Chapter 493 How to deal with smuggling?
While Oliveira was preparing to teach his followers how to wield weapons correctly, and Elvis was thinking about asking the prophet to install some normal facilities on the battleship, Rascal, who had been walking on the forest road for a long time, also came to Qingyan Port.
After getting off the carriage, he waved goodbye to the elf soldiers who were accompanying him and walked into the city.
Although he laid some foundations for Qingyan Port as an infrastructure worker a long time ago, he has never actually participated in it.
Raskol, which was put on regular clothes, was similar to most of the places here. As a city mainly composed of Kislev ladies, even if Caledor rescued a large number of slaves in the northern battlefield to fill the place, it was still difficult to change the strong old-fashioned spirit. Northern style of the world.
Familiar onion heads and red-painted wooden doors can be seen everywhere. Most of the people walking are carrying work and carrying objects. The few shops along the street are not as crowded as when Rascal was in his hometown.
This does not mean that there is a lack of funds to buy the necessary items. On the contrary, it proves that grocery stores have sufficient supplies so that people do not have to worry about what to eat for their next meal and stand in long lines.
The long-lost sense of hometown made Raskol walk to the store and met a Kislevian woman holding a child, her arms swaying as if to coax her to sleep.
"This is really a dream scene. The women have their own jobs and can take care of their children when they grow up. The children don't have to starve when they are young." She sighed in her heart and tapped the wooden tabletop gently to remind her that guests were coming.
The woman who heard the noise stood up, walked to the counter, and said with a smile,
"What do you need?"
She thought that this person came to work here from other districts, and did not show the product column to Rascoul. After all, everyone knows what is in the store.
Out of nostalgia for his hometown, Rascal didn't think much and reported a delicacy he had been thinking about for a long time,
"Let's have a can of pickled cucumbers. If you have any kvass or vodka, let's get two bottles."
The woman didn't. He rummaged through the items for the first time and just continued to smile, as if he was waiting for something.
This made Raskol feel a little strange. After looking around his body and finding nothing strange, he asked, "Aren't there pickles and wine here?" "There are pickles, ten copper coins
per jar, you can purchase the wine." Drinking ticket." The woman felt a little strange. Maybe it was because Rascal had just come from the old world and he inevitably didn't know the rules here.
After thinking for a long time, Raskol found that he only had money and no so-called drinking tickets. This was the first time he had heard of this term.
"What should I do if I don't have a drink ticket? Are these things distributed?" The
kind-hearted woman stuck her head out and looked at Rascoul carefully. He looked about thirty years old, and from time to time he showed the air of someone who had been on the battlefield for a long time. The bloodthirsty aura, even if it was deliberately concealed, had an unexpected effect.
The sword at his waist was covered with a scabbard, but a special smell of gunpowder smoke lingered.
Asked in a low voice, "Have you just smuggled over from Kislev and haven't obtained your identity document yet?"
In order to satisfy his curiosity, Raskol nodded and said that it was indeed the case, and followed the woman's words, "I should be there Where can I find this...identity certificate?"
Out of concern for her compatriots in her hometown, the woman asked Lascole to enter the store and whispered,
"If you have a skill, you can go to the management office to apply for a residence permit. If you behave well, You can get the identity certificate from Qingyan Port within one year."
"What if I have nothing but strength?" Raskol said the characteristics of most of his compatriots and did not question whether smuggling betrayed Kislev.
Since there is a better life choice, why should we use the so-called national consciousness to constrain these people? It is not up to you to decide where you are born, but what kind of life you want to live depends on you.
"The Angus Gang, they have a way to get you identification, but it will take five years of manual labor."
After learning something about smuggling, Rascoul walked out of the store carrying pickles.
Based on his understanding of Caledo, he will never tolerate the emergence of a gang that can interfere with political plans. The most likely way is to use the Angus Gang as white gloves to smuggle people in a "reasonable" way Get rid of it. When asked by the Kislev Embassy, it can be said that it was the intervention of some young people who allowed these smugglers to make a living. As for whether he would ask or not, Rascal felt a bit suspenseful.
When you open the earthenware can, you smell the long-lost scent of salt water. You pick up a piece and put it in your mouth to feel the unique fragrance.
Although the mercenaries' supplies are distributed according to normal standards, some Kislevian specialties are not included in the purchase scope, especially pickled items that exude a unique fragrance.
He had not eaten pickled cucumbers for a long time, and even the kvass only took a sip during the banquet and farewell. There was an ample supply of vodka, but it was not easy to take a sip.
Looking at the crowds of people coming and going, I couldn't help but sigh. When will the people in my hometown be able to live such a life? Perhaps it will take several generations of hard work and some support to barely take care of the interests of the common people.
But the prerequisite for seeing all this is to survive.
Putting most of the pickled cucumbers into his carrying bag, the retired noncommissioned officer began to observe this city that was built less than ten years ago.
He met many people and things, including compatriots working in various industries, southerners who were good at business, Imperial people who specialized in manufacturing, and some dwarves who were employed.
But something seems to be missing...
At night, leaning on the bed in the hotel, Rascal thought about what he had seen during the day.
These compatriots have the same faces as themselves, and they cannot guarantee their beliefs, but they must still have respect for the Four Righteous Gods.
But why, they seem to lack a bit of blood. When being scolded by the foreman, he can only bend down and accept the scolding. After making a mistake, he seems to put the responsibility on himself without any limit.
Comparing the images of the Kislevites who tenaciously fight against ice, snow, and chaos, they are more like Bretonnians. Life has broken their backs, and they lack that tenacity. This is not an exception, it is a common phenomenon.
"Pet, or slave? It seems like a good deal to trade yourself for life." The retired
noncommissioned officer leaning on the bed laughed at himself for a moment. If his situation was exchanged with theirs, it seems that this lifestyle is a good deal. s Choice. What nonsense is national consciousness and human dignity? It is already difficult to survive. Why should people who are already living in poverty believe in something that is not helpful to them?
But this is their choice. The non-commissioned officers understand and respect it, but they do not support it. The motherland needs people, money, materials, and everything else that can be imagined.
"I hope they can still remember the fact that they are Mrs. Kislev and provide some support for that land. I have no ability to change the world. I just hope that the world will not change me." Pour a glass of wine sold by the hotel owner at a high
price , the retired noncommissioned officer lay on the bed and fell asleep slowly.
The hometown in his dream is still so clear, as if it has never disappeared. This is his deepest obsession.
The long-lost cold wind blew through his soul, and the coldness that was completely different from that of Nagaroth made his body shiver. The house standing in the farmland was so familiar, as if his father with a rough body was sitting by the campfire, looking at it. He asked whether the soup in the iron pot could fill his stomach.
Looking at this familiar scene, Rascal stood outside the door and did not dare to open the old door in front of him, fearing that everything would disappear in an instant.
After hearing a crisp cry, I raised my head and looked at the sky where the snow was still falling. I saw a snow-white mountain eagle floating over the white smoke above the village.
All of this was so familiar, but he knew it was just an illusion. The sight of his father, the white smoke of his hometown, and the crow of the white eagle brought tears to the corners of his eyes.
Returning home is such a happy thing, but his hometown has long since disappeared. He watched all this silently and murmured,
"I will come back, in the name of Winter's Blood."
(End of Chapter)