While Duncan and Alice were heading to the cemetery, Morris and Vanna were not idle either. They came to the "Citizen Help Center" in the southern part of the upper city early in the morning to complete a task assigned by Duncan - to find a stable and legal place to stay in the Frost City-State. If possible, it would be best to have one or two identities that allow them to appear in public.
After all, they might be active in this city-state for a long time, and they can't just live in hiding like those cultists.
Considering that the informants that Tirian left in the city were no longer reliable, Morris decided to find a solution himself.
Frost's Citizen Help Center is a large dome-shaped building with two long side buildings extending out from the main body. Although it is called a Citizen Help Center, this building is actually also used to receive visitors entering the city-state and undertake a large amount of third-party intermediary work, from house rental and sale registration, to the issuance of temporary passes, to the short-term employment of maids, gardeners, and laundry workers, almost all of which can be completed here - its long side buildings are filled with various registration windows and offices, and the huge dome-shaped building is a hall that is always noisy and bustling with people, which is very different from Plande.
As soon as you enter the huge dome building, the heat hits you in the face. The Frost's unique high-pressure heating device dispels the winter chill, and the bright electric lights hanging high on the dome make the entire building brightly lit.
It has only been a short time since the opening, but many people have already poured in. Citizens seeking short-term jobs or registering for housing rentals are walking between countless windows and counters. The noisy voices are mixed with the "clicks" and "hissing" sounds of the air flow pipes constantly starting up. Duncan is obviously not used to the environment here. While carefully avoiding the crowds around him, he whispered to Alice: "In Plande, the human resources and housing rental counters are not placed in the same building."
"You have to consider the cost of heating large buildings and the time it takes to renovate a cold pump exchange station," Alice shook her head. "Most of the city's basic municipal facilities were left over from the Frost Queen's era, but that glorious era is over. After the Great Rebellion, the Frost City-State relied on the boiling gold industry to barely recover 40% of its former vitality, but it is not easy to renovate the underground pipeline system and steam power network left by the Queen from scratch."
"So we're just going to keep using it?" Duncan's eyes widened. "This is an antique from half a century ago!"
"What else?" Morris sighed. "On the one hand, there is the decline of the city, on the other hand, there is population pressure, and the collapse of the sea cliff has led to a reduction in the habitable area... The facilities built half a century ago may be a bit cramped now, but at least they are sufficient. Since they are sufficient, let's continue to use them..."
In fact, this is not only a problem for Frost, but also a problem for many old industrial city-states. Cities as vibrant as Plande are rare. "
A long wooden counter was placed against the wall, divided into several grids by iron fences in the middle. Behind each grid sat a clerk in a gray-blue uniform - the expressions on their faces were as stiff as the iron fences beside them, and they obviously intended to maintain such expressions until the end of the work day.
"We arrived here on a ghost ship that is not tolerated by the world. You know, normal procedures will never solve this problem," Duncan said in a low voice, with a hint of laughter in his tone, "Extraordinary times call for extraordinary measures."
"... What do I think is the possibility that Mr. Duncan can obtain a legal ship registration certificate for the Lost Homeland?"
Morris, however, looked calm and spread his hands. "It was lost. It might have been lost when we left the dock. The ship also left."
Duncan frowned and looked up at Morris.
Morris's expression, which had just relaxed, looked a little awkward, while Duncan next to him touched the tip of his nose and turned his head away calmly.
Duncan looked at the sighing Morris with a half-smile. This was the first time in his life that he saw such a worried expression on the face of this old scholar who sometimes praised himself for "rigorous scholarship and adherence to rules". It seemed... quite interesting.
"But I have something else," Mo
As Reese spoke, he rummaged through his pockets and pulled out a folded document and a small booklet with a dark red cover and handed them over. "It should be able to serve as legal identification."
"...Okay," Morris sighed, looking at the certificate in his hand, "Shirley, don't know about this - next time I encounter this situation, I would rather make a real ticket first."
While talking, Morris found the location of the floating population registration counter on the dazzling route guide map above the hall. He and the tall Duncan moved in and out of the crowd.
Finally, I arrived at a relatively quiet counter.
The clerk in the cubicle immediately stopped what he was doing, raised his head, and said with a hint of displeasure on his poker face: "That won't work. We need documents to prove it. Go back to the dock and get them."
"Which pier?" The sallow-faced middle-aged clerk raised his eyelids and glanced at the old man opposite him. When he noticed that there was a 1.8-meter-tall man standing behind the old man, he was obviously stunned for a moment, but the next second he returned to his official tone, "Show me the pier certificate and the boat ticket."
The clerk waved his hands subconsciously: "Without the dock certificate, it won't work. Nothing else..."
He saw the mark on the booklet and stopped talking. He then reached out and opened the folded document, his eyes sweeping over it.
Morris sighed and looked at the middle-aged clerk in front of him who was obviously a little nervous but still looking straight at him.
"The academic pass issued by the Truth Academy and the Infinite Sea Navigation Council allows the holder to stay and visit all city-states protected by the righteous gods. During the stay, the local city-state university under the Truth Academy will automatically
"As a guarantor," Morris said, pointing to the small red book, "This is my ID, a degree from the Academy of Truth and a double certificate in theology, and my rank is professor."
The poker-like expression changed instantly.
Morris had a look of relief on his face.
The middle-aged clerk with a sallow face was stunned for a while, finally raised his head slowly, looking a little at a loss: "Uh... Good morning, Professor Morris... Nice to meet you, your identity is of course legal.
But the clerk paused, as if he was very conflicted, and said stubbornly: "But... I at least need to know which ship you are on. This is... the rule."
"You need to know which ship I was on," he sighed, a gleam in his eyes, "I need a certificate."
The clerk was stunned for a moment, as if there was a trance in his eyes, then he lowered his head and began to operate the clicking punch machine, and put the punched cards into the pressure pipe container next to the counter.
"We need a residence permit and a short-term rental," Morris said to the sallow-faced middle-aged man in one of the cubicles, sitting down on a creaking iron chair. "We just landed today."
A moment later, accompanied by the hissing and clicking sounds in the pipe, the card sent back from an approval office deep in the building was sent back to the counter.
The clerk inserted the punch card into the small reading machine, confirmed the receipt number and anti-counterfeiting password, and then began to write the content required for the certification document. At the same time, without looking up, he said: "I can only issue a certification document here. You need to take the certification document to the west building and find window A-12. There should be a short-term rental house that meets your requirements."
"Thank you," Morris took the opened document, paused, and muttered softly, "Sorry."
After saying that, he and Duncan quickly left the counter and walked towards the next window.
"This is the first time I've done this," the old man couldn't help but lower his voice and said, "I was planning to rely on the normal paperwork process to handle this..."
"what do you think?"
Duncan fell silent.
At the same time, Agatha, who had just started the on-site investigation and had not yet had time to return to the cathedral, received urgent intelligence from her subordinates from Cemetery No. 3 on the way.
A letter of complaint—from the unspeakable visitor.
As soon as I left, the letter was delivered to the cemetery.
Should I lament this accidental missed opportunity, or should I lament the strange behavior of the "visitor"
Sitting in the steam carriage, Agatha looked at the letter that had just been delivered to her, and her eyes gradually became a little dull.
Unease spread in my heart, and something suddenly seemed urgent.
He put the letter away and thought rapidly in his mind.
"Turn and go to East Port."
The subordinate driving in front was a little surprised: "Aren't we going to the cathedral first?"
"The plan has changed. Let's go to East Harbor first," Agatha said firmly. "I have a good feeling... something might want to take advantage of the opportunity to land."
The subordinate who was driving was confused, but his instinct to obey orders made him quickly suppress his doubts.
The pitch-black steam train accelerated at the next intersection, turned, and then sped towards the port area in the east of the city-state.