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April twenty-fifth.
Londan Port.
Wayne found himself standing at the port at night. He took a deep breath and said contentedly, “After all the air I’ve breathed, the smog here still hits the spot the most.”
Compared to Prussia, the land of loyalty, and Rus Federation, the land of stoicism, Windsor was positively mediocre in every way except for betrayal and inhuman deeds. However, Wayne knew Windsor as a good country, with the best Francan food and the best Francan jokes.
As illustrated by the common greeting, Are you from Franc?
It was eight o’clock at night, with faint fog permeating the air.
Since Wayne claimed the secret weapon of the royal family, the mist that had had Londan in a chokehold at night had become much thinner, allowing the Eastern District and the Southern District, where the economic foundation was relatively lacking, to grow more and more prosperous. On the streets, workers heading to factories for overtime could be seen in groups.
Such was the way capitalists operated. When thick mist made outings difficult at night and curfew was effectively in place, they couldn’t adjust working hours to have two shifts around the clock. Now that the mist was no more, and the curfew lifted, they naturally had to have their...
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