Strike

"Be careful of the Mentor? What does that mean?" Little George took another egg from the box and handed it to Gais.

"Mr. Gais, have a hot egg first to help you regain your strength. You look exhausted."

Gais nodded, took the steaming egg, cracked it, and began eating.

"I still don't have any leads. I'll wait until the strike is over, then pray to the great Lord and ask him to interpret the dream."

Little George cracked an egg too and popped it into his mouth, mumbling,

"Mm... The great Lord surely knows. Let me finish handing everything out first. There are still some workers who haven't..."

He grabbed the remaining bread and eggs from the box and dashed toward the crowd gathered outside City Hall.

"Have something to eat. You'll be able to protest better on a full stomach!"

"Here, freshly boiled hot eggs, provided by the Holy Spirit Society."

Little George nimbly wove through the packed crowd, his movements quick and practiced.

Clearly, he had learned the trick over the past few days, handing out flyers around the Textile Factory.

"You there! What are you doing, boy?"

A Peace Officer who was keeping order spotted Little George running through the crowd and handing out food. He barked at him.

Little George raised an eyebrow, rolled his eyes a few times, and gave him the same warm smile as Gais.

"Oh, Mr. Peace Officer, as you can see, I'm just a street vendor selling breakfast.

If you'd like, I can give you some, too."

He walked toward the Peace Officer and held out a piece of bread.

"Hmph. I'm not eating your food. Who knows if it's safe?" The Peace Officer turned away, seemingly unwilling to bother with the boy standing before him.

Little George naturally drew back his hand, his smile never fading, as though he'd expected this.

He spoke at an unhurried pace:

"Oh? Is that so?

Then I'm sorry, honored Mr. Peace Officer. The food we poor people eat is all unsafe.

Unlike you, who get to eat clean, hygienic food every day."

His words were like a needle, lightly puncturing an already tense atmosphere.

The Peace Officer's face flushed bright red, his brows furrowing. He was just about to retort when a wave of indignant shouts suddenly erupted from the crowd:

"...Ha! As if we don't want to eat clean food!"

"...The factory owners make Gold Pounds from the goods we produce with our blood and sweat, then pay us a pittance that barely keeps us alive. And now they're turning around and blaming us for being unhygienic?"

"...We need higher wages! I demand fifteen shillings a week. No, one Gold Pound!"

"...That's right! One Gold Pound! Let us see what clean bread looks like, too!"

The shouts grew louder and louder as more and more workers surged toward City Hall. The Peace Officers, holding their shields, struggled to hold the line and shot their colleague a resentful look.

The Peace Officer realized he'd said the wrong thing. His face turned pale, then red. He opened his mouth, but the roar of the crowd drowned him out.

Watching the scene unfold, Little George's eyes glinted with sly amusement, and he laughed from the heart.

He quietly took two steps back, blending into the crowd, and didn't forget to wave the egg in his hand at the Peace Officer:

"Mr. Peace Officer, if you need one, I still have some!"

Before the man could respond, he slipped into the throng and quickly disappeared.

The Peace Officer was left where he stood, trapped with no way forward or back as the workers surrounded him with their protests.

Seeing Little George return with a spring in his step, Gais felt the gloom that had built up inside him lift. He smiled and shook his head.

He knew Little George had done it partly to keep stirring up the strike, and partly to lift his spirits.

"Our Bishop George is getting more and more impressive. I wonder who taught him to say things like that.

Mm... Simple, but effective."

Little George beamed even more at Gais's praise.

"Mr. Gais, of course it was... the great Lord of All Spirits! His revelations make me more eloquent every time!"

The two chatted and laughed at the street corner, as if the chaos in front of City Hall had nothing to do with them.

Inside City Hall, in an office.

Mayor Logan sat in a high-backed leather chair. Several stacks of crumpled documents lay spread across the desk before him, and his fingers tapped against it unconsciously.

He looked up at the Captain of the Constabulary standing before his desk. The man was somewhat stout and clearly out of shape.

"When will the factory owners get here?"

The Captain of the Constabulary's forehead was beaded with sweat. "Mr. Mayor, my men have already gone to every factory. They should be here soon. Just a little longer..."

"A little longer?" Logan smiled, but his eyes turned cold. "By the time they arrive, the workers will probably have broken down City Hall's doors."

The Captain of the Constabulary was at a loss for words. He turned to look at a young Peace Officer standing behind him and spoke with sudden severity:

"What about the Church of Divine Grace? Did anyone notify them?

There must be a heretical organization stirring things up behind this strike. The Church needs to be held responsible!"

The young Peace Officer immediately bowed and replied:

"Reporting, sir. They've been notified. Bishop Tarik said Night Watchman Abel will come help maintain order at the scene."

"Just one man? This is ridiculous!" The Captain of the Constabulary grew agitated. "We have all these Peace Officers, and even we can't stop the angry crowd. What good is one man going to do?"

"That's enough." Logan shook his head, signaling for him to stop. He leaned back in his chair and gazed out the window, his expression complicated.

He knew that this Night Watchman had to be a Beyonder.

Ever since he'd confirmed that the Church of Divine Grace had Beyonders, he'd been wary of the Church. He didn't want to interact with them any more than necessary, and he wasn't as cooperative as before.

Seeing Logan's furrowed brow, the Captain of the Constabulary grew even more anxious. "Mr. Mayor, we can't count on the Church, either. Why don't we use our guns..."

Logan slapped the desk, cutting him off. "No. It hasn't come to that. The public already has grievances against our government. Do you want to make things worse?"

He rose from his chair and picked up his coat. "Come on. You're coming with me to take a look."

Seeing the mayor move, the Captain of the Constabulary panicked.

"Mr. Mayor, it's too dangerous outside. I advise you not to go!

My men can control the situation. Once the factory owners get here, they'll surely resolve the problem."

Logan looked at his subordinate and sighed.

"If you could handle it, would this have dragged on until now?

Hmph. Our municipal government has to give these workers an answer today."

The man was at a loss for words. His corpulent body swayed from side to side as he followed Logan out of the office.

Ivan followed beside Logan, silently watching what was happening.

He knew the strike was happening today, so instead of going to school with Diana, he'd boarded Logan's carriage early and come to City Hall.

"Mr. Logan's attitude toward the Church seems to have become rather complicated. Is it because of the eyeball Diana received?"

He pondered to himself. "Looks like the municipal government and the Church aren't as united as they seem."

He'd naturally noticed Gais's thoughts, too.

"Be careful of the Mentor... Could that mean be careful of Diana's ancient languages professor?"

Ivan shook his head. He didn't know what those words meant, so he didn't give Gais a revelation right away. He decided to wait until Gais actually asked, then come up with an answer.

The fog outside was still thick, undispersed even by the workers' fervent shouts.

Logan walked to the entrance of City Hall and stood amid the shield-bearing guards.

Some of the workers nearby seemed to recognize him and hurriedly shouted:

"...It's the mayor! The mayor's come out! Come on, today we have to get an answer from the city!"

"...That's right! We need an answer!"

He took a step forward and signaled for the Peace Officers in front of him to move their shields aside.

The Peace Officers hesitated. They exchanged glances, seeking approval from the superior behind the mayor. When the Captain of the Constabulary gave his assent, they quickly opened a path.

Logan slowly walked into the middle of the crowd. The workers made room for him as he passed, seeming somewhat afraid of him.

He smiled politely at everyone in front of him. After clearing his throat, he spoke in a voice that wasn't loud, yet carried remarkably well.

"Citizens, I'm Logan Gustav, the mayor of Trino.

Please rest assured. I'm not here to persuade you to go back to work. I'm here to hear what's on your minds.

I know you didn't put down your tools and come here on impulse. You're here because you're facing real hardships."