For a Shared Vision

The day the Duchy of Weissen delegation arrived had finally come.

The station platform was adorned with a brand-new red carpet, its colors bright and dazzling.

The city orchestra members wore neatly pressed formal attire. They stood in high spirits, their instruments polished to a shine.

The handsome men and beautiful women selected from across the city wore colorful clothes and held bouquets made of colored paper, standing at attention beside the red carpet.

Holáček, Jory, Delnetz, and the City Hall's leading officials all wore formal attire and stood at the front of the red carpet, their solemn expressions tinged with a hint of barely perceptible nervousness.

A long whistle sounded in the distance. The steel behemoth exhaled thick clouds of white steam as it slowly pulled into the station.

The emblem of the Weissen Duchy Train Manufacturing Plant on the engine—a double-headed eagle above the rails—shone brilliantly in the sunlight.

The train came to a stop, and the carriage doors opened.

Holáček and the others hurried forward to greet the delegation. Several secretaries followed behind their leaders with lists of the guests, ready to introduce them at any moment.

The first to step down was a middle-aged man of average height, wearing a well-fitted dark coat and sporting a shrewd smile. It was Hozzenplozz.

His gaze swept over the red carpet and the orchestra. He extended his hand to Holáček and the others, shaking each of their hands in turn.

The next person to emerge from the carriage was a figure as imposing as an iron tower.

Spike, a Chicken Farm owner, had to duck and bend low just to squeeze through the carriage doorway. When he straightened up, he towered over almost everyone around him. His broad shoulders nearly blocked out the sun, and he gave off an