The Great Labyrinth City was quite well-prepared for the election that day, but there was still a slight disturbance at the beginning.
This minor incident was not unexpected by the organizers, and soon soldiers from the Corridor Guard, clad in mechanical armor, entered the crowd to maintain order.
Voting itself is not complicated; it's simply a matter of writing down one's name.
The voting ended quickly, and the members of the Corridor Guard, who were already prepared, entered the crowd with ballot boxes to collect the votes. Even Nuowa handed in Collins's vote, the lord of Satellite City No. 42, to a ballot box.
Perhaps because the number of voters wasn't outrageously high, the election for the Graycast Corridor was conducted via live vote counting, and the results were available today.
On the high platform, more than a dozen machines matching the ballots were carried out. Each machine could verify the authenticity of the ballots through the stamped number and also had a counting function.
While waiting, many onlookers began discussing the election results with acquaintances around them, and the two Short-Eared Elf were no exception.
At the edge of the plaza, the elven mage wore an expectant smile:
How much money can we make this time?
The elven assassin beside him thought for a moment and asked:
How much do you want to earn?
Nuowa looked puzzled.
What does this have to do with what I'm thinking?
Liya said with a serious expression:
"I believe that for the sake of fairness and impartiality, all the money should not be put into one pocket."
"We'll make a lot of money this time, so we should set a limit beforehand. Whatever's within that limit will go to the elves, and anything beyond that will belong to us."
Nuowa became extremely anxious upon hearing this:
Why is it a pocket?
He hurriedly took two money pouches from their waists and waved them in front of Liya:
"They're clearly two money pouches, you won't believe me—"
He pointed to the edge of Liya's money pouch, where a line of text shimmered with a golden Psionic Energy light: [Treasury].
He then pointed to the edge of his purse, where there was also a line of gold-embossed text: [Private Treasury].
The elven mage puffed out his chest, revealing a defiant expression:
"That's what it means to clearly distinguish between public and private matters!"
As if a long-suppressed anger suddenly erupted, Liya snatched two money bags from Nuowa's hands, put her hand into one of the bags, and then poked her hand out of the other.
The elven assassin said irritably:
I don't think a bottle with two openings can be called two bottles.
"Putting the bottle aside for now, how much money can we actually make this time? I remember there were less than a thousand gold coins in total before, right?"
The elven assassin nodded:
So it could probably increase tenfold.
"Very good!"
Nuowa threw a punch into the air:
"We are one step closer to completing our great mission!"
Please forgive my bluntness...
The elven assassin gave him a slightly disdainful look:
"You won't achieve your goals through gambling alone."
"I've said it many times, this is an investment, and this money is for recruiting and training. After things are settled here, we'll go see that Son of God and see how he differs from the prophecy."
Perhaps because she heard the seemingly safe arrangement, Liya didn't say anything more. The two found a corner, bought some local snacks from the Great Labyrinth City that smelled of rust, and then began to wait quietly.
A huge counting machine appeared on the platform. It was like a purely mechanically driven display screen with the names of the four candidates on it, and behind each candidate was a counting board that could display nine digits.
The coated paper with special dents and holes, ejected by the small machines, was fed into the large counting machine. The numbers next to the four candidates began to jump rapidly, and the clicking sound echoed throughout the entire square, making everyone's heart pound involuntarily.
Four candidates, four counting boards, and each person doesn't know their vote count.
[ Do Some Farm Work ] Watching this scene, I always feel it's very similar to a certain popular variety show I watched when I was a child.
If, after the votes are counted, the eliminated contestants tearfully recount their tragic past or express their reluctance to leave the stage, the atmosphere would be even more poignant.
As for whether the feet of those who are eliminated will suddenly open up, causing them to fall into a large ball pit or something similar, [ Do Some Farm Work ] doesn't hold out much hope for that.
Just as everyone's attention was focused on the counting board, another person appeared on the platform.
The person appeared there abruptly, clearly teleported there, but without emitting even a sliver of light, completely unlike the blinding teleportation of the "King of Fall Resistance, I Guess.
[ On the Do Some Farm Work ] Looking over there carefully, the figure seemed somewhat familiar.
Slightly hunchbacked, wearing a gray robe, holding a mechanical scepter...
Dude, Grand Foundry Master himself?
As the old man began to move slowly, more and more people noticed his presence.
The discussion about the election results gradually turned into cheers, and all the locals in the Graycast Corridor were shouting the name:
" The Grand Foundry Master!"
" The Grand Foundry Master!"
[ On the Do Some Farm Work ] Looking around, confirming that there was only cheering and no dancing, and that the surrounding brightness and temperature were still within the range suitable for human survival, I finally breathed a sigh of relief.
If the local NPCs around him suddenly start dancing the "Kindness Dance," he'll have to consider whether he should join in for a bit.
However, things seem fine now. There have been no significant changes in brightness or temperature, and the expressions of the people around me are very natural, suggesting that they are genuinely expressing their respect for the Grand Foundry Master.
The gray-robed old man walked through the four candidates to the front, and the lively old man Felix, who had been quite playful just a moment ago, was now respectfully handing over his microphone.
The Grand Foundry Master took the microphone, looked at the crowd, and said:
"Citizens of the Graycast Corridor, today is not only the day of the election for the new Grand Foundry Master, but also the day of my retirement."
"Over the past eighty years, together with you, your fathers and grandfathers, we have built this mechanically powered force in these barren mountains and kept Calamity that sweep the world at bay. You should all be proud of this."
"But everyone has moments when they feel powerless, and I have been sitting in the position of Grand Foundry Master for too long."
"Our Graycast Corridor is still young, but I am too old, so I think it is time to hand over this power to the younger generation."
"As everyone knows, in the Graycast Corridor, it's a rare feat to live a long and peaceful life until retirement. So please allow me the honor of enjoying this privilege. After today, I will no longer be Grand Foundry Master, but Balund, just an ordinary old man."
Having said that, the Grand Foundry Master looked at Felix beside him and said with a smile:
"Let's issue the invoice. Stop that thing from spinning around; it's making my ears uncomfortable."