People in Terra, governing a bizarre little country

When the noise subsided and she pushed open the door, she found the old man sitting at the desk, who looked exhausted but still maintained a kind smile.

She kept telling herself that she must have misheard. But the gradually reduced menu in the cafeteria, the suspension of all practical courses, and the accident shattered all her illusions.

On the fifth day after the lockdown began, a student from a national university defied the president's order prohibiting students from leaving the building and took advantage of a gap in the nighttime security patrols to fly off the rooftop using a homemade hang glider.

He never came back.

His name was quickly blocked, and mentioning his existence became a taboo. The number of guards at the school gate was increased several times overnight—not only security guards, but also students and teachers on duty, and even the principal, who was over seventy years old, insisted on personally guarding the school gate every night until dawn before going back to sleep.

Even so, rumors began to spread on campus. Ceylon heard from students majoring in Originium Arts Application Research next door that the missing boy had already been called "boss" by some students who did not want to be trapped on campus any longer.

They claim that the boy was freed after flying out of the school gates and is now home, while they, these fools, are still trapped in the school by that stubborn old principal. Who knows, the principal might just be trying to imprison them so their families will pay a huge ransom!

It's not surprising that they would think that way.

After all, for most Victorian aristocrats, second and third sons, who weren't first in line to the throne, were essentially raised as useless heirs. Their historical mission was accomplished simply to get a degree at university and then marry into other families. Expecting them to be particularly intelligent was indeed asking too much.

But Ceylon knew the fate of the "boss".

The following evening, Sarkaz threw him back in front of the school gates.

He was already unrecognizable and unconscious. Sarkaz forced the headmaster to kill this man who was running around in the city of Londinium and trying to rebel against him. Otherwise, he would break his promise to the headmaster and send people to occupy the school.

Naturally, the headmaster made his move. A flame from Originium Arts shot into the center of the skull, taking the young life without pain.

Ceylon was right next to the principal at the time.

It was her turn to keep watch that night.

The principal strictly forbade her from spreading the story of that night to avoid causing panic at school. But whenever she saw students saying they wanted to "follow the boss" and "gain their freedom," she felt a deep-seated fear.

If they really did that, how many corpses would be thrown at the school gate by the Sarkaz?

On the first day, the principal said that the Lontinim city garrison would handle everything.

But the city's garrison surrendered.

The principal said the next day that the Lentinium City Council would stop Sarkaz.

However, the council issued a decree prohibiting attacks against the Sarkaz from taking place within the city.

On the third day, the principal said that there were still so many Victorian nobles in Londinium, and they would stand up and uphold justice.

But those once-glorious nobles seem to have vanished. Forget about expecting them to step forward; the Sarkaz have been in the city for so long, and they haven't uttered a single word.

On the fourth day, the headmaster said that he would ask the dukes for help.

But it's been eight days now, has the Grand Duke arrived yet?

Tathagata.

Who else can save them?

She had witnessed the Sarkaz's brutality firsthand, and she had some idea of ​​the current situation in Lentinium. If the situation at Victoria National University was like this, who knew what kind of hell it was like outside the campus of Lentinium?

"Ceylon! You're here! Come quick, come quick!"

A voice called out to Ceylon, rousing her from her deep pessimism. She turned around hesitantly and saw her roommate holding a cell phone, which was logged into the homepage of the Lentinium Intercity Network.

The Sarkaz were relatively reasonable. Although they blocked the channels of communication between the Lentinium intercity network and the outside world, they did not completely destroy the Lentinium intercity network. Of course, it was also possible that the Sarkaz had not had time to do so yet, and it was only a matter of time.

The morning after the Sarkaz entered the city and the two dukes died suddenly, the intercity network was already flooded with complaints. But a week later, these complaints subsided; perhaps those who complained grew tired, or perhaps...

What? You weren't afraid when you were leading the Sarkaz's charge, but now you're scared when the Sarkaz come knocking?

In short, Ceylon had stopped paying much attention to the intercity network. The negativity on campus was suffocating enough; where did she find the energy to care about the suffering of others?

Only those who still believe that "the boss's glider flew to freedom" are still paying attention to the forums on the intercity network, hoping to find any clues left by the "boss" after his success.

But Ceylon was a little puzzled: "You also believe in 'the boss'?"

She looked at her roommate in surprise, hesitating whether to tell her the truth: "The boss is dead!"

But my roommate immediately shook his head:

"No, it has nothing to do with the 'boss'! It's this!"

She clicked on the forum homepage on the intercity network, where the most popular video was pinned to the top.

In the video, a gray-haired film man, dressed in a perfectly tailored dark suit, stands solemnly and dignifiedly before a podium bearing the insignia of the Duke of Wellington, facing numerous camera lenses, and makes a solemn appeal:

"Gentlemen, I am Ernst Shivaish, the Prime Minister of Shelag."

"But I stand here today for the people of Victoria."

"We all know, understand, and respect the same axiom: that human life, in the broadest sense, should be respected and protected to the greatest extent possible."

"When someone is in danger and needs help, those around them have a moral obligation to lend a helping hand. This is not a legal responsibility, but a right that each of us who wants to make this land a better place should exercise."

"........."

"Therefore, I am not appealing to all of Victoria and even all of Terra from any political standpoint, but simply as a human being, from the principles of international humanitarianism, based on the moral standards of human society, and from the conscience of all humanity."

"Please lend a helping hand to those in need who are in chaotic areas!"

As he looked at the pop-up prompt asking whether to play again, a glimmer of hope appeared in Ceylon's eyes.

Even if it was out of consideration for the inactive Grand Dukes, to save face for Victoria, or in the hope that this appeal could influence more regions and more people.

Therefore, he did not actually name the chaotic region as Londinium, nor did he name the Grand Duke of Victoria.

But without a doubt, without a doubt, Prime Minister Ernst was helping them! Giving them a voice! Helping them call for support! Helping them get out of their predicament!

Ernst Siwaish ignited a flame of hope in the face of despair!

Chapter 128 Duke of Caesar: Why not choose me?

[Prime Minister Ernst of Scherragela calls for humanitarian aid!]

People help people! Extend a helping hand to those in distress; they may become your future friends!

What are the Grand Dukes doing? Why do even foreigners value our people more than we do?

"Snapped!"

The newspaper was slammed onto the table, and the Duke of Caesar's chest heaved violently. Even after several deep breaths, she could not suppress the urge to curse.

"Your Majesty the Duke..."

The man in the grey top hat whispered a word. The Duke of Caesar turned his head, his fierce gaze almost piercing through the man in the grey top hat.

She suppressed her anger and asked through gritted teeth:

"What else?"

The man in the grey top hat moved his fingers twitching as he explained:

"Your Grace, I was wondering if you would like to see a video of Ernst Shivaish's speech?"

"A video version too?!" The Duke of Caesar's voice suddenly rose several octaves. "You want me to see a video version?!"

"Well, because the video has already spread across the intercity network... and what he said does make some sense."

Just as the man in the grey top hat was about to offer his opinion on the speech, he was silenced by a murderous glare from Kaster, and quickly tried to salvage the situation:

“Oh, of course, you certainly have no interest in humanitarianism... I mean, uh... intelligence analysis is something you don’t need to do yourself, Your Grace, we’ll take care of it.”

He bent down, looking extremely apprehensive.

Clearly, he possessed some knowledge and experience, knowing that as long as he didn't look, the Duke of Caster's blood pressure would be in a quantum state. Physically, she would definitely explode, but mentally, the Duke of Caster would absolutely remain stubborn.

No explosion, no explosion, whose blood pressure exploded? The Caster family upholds elegance; even if the wine glass contains their own exploding blood, they still treat it as red wine!

It's a pity that the Duke of Caesar is already old and past his prime, otherwise, with his personality, he would definitely be a little sissy.

Now all I can do is be an old hag.

As it turned out, the Grey Hat's approach was remarkably effective. Sure enough, once he lowered his head and avoided looking at the Duke of Custer, the Duke, who was on the verge of exploding, immediately seemed to put on "disguise sunglasses"—his little pearls stopped falling out, his lips stopped biting, and even his temperature stopped turning red!

This fully demonstrates his mature political acumen, and is by no means a mere pretense of maturity or a shockwave of three harvests a year.

“I won’t look,” she said, her eyes flickering with a hint of helplessness. “What good would it do to look now? We’ve already been put in this position; what else can we do?”

"Should we still save this person?"

The Duke of Caesar nodded: "Of course we should save them."

"Regardless of what Ernst Shivaesh was up to, whether he obtained the information that I was interested in the residents of Londinium from somewhere and accepted the Duke of Wellington's gold pound, or whether he was genuinely acting out of humanitarian concern for the common people of Londinium, at least he didn't go too far."

"This speech, aside from boosting his political reputation and international prestige, is at most a distraction from our plans. In any case, we are the ones who are ultimately saving lives."

The credit for saving lives has only been diluted, not erased. What the Duke of Caesar needs to do now is not to try to reclaim the credit that Ernst stole, but to take immediate action to preserve the remaining credit.

It's important to understand that once Ernst's speech was released, other Dukes of Victoria, organizations, and even those Royalists who had lost their influence all had the opportunity to become active—although the political significance was weakened, the social significance was greatly enhanced.

What the public likes most is seeing the government do "good things" that don't go against its own interests, regardless of the cost.

For example, spending hundreds of millions to rescue a pet dog from a minefield. Or, for example, some mentally unstable animal rights activists advocating that "building two fewer aircraft carriers would be enough to feed all the stray cats and dogs in the country."

Such seemingly "humane" but completely contrary to their interests are things that politicians would normally promise and fulfill for the sake of votes, let alone now.

The grand dukes all desired to rule and dominate; the title of "liberator" wasn't something they would fight to the death for, but given the opportunity, there was no reason not to take it. The royalists, on the other hand, desperately needed the support of the common people.

And they might actually be able to—who knows Lentinium better than the royalists? The underground pipes of that mobile city are intricate; what if the royalists really do have some secret passages?

The Duke of Caesars dared not imagine how much trouble she would face on her path to the throne if the royalists succeeded in eradicating the emperor's influence among ordinary people after more than twenty years.

Now, Castells has gone from being the "only savior" to someone who would be "saved if you didn't."

She has things to do.

"So, should we still only save the nobles?"

The man in the grey top hat asked again.

This time, the Duke of Cassel shook his head.

"Save them all."

She had no choice.

If in the past she could remain behind the scenes, only rescuing nobles and then using these rescued children to make deals and do favors with their families in private, now she has to step forward.

If we don't step forward to claim this credit, are we just going to sit idly by and watch the people sing praises to an unknown hero?

The Duke of Caesar was not so selfless.

She had already been inexplicably tricked, so naturally she wanted to maximize the value of the remaining credit.

She wants to cultivate the reputation of "the benevolent duke"!

If she doesn't save civilians, wouldn't her public image collapse before she's even established?

“But there are so many people…” the man in the gray top hat asked the question again.

This time, the Duke of Caesar's answer was even more direct:

"The grey top hat has disappointed me enough lately."

The man in the grey top hat immediately stopped talking and changed his words.

"But with so many people... the fact that they were all rescued truly demonstrates the Duke's benevolence and strength."

He started praising her.

"It's not that Your Highness can't do it, it's just that Your Highness doesn't want to. Now that Your Highness is going to make a complete 180-degree turn and become a... a humanitarian and benevolent duke, saving such a small number of people will be a piece of cake! Just leave it to me!"

The Duke of Caesar had a vague feeling that something was amiss, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He could only watch as the man in the grey top hat strode swiftly out of the lounge.

After briefly gathering her thoughts, she silently picked up the wine bottle on the table and poured herself a glass of the now-discontinued Gallic wine. The fragrant liquid swirled and flowed in the stemmed glass, resembling fresh blood, intoxicatingly delicious.

This is an indispensable fine wine at all aristocratic banquets, and also a symbol of their status and position.

The last ones who drank "blood" were called Blood Demons, but these people are more civilized. They also drink "blood," but they are called Nobles.

"Ernst Shivaesh".

The first newspaper front page that was slammed on the table, with its bold black text, identified Film as the author.

A young man, who bore a striking resemblance to Enchiodes but with softer features and a more youthful appearance, stood before the podium, his impassioned speech frozen in time, and then presented to the Duke of Caesar in black and white print.