Five Hundred and Twenty REBIRTH VIII: Unity Is a False Proposition

"Mr. Tuka, this should be the township office, right?"

Looking at the red and white four-story building in front of him, Mr. Burlon asked uncertainly.

Mailang Township is very prosperous.

As the administrative seat of Tahara District, the naturalized population alone exceeds 1,000, almost reaching the total population of the remaining two townships or nine villages. Mr. Boclon is dazzled by the sight of people coming and going on the street.

Mr. Tuka nodded, pointed to the row of houses and said: "The street is the chapel, the middle is the district hall, and the end of the street is the township office. This is the most convenient notation for this street."

"The district hall in the middle? That white building with the blue roof?"

"That's right, did you see the flag on the top of the building? That's the regional flag of Tahara District. It seems that you can only see it here and at the city hall."

Mr. Boclone suddenly realized, but he was full of doubts besides understanding.

"Why is the district hall not as large as the town hall?"

"It's not because of the township meeting." Mr. Tuka pouted, "I told you, the meeting will announce the donations of each household to the village, right?"

Mr. Boclone nodded.

"At that time, the lawyer used Mailang Township as an example. Their township meeting will be held on the 20th of next month, but the time was announced two months ago. Mr. Ferrero, the rich man of Mailang Township, issued a ticket for one gold coin. Election subsidies, and 3,000 gold coins were invested in the township fund, and the building was built in a hurry."

"Three... three thousand?" Mr. Burlon couldn't imagine the appearance of such a large sum of money, and asked dumbfoundedly, "then he is sure to win?"

"Not necessarily." Mr. Tuka stomped the slate floor under his feet, "This slate street and the fountain square we just passed were donated by another rich man, Mr. Aulas, and his election subsidy was also one gold coin one."

"Competing for money..."

"After all, the election law supports it."

Mr. Boclone swallowed: "Mr. Tuca, that election subsidy, if someone breaks the promise..."

"It's impossible for such a thing to happen." Tuka smiled. "The lawyer told me that the person who announced the subsidy must hand over the money equivalent to the unanimous election to the preparatory committee one week before the election, and the poll inspectors will distribute it on the spot. No Candidates who submit, or undersubmit, are made public so that they almost lose their chances of being selected."

"It's really thoughtful." Bocron's voice was filled with envy.

"No wonder you're calling the convention before the rich move in."

"Well." Tuka sighed helplessly, "Compared with rich people, our promise is too weak."

Boclon suddenly thought of something: "Mr. Tuka, before I came here, I heard from the village chief Arhan that Farm No. 3 has been sold. If the rich man moves into the village before our meeting..."

"The villagers' assembly has been confirmed, and the person who moved in later cannot be changed. But he can propose subsidies, donate in a few days, or run for the committee, or even run for the chairman."

"If he is elected chairman, will he deny the village agreement we drafted?"

"The chairman of the committee can't restrict the villagers from speaking, and he only has one vote when voting. As long as we are united, he can't change anything." Tuka clenched his fists as if to cheer himself up, "As long as we are united, when we vote to judge victory or defeat , we can always have the final say.”

Baclon fell silent.

Unity is a false proposition, because if the poor were really united, the rich would never win elections, let alone chair committees.

He suddenly remembered what Arhan had said when he suggested that they hire a lawyer.

[I know what you want, but you can't say it well, only a lawyer can put away your demands and let the village appointment go in the direction you want].

At that time, Boclone could simply think that Arhan was worried that they, the peasants, were not good at expressing themselves. Now that he recalled it, he realized that the meaning of his words was completely different. see.

He suddenly felt overwhelmed.

Six gold coins may mean nothing to those rich people, but they are a lot of money to those poor people who have experienced leaving their homes and relying on the immigration subsidies from the Drake Chamber of Commerce to feed their children. One...in case...

"Mr. Tulla, is the lawyer really able to collect what we want?"

"I don't know." Tula's voice was low, "But if you do it, you will at least have a chance. If you don't do it... Why did we leave our hometown?"

For a better life!

Bokron didn't say this, but Tulla confirmed his answer through his eyes.

Tu La patted him heavily on the shoulder and laughed: "Go, find a lawyer."

Bacron nodded heavily: "Mr. Tulla, where is the lawyer?"

"There are two lawyers in Mailang Township. One of them is located near Fountain Square, but the fees are very high. A simple consultation costs twenty or thirty gold, and we cannot afford to hire one."

"The other's office is in the township office, and the fee is very cheap, only one-tenth of the previous one, and the word-of-mouth difference between the two parties is almost the same, at least not as big as the price difference."

This kind of strange thing has long been heard by Boclon these days.

He smiled knowingly: "I understand, that lawyer must have been arranged by the Drake Chamber of Commerce for poor people like us. Just like those good deeds, he mainly gets subsidies from the Chamber of Commerce, right?"

"Is this..." Tuka scratched his head embarrassingly, "There seems to be a little difference."

"difference?"

"According to Mr. Lawyer himself, his job is the accountant of the township office, and he is a professional financial accountant with accounting qualifications. As for the problem of low fees for legal services, part-time jobs are not the main reason. More importantly, he seems to have not obtained a legal degree. Qualifications for..."

Bokron's mind couldn't turn a corner all of a sudden: "The lack of professional qualifications means..."

"It means that the court has never recognized his status as a lawyer."

"puff!"

...

The fake lawyer is the real accountant, and the work in the township office adds a very important sense of credibility to this barefoot doctor-like identity. What's more, the residents of Elk Grove can't afford a second legal consultant besides him .

For various reasons, Burrone quickly chose to trust in his heart.

The two registered in the foyer of the township office, entered the small building to find a lawyer, and met a large group of Indians coming out of a large conference room on the way.

Whether it was an illusion or not, Boclon felt the dignified and tense atmosphere.

The Indians walking in front wore black feather crowns, painted their faces with oil paint, looked gloomy, and kept strangers away.

The Indians walking behind exude a familiar aura of a civilized society. A group of people guard the particularly tall young man in the middle, keeping a subtle distance of three or four steps from the black feathers in the front team, not so much as seeing him off. It's better to say it's escort.

Tula dragged Bokron quickly to the side, lowered his head, and watched the two groups of people pass by.

The crowd goes away...

The moment the large army was about to turn out of sight, Bokron suddenly heard soft voices and whispers from the wind.

"Oldman, if the gang of Kuroba insist on choosing war, shall we..."

"You don't need to do anything, the crude assassination will only make the natives of Florida feel the same hatred." Drogo shook his head slightly, "As for the naive declaration of war by the Black Feather Department, I will report to the president immediately."

"As far as I know, he and Manager Xavier have always had a plan for this group of grumpy good neighbors."

"yes……"

The intermittent voice finally dissipated here, and only Tulla and Boclon remained in the bright corridor, huddled by the corridor, looking at each other.

Boclon looked at his companions in horror: "Mr. Tullah, the Indians...war?"

"Calm down, Monsieur Boclone, calm down!"

Tulla swallowed heavily.

"These two groups of Indians may just choose the township office to negotiate, just like the war of independence chose to negotiate in Paris a few years ago..."

"Besides, Miami and the Indian Plains are separated by the wide Miami River. Their war should not be burned on our heads..."

"Also...and..." He slumped his shoulders dejectedly, "I think...we need to listen to Manager Arhan's opinion carefully. Go back after finishing the draft, damn it, this is big news..."