Chapter 26 Pottery Election
“The last time I saw this scene, I was still very young. No, if my age at that time were compared to mortals in the same proportion, I could be regarded as an infant in swaddling clothes. "
Morse said to himself as he looked at the scene on the stage. He was immediately amused by his own joke and shrugged his shoulders. The knife rotated between his fingers, and the blade cut into the wood like water waves.
He doesn’t talk much about his past with others, and he only talks about it to “people”.
“They made a circle with wooden boards and left ten entrances on the circumference, corresponding to their ten tribes. Citizens from the same tribe entered through their entrances.”
"Citizens transferred part of their power to him. If he cannot use the power he has collected to obtain greater power for each citizen, he will have to find other ways to stabilize his position."
The vulture landed and perched at Morse's legs. He raised his hand and combed the white feathers of the flying bird with his fingers wrapped in black cloth. When he let go, there were a few naturally fallen feathers between his fingers.
He observed carefully and verified that there was nothing special about the bird's feathers, so he relaxed, burned the feathers, and continued to watch the scene before him.
On the streets, soldiers were called to organize and implement this sudden whim. One by one, the feathered helmeted men combined the iron frame with the wooden panels to temporarily pave a narrow path leading upward. Mors saw Miltiades among them, and it seemed that he was still at his post.
The number of citizens was counted nervously. Every time a hundred people were counted by the soldiers, the next person would be invited forward, dizzy to meet the envious eyes of others, as if there was a snare on the soles of their feet, and they would fall. Bumping up the narrow aisle.
The remaining people retreated as hard as they could when the soldiers counted dozens. When the count approached a hundred, they pushed each other forward, vying to be the first to be summoned by the platform, trying to take the lead. A majesty that is rare in their lives.
They were chanting Perturabo's name, and occasionally Morse could even hear "Lord Perturabo bless you" and "In the honor of Lord Perturabo", which made him feel anxious all the time. Shaking heads and scoffing.
On the stage, there is already someone talking. Wearing a one-shouldered robe, he may be a farmer or a shepherd, but he always has the authority to touch the land.
Everyone can see that this citizen is searching for all the elegant words he has learned in his life to add glory to his record. But the distance between his words and simple everyday language is probably only a few swear words and local slang.
“I think this woman is not as good-looking as these two men,” he said hurriedly, grabbing his hair, being chased by the fear of embarrassment, “the two of them are definitely Is it harder than being alone? I don’t understand. Also, I think it’s a child defeating an adult at this moment. I’ve never seen anything like this before. ”
He then picked up the pen handed to him by the waiter and carefully added a horizontal line on a piece of pottery handed to him. Four vertically and one horizontally form a small fence-like pattern, representing five bearer votes.
"That's it?" The citizen looked around. After receiving the confirmation, he breathed a sigh of relief and was escorted off the stage by the soldiers. He stared at the finger that held the pen, as if trying to discern some pattern from the knuckles. He was so immersed in the experience of being watched by thousands of people that he would never forget it.
Accompanied by torrential applause, the next lucky person hurriedly went up to the stage. At this alternating moment, all the young people and old people in the audience would shout loudly.
Morse changed two sitting positions and still felt uncomfortable, so he had to stretch his hand into the air and pull out a wicker chair. He stood the wicker chair on the edge of the wall, swaying comfortably.
“Now you have to choose the people who will participate in the meeting, and your reputation will increase.” He said, “It was different when I was young. They wanted 6,000 people to choose the person who was disliked. It shall be engraved on a pottery tablet; the man shall be banished from the capital, and shall live in the place appointed by the consul for ten years; he shall not participate in the game; he shall be an alien to the powerful.”
He thought for a while and murmured: "Should I instead call this matter the election of pottery?"
Perturabo, Andros and Carifon were whispering together, and they didn't know what they were talking about. Where to go. The boy's expression was visibly relaxed, and his brows relaxed naturally.
When he looked at the citizens on the stage, whether he saw those who were ignorant of literature or art or even illiterate, or those who were engaged in art and talking, they all opened their eyes in shock, as if they were seeing this for the first time. The appearance of a crowd.
Morse could guess how Perturabo viewed them in the past. In the boy's mind, he must have chosen several words to summarize his people, treating them as the same people. A vague and easy-to-manipulate slate does not contain enough wisdom and power of choice. All directions have the same nature and can only be used for accumulation and paving to carry the great cause of extraordinary people.
It doesn't matter, he himself was like this before.
Unlike Perturabo, Morse had never been indifferent to admitting his shortcomings. He listened carefully and heard the conversation between the three people among whom Perturabo was sitting.
"You have won another praise, Perturabo." The female voice said softly, "My brother, you are going to lose."
"Ah , I know..."
"You have not lost to me, Andos." The boy spoke very clearly, "I have not really defeated you. I will agree to compete with you again, but not now. ”
"Okay, I also need to practice..." the prince said slowly, smiling sheepishly, "They always say that I am very humble, but before I met you, I thought I was already the best in Lokos. Craftsman."
"You are," the boy said. "You were almost victorious."
"But the people chose you," said Calliphon. "They saw your work, and they poured more praise into your hands. You heard the citizens' "Perturabo, they don't want to get anything from you. Don't you know which one is your creation? They are just talking about their sincere admiration." To have the whole city praise you, I think this is what a tyrant can only ask for."
"But," the boy's voice was full of uneasiness, and he tried hard to find an excuse, "maybe. They just think that the two-person team is more powerful than the one-person team.”
"You have touched the interests of the citizens, Perturabo. You should win because of it." Callifon said with a smile.
The boy changed the subject: "Andos, I see inexplicable brightness in your works. Why do your stone statues have flowers with small petals on their skirts? Where did you get them? This spirituality?”
“When I went fishing, I saw a woman repairing patches to look like flowers, so I imitated them and carved them...”
“You went fishing?” The boy said with some disbelief, is it such a simple reason?
"Well, yes...I can fish and bake it. Sometimes I don't know how to create works, so I do other things." Andos said.
"You know how to grill fish?" Perturabo's focus gradually shifted, and he didn't know what he was thinking of. The boy's face darkened, and he immediately turned his head away and did not want to speak.
Morse withdrew his gaze and stroked the feathers of the white eagle. He felt the empty box on the bird's legs, the contents of which had been removed.
Morse took off the small box, tickled the bird's beak, and let the eagle fly away.
"Child, they are all happy because you have done this." Morse looked at Perturabo and talked to himself. "But since when did I get into the bad habit of imitating the tone of the playwright? Let me change it. I'm going to say what people say."
He immediately laughed loudly and let the wicker chair move towards The small courtyard enclosed by the second-story wall fell upside down.
Then walking out of the door of the unknown courtyard was a laid-back young man wearing a blue robe and shawl.
"Ninety-nine...one hundred...you, the last elected citizen today! Would you like to comment on these two masterpieces and write down your vote?"
< br>The young man in blue robe nodded positively: "Of course I am willing!"
(End of this chapter)