【Full Steam Ahead】S0……
ural challenges. At the sa ti, I see the hope this festival represents: wall''''s tourisand catering industries are being increasingly vital pillars of the local ey."
"They y seetradictory, but I believe these two things st be viewed together. Because we ot celebrate the result on the dinner plate while fetting where it all begins," Charles''''s tone was sincere. "We st aowledge that an industry that ot guarahe dignity and livelihood of its producers is not sustainable. We st ehat when we cheer for wall''''s wonderful food, the fruits of this prosperity are truly returo the people who brave the waves t it to us."
"This seafood festival, its aning should be re than just a feast for the palate. It should be a declaration, a window to the world showing how wall perfectly blend tradition with the future, ecology with ey. It''''s difficult, and it will be a long road, but it is the only right path. So today, let us work together, to ehat the bounty on our plates today tinue for the geion..."
"Bounty? We barely afford fuel for our boats, Minister!" It was young ToPenrose who shouted first.
"He''''s lying!"
"He''''s in league with the"
A otioed frothe back of the crowd. The fishern began to push forward, while tourists looked on, fused and alard, bag away.
The dia sward like sharks slling blood.
"Please, everyone, caldown! That''''s not what I ant... I an, the fruits of this labour..."
Charles instantly realised he''''d used the wrong word and tried to explain, but he was cut off.
A ddle-aged fisherwon in an oilskin apron, her face a sk of fury, had pushed her way to the front, holding a wicker basket. Before anyone could react, she hurled its tents—a basketful of wet seaweed—at the stage.
"Celebrate this, Mihis is the only ''''bounty'''' we have today!"
A cold slap, a briny stench, and sli liquid dripping frohis hair.
The se erupted into chaos. The sound of cara shutters was a tinuous roar, flashes of light blinding, instantly capturing the huliating nt.
Cyril, his face pale, was the first to react. He rushed onto the stage, using his body to shield Charles frothe caras, fuling in his pocket for a handkerchief. He tried to wipe the ss off Charles while ushering hitowards the back.
The fishern in the distance began to jeer, a xture of cheers and catcalls that was even re jarring.
---
In a tent serving as a keshift backstage area, Cyril was using a da towel to the stains off Charles.
Charles said nothing, his lips pressed into a tight line.
The tent flap was thrown open, and Mr. Laert, the Director of the Tourist Board, stuled in. The ruddy glow was gone frohis face, replaced by a post-disaster pallor and a deeply plex expression—a xture of horror, apology, and a certain... relief that he couldn''''t quite ceal.
"Minister! My God, Minister!" he cried, rushing over to Charles, his voice treling with agitation.
Charles, assung he was here to plain about the rui, began, "I aso sorry, Mr. Laert, the chaos out there..."
"No! No, no! Please, you stn''''t bla yourself!" Laert interrupted, his to it was alst rude.
He gla Charles''''s discarded suit jacket, a flicker of awkward syathy crossing his face, but it was quickly replaced by a re pressiion. "Minister, you... you y not be aware... just now, just before you were... well, before that unfortunate i, I received an ergency call frothe Chairn of the ty cil."
Charles and Cyril both froze.
Laert caught his breath and explained rapidly, "He said people frothe Departnt of the Enviro... I don''''t know why, but they suddenly called to question our ''''Public Safety Assessnt'''' and ''''Historic Structure Iact Report'''' for the festival. They eve an urgent official letter of inquiry. Said our breakwater was a safety hazard, that it ght... collapse uhe weight of the crowd."
"They threateh
"They y seetradictory, but I believe these two things st be viewed together. Because we ot celebrate the result on the dinner plate while fetting where it all begins," Charles''''s tone was sincere. "We st aowledge that an industry that ot guarahe dignity and livelihood of its producers is not sustainable. We st ehat when we cheer for wall''''s wonderful food, the fruits of this prosperity are truly returo the people who brave the waves t it to us."
"This seafood festival, its aning should be re than just a feast for the palate. It should be a declaration, a window to the world showing how wall perfectly blend tradition with the future, ecology with ey. It''''s difficult, and it will be a long road, but it is the only right path. So today, let us work together, to ehat the bounty on our plates today tinue for the geion..."
"Bounty? We barely afford fuel for our boats, Minister!" It was young ToPenrose who shouted first.
"He''''s lying!"
"He''''s in league with the"
A otioed frothe back of the crowd. The fishern began to push forward, while tourists looked on, fused and alard, bag away.
The dia sward like sharks slling blood.
"Please, everyone, caldown! That''''s not what I ant... I an, the fruits of this labour..."
Charles instantly realised he''''d used the wrong word and tried to explain, but he was cut off.
A ddle-aged fisherwon in an oilskin apron, her face a sk of fury, had pushed her way to the front, holding a wicker basket. Before anyone could react, she hurled its tents—a basketful of wet seaweed—at the stage.
"Celebrate this, Mihis is the only ''''bounty'''' we have today!"
A cold slap, a briny stench, and sli liquid dripping frohis hair.
The se erupted into chaos. The sound of cara shutters was a tinuous roar, flashes of light blinding, instantly capturing the huliating nt.
Cyril, his face pale, was the first to react. He rushed onto the stage, using his body to shield Charles frothe caras, fuling in his pocket for a handkerchief. He tried to wipe the ss off Charles while ushering hitowards the back.
The fishern in the distance began to jeer, a xture of cheers and catcalls that was even re jarring.
---
In a tent serving as a keshift backstage area, Cyril was using a da towel to the stains off Charles.
Charles said nothing, his lips pressed into a tight line.
The tent flap was thrown open, and Mr. Laert, the Director of the Tourist Board, stuled in. The ruddy glow was gone frohis face, replaced by a post-disaster pallor and a deeply plex expression—a xture of horror, apology, and a certain... relief that he couldn''''t quite ceal.
"Minister! My God, Minister!" he cried, rushing over to Charles, his voice treling with agitation.
Charles, assung he was here to plain about the rui, began, "I aso sorry, Mr. Laert, the chaos out there..."
"No! No, no! Please, you stn''''t bla yourself!" Laert interrupted, his to it was alst rude.
He gla Charles''''s discarded suit jacket, a flicker of awkward syathy crossing his face, but it was quickly replaced by a re pressiion. "Minister, you... you y not be aware... just now, just before you were... well, before that unfortunate i, I received an ergency call frothe Chairn of the ty cil."
Charles and Cyril both froze.
Laert caught his breath and explained rapidly, "He said people frothe Departnt of the Enviro... I don''''t know why, but they suddenly called to question our ''''Public Safety Assessnt'''' and ''''Historic Structure Iact Report'''' for the festival. They eve an urgent official letter of inquiry. Said our breakwater was a safety hazard, that it ght... collapse uhe weight of the crowd."
"They threateh