Chapter 1585 - 1491: Awakening
Chapter 1585: Chapter 1491: Awakening
A month and a half later.
Adorno leaned against the mottled wall, looking up in the direction of home, his emaciated body trembling slightly.
He wasn’t sure if it was because of hunger or the shock from today’s events.
He worked in a lumber mill, responsible for stripping the bark off freshly delivered logs.
Earlier today around six in the evening, he was so exhausted that his ax slipped from his hand, narrowly missing Havier’s nose and striking the wall.
He felt as though he was pinned down by cold fear.
If that ax had been even slightly off, he would surely be thrown into jail now. Tomorrow there’d be no one to buy bread for Karen and the children.
They might soon starve to death, or perhaps choose to hang their necks from the ceiling like Old Host...
Adorno shook his head vigorously, trying to rid himself of those thoughts, but the intense movement only brought more to mind.
Perhaps tomorrow, a co-worker would be weak enough to let go of the ax, smashing his own head.
Or perhaps one day, when he returned home, he’d find Karen already dead. Disease and hunger had tortured her into a breathing skeleton.
Or he himself might fall ill...
A vision of the wooden sign in front of the bakery suddenly appeared in his mind, as if the numbers on it had changed again.
Adorno felt a chill run through him, staring intently at the gloomy, sticky street in front of him, his throat issuing a low growl: "I’ve had enough!"
He repeated the words, his feet starting to shuffle once more.
When he was half a block from home, a black figure suddenly appeared next to a pillar on his left, then walked straight toward him.
Adorno had no reaction; one, he had no strength to resist, and two, he was certain he had nothing worth stealing.
Unexpectedly, the man didn’t rob him but shoved a piece of paper into his hand, leaving only the words, "For freedom and bread," before turning to leave.
Adorno instinctively wanted to throw the flyer away. He knew it was the city’s Liberals stirring trouble, and the officials posted many notices saying that contacting these people could land you in jail.
Yet for some reason, he was intrigued by the word "bread" mentioned by the man in black.
He hesitantly waved the paper: "Will there really be bread?"
The man in black stopped and nodded: "Of course, but we have to fight for it ourselves."
"Fight for...what?"
The man looked around before lowering his voice: "Tomorrow evening at six-thirty, go to the Mud Street Cafe."
Adorno returned the flyer: "I can’t read."
He knew he couldn’t go to that place.
He needed adequate rest, or he wouldn’t be able to work the next day, which would mean losing wages.
Besides, he wouldn’t even be off work by six-thirty.
The next morning, as usual, Adorno went to the bakery. Thank Jesus, 15 Crowns still bought 4 pounds 3 ounces of black bread.
Karen was getting weaker, now unable to eat more than 1 pound, which meant just barely enough food for Gretel.
Just as Adorno was about to head back with the bread, he overheard a young man exclaim by the roadside, "Defeated by the Swiss? How is that possible!"
Another well-dressed man solemnly responded, "General Mikhailovich was ambushed by tens of thousands of enemy troops in Eastern Mute, losing over 7,000 soldiers."
"Where did Switzerland get such a large army?!"
"They say it was some people from Wurttemberg and Bavaria..."
Adorno’s mind buzzed, nearly dropping the bread to the ground.
He didn’t understand war, but he knew that if the Empire’s troops suffered in Switzerland, the Emperor would definitely send more soldiers to defeat the enemy.
And that would require more money—from a new war-related tax.
Last time, when the Empire sent reinforcements to Switzerland, they did just that.
He spent the whole day troubled.
After paying taxes and rent each month, he barely had 8 florins left. If the tax increased, even by just 20 Crowns, it would mean a day and a half without food for him and his family.
Moreover, the Emperor’s Tax Officer would likely demand more than just 20 Crowns...
After work, Adorno dragged his exhausted, numb body to the alley where he had encountered the man in black the day before.
He suddenly felt fearful, afraid of seeing a new tax notice at the street corner.
He dared not move forward, and after struggling for several minutes, he inexplicably remembered the "Mud Street Cafe".
Although it was past seven, perhaps the Liberals were still there.
There might indeed be a way to get bread there.
As for freedom, he wasn’t particularly interested.
The dimly lit cafe was packed tight, with the smell of smoke and sweat so thick it was almost tangible. Adorno estimated there were at least a hundred people.
He chose a spot near the door, just in case the Secret Police showed up so he could make a quick escape.
A young man in a dark gray coat stood on the counter, speaking about something.
His voice wasn’t loud, but it was filled with gunpowder-like strength: "Listen, the Emperor is throwing tens of millions of florins into Switzerland, which has nothing to do with us.
"The diplomats, to save his face, spend millions each year to appease the Southern German States.
"Do you know what’s most ridiculous?
"Those countries use the money given by the Emperor to aid Switzerland. Yes, Mikhailovich was defeated by weapons bought with that money!"
He scanned the crowd in the cafe: "And we are to spend our last pennies on meaningless diplomacy and politics, our children going hungry for the Emperor’s pride!
"Yes, the Emperor says he will reform, ha.
"You have to bribe the officials to get into those so-called free schools. Wealthy factory owners make big profits and still receive substantial government subsidies, yes, the money comes from our taxes. The Nobles have all kinds of tax-exemption privileges!
"And we, working 14 to 16 hours a day, can only get just enough black bread not to starve."
Someone angrily exclaimed through the smoke: "That’s unfair!"
"Yes! That’s absolutely unfair!" the young man on the counter said, "So we must change all this."
He pulled out a book, holding it above his head: "This is what we need, you might have heard of it, the ’Bible’ from France, it’s called the ’Declaration of Human Rights’!
"We must make the master of Schonbrunn Palace see our anger, be awed by our strength, and ultimately agree to grant the rights in this book to each of us!"
The young man then began to read from the ’Declaration of Human Rights’.
Every time he finished reading a line, the cafe erupted in cheers.