People in Terra, governing a bizarre little country

As the saying goes, Lafsini was full and overflowing.

Ernst nodded, but at the same time seemed a little puzzled.

To be honest, he didn't understand the theory behind Originium Arts either. That was a question for the old Originium Arts specialists in Letania. But generally speaking, shouldn't the leakage of Originium Arts only occur among extremely powerful Originium Mages?

Is Raphsini very strong?

Ernst looked the Vaivavan girl up and down, who had large horns and flames on her tail. He couldn't discern any power in her whatsoever.

To be honest, she was wearing very little. How could she not feel the cold in the dead of winter? She must have a very strong constitution?

"So, is there any way to arrange a position for the special envoy? We can keep her tied down as soon as possible, so I don't have to follow her around every day."

Mandela's impatient voice rang out. Raphsini also clutched the hem of her skirt, looking expectant.

Ernst fell into deep thought.

To be honest, there aren't many positions that Rafishini is really suited for.

Her skill point allocation in her self-introduction seemed well-suited for being a secret agent, but unfortunately, she was from the Duke of Wellington's side, a special envoy sent to Sherag. Ernst couldn't very well have a diplomat sent by the Duke become his secret agent, could he?

Even putting aside whether she could obtain any intelligence, and even if she did, to whom would she report? The Duke of Wellington and Abrahina, or herself?

Ernst had met Princess Abrahina once, and she was no pushover. As for putting Lavshine in such a potentially classified position, let alone whether she'd do it or not, even if she did, how would Ernst possibly distinguish between her and her sister's unexpected appearances?

Abrahana and the reeds don't light small flames all the time.

Are we supposed to tell them apart by the style of their stockings? The ones with holes are Abrahina's, and the ones with flowers are Lafsini's!

That's actually quite in accordance with etiquette. Besides, it's not like people can't exchange clothes.

After thinking it over, Ernst simply said:

"Why don't you stay in my office for now?"

Before Lavshini could react, Mandela cast a hostile glare at Ernst.

Ernst was a little confused. What happened? Did this trigger some of her PTSD?

Mandela, that little film, was something Ernst found very strange.

Both Abrahma and Ahmoni displayed a shrewdness, strategic thinking, and even the way they spoke befitting a politician. Mandra, however, despite being a member of the special envoy, seemed to be looked down upon even by Ahmoni.

To put it simply, if the special envoy delegation were the main characters in an anime, then Raphsini would be the seemingly naive but actually very powerful protagonist with considerable backing who still needs to grow. Ahmoni would be the seemingly timid but actually quite dedicated strategist and strategist of the main characters. And Abrahana would be the hidden protagonist's older brother, possessing unfathomable strength and responsible for saving the day in crucial moments.

Mandela, huh?

Vodka next to Gin? The adorable little guy next to Piggy Hero? A black teammate in an American blockbuster?

Not very intelligent, but might be good at fighting. However, he will eventually be sacrificed, which might lead to the protagonist's growth, and he will eventually be offered a bouquet of flowers.

Regardless, Raphsini was quite tolerant of Mandela.

"Stay by my side? What am I supposed to do?"

"Raphsini asked curiously, drawing Ernst's gaze away from Mandela."

Ernst, of course, couldn't say it was because he was lusting after her (the small stove), so he explained:

"Here's the thing, my secretary, Holhaia, just asked me for leave to go back to Colombia, which will probably take about a week. So my secretary position is temporarily vacant."

“I just finished a round of recruitment, and most of the vacant positions in the government have been filled. So it’s a bit difficult to arrange a suitable position for you right away. But since the secretary position is vacant, you can fill in temporarily, learn about government work processes, and maybe even discover your interests.”

"She'll be back in seven days. If you have a job you'd like to do, I'll help you negotiate and arrange it then. If you find another interest, or if you feel you don't like the atmosphere and work in the government, you can leave without pressure. It won't affect any department or anyone."

Ernst paused, then sought Lavshini's opinion:

"how do you feel?"

How about filling in for the secretary for seven days on a trial basis? If you don't like it, you can leave without any pressure after seven days and won't cause trouble for others? What could be more generous than this?

Lavshini nodded immediately: "Okay!"

"what about me?"

Mandela suddenly spoke up.

"I must keep a close eye on Rafishini at all times, and I must be in the office!"

Surveillance?

Ernst caught the word that Mandela had inadvertently revealed.

Was Lavshini being monitored?

Princess Abrahana's attitude towards Raphsini is quite strange. They are practically identical twin sisters, but apart from their vastly different temperaments, there's even the fact that the older sister is spying on the younger.

What, is Princess Abrahana some kind of yandere, possessive, and ultimate sadist? She doesn't want to loosen her control over her sister even for a moment?

Or is it that Rafishini's identity has some special aspect that brings her certain risks, making it necessary to monitor her at all times to ensure she doesn't do or is forced to do anything detrimental to Abrahina?

Ernst thought to himself. But a smile still appeared on his face.

“Of course, Miss Mandela. My office may not be spacious, but it’s enough for three people to have tea.”

Mandela gave Ernst a deep look.

She asked to stay here, and it wasn't just for a simple tea.

She had even thought Ernst was a good person; his "humanitarian speech," though full of empty words, had indeed saved many people.

"Many of the people she's referring to" doesn't mean Victorians, but rather Tara people. That speech became a sensation throughout Victoria, including its place of origin, the Duchy of Wellington, which is the Tara region.

The speech itself did not have much impact, because most Victorian nobles did not consider the Tara people to be human beings, and naturally, there was no question of humanitarianism.

Fortunately, the speech provided the Duke of Wellington with a very good excuse to win people over. After the Duke of Wellington issued the order on the grounds of "humanitarianism" and "not letting the Duke of Castle steal the limelight," quite a few Victorian nobles and factory owners symbolically reduced their exploitation of the Tara people.

Perhaps Ernst himself didn't expect it. But his actions did save many unexpected people and gave many others a chance to catch their breath.

Things may not get better, but at least they haven't gotten worse.

This is why a Tara nationalist like Mandela would proactively ask Rafishini to ask Ernst for his opinion. She would never have made such a suggestion to someone she didn't approve of.

But Ernst's advice really disappointed her.

Keep her by my side as my secretary?

Mandela even suspected that Ernst knew Raphsini's true identity, which was why he made this decision. To appoint a haughty Draco as his secretary, doing nothing but serving tea and water—it's truly a wonder he even thought of it!

Draco should rule! Although Raphsini is merely a substitute, a fake, for Princess Abrahina, she is by no means a mere mortal who should be subservient to anyone!

This is Mandela's contradiction: on the one hand, she denigrated the Victorian aristocracy, and on the other hand, she wished she could elevate another bloodline to a pedestal.

In her ideal world, Ernst should have put Rafishney in charge of a department, such as the Foreign Office. Mandela knew that such a department was also managed by a Victorian.

If it's about handwriting, Lafshine would also have beautiful handwriting. Perhaps her word choice and sentence structure wouldn't be as ornate as that of the Victorian film, but that Vina was, at best, just a fallen Victorian noblewoman who had fled to Sherag with nowhere else to go. How could she compare to Lafshine, who was of the great Drak bloodline!

Mandela felt that Ernst could simply let Rafishini take his place, demote Vina by one rank, and have her assist Rafishini; that would be the right thing to do.

Even if you have to be subordinate to someone, at least you should be in charge of something, instead of being simply managed like a secretary!

But the decision had already been made, and even Rafishini had preemptively expressed her agreement. Mandela could only make one last attempt.

She would stay in Ernst's office as well. If Ernst wanted Lavshini to serve him, she would take over that task first!

Even if it's humiliating, she will endure it. Because it's all for Princess Abrahana!

Don't insult her! If you have a problem, come at me!

P.S.: I accidentally fell asleep. It doesn't feel like a cold; it really feels like mycoplasma. My friend had it and it developed into viral encephalitis. He's in the hospital now. If I'm not better by then, I'll have to go to the hospital tomorrow too.

Chapter 146 The Prime Minister's Nursery School Opens in Grand Style

"Lavshini, could you get me the documents about the Kalan trade that were delivered this morning?"

As soon as Ernst finished speaking, a large volume of documents was placed in front of him as he sat down at his desk.

Ernst looked up in surprise, about to praise Rafishini's efficiency, when he saw her still standing there blankly, while the hand that handed over the document clearly belonged to Mandela.

"What are you looking at? Did I look in the wrong place?"

Mandela frowned, somewhat annoyed by Ernst's gaze.

Ernst quickly shook his head: "No, that's right. Thank you."

Ernst took the document, lowered his head, and read it for a while. Then, Lavshini's voice suddenly rang out in front of him:

"Sorry, I couldn't find it."

Ernst looked up blankly at Mandela, who was desperately holding onto Rafishini, and Rafishini, who looked apologetic. He suddenly couldn't figure out what the two of them were thinking.

I thought you and Mandela had planned this together. Turns out she was just trying to steal your job.

Is this even allowed? Imagine Ernst's familiar workplace: if someone unrelated to him does the task his boss assigns, and then tries to curry favor with the boss, he'd at least call them a "green tea b*tch"!

This isn't about whether the work is easy or not. If you do all my work, what am I supposed to do? If I do nothing, won't you be exercising my authority? And in ten days or half a month, will you have to take over my position?

As everyone knows, this is how mistresses take over their husbands' wives.

But Lavshini still seemed completely unaffected, which wouldn't do.

You have absolutely no competitive spirit. If this continues, won't you really become a personal human furnace?

Ernst did have some intention of nurturing the young girl, Lavshini. He believed that Miss Abrahana hadn't sent her sister to Sherag for a vacation in this icy wasteland; she probably shared the same intention as him.

During their final meeting, Ernst's "humanitarian" solution was not approved by the Duke of Wellington, but by Miss Abrahana. While it's unclear how Abrahana ultimately persuaded the Duke to distribute the mission rewards as planned, Ernst was nonetheless indebted to her.

Since he had accepted the favor, he had to repay it. Favors are the hardest to repay, and Ernst wasn't about to let Mandela ruin such a rare opportunity.

As he thought about it, he closed the file in his hand and handed the blue folder to Lavshini:

"Put this document back in the cabinet for me, then go to Kalan Trading and find Enciodes. Tell him to bring the mace to me."

Sure enough, before Ernst could finish speaking, Mandela interrupted Raphsini, saying, "I'll go!"

Ernst glanced at Rafishini, then slowly turned to Mandela: "You're going? Why?"

Mandela was taken aback, and before he could answer, Ernst continued to ask:

“Kalan Trade is a state-owned enterprise in Shelag, and Enciodis is the chairman of Kalan Trade. In addition, he is also the patriarch of the Shivaish family and my brother. His schedule is always packed. If there is something that needs to be done with him, it must be a direct order from the government, and an official must personally invite him. How can I designate you to go?”

Ernst's meaning was clear: you can go, but in what capacity?

One of the Duke of Wellington's special envoys? Karan Trading is a state-owned enterprise of Shelag, not the Duke of Wellington's company. Why should anyone listen to you?

A government official in Sherag? At least Rafishini has the position of acting secretary; Mandela holds no government post whatsoever. If you wanted to go, you probably wouldn't even get in the door.

Although Ernst and Enciodes were usually readily available, when it came to truly discussing matters, Ernst always personally visited Enciodes. And Enciodes always paid Ernst a visit in person.

If you still insist on arguing, then Ernst could make his point even clearer.

You do not deserve.

Just as you can't go to a roadside stall for a formal business banquet, you can't wear a crop top or ripped jeans for a proper state visit, and you can't play the suona (a traditional Chinese wind instrument) at a proper welcoming ceremony.

While there are no written rules governing these matters, adhering to these unspoken rules is beneficial for everyone. Otherwise, when you play your suona horn, are you welcoming guests or attending a funeral?

Ernst was never one to make definitive statements, and he hoped to use this method to make Mandela realize that she might be able to do many things for Raphsini, but definitely not everything.

Of course, he hoped to use this opportunity to make Raphsini realize that some things others can do for you, but there are also things you have to fight for.

“I…” Mandela opened her mouth, as if she wanted to say something.

Clearly, she had no self-awareness whatsoever. This girl was young, but her stubborn temperament was just like that of the Grand Elder.

Oh, as an outsider, you might not know who the Grand Elder is. Let me introduce him. He was the former leader of the Manju Academy, and his favorite things to do were to convene trials over sacred stones and interpret scriptures at will, but he accidentally messed things up. He's been dead for almost a year now; maybe on the anniversary, someone will dig him up to see if there are any signs of resurrection.

Fortunately, Mandela's stubbornness didn't deter Lafshini this time. Or rather, Ernst's unspoken support gave Lafshini a little motivation to try, and she spoke:

"I'll go."

“Lavshini!” Mandela looked at Lavshini in disbelief. “You can’t.”

“You can do it.” Ernst nodded as if he hadn’t heard Mandela’s words at all. “It’s up to you. You know how to get to the Kalan Trade Center, right? If you can’t find the way, you can ask Hintraya at the front desk. She’s your senior and knows the way very well.”

A smile appeared on Lavshini's face, and she nodded: "Okay."

"Go quickly and come back quickly," Ernst nodded and gave one last instruction.

Lavshini turned and walked toward the office door.

Seeing this, Mandela gritted his teeth, still wanting to follow. The next second, however, he was stopped by Ernst's voice:

“Mandra, stop. This is Rafishini’s job.”