Chapter 335: Don’t Assume

Everyone in the office had their own agenda. For the conservative politicians, though they lost, they refused to admit it. They hadn’t lost to politics—they lost to the changing times.

Years ago, when isolationism was dominant, no one ever said they were wrong, let alone called it escapism. So losing to the times was something no one could fight.

In a way, they did lose. The Progressives had taken the stage and begun to govern. But that didn’t mean they were powerless.

If they didn’t show their value, the people still supporting the conservatives would abandon them—and those people were crucial for the party.

They were the spark for the next victory. To keep that spark alive, the best way was to keep speaking out.

The capitalists saw things differently. They weren’t as politically concerned. They only feared that if the Federation Navy went to war with Gephra’s navy—even in a small clash—

If the Federation Navy lost, their merchant ships at sea and future overseas trade would be threatened and exploited.

Outsiders would see the Federation Navy’s weakness. Even small countries once ignored by the Federation might interfere with Baylor’s trade, damaging their interests.

Currently, the situation was good. No one was exploiting them. Apart from occasional small pirate attacks, they had no real rivals.

In this context, everyone in the room, for various reasons, agreed on one thing: they could not start a war with Gephra’s navy or with Preyton’s pirate group—at least for now.

“No one has been more sincere or offered better terms than us!”

In another room, Mr. Truman, some officials from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and International Policy, and Lynch sat together negotiating with the Nagaryll delegation.

Lynch wasn’t qualified for such a crucial diplomatic negotiation, nor was he supposed to sit at the table with a voice. He was only twenty-one, nearly four months shy of twenty-two. Despite his title as young leader, he was still too young.

But Mr. Truman insisted, and after some time, he realized Lynch was truly a remarkable bastard.

His ideas were not just radical—they were dangerous. If something attracted him enough, starting a war seemed trivial to him. Yet his thoughts and attitude were compelling.

“For the great revival of the Federation!”

That phrase often echoed in Mr. Truman’s mind, stirring his usually calm heart.

Regardless of whether Lynch said or did these things for personal gain, from today’s perspective, his actions wouldn’t bring disaster to Baylor Federation but would benefit many.

Capable, visionary, with no conflict of core interests—why not use him?

Having scored a point in this game, Truman fully took over from the deputy foreign minister in this negotiation.

The deputy minister was reportedly assigned elsewhere, likely to the Western Development project.

Truman, now fully in charge, glanced at the Nagaryll delegation across the table, frowning slightly. After the incident that night, their attitude had strangely shifted—they became ambiguous.

This change was obvious. By sending a delegation to Baylor to establish diplomatic ties, they had already agreed in principle.

Even if minor issues arose, they would only demand more concessions, not become indecisive.

Something happened these past two days that changed their stance.

Lynch, sitting at the far end, observed the delegation carefully and sensed the change. It was like promising aid to girls in need—everyone agreed on the amount, ready to start, when suddenly one said, Maybe this isn’t right.

It wasn’t to cause trouble or demand more—it was a genuine change of heart.

“We’ve been carefully considering these issues over the past two days,” an important Nagaryll representative coughed, glanced at others, and chose his words (through a translator): “From what we’ve seen so far, this isn’t enough to build a foundation for friendly mutual assistance.”

“Moreover, recent events made us realize that for the Federation’s people, establishing ties with Nagaryll may not be appropriate. This could destabilize our relationship for some time.”

He slouched in his chair, elbows on the armrests, fingers intertwined.

“We all know the Federation is a free country; public will shapes the larger trend. It seems we lack the necessary soil for this to take root…”

Lynch cleared his throat, interrupting—very rude in diplomacy—all eyes turned to him.

Staff glanced at Truman, who read their minds: a nod from him would mean Lynch being removed.

But Truman didn’t nod. He wanted to see what Lynch would say—maybe it could break the deadlock.

This was day three with no progress. It couldn’t drag on.

If even a small country hesitated or refused to establish ties with the Federation, this might become a new joke in Federation diplomacy.

Unrestrained, Lynch’s boldness exploded. His first words shifted the atmosphere sharply:

“Has Mr. Preyton contacted you?”

Unlike the composed Nagaryll lead representative, two at the end showed brief anger—Lynch caught their expressions.

“Did he offer you terms that were hard to refuse?”

Before they could deny or respond, Lynch went on.

“Maybe he promised to raise your share of Nagaryll’s local product profits, lower import costs, or even introduce you to some backward but urgently needed industrial assembly lines.”

“Perhaps he also pledged to help you develop industrial bases annually, or provide naval military aid…”

Truman and Lynch both fixed their eyes on the Nagaryll delegation.

The lead representative’s face remained unchanged—but that was the biggest change. Sometimes staying calm is crucial, sometimes too calm causes problems.

When Lynch implied Nagaryll was being treated like a merchant, they stayed impassive instead of angry—this spoke volumes.

If anyone claimed Gephra needed a pirate’s permission to sail freely, the next day that pirate and all his allies would be uprooted to prove the claim false.

Nagaryll’s representatives didn’t do that. They were too calm, no matter their inner feelings.

Lynch glanced at Truman, smirked, relaxed a bit, and lit a cigarette.

“Did Mr. Preyton tell you he’s backed by Gephra’s navy?”

Now the Nagaryll representatives finally showed some reaction, making Lynch and Truman realize Preyton had approached them privately.

After a brief sorry, Truman stood and left the room. If Preyton secretly contacted the delegation, he was likely inside the Federation.

He would order the Security Committee to quickly organize a manhunt for Preyton. If possible, they had to capture him inside Federation territory. He would become a key player, far more valuable than this negotiation.

In politics, there are no secrets. Now, almost everyone in the Federation’s top ranks—key politicians and those involved—knows that Preyton is backed by the Gephra Royal Navy. He’s a crucial figure. If they could get him to talk, they might uncover some surprisingly valuable secrets.

Outside the room, a covert battle was underway. Inside, Lynch launched an even fiercer attack.

There was a smile on his face, but unlike the clean, bright smiles he used to wear, this one felt careless, disdainful, arrogant. He lifted his chin slightly, looking down at the Nagaryll representatives and others with a condescending attitude.

He exhaled smoke and pursed his lips. “It seems he’s offered you terms you can’t refuse. But gentlemen, have you ever thought—”

“Do you really think our terms are that easy to reject?”