CHAPTER 331: 0329 DEMONSTRATIONS AT THE WELCOME DINNER

In the room, some people who looked miserable gathered together.

But then again, at times like this, who else besides those prominent political figures can manage not to appear miserable?

There’s a certain special gleam in these people’s eyes; they are preparing to do something big. Among these people, there’s one person who is slightly different from the others, or rather two people.

"Martin, I don’t know if what we’re doing is right..." said a man in his forties, an ordinary person who wore a short-sleeved shirt he bought a few years ago, shorts he wore for two years, and sandals with some wear and tear, yet this was already his most decent outfit.

The person he referred to as Martin was leaning against the wall by the window, with one hand crossed over his chest, palm tucked under the armpit of his other arm, while the other hand held a cigarette.

In the dimly lit room, the bluish smoke seemed to turn a dingy yellow, rising relatively straight at first before appearing to be disturbed by some airflow, starting to tremble erratically and eventually disappearing.

He was looking across the street diagonally at the hotel, as he was here with a task: to cause a stir during the welcome banquet at City Hall.

As a society worker representative leaning towards the Conservative Party — though this phrase may sound a bit peculiar, Martin was a union worker representative. He was very active in the factory, and as the union put it, he was good at organizing workers to take action together.

Of course, from the factory owner’s perspective, Martin was an unequivocal troublemaker. Not only did he have the troublesome identity of a labor representative, but he often gathered small groups to organize worker strikes and work stoppages.

Aside from these identities, due to his activism, he was also a formal member of the Socialist Party. The reason for joining the Socialist Party was probably because a labor representative could earn a low-level cadre title there, gaining some power, which was much easier than with the Progressive or Conservative Parties.

As for his political stance, he was actually inclined towards the Conservative Party. In fact, the working class is somewhat biased towards the Conservative Party’s political stance; their attitude towards life is akin to their attitude towards work, not wanting any unforeseen changes. If they could live day after day without much change, it would certainly be the best life.

Not long ago, he received a task, the content of which was to create some incidents during this diplomatic event.

He essentially disagreed with such an order; after all, he was no longer the lowest level worker, dirty from working tirelessly in the workshop every day. He was somewhat of a cadre now. It’s well known that a labor representative, in a sense, is no longer a worker; he’s just a representative.

He knew what causing a disturbance in such an important national affair represented, but the other party offered him a condition he couldn’t refuse. Even now, thinking about it still got his heart racing a bit.

Two bank drafts of ten thousand each from one of the six major banks within Bail Federal didn’t require any proof. As long as you held them, you could convert them into cash at any legitimate bank, or add those numbers representing wealth to a designated bank account.

This was an offer he could not refuse. Before the economic recession, he could take home two hundred eighty-seven dollars and thirty-five cents per month from the factory, an amount roughly equivalent to his total income for seven or eight years. Let alone in such a poor economic climate now, this sum of money seemed even more significant.

When faced with inquiries from colleagues, Martin stubbed out his cigarette on the windowsill, his expression bearing some strange intensity, "We are not wrong!"

Everyone in the room looked at him. He looked at them, doing what he had always done: inciting the workers’ emotions.

Except before, he incited emotions against labor relations; now, he incited opposition from Bail Federal people against the Nagariel United Kingdom. He was good at it.

"Listen, first, I must tell you, we are not alone. Behind us are not only our families but countless ordinary people of Bail Federal. At this moment, we stand together."

"I don’t know if you’ve heard, but the Federation Government plans to aid Nagariel with a large supply of materials and help them build factories."

"They’d rather send what little money they have to those barbarians who eat bloody meat, be willing to construct factories and create jobs for those savages, rather than look down and address our needs!"

"If we don’t fight, don’t make our voices heard, who knows what our society will become in the future!"

"This is not about fighting for our own rights; it is for all of us, for the Federation!"

With a few simple words, Martin managed to stir up the atmosphere; he used "eating bloody meat" to ridicule the people of Nagariel as barbarians. In reality, to this day, only a minority in Federation Society still eat undercooked steak.

Most people are still eating fully cooked steak, due to past severe public health incidents caused by some parasites and pollution issues, people try to thoroughly cook meat instead of leaving it half raw.

This kind of higher civilization mocking a lower civilization effectively gained people’s recognition; they were righteously talking and cursing about some things.

Martin looked at his companions, eyes deep, "Believe me, we have done nothing wrong!"

His companion advised no more, just sat back down worriedly.

At 6:45 in the evening, some distinguished guests began entering. Martin stubbed out the already half-smoked cigarette in his hand and dropped it on the ground.

By now, there were already more than a dozen cigarette butts lying on the ground around him, and the entire room was filled with thick cigarette smoke. His heart was definitely not as relaxed as he appeared.

"Let’s get started, brothers, let those lords hear our voice too!"

People in the room began to take action silently. At that moment, they neither shouted nor roared, yet appeared exceptionally forceful.

Across the street diagonally, the Mayor of Port City was welcoming some important guests, with a large media presence surrounding the hotel entrance. The flashing magnesium lights made this spot exceptionally bright.

The push to establish diplomatic relations with Nagariel came as an order from the President’s Mansion, so many heavyweight media were present. Regardless of whether they stood with the President, they had to report this news truthfully.

This had little to do with the stances of these media institutions; they could still cannily criticize the President and his possibly in some views abnormal political ideas afterward, but some matters require unity; this is the rule.

When the temporary Speaker of the Senate arrived at the scene, it directly raised the scale of this reception by at least two levels. Remember, there’s hardly any need to alert a politician of such rank as the temporary Speaker of the Senate for a visit from a small nation like Nagariel.

But he came, which also signaled the President’s determination.

Just as the media wildly photographed the gentleman in the spotlight, furiously raising their hands for questions, a shout from across the street suddenly brought an extremely brief, deathly silence to the bustling hotel entrance.

A group of shabbily dressed workers held up banners saying "We need food," "We need jobs," and "Politicians are generously giving our money away" along with other slogans with very specific directions, rushing forward. In an instant, the police responsible for security, FBI investigators, and a few special agents from the National Security Committee sprang into action.

But the problem is, this wasn’t happening in a private venue, nor in some remote woodlands; this was the city center, with influential media from all over the country here.

The temporary Speaker of the Senate, bathed in camera flashlights, left his position immediately upon realizing the issue, heading into the hotel.

The Mayor followed closely with apologies, only to receive the temporary Speaker’s rather cold reply, "Sort this out quickly."

However, since this incident caused a stir, it surely couldn’t be resolved so easily. With so many domestic and international media watching, the Federation was striving to build a positive image in the international community; they couldn’t suppress these demonstrators in front of these media.

The police, investigators, and special agents were merely ensuring they didn’t get too close to crash into the hotel, glaring at them instead.

The FBI and local Police Station were already dispatching more police forces to maintain order here, unsure if any more unexpected incidents would occur, causing everyone’s nerves to tighten.

The Deputy Director in the hotel, listening to the commotion outside, knew the reporters feared not the escalation of the situation; they feared it wouldn’t escalate. They questioned the protesting workers loudly, and during the opening and closing of the hotel doors, their voices drifted in.

Then, seeing the temporary Speaker of the Senate, he proactively approached, "It’s a great honor to have invited you...."

Bail Federal’s Congress is an exceptionally unique institution. When the President’s authority hasn’t yet peaked, Congress’s power is evidently higher than the sitting President’s, especially in the first four years. After four years, as the President reaches the peak of his power, even Congress must make concessions when confronting the President.

The current President is still "dangerous." Clearly, Congress wields more power, so the Deputy Director’s humble demeanor was quite ordinary.

Yet the temporary Speaker was notably displeased, openly showing his annoyance. "I hope this isn’t a decision to regret. Deal with the situation outside quickly!"

With that, he casually shook hands with the Deputy Director before coldly walking into the hall, leaving the Deputy Director bewildered in place.

Less than a minute later, his assistant returned from outside with a worried look, whispering something in his ear, instantly making his expression frightening.

He didn’t show a grimace, nor did his facial muscles twitch. He was hardly different from any other time, yet everyone could sense something terrible from his face.