Chapter 22 False Victory
The loud music coming from the high platform made Morse take a few seconds to look for the loudspeaker hidden nearby.
He found these technological artifacts disguised as wood and bricks under the ceilings of some houses. After lamenting the abnormal technological development brought about by the strange technological era, he finally paid more attention to On the stage.
It was not Damex himself who was conducting the contest, although he was there.
A man wearing a light yellow silver-edged robe stood up and, as one of the twelve staff officers of Lokos, announced that under the witness of the citizens of Lokos, the prince was going to meet "from afar" "genius" competition.
It seems that Damex's relationship with the Queen of the Cult is over.
Morse wouldn't say that this was necessarily a good thing, but this development made him feel physically and mentally comfortable.
On the stage, Damex touched his hands, smiled kindly at Perturabo, and then nodded appropriately to his child.
Morse noticed that Perturabo was not pleased with the details of the tyrant's behavior until Callifon took the lead and looked back at Perturabo.
“Look at that boy’s expression.”
Morse said casually to the stranger next to him, his tone so light as the wind blowing over the wings of a bird: "He no longer even frowns his eternally unhappy eyebrows."
" Can you see clearly?" the stranger asked.
"Of course." Morse nodded and led the stranger to a farther corner in the sea of people.
People laughed happily and whispered to their relatives and friends next to them. Many of them weren't even talking about today's upcoming matchup.
After they talked about art and aristocratic life, which they knew very little about and had heard from hearsay, they praised the two today’s protagonists for what a genius they were, and then silently said in their hearts that they are worthy of being great people. Immediately afterwards, they looked at each other in unison and quickly dived into more relaxed and free life topics, talking about the new stall owner at the market and the sunny weather that lasted for a long time recently.
"If they could hear everyone's voices, Perturabo would spend an entire planetary cycle of depression commemorating the day he was not loved by everyone," Morse said, "unless he came up with something refreshing. "But can he do it?"
The stranger tried his best to ignore the surroundings while talking, laughing and joking, while independently changing the ground for the two of them to get out of the way, without anyone realizing it. Crowd of two people present.
"I don't know how you did it..." he said nervously. "Are you a messenger of any god?"
"If I am, then Perturabo probably is too. But none of us are, right?"
The stranger stared blankly With Morse.
And Morse just planned to find a wooden stake to chat, just like he occasionally did with the tree in front of his house, or his handicrafts, or his psychic lamp.
So he didn't mind not answering.
He led the stranger to a house where dried fruits were not drying on the roof. He stepped lightly on the ground and jumped to the edge of the two-story open-air balcony on the top floor. He walked lightly and nonchalantly along the narrow Walking slowly along the narrow fence.
The stranger followed under the eaves, walking in sync with Morse. He may or may not hear it.
The clay pot is still in the stranger's hand.
Morse stared at the high platform, enjoying the unobstructed walking experience, stopping and stopping from rooftop to rooftop.
On the high platform, Staff Officer Lokos asked Perturabo and Andos if they had anything to say to the citizens.
This caused Perturabo's patience to decline rapidly again. He shook his head angrily.
“I still don’t understand why so many people came to watch. Am I your exhibit?” The boy’s voice was carried by the wind.
Califon gently advised Perturabo in his ear: "According to what you said, everyone on the stage is an exhibit for the citizens."
Then, in another piece of pretensely grand music, the soldiers' spears and halberds struck the ground, escorting the two works carefully carried by the cleansing officials to the stage.
The two tall statues are covered with black cloth, which is woven from the best wool in Lokos. The sheep are cleaned before being wooled, and then in the appropriate season, the wool is When loose, workers clean their hands and pick it up to facilitate the wool to form a coherent felt. Although expensive and troublesome, Morse dared to say that the people at the top who obtained these resources knew nothing about the entire process. To obtain a treasure, all they have to do is let words become commands.
“These two works were created by Lord Perturabo and Lord Andos respectively.” The host said, “But please allow us to keep it secret for the time being which Lord the two works belong to. Please Citizens give a fair evaluation.”
The ceremony officer silently stepped forward and neatly removed the black cloth from the two sculptures.
The statue of the goddess Herphony in Andos, and the combined statue of "Two people drawing swords and facing each other" recreated by Perturabo, are in front of everyone. The crowd under the stage was quiet for a few seconds, then became noisy again.
Morse had reached the roof closest to the dais.
In his opinion, the two players are equally skilled; if he had to choose a winner, he would choose Andos. The reason is simple. In a duel between two statues, the statue of the boy with the hammer seems to have the upper hand.
The ministers, scholars and foreign dignitaries on the stage began to make their evaluations.
"Want to make some comments with those citizens?" Morse said.
The stranger spoke mechanically: "The statue of Hephonia is the work of Andos, and the unknown statue containing two people is the work of Perturabo."
Morse nodded, not asking the stranger Where to get inside information.
“He came to me a few days ago and I let him have a good sleep and made sure he didn’t learn anything anywhere.”
“Of course, I have a lot to learn. Teach him, but what he needs is not knowledge, never. Knowledge will come back to him sooner or later, and before that, he will find the huge hole left by his loss of knowledge."
He paused, intercepted. Live topic, "Who do you think will win?"
"Perturabo," answered the stranger.
"Then the outcome is determined." Morse's voice was sarcastic.
"I'm a little cold." The stranger said numbly.
"Well, because you're freezing," Morse said.
He sat down on the edge of the house, took out a piece of wood and a knife from nowhere, and carved an unfinished gadget.
On the stage, except for a few royal members and visitors who were just here to visit, the remaining people cautiously praised the outstanding features of the two works alternately.
Sometimes they admire the polishing skills of one piece, and sometimes they admire the texture and layout of another piece. After each sentence is spoken, there is a burst of eye contact within the small circle.
When they wrote the number of the work on the pottery piece and presented it to the host, their eyes went back and forth like glue.
The tyrant, the prince, the boy, everyone is being observed.
Andos lowered his eyes gently and acquiesced to all this happening, while Perturabo curled his fingers into his palms and clenched his fists.
The boy knew that the praise he received was on par with the prestigious Prince Andros, but this was not what he wanted.
He suddenly stood up from the cushion, walked to the front of the commentators, and started to comment loudly on the statue of Andos.
“What material does this stone imitate, gauze or cotton and linen? Why is it neither as elegant as yarn nor as thick as cotton? Has no one seen such an obvious flaw?”
Before Andos and Callifon had time to be surprised, Perturabo looked at his own statue again, gritted his teeth, and his anger was stronger than when directed at others: "There is also this statue, no one can tell the difference. Isn't the composition of two sculpted subjects so clumsy? Isn't the posture of two people holding weapons against each other boring enough? If you can't even make a criticism, is any of your praise true? "
His move finally silenced the crowd for the first time today. Everyone stared blankly at the boy who ignored the rules on the stage. Perturabo achieves real limelight in another form.
Perturabo didn't care.
He snorted, waved his hand, and pointed angrily at the last person who was about to put down the pottery tremblingly, "The registration is over, so show me the result!"
After getting Delta After a hint from Kess, one of the attendants immediately presented him with a statistical board. Perturabo glanced at it and almost smashed the board to the ground.
Then he raised the board high and showed it to all directions.
“Look, so many people are recording their preferences...so many citizens are giving their evaluations 'fairly and impartially'. It turns out that among so many fair people, exactly half of them think that Andos Well done, does one more person in the other half think I should win? Did I win by exactly one vote? ”
"Peturabo, we Locos are fair. You deserve this honor. Your sharp words and courage to speak out prove your talent."
Someone spoke to persuade. Perturabo called out. He has not met the other person, but he knows this person.
Standing beside the tyrant, gorgeously dressed and generous--no other person in Lokos fits this description.
Harkon.
(End of this chapter)