Free Web NovelChapter 1202: Chapter 1130: Beetles and Candy
"Have we already arrived in Joan of Arc Castle?" Bondo, looking at the flat plaza and houses outside the port, still couldn’t believe it as it was his first visit.
As for Moroka, who was gazing everywhere after disembarking, he was even more incredulous.
The last time he was here, this port was merely a shabby little fishing port, surrounded by obstructed wasteland.
But now what?
The boulevard lined with trees stretches in a T-shape from the fishing port to the distance, flanked by rows of two- and three-story buildings.
The road was designed with elevation to clearly separate pedestrian paths from carriageways.
Blue and white painted water delivery carriages, dark green painted postal carriages, black and red painted banknote transport carriages guarded by seven or eight cavalrymen...
No mooing or baaing cattle and sheep are to be seen, and there is not much animal manure on the streets, not to mention beggars.
The residents may wear simple clothes, but everyone is very clean, with no dust or old grime on their faces.
Children, with satchels slung over their shoulders containing slates and books, wearing soft felt hats, chased each other on the streets.
As for those vendors commonly seen in usual cities—
Those with thatched huts piled up on both sides of the street, showing their big black teeth while selling, were all gathered near the plaza.
The streets are straight and broad, and the buildings are tidy and uniform.
There is no trace of the serpentine streets, dark alleys, or the stinking dirty markets common in Imperial City.
"Uncle, is this Beetle Port?" Moroka randomly stopped a neatly dressed passerby and asked.
The man glanced at him, pointed at the sign at the port: "Isn’t it written there? And there’s the beetle pattern too."
"Beetle Port..." Repeating this word in Leia language, Moroka rubbed his chin with a frown.
"You don’t even know ’Beetle,’ Bi’tou!" The passerby seemed to think Moroka didn’t know, so he pronounced Beetle Port in Eil language with a heavy Thousand River Valley accent.
Moroka was stunned, while Kuvasz beside him couldn’t help but laugh.
Moroka couldn’t help but ask curiously: "You can even read?"
"What’s so surprising?" The passerby said with a mix of pride and slight annoyance being underestimated, "I was the first in the literacy exam of our village."
"You’re a farmer?!" Moroka was astonished, looking at the linen shirt and vest—it didn’t seem like a farmer’s outfit at all.
"What do you mean by that? What’s wrong with being a farmer? Did a farmer eat your bread?" The passerby was slightly angered, "Saint’s Grandson is a farmer too, in our Holy Alliance, farmers are the most honorable!"
"I’m sorry, I spoke out of turn," Moroka quickly apologized, which calmed the uncle down.
Seeing that Moroka’s group were immigrants, the farmer uncle didn’t fuss with them.
As they say, once here, everyone is part of the Holy Alliance. To show hospitality, the farmer uncle simply explained the literacy policy of the Holy Alliance before leaving.
This finally answered the questions in their hearts.
"Wow..." Kuvasz, for the first time, gained a clear understanding of his homeland’s financial prowess, "Universal literacy, that must cost a fortune?"
Bondo stroked the sparse long beard on his chin: "Actually, it’s not really universal literacy. I just asked, their literacy exam only requires understanding five or six hundred words.
This level just allows them to understand some simple notices and documents, reading newspapers would still be difficult.
Like the fellow just now, he learned this Eil language of Beetle Port by following along with the newspaper."
"At least by understanding the notices, they won’t be randomly taxed by the tax collector," Moroka had a good opinion of this policy.
But from the pantsless man behind came a voice of dissent: "Even if they understand the notices, if the tax collector taxes them randomly, what can a farmer do to the tax collector?"
Moroka glared at the person making the odd remark: "What do you know? Literate adults are voters, voters can file complaints through their representatives.
If the representatives do not act, voters can complain to newspapers of the opposing party, tarnishing their reputation, and next year people will vote for someone else."
These representatives are generally from the local upper-middle class, and they have some sway over a minor tax collector, especially if the latter breaks rules.
Even if they can’t finish you, they can annoy you to death with governance.
According to the earlier instructions from the passerby, they all knew that to reach Joan of Arc Castle, they had to take a horse-drawn train.
As for the train station, it is located at the end of the T-shaped street.
With large bags and boxes in hand, the group set off without stopping.
Walking down the wide street, they could clearly see the shops on both sides.
These row shops facing the street mostly have facades fitted with Eil-style architecture, but they are essentially small red-brick houses.
Under the eaves, there is often a long pole extending, with a wooden sign hung from it.
This kind of thing is common in Falan and Leia cities, but what’s different here is:
On the wooden signs of Holy Alliance shops, in addition to the patterns representing goods and services sold (like beer representing taverns and hammers representing blacksmith shops), there are actually words engraved.
This is because, with the development of the Holy Alliance’s economy, a town may have more than two shops selling the same products.
Moreover, Holy Alliance even has chain stores, like the miscellaneous goods store under Gratitude Department Store.
To establish a brand effect and differentiation, these changes to the signs were made.
At the same time, more specialized and subdivided shops have begun to appear.
For example, glove shops, women’s hat shops, eyewear shops, watch shops, sword and knife shops, and so on.
The original symbol system naturally became somewhat ineffective.
"Even though we haven’t reached Joan of Arc Castle." Bondo said, breathless, "Even though it’s my first time here, the Holy Alliance is indeed different from other places."
Moroka didn’t respond, compared to Bondo’s amazement at being first time here, he was even more surprised by the speed of the Holy Alliance’s development.
In seven or eight years, a small town sprang up.
Although it may only have a thousand people, it’s cleaner than any big city in the empire and—
Moroka seemed to speak to himself, uttering the new word created by the Holy Alliance: "...advanced."
After walking for a while, they arrived at the train station; this horse-drawn train runs about every half-hour, operating about ten hours a day.
Due to government subsidies, the price is very cheap, basically one dinar for a round trip.
If they miss it, or if there are too many people, they either have to walk themselves or rent expensive freight carts by the roadside.
Moroka and others arrived just in time, with fewer people, they didn’t have to queue, so they boarded the cart.
Today’s horse-drawn train is different from the past horse-drawn trains.
In addition to installing clockwork compartments for auxiliary power, it also has added spring shock absorbers, along with an extra carriage.
But for Moroka’s group of over a hundred, it couldn’t take everyone away at once, they had to leave in two batches.
The first batch of over fifty people paid and boarded, hugging their parcels tightly while sitting on the benches.
As the bell rang, the driver wielded the whip, and the tall, broad-hooved horse stretched its sturdy legs and started running forward.
The wheels spun on the tracks, and the sound of the clockwork could be heard clacking away.
The scenery on both sides quickly receded, and for the Pantsless Men riding the horse-drawn train for the first time, it was indeed quite novel.
You know, many of them were riding a cart for the first time in their lives, how could they not be excited?
But compared to the other quiet scattered passengers on the cart, their excited chatter and strange cries really made Moroka feel quite embarrassed.
"Cough, cough, cough, cough, hmm—" he coughed loudly several times, glaring fiercely backward, and only then did the cart quieten down.
"Uncle."
Turning his head, Moroka saw a small child suddenly standing on the front bench.
He looked under ten years old, holding out a candy wrapped in paper: "This is candy for curing coughs, I’ve had a sore throat before, it’s really uncomfortable."
"Ah, my throat isn’t sick."
"Don’t tough it out, Uncle, I heard you coughing just now, this candy is really effective and sweet." The child insisted on handing over the candy.
"Well..."
Moroka could only look at the child’s parents beside him, but the parents looked at the child with appreciation and nodded slightly towards Moroka.
As the saying goes, you only know etiquette when the granary is full, and over the years Horn has been focusing on industry while also not neglecting spiritual development.
Under the promotion of Hilov’s Holy Council, cultivating good virtues in children has become the highest norm for the citizenry of Holy Alliance.
Moroka, unaware of this, just accepted the candy made of sugar and herbs.
Seeing him accept the candy, the child and his parents both smiled.
As for the father wearing a round-brimmed hat, he nodded slightly toward Moroka and then turned back.
Not caring at all about the noise everyone made just now, with no hint of ridicule on his face.
Moroka stuffed the candy into his mouth, the silky sweetness quickly filled his mouth, and a cool sensation soothed his throat.
Alighting at the Joan of Arc Castle station, the group waited for their companions on the next train.
Someone suddenly sighed: "The quality of Holy Alliance people is indeed higher than that of Falan people, I’m not just praising Holy Alliance folks!"
