People in Terra, governing a bizarre little country

"This lesson is called independence."

Mandela slowly turned his head, his eyes filled with a chilling, almost frightening, coldness:

"Lavshini doesn't need this kind of thing."

“Mr. Ernst, you may not fully understand Rafishini’s identity.”

Ernst frowned slightly and replied:

"Whatever she was before, she is now my acting secretary, a lowly public instrument of the state."

"Then you're so wrong! Rafishini is great—"

“Mandra!” Ahmoni’s voice suddenly rang out, like a sharp blade cutting through Mandra’s words and emotions, pulling her back to her senses.

She whirled around, looking at Ahmoni and Vina who had appeared at the door without her noticing. She gritted her teeth, but before she could speak, Ahmoni seized her weakness:

“Mandra, don’t forget Princess Abrahina’s orders.”

"Be obedient."

It's hard now, Mandela's fist has hardened!

“Apologize to Prime Minister Ernst,” Ahmoni said coldly. “What kind of expression is that? Don’t you know you almost made a terrible mistake?”

Mandra looked at Ahmoni with disbelief in his eyes, but Ahmoni's warning look and the "Abrahana" that was on the tip of her tongue suppressed all of that disbelief.

She could only take a deep breath, sniffle, and manage a slightly congested nasal sound. Turning around, she blinked her large, tearful eyes at Ernst, and said with her head bowed:

"Feel sorry."

"Be respectful!"

"I'm sorry, Prime Minister Ernst!"

"Is just an apology enough?"

Mandela's voice was trembling slightly. Despite her obvious displeasure and even resistance, she was now suppressed by a greater despair brought on by reason, and could only manage a hoarse, forced tone as she spoke:

"I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have yelled at you or questioned your orders. You were right. Mandela apologizes. I'll do anything, please forgive me! Meow!"

Ahmoni nodded in satisfaction and looked at Ernst:

"I'm sorry, Prime Minister Ernst, my incompetent colleague has caused you trouble. Please pretend you didn't hear her nonsense just now and be forgiving. If she makes any more mistakes in the future, please educate her properly without any hesitation."

Ernst raised an eyebrow.

That's it? That's it?

The little girl doesn't seem to have much resilience.

It's just like a primary school student who makes a mistake and is made to go to the front of the class to admit it.

Ernst had no sympathy for Mandela whatsoever. Judging from her outburst in her office just now, and the fact that she almost revealed some "very serious" confidential information, she was clearly immature and had no different temperament from a child.

With such a personality, and possessing secrets, he's practically a giant baby in the real world.

The information Ahmoni revealed to her was quite clear.

Mandra was sent to Sherag because of her personality, so Princess Abrahana specifically entrusted her to her upbringing.

Thinking of this, Ernst couldn't help but sigh.

What's going on?

Lavshini is a pitiful little girl who is used to being suppressed, lacks fighting spirit, and has a soft personality.

Mandela was a stubborn girl with the mentality of a child.

Compared to those two, you, Ahmoni, who looks like a little devil, are actually the most normal one among them?

This is really... hard to judge.

The Duke of Wellington didn't send a special envoy; he sent a bunch of problem children.

What? The Prime Minister's Nursery School in Sherag has officially opened?

Chapter 147 has a style reminiscent of King Victoria.

Prime Minister Sherrag's mini-lecture begins!

What should I do if my child is naughty and won't get better?

Just break through the defense twice. Look at Mandela, he's pretty well-behaved now, isn't he?

Ernst obtained a Victorian-style maid outfit from the Shivaesh family's butler and ordered Mandela to wear it. After that, Ernst found Mandela much more agreeable.

Sure enough, clothes make the man, and a saddle makes the horse; a scumbag woman looks most beautiful when she's been humiliated.

"Mandela, pour me three cups of tea."

After giving an order, Ernst watched as Mandela forced a gritting smile and turned to walk towards the tea station. He nodded in satisfaction and looked at Enciodis and Jian, who were already sitting on the sofa.

As it turns out, many things Lavshini wasn't incapable of doing, but simply lacked the opportunity to try. Her round trip was even shorter than Ernst had anticipated; Ernst had thought she wouldn't be back until at least lunchtime.

That's great, it saves Ernst the trouble of treating Enciodes and Jian to lunch.

"Is this your new secretary? What happened to your old one?"

Enciodes's posture was also quite unrestrained; he lay back on the sofa, legs crossed, exuding a carefree air. He seemed to be in a good mood.

He seemed quite curious about Ernst, the new secretary, so he asked a question.

There was nothing to hide, so Ernst answered truthfully:

"Holhaja said something happened at home. So she has to go back to Colombia and will be back in about a week."

"Didn't you ask what happened?" Ensiodis asked suspiciously.

Ernst shrugged and rolled his eyes at him: "You're not going to make me think I can help just by asking. That's their privacy, okay? I do respect my subordinates' privacy."

For example, although I'm very curious, I still don't know how many Hinterlands my dear Foreign Minister's 3D measurements are equivalent to.

Asking directly would be impolite and feel like workplace slutry. Ernst decided to organize a medical check-up next time. He provided his subordinates with a benefit—a health check-up—while also satisfying his own curiosity. This is a legitimate and legal abuse of power!

"So did you ask or not?" Ensiodis looked at him with an expression that said, "I don't believe you didn't ask."

Ernst stared at him for a moment, then looked away.

"She said her eldest son's head was ripped off and used as a ball, and she had to go back to handle the funeral arrangements and confirm whether he was really dead."

"Whoa." Jian, who was listening in, couldn't help but exclaim in surprise, then awkwardly waved his hand under the astonished gazes of the two. "No, isn't this just like some kind of gangster movie, or a family feud? Look, doesn't Colombia have a Syracuse gang? Casimir's cinemas often show this kind of thing... Enciodis, say something!"

"Ahem." Enciodis, who had been slapped by the Black Knight and forced to adopt the survival rules of a true man, coughed and shook his head, saying, "I think there might be a lot involved behind the scenes, but it's not that strange. After all, it's Colombia. Even if they really did put on a human skull soccer game, some people would say it's a new era of performance art."

You seem to have a lot of insight into Colombia's (repeated) ethical innovations (and low standards).

Ernst clicked his tongue.

"What do you think of this reason?" Ensiodis asked.

Ernst: "I already said it's a matter of personal privacy..."

“We’re just making assumptions,” Ensiodis said.

Ernst nodded, his expression instantly shifting from serious to relaxed, and he quipped humorously:

"I think it has a lot of the style of King Victoria."

Just then, Mandela returned carrying tea. Hearing Ernst's words, she respectfully placed the teacups in front of everyone, while saying with displeasure:

"Where did Victoria get a king?"

Lavshini, standing to the side, smiled and asked in return:

"Yeah, why isn't it there anymore?"

Mandela paused for a moment, then covered her mouth, but the trembling, unsteady tea tray betrayed her feelings.

Only Vina, standing to the side, didn't laugh. Although the lame joke was quite funny, reason was still frantically warning her.

Laughing will send you to hell, so don't laugh, the righteous challenge!

“We’ve been rambling on a bit.” Ernst patted his hand, and everyone quieted down. “Brother, the reconstruction of Tukarim has now officially begun. The reason I called you here is about the [Spark Night School].

Ernst listed:

"Night schools need teachers. It's easier to find teachers for purely technical skills, like carpentry, stonemasonry, and masonry; just find local elders who are skilled in those trades. As for factory technicians, I hope Kalan Trade can select a group of technical staff from the factories to teach at the night school in their spare time, at least five two-hour classes a week. Of course, this is a separate job, and I will pay their salaries separately through education expenses."

After he finished speaking, he paused, then emphasized his words:

"The most crucial thing is basic education."

"Mathematics, Chinese, and foreign languages ​​don't necessarily need to be top-notch, but at least basic reading, writing, and calculation skills are required. Further courses like physics, chemistry, and Originium Arts, although we don't have the capacity to offer them yet, must still be prepared. In addition, there's snow survival, hunting, martial arts, and general physical education."

"For the first three, I have already appointed Miss Ceylon Dorkos as the temporary headmistress of the school. The middle three are not feasible due to circumstances, and the last three..."

Ernst glanced at Ensiodes and the mace.

"I hope that the two of you can take charge."

Ensiodis sat up straight and looked at Ernst:

"Ernst, I'm very busy. Shouldn't you set up some kind of Ministry of Education to handle this kind of recruitment?"

“You and I both know that’s impossible,” Ernst retorted. “Hiring a qualified teacher to teach in Sherag would cost dozens of times more than the average person. And I don’t think many teachers could even teach the last three things.”

Snow survival, hunting, and martial arts are all survival skills that the people of Sherag need.

Some might ask, what use could such a skill have in a modern society in the future?

Then he could also ask, why, even with guns and cannons, do we still need to practice hand-to-hand combat, wilderness survival, archery, and swordsmanship?

Shelag has a long history, but few legends, and even fewer people and tales that can serve as role models to unite national consciousness. The only model that meets these requirements is none other than the god Yeragand.

It is a dangerous trend to sanctify role models, or to idolize them to the point that they cannot be imitated or surpassed.

Jeragand has it easy; He doesn't need to go through the process of mythology, He has been God from beginning to end!

Therefore, the places where Ernst could foster a sense of identity as a "Sherrag" person were actually different. Apart from the call for religious unity, all that remained were the traditions of the Sherrag.

It's described as simply snow survival, hunting, and martial arts. But actually, each of these could be preceded by a specific meaning.

The rules of survival in the snowy landscape of Sherag, Sherag hunting techniques, and Sherag traditional martial arts.

Right now, they are survival skills; in the future, they will also be a culture, telling you why you are a Sherag.

Moreover, to put it bluntly, even if Ernst established the Ministry of Education, it wasn't for the sake of education.

The Ministry of Education never mentions children, or even education. It exists merely to balance the interests of parents and teachers. Its sole purpose is to ensure that "while parents are at work and contributing to society, teachers can help care for the children."

Ernst doesn't have that need yet, because Scherrag's education hasn't reached that stage yet.

The education he is promoting now is truly designed to cultivate talent.

"I don't think anything can keep me as busy as Sherag's future."

Ernst looked at Ensioudis and the mace.

Ensiodis nodded helplessly.

In fact, even if Ernst hadn't said anything, he would have made time to visit the night school frequently after it was built.

What pioneers fear most is never failure, but rather the lack of successors.

Ensiodis knew very well that if he had gone to great lengths to carve out a vast territory for Sherag through the Kallan trade, and his successors were completely unaware of it, unmoved, or even wanted to resurrect the Grand Elder, welcome him back, and surpass him, then...

Then everything he did was meaningless.

He knew it, and Ernst knew it too.

His excuse was simply a customary practice between brothers.

He's human too, Ernst's brother. Although as a leader he knew there was no harm in the suggestion, he felt it would be embarrassing for me, his older brother, not to comment.

“It’s a deal. Thank you.” Ernst stood up and extended his hand to Ensiodes.

But Ensiodes shook his head, gave Ernst a hug, and touched his tail.

Standing beside Ernst, witnessing all of this, Raphsini's eyes also gleamed with a thoughtful light.

Is it the education of the Sherag people?

Where have the Natara people's language, culture, and traditional skills gone?