Chapter 310: Power Is Selfish

After receiving their father’s permission, the children quickly left, each eager to prove they were the most suitable successor.

Once they were gone, the governor remained seated, resting his chin on his hand as he contemplated.

The butler entered and tidied the study again. Important items were kept here, and maids were never allowed in.

As the butler was about to leave, the governor suddenly asked, “Whose method do you think is best?”

The butler had overheard the governor questioning the five sons earlier; the governor made no attempt to hide it. In fact, the butler often knew more secrets than the children.

The butler bowed slightly and said, “Master, I don’t understand these matters.”

The governor smiled. “You do. You understand better than anyone, better than them…” He sighed, a trace of melancholy in his voice.

The butler had grown up alongside him. Around the time the governor was eight or nine, the butler began serving and protecting him.

Back then, the ruling class’s conflicts had mostly stabilized, but lingering plots and schemes still arose occasionally.

Rather than relying on a father with many children to care for one son’s well-being or safety, it was better to depend on oneself.

To put it harshly, the governor—like his father, grandfather, and future heirs—would always choose power over family when faced with such difficult choices.

With power in hand, you can have as many family members as you want.

Throughout his life, the butler had filled the emotional gaps missing among the heirs of this powerful family—father and son, brothers, family ties.

They were not relatives but closer than relatives.

Yet… they were still not family. This was especially true for those in power. The butler knew this well and never spoke out of turn.

No matter how many mistakes the governor’s children made, they would only be punished and made to suffer. But if the butler erred, he and his family might disappear. So he never took the governor’s occasional emotional remarks as truth—unless the governor had given up on life.

Seeing the butler still bowed and looking down, the governor grew momentarily irritated yet also wistful and bored. Changing his posture, he stretched his shoulders. “What has the eldest been up to lately?”

The butler’s heart tightened. In an ordinary family, this would be a father’s casual concern for his eldest son’s work and life. But in this centralized power household, it indicated a shift in the master’s attitude toward his eldest.

“The eldest master has recently been keen on attending some salons…” The butler spoke with his head lowered. He wasn’t lying—he dared not lie to the governor—but he was worried about the eldest son.

The governor frowned. “Salons?”

“Yes, basically gatherings for conversation. The host sets a theme, and everyone discusses their views.” Though not a perfect description, it was close enough.

The governor scoffed. “Just an excuse to eat, drink, and play!” He frowned again. “Who hosts them?”

Merely some businessmen who understood how to leverage their wealth for influence. In this backward, ignorant place called Nagaryll, they formed various clubs and salons, regularly holding entertainment events.

For this poor, backward country, all entertainment and information from developed nations became coveted. Clubs and salons satisfied this demand.

The latest magazines, records, films, even things unseen elsewhere, could be found here.

These people became loyal partners to the businessmen, who never demanded anything in return. More and more people eagerly joined these activities.

But even these seemingly harmless gatherings that expanded social circles displeased the governor.

He understood better than most how fragile life was. Before thirty, he never thought about death—it seemed distant.

Before forty, he never considered that his energy might wane; staying up all night only meant fatigue.

Before fifty, he didn’t pay much attention to his health, feeling invincible.

Now he understood: life was fragile. Everyone knew the businessmen’s intentions in currying favor with the heirs of power—whether they had opportunities or not.

Because opportunities are created by people.

The governor wiped his face. “Keep an eye on him. Also, the current situation feels off. Assign more guards…”

He looked at the butler, who didn’t raise his head but felt the sharp gaze piercing him like a knife, making him uneasy, heart racing, mouth dry.

“I know what to do,” the butler replied.

The governor’s expression softened. “You understand me. We grew up together—you’re like a brother to me. Sometimes you don’t have to be so cautious.”

The butler glanced up quickly, then bowed again. “Master, I am but a servant.”

“All right, all right, whatever you say. Have those two girls help me press again. I just sat a bit and already feel uncomfortable…” He complained, reaching out his hand. “Come, help me up.”

While the governor chatted with his children, someone came to see Lynch.

It was a local wealthy merchant, a foreign businessman named Simon.

Lynch noticed something interesting: Simon, like some other foreign merchants he met, was more eager than locals to wear traditional native clothing.

This was a way of signaling that they were one of us, seeking cultural recognition.

Among all methods, nothing was more direct or effective than cultural identity, so they were more enthusiastic about indigenous traditional dress.

Seeing the talisman hanging on Simon’s chest, Lynch felt he should also wear his own as a sign of respect and support for native culture.

“Mr. Lynch, I hope I’m not disturbing your rest?” Simon’s tone was gentle and polite.

Simon was about forty, about 5’6” (around 1.65 meters), slightly overweight, and fair-skinned.

Lynch welcomed him and shook his hand. “Not at all…” After brief small talk, they sat in the reception room.

Simon’s visit was related to Mishehaye. Backed by another family, he had reported matters involving Lynch and the governor’s sons.

If not addressed now, Simon might have to bear the consequences alone later. With higher-ups informed, they might shield him somewhat.

Once a third person knew, a fourth and fifth would soon as well. Before long, Mr. Preyton also learned of this and immediately sent someone to visit Lynch and gauge his attitude.

If cooperation was possible, they would unite as reliable business partners and wouldn’t mind sharing some profits to satisfy Lynch.

If not, they would begin preparing measures to deal with him. So, first, they needed to gauge Lynch’s attitude.

Mr. Simon was a major merchant from the Magulana province, primarily responsible for spice exports.

Every year, large quantities of spices passed through his hands to the international market. Spices that cost only thirty to fifty galirs locally could be sold abroad at hundreds or even thousands of times that price after clever marketing, packaging, and hype.

Merchants spared no effort in pursuing profit. They even courted royal families of small nations, sharing profits so those royals would designate certain spices or goods as exclusive to their households.

This greatly increased the international value of those products. People said feudal rule was backward, but everyone wanted to elevate their status and surround themselves with an air of nobility.

Using goods exclusive to major royal households was the simplest, most direct, and effective way to do that.

What these people didn’t realize was that the royals they admired might not wield much more power than their local mayors.

Some small countries had populations smaller than a major international city. The status of those royals was predictable—some kings were even said to farm their own land.

This near-monopoly brought Mr. Simon enormous wealth, but now he faced dangers threatening his business.

He kept his true feelings hidden; merchants and politicians were consummate actors, always showing the right expression at the right time.

“Mr. Lynch, are you familiar with the Preyton Trading Company?”