People in Terra, governing a bizarre little country

He sensed Mostima's "I understand you" look in his eyes, but he didn't quite understand what it meant.

Showing off? It's a sea of ​​flowers! This is the central garden of San Marso in Lateran! Do you have a sea of ​​flowers like this in Kjerag?

That doesn't seem to be the case.

Alas, the Sarkaz people are indeed hard to understand. In Ernst's opinion, Mostima's ability to conceal his thoughts is almost surpassing that of the Duke of Windermere and approaching that of the Duke of Wellington!

No joke, after all, it's really hard for a Filippo to understand what a normal, ordinary Sakta is thinking.

If he couldn't figure it out, he simply put it aside for the time being. Ernst glanced at the central garden of Saint-Marceau. Although there were many visitors in the garden, they were mainly concentrated in several popular flower fields.

Roses, peonies, lilies, tulips... and there are even photinia here? Why are there people down there? Do people actually like that smell?

Ernst glanced at the man currently standing in the area marked with a yellow exclamation mark, his expression slightly odd, then turned to Mostima and said:

"Is there a quieter flower area? I'd like to rest here for a while."

Mostima nodded and led Ernst to a flower area dominated by white, blue, and purple colors:

"This flower area and the surrounding areas are mainly planted with various varieties of Requiem flowers and other flowers with the connotation of 'mourning' from different regions. Generally, only some elderly people who are nostalgic will come here."

She didn't say it, but she actually quite liked it here too.

The lock and key have endlessly stretched her timeline, multiplying her experience and gradually aging her mindset. Here, however, she can find some peace to sift through and recall those memories that are incredibly precious to her.

Ernst nodded:

"Go and look after Vina and Defiance for me, especially Defiance, make sure she doesn't get lost. I'll rest here for a while, and I'll come back to find you when I leave."

After saying that, he found a bench, wrapped half of himself in his thick, furry tail, and then closed his eyes.

Communicating with that Federico executor was somewhat mentally taxing. Deducing Fiameta's whereabouts and scheming against Lateran were both very energy-consuming tasks. He really wanted to relax since he rarely had the chance.

Seeing that Ernst didn't seem to want to talk any more, Mostima could only shrug.

It seems Ernst couldn't find anything exciting in the central garden of Saint-Marceau either.

I don't know if this trip was the right one or the wrong one.

Mostima took out his business card from Penguin Logistics and placed it on Ernst's tail. He secretly touched it to test its feel, then left the Sea of ​​Soul-Soothing Flowers while rubbing his hands together.

The moment she stepped away, a figure shot up from the sea of ​​tranquil flowers like a bamboo shoot emerging from the ground.

Needless to say, this figure was Andorn.

Andorn never expected Mostima to suddenly appear here. In this emergency, he could only hide in the flower field to avoid being seen until Mostima left.

He looked around but didn't see the fiery red figure. However, he still didn't dare to relax his guard in the slightest.

According to Patia's report, after that incident, Fiameta no longer served in the guard, left the guard, joined the Papal Court, and became Mostima's nominal guardian who had obtained the lock and key, staying by Mostima's side every step of the way.

Although she wasn't there at the moment, it couldn't be ruled out that this was also a setup by Fiameta, deliberately lowering his guard. Even if Fiameta wasn't actually there, Andorn wouldn't want to meet Mostima now.

Sarkaz could empathize, that's true, but Mostima is now a fallen angel, having lost all of Sarkaz's talents. In a way, she had also completely ruined her life.

Andorn was unsure of her true feelings towards him. If it was hatred, that would be understandable; if it was forgetting, that would be magnanimous. Andorn dared not hope for forgiveness, as that would only make him seem despicable.

People always have to pay the price for their actions. Some things can't be forgiven with just a simple "I forgive you." If your savior sincerely says, "I saved you without expecting anything in return," does that mean you really consider them nothing? The same applies to the debt of saving a life, and the same applies to the debt of taking a life.

The best course of action for Andorn is either to atone for their sins, or, if they cannot atone, to never appear before them again.

Clearly, Andorn is currently incapable of atonement. He is even plotting a conspiracy directly targeting the Papal Court and the Pope.

If she finds out, getting a beating is a minor issue; if Mostima attracts Fiameta, Andorn will have to consider whether he can leave unscathed.

However, every cloud has a silver lining, and every cloud has a silver lining. This clever hiding was not entirely without its rewards.

Andorn noticed the boy who was resting with his eyes closed on the bench.

Although he looked incredibly young, according to Parthia's intelligence, Andorn was certain that this was the same Ernst Shivaish, the Prime Minister of Sherag who had been received by Mostima and Fiameta and had been invited by the Pope.

This saved him a lot of trouble searching for people in Laterano.

Let's try to get in touch with it first.

Emerging from the flowerbed, Andorn brushed the dust and mud off his clothes and walked towards Ernst, calling out softly:

"Mr. Ernst, please wake up."

Ernst opened his eyes.

Beside a romantic sea of ​​flowers, under lush shade, and bathed in warm sunlight, the awakened boy was somewhat disappointed.

This scene should at least resemble the meeting of a male and female protagonist from an anime, right?

Why was it a man who woke me up?

The guy was one thing, but he also had a completely ascetic look on his face.

Tsk!

P.S.: A reader just asked if Andorn had hired KBXJ, so I'm posting a picture here. He definitely did. And his purpose was simple: to draw the musketeers' attention away so he could storm the Papal Palace.

I'm not trying to judge Andorn. Idealists are admirable, but in order to drive the plot to a climax, YJ's writers must have overlooked some logical and character issues when writing this part, which resulted in the character being disjointed.

Andorn's inconsistency between words and actions stems from this discrepancy, but the issue itself isn't significant. Yostar could simply add that the explosion and fire were promptly dealt with by an "unknown good Samaritan," causing a commotion but no casualties, which would mitigate the negative perception. However, his attack on Remium and injury to Mostima are unforgivable. This is simply a legacy issue; when writing this part, Yostar's writers probably didn't envision Andorn as he is now.

Finally, I will revise the storyline related to Andorn.

At least that Remien, who disgusted me so much, almost lost her life, and Mostima fell from grace as well. Alan was worried, but then he just forgave her so casually. And then, the subsequent plot where the Imaginary Garden acted like "This is my Achilles' heel, you're not allowed to scold him, if you scold him I'll stand up and shoot you even if I'm crippled" was so stupid, I definitely have to cut and revise it.

The plot of "Imaginary Flower Garden" is truly awful; I wonder if the scriptwriter for this part of the story was thoroughly interrogated.

P.S.: This "ps" section is less than 3500 words, so there will be no extra charge.

I'm so sorry, so sorry, exam week has been really busy. And to make matters worse, I have an exam at 8 am tomorrow. I really can't stay up any longer, so I'm going to sleep now.

Wishing everyone success in your exams and a happy life. Since I don't know what to say, I'll just wish you all a Happy New Year in advance.

happy New Year!

.............

Chapter 228 Ernst: Stingy

Lateran, San Marso Central Garden, Requiem Flower Fields.

Ernst thought the Sakorta people were really interesting.

The weather is so nice, the sun is shining warmly, and the environment is so quiet. It's one thing for you not to sleep, but you actually have to disturb other people's sleep?

Disturbing someone's sleep is one thing; Ernst has been disturbed before. If you really have something urgent, Ernst is willing to help. The problem is, you disturbed my sleep just to wake me up to preach?

Proselytizing is one thing, but proselytizing a heretical religion is another.

Ernst stared at the Sarkaz man before him, who called himself "Andorn," pondering his question with some surprise:

"A recent opinion has been circulating in Laterano that Laterano treats Sakorta and Liberi differently and unfairly. What's your opinion on this?"

How do I see? Do I see with my eyes?

Ernst couldn't understand why this Sarkaz would suddenly come to ask him such a question. How long had he been in Laterano? Let alone going to the grassroots level to observe and learn, he even needed Mostima to take him for a stroll around the city. Ernst knew nothing about Laterano's social conditions, internal problems, whether there were conflicts, or whether the conflicts were the same as Andorn had said.

Without investigation, there is no right to speak. Ernst's answer was simple: he read aloud the city description from the Lateran tourist brochure.

"You're right. But Lateran is a theocratic state founded by eleven saints and ruled by the Pope. Its main ethnic groups are the Sakorta and Liberians, who love each other dearly, live in peace and joy, and enjoy a prosperous and wealthy nation..."

He knew that Andorn didn't want that answer, but it was the only one he could give. When the other person's identity, status, and purpose were uncertain, official, formal, and precedent-based responses were the best approach.

Enthusiastic, polite, but clueless when asked. Thank you, I'm grateful, but I'm sorry. I understand, I know, but there's really nothing I can do.

Who knows if this Andorn was sent by Ivangelist XI to test him? Ernst wouldn't fall for that kind of trick.

Just as Ernst had suspected, Andorn was indeed dissatisfied with the answer. And he had also guessed Ernst's apprehension.

Although it was somewhat laughable, Ernst's concerns were not unfounded. After all, he was an official figure and it was indeed impossible for him to give any insightful answers on such a question that clearly involved political stance.

So Andorn promptly apologized and changed the way he asked the question:

"I am very sorry, I was presumptuous. Please rest assured, I have no official background in Lateran. I was simply inspired by your speech on humanitarianism and had some thoughts that I would like to ask you to answer some questions that have been bothering me for a long time."

To be honest, what you did was quite abrupt.

Ernst muttered a couple of things to himself.

But he was getting used to it. It seemed like all Sakortadists were like that; aside from Federico Giallo, who went from one extreme to the other, every Sakorta Ernst met was very outgoing.

Mostima was able to joke skillfully when he first met him, while Evangelista XI went straight to talking about UN affairs without any small talk or foreplay when they first met. In this light, it seems that Andorn's initiative in coming to him for the first time, just wanting to ask a few questions with some background, can actually be considered polite.

I don't know why her personality is so unpredictable, sometimes good and sometimes bad. It always feels like a taut thread that could snap if you're not careful.

Ernst nodded slightly, already somewhat guessing what Andorn was going to ask, but still gestured:

"go ahead."

"Mr. Ernst, imagine a country that is incredibly developed, where people live happy and healthy lives, and which constantly promotes the principles of doing good and the ideals of fairness and justice, yet it has never truly lived up to these principles, turning a blind eye to the suffering of others and simply enjoying all of this as if it were all its due. Do you think that's right?"

Knew it.

Ernst sighed softly.

If an ordinary person asked such a question, Ernst would probably think he was a bit crazy.

Is this a question an ordinary person could ask? Let alone Terra, even in Ernst's previous life, countless countries suffered from hunger, and countless people lived in absolute poverty, starving and unable to find sustenance. Those countries and regions engulfed in war often had hundreds of thousands, even millions, of refugees, displaced and constantly facing death. Aren't these people pitiful? Was the disaster they suffered caused by a prosperous nation?

Well, that might actually be true.

But while reason is one thing, if we follow the most ideal approach, then the way countries would handle these issues would truly be as that squid suggested: each country accepting millions of refugees. This would instantly solve the refugees' survival problem, provide food, and allow them to live happy lives. Theoretically, it would only slightly lower the living standards of their own countries.

But theory is theory, and reason is reason; reality is reality. The reality is that if we really accept refugees, it will bring far more than just a slight decline in living standards. It will bring a whole host of more complex, troublesome, and exhausting social problems—religion, lifestyle, crime, and the most troublesome "a little kindness is appreciated, but too much kindness breeds resentment." When you are in distress, you are given food, but one day you are not given food and you are forced to fend for yourself, and you are treated as an enemy.

Pursuing equality is not as easy as it sounds.

Moreover, even disregarding these real-world problems that have occurred and slapped the sanctimonious face in many ways, how many people can accept just a slight decline in their standard of living?

If Earth is like this, what about Terra?

National politics is not some grand ideal; every tone and every stroke of national politics is imbued with reality.

Of course, Ernst knew very well that since Andorn had already asked the question, discussing national politics or why Laterano didn't do it that way was probably pointless. Since he was talking about theory, fortunately Ernst also had his own theories.

He looked at Andorn, not answering his question, but instead asking in return:

"Involving a country is too broad. A country represents too many things, and it's difficult for the internal will of a country to be completely unified. How about this, let's use an individual whose will can be completely unified, like you, as an example?"

Andorn nodded slightly.

Although he was asking about the country, Ernst wasn't exactly off-topic. After all, as he said, there are many factions within a country, and even in Lateran, there are two completely different ideologies, the Pope and himself. It's indeed difficult to distinguish right from wrong when using a country as an example.

It's much simpler for one person. A person can only have one thought. You can't have a split personality, right?

Ernst sat up straight, reached out and grasped his tail hair, gritted his teeth, but ultimately couldn't make up his mind. Instead, he stood up, reached out, and under Andorn's somewhat puzzled gaze, grabbed a strand of his hair, asking:

"Now, Mr. Andorn, I have a question for you. If plucking this hair of yours could save ten starving people, would you be willing?"

Andorn paused slightly, somewhat confused by Ernst's meaning, but nodded nonetheless.

"willing."

Ernst didn't hesitate either; he reached out and plucked a hair from his head, waved it in front of Andorn, and then continued to ask:

"Now, if I cut off one of your arms or legs, it could save a village of hundreds of people. Would you be willing?"

Andorn took a step back, glancing warily at Ernst, and noticed that he hadn't taken out any weapons like bone saws.

Ernst blinked, both amused and exasperated: "That's just a problem. I won't actually do that kind of thing here."

Does that mean I can do it anywhere else?

Andorn pursed his lips, fell into a brief moment of thought, but still nodded:

"If I could save this many people with just one hand, I would."

Ernst nodded again, his gaze sharpening: