligned with us, they cannot possibly unite!"

The Provincial Governor regarded his usually unassuming third son with surprise. While the latter's proposal didn't perfectly align with his thoughts, it came remarkably close. He nodded slightly, prompting hostile glares from the eldest and second sons. Meanwhile, the third son smiled bashfully, as if seeking approval from his brothers.

The Provincial Governor then glanced at his remaining two sons, who wisely remained silent. Anything they said at this point would only expose their incompetence further. Their silence spoke volumes about their lack of initiative. Still, the Provincial Governor refrained from criticizing them. Birth order mattered greatly in families like theirs.

After a prolonged pause, he sighed. "You created this mess, so it falls to you to resolve it. I don't care how you do it—I only want results."

In the end, he decided to leave the decision-making to his sons. This experiment revealed something unexpected: the third son possessed sharper intellect than his older brothers. Letting them handle the matter might yield surprising outcomes. And if things went awry, he could always step in to clean up the mess.

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