"Everyone line up, adult n under fifty to the left, those over fifty with the children! Won to the right, don't think about sneaking past! Everyone must be inspected!" A man in a black uniform held a tin gaphone, maintaining order with considerable authority.
Not long ago, he was rely a small aristocrat in Langton City, whose family had fallen on hard tis, living a barely decent life but still having a tight budget.
No matter how impoverished, an aristocrat is still an aristocrat; basic deanor must be maintained.
And maintaining that deanor ant expenses for appearances couldn't be skimped.
This made their family look glamorous on the surface, but in reality, every daily expense had to be carefully calculated, often only focusing on maintaining appearances.
Just like the uniform he wore at the mont, it indeed looked sturdy and crisp outside, made of fine fabric, rendering him impressively dignified.
But that uniform was a patchwork made by his wife, reinventing his coat ant for appearances, using his old shirts for lining.
Presenting a donkey dung egg facade, the stance of an old aristocrat of Langton City.
Although he realized living like this was exhausting, for the sake of family and dignity, sotis he must hold on like this.
Prior to the collective migration of Langton's elite to the Northern Territory, he certainly sought a ticket to send his wife and children over at least.
But he was rely surviving on family inheritance; how could he possibly obtain a ticket to the Northern Territory?
He wasn't so elite in any field, thus wasn't included in the official quota; he had to find other ways to get to the Northern Territory.
The grand aristocrats could purchase a Flying Airship, then establish enterprises in the Northern Territory, living well over there.
Even the second-tier middle and minor aristocrats gritted their teeth to buy tickets to the Northern Territory; after all, Flying Airship routes were open then, although tickets were outrageously priced, almost equivalent to liquidating entire fortunes for most minor aristocrats.
He couldn't afford it; even if he sold all his family's inheritance, it would only cover one ticket.
Moreover, with the end-ti crisis looming, prices soared while so items plumted.
His family's inheritance quickly lost value, failing to sustain living.
By then, everyone was liquidating assets, many treating it as if fleeing for survival.
Ultimately, after deliberating with his wife, he gritted his teeth and sold the inheritance, buying a ticket to send his daughter on a Flying Airship bound for the Northern Territory.
He was trapped in this lifeti, losing familiar territory in Langton, without inheritance provide inco; survival in the Northern Territory seed unlikely.
But his daughter was different; she was a gifted child, exceptional in painting since young, even chosen as a disciple by a renowned old painter in Langton's elite circles.
Though painting faced a downturn with the end-ti crisis, unexpectedly the Count of the Northern Territory emphasized arts and culture, instituting a cultural preservation plan, purportedly welcoming notable and truly skilled artists to the Northern Territory.
His daughter's teacher secured passage through this, and upon buying her ticket, he ensured to et the old painter, entrusting his daughter to him.
This old painter had a praiseworthy reputation, continually caring for his daughter since she studied under him, leading him to entrust his daughter with confidence.
As for himself, he stayed in Langton with his wife, ready for the end-ti.
Or, in another way, waiting to die.
Yet, who could have guessed his plans to exit with dignity at the end-ti were thwarted by the Count of the Northern Territory's appearance; remarkably preventing Langton's utter collapse.
Once the Count stabilized Langton's situation, he required many hands for the work.
After all, those who labored in Langton had moved to the Northern Territory, leaving myriad positions vacant.
As a higher education graduate aristocrat, he beca high-quality talent at this mont, swiftly assigned work.
Though tasked with re simple recording and writing jobs, simplicity led to satisfactory performance, stationed at the newly established checkpoint, overseeing the classification and registration of outer-city citizens.
According to the municipal requirents, everyone must register according to classifications, subjected to scrutiny by the church's Judges, only those confird okay could enter the inner city.
Such discriminatory treatnt naturally sparked discontent; so even attempted riots.
But Steam Knights dispatched by the Count kept order efficiently, allowing him to only shout into a gaphone, directing people by classification, pulling out those attempting deceit.
However, he confronted issues as well, like families with small children whose mothers refused separation, requiring his intervention.
At these tis, he silently cursed, pondering why the governnt insisted on separating children from parents for registration.
Couldn't they just register by family? This thod caused many children-parent separations, even briefly, an excruciating ordeal for both.
More pertinently, so parents failed inspections while their children could enter the inner city, undoubtedly worsening conditions.
Consequently, leading to more orphans.
Initially, he assud those failing inspections were rely sent back, unexpectedly they were strapped to a pyre scaffold by the Judges.
Indeed, next to the checkpoint stood a scaffold, latest eco-efficient, igniting fires just by hanging people, no need for substantial woodpile unlike traditional scaffold.
This design inadvertently turned the scaffold into a heat source, with many completed registrations awaiting scrutiny, crowding nearby for warmth.
Naturally, this resulted in unseemly scenarios, like children watching parents being hung and burnt to ash.
Indeed, such scenes were unavoidable, perhaps justifying the separation policy during registration.
So parents always fell prey to the Evil God Sect's influence, whereas children remained untainted.
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