Man is not a god after all, and no one can truly be prophetic. Pen ~ fun ~ pavilion www.biquge.info

Roland couldn't do it, and Kosygin, known as the "master of prophecy", inevitably made some mistakes.

It's been three days since the old man came to Kitland, and the pace of life in this Northland city is relatively relaxed, and he hasn't noticed any news worth paying attention to in these three days, and in his opinion, the only thing that is extremely active in this city is Roland, huh...... It's too active.

However, this is not the case.

In the industrial area of the city, in the low dormitory covered with soot, in the dark and stuffy pits, in the sparkling ironworks, in the corners that the master disdained to pay attention to, there was a great event brewing, and the man who led the incident was just as active as Roland, but the two of them used their talents in different fields.

In the darkness of the night, a man in a jacket and a peaked cap hurried through the alley to a workers' housing quarter.

The dormitories are three-storey buildings with a mixed structure of wood and stone, boxy like building blocks, painted with lime mortar.

Each floor is divided into six apartments, the bedroom comes with a small living room, the bachelor lives and makes do, with the family room is too cramped, even the kitchen is not even available, can only cook on the balcony and in the corridor, the miasma can be imagined, and it is convenient to go downstairs to the yard to squeeze the public toilet, and the environmental sanitation is certainly not much better.

The man in the cap hurried through the night, looking around vigilantly and listening to the wind, and then he turned and walked into a building, walked briskly into the stairwell, and then skillfully cast a spell.

Spell silent, any door!

With a flash of silver light, the figure of the man in the cap disappeared out of thin air.

Not far away, two young men in ordinary clothes quickly followed, exchanged glances, one of them entered the corridor, the other stayed outside the door of the dormitory building, took out a handmade cigarette from his pocket, polished a match, lit it, and smoked a cigarette downstairs.

A cigarette was almost finished when his companion returned, spreading his hands to him in frustration and shaking his head.

"That guy slipped away again?"

"Well, Captain Vigraf is right, we can't keep an eye on that cunning fox."

"Forget it, let's get here tonight, that guy will have to go home sooner or later, let's rent a room opposite his house and watch nearby."

Two young plainclothes sheriffs returned disappointed.

At the same time, the mage, dressed as a worker, appeared 300 yards away in a strong-smelling factory.

It is a tobacco-processing workshop. The high latitude and strong sunshine of the Kitland region produce excellent quality tobacco, but unfortunately the production of this hardy tobacco is too low for only locals to enjoy.

A young man is operating a guillotine, cutting the dried and bundled tobacco leaves into thin strips, next to a few childish teenagers buried in sorting tobacco, the high-grade goods package with tin foil packing and sticking, the inferior loose tobacco does not sell well, in order to expand the sales can only be made into cigarettes.

In the center of the hall was a large long table, around which a group of women dressed in blue overalls skillfully rolled tobacco into straw paper and rolled into slender cigarette rolls, chatting in a low voice from time to time, and sometimes bursting into a burst of cheerful laughter.

The pine table top is slightly yellowed by tobacco all year round, and is smooth and shiny by the women's dexterous fingers.

Seeing someone approaching, the women all smiled and said hello.

"Shabalin, you're here!"

"The union is here?" Shabalin asked them.

"We're all upstairs playing billiards."

"Walesa doesn't seem to have come yet."

Shabalin nodded, pointed to her cheek and asked a young female worker, "Why don't you wear a mask?" ”

"It's so breathless!"

"It's inconvenient to talk!"

The women were complaining.

Shabalin frowned and said solemnly: "You have to wear it when you work, it is good for your health." ”

The women took out snow-white masks from their overalls pockets and put them on with some reluctance.

Shabalin turned and went upstairs. The women watched his figure go away, glanced at each other, took off their masks, ate and laughed. Dexterous fingers were busy on the table again, rubbing out well-proportioned cigarette rolls.

On the second floor of the cigarette factory is a well-lit hall with four pool tables, nominally a workers' club, but in fact a union home in Kitland.

When Shabalin came in, a few young men were playing ball, and the others were leaning against the window smoking and chatting. When they saw him come in, everyone gathered around to say hello.

Shabalin shook hands with the union cadres one by one, and asked with some displeasure: "Walesa didn't come again?" ”

"Probably a few more drinks, why don't you send someone to him?"

"Leave him alone, let's have a meeting." Shabalin sat sideways on the pool table with a solemn face, "Tomorrow is May 1, at eight o'clock in the morning, all the workers involved in the expansion of the Colosseum will gather at the construction site. ”

"Do you want to go back to work?" Someone asked.

Shabalin shook his head and said in a deep voice: "No, let's go to the parade." ”

"Parade?"

"Starting from the Colosseum, circling the city, and finally arriving at the square outside the gate of the Great Church of Kord, to protest against the unpaid wages of the town hall, everyone has organized their men, and I will send someone to distribute the signs of the demonstration tomorrow morning."

"Why choose tomorrow? Does the first of May have any special meaning? Suddenly, a slightly drunken voice came from behind him, and his voice was very loud, with a hint of provocation.

Shabalin frowned, turned to look at the door—a man walked in, his face flushed and smelling of alcohol.

"Walesa, you're late again."

"It's only a few minutes......

"If you don't follow discipline as a union leader, how can you lead the workers?"

"Alright, alright, I see, you haven't answered my question yet, brother Sabahin." Walesa deliberately put the emphasis on "brother", revealing the mentality of putting on seniority.

Shabarin didn't know why he was targeting him, was he simply drunk, or was he jealous of his leadership in the union?

Without thinking much about it, he replied to Walesa: "The first of May is not a day of special significance, but after tomorrow, it will be remembered by all for our united actions, and it will even be a glorious page in history!" ”

His words were impassioned, and immediately attracted a round of applause.

Walesa snorted coldly, "Don't talk too much, how many people will participate in this parade tomorrow?" ”

"All construction workers will participate."

"That's only five or six thousand people, didn't you say before that you would launch a strike of workers in the mines and iron factories and hold a 10,000-person march?" Walesa asked.

Shabalin's face darkened, and he shook his head and said: "The situation has changed, yesterday the major mining companies and ironworks received a warning from the Yangbo Chamber of Commerce, prohibiting their employees from participating in strikes or demonstrations of any kind before the end of the tournament, otherwise they will withdraw their investment and cut off trade." ”

"I heard that the Lighthouse Bank has also sent warnings to several large mines to stop providing loans if they make trouble, and those mine owners are panicking, their workers can still receive salaries for fear of losing their jobs, most people have no motivation to support the construction workers, and I am afraid that not many people will come tomorrow." Shabalin sighed, deeply regretting this.

"Now only the construction workers who are most in arrears of wages are the most complaining and willing to follow our actions, and it is not easy to organize these people." A trade union cadre said.

Shabalin nodded, "Let me stress once again that our march is a peaceful protest, and we must not carry weapons, let alone take the initiative to provoke conflicts!" ”

"What if the lord sends the city guards to suppress us?" Walesa asked loudly.

Shabalin wanted to say that this was unlikely, but he knew that this answer would not satisfy the other party, and would only attract more blame, so he gritted his teeth and simply replied: "If the city guards make the first move, we will only be forced to resist!" (To be continued.) )