Chapter 1586 - 1492: Night at the Café
Chapter 1586: Chapter 1492: Night at the Café
(ps. There will be a bonus Chapter next month, please save a monthly ticket for the upcoming release.)
"... In terms of rights, people are born and remain free and equal..."
The words spoken by the young man fell into the murky air of the café, like hard stones shattering the ice layer on the river’s surface.
Adorno had heard similar words before when he was in the countryside, and the name "Rousseau" often appeared alongside them.
Back then, these words were nailed to the pillar of shame. The lords said these things were poison, the whisper of the Devil, listening to them would drive one insane, and even cause the whole body to fester.
Adorno leaned against the doorframe, suddenly recalling the afternoon when he first arrived in Vienna.
He was so tired that day, he didn’t notice he was walking too close to the wall, blocking the path of an approaching noble lord.
The servant beside the lord kicked him hard in the knee, cursing loudly for him to kneel and apologize.
Without any hesitation, he knelt on the sticky ground. Everyone on the street looked over, yet no one felt something was amiss.
Yes, he was just a country bumpkin, how could he block the path of a Vienna lord?
However, the young man’s words gave Adorno a different thought—
But why? Why should he be kneeling just because he was born a serf? Even the noble French said people are born equal, so he shouldn’t be kneeling in the muddy water pleading for the nobles’ forgiveness for a mistake that didn’t exist!
The reciting from the counter interrupted Adorno’s thoughts, "The purpose of all government is to preserve people’s natural and inalienable rights. These rights are freedom, property, and safety..."
Property?
What came to Adorno’s mind wasn’t his broken house in the countryside, nor the land that belonged to the landlord, but Karen’s small copper kettle.
It was her only valuable dowry, and also her mother’s and grandmother’s dowry. The bottom had been patched twice, yet Karen always kept it polished brightly, like a treasure.
Until the second month after the Emperor sent troops to Switzerland, the visiting tax officer put it in his pocket like something of his own.
Because at that time he didn’t know that the Emperor had added a war tax, and he hadn’t saved this money from his monthly wages.
Karen’s treasure was offset against the tax as valued at 35 Kroiser by the tax officer.
That night Karen’s eyes were as empty as a winter wheat field, and then she kept crying, saying it was bought by her great-grandfather for nearly two florins back then.
The tax officer said it was the Emperor’s order.
Adorno gripped the doorframe tightly, anger surging in his chest.
The Emperor wanted to fight a war, why take his family’s copper kettle? Those noble lords had heaps of silver kettles, even golden ones, why not have them give their things!
"No one should be treated differently because of his property, views, or beliefs..."
Adorno’s breath halted for a moment.
He remembered that he had always been a serf by the dung heaps, then a "donkey" at that lumber workshop...
Could it be that one day, he could be treated the same as the noble lords?
He suddenly felt something churning in his stomach, a feeling deeper and hotter than hunger, almost making him unable to resist shouting.
At this moment, a low yet urgent voice outside interrupted the recitation of the "Declaration of Human Rights," "Mr. Stephens, there are secret police..."
The young man at the counter froze, then jumped down.
Soon, the café door was kicked open.
It was the kind that broke the whole door along with the hinges.
The cold night wind ushered in ten or so people wearing gray coats, with pistols or swords strapped to their waists, their boots clacking on the floor with a sound like a heart pounding.
The leader flipped open his collar, revealing the badge beneath, it was Vienna Secret Police.
The subordinate beside him immediately pointed at the people in the café and shouted: "Stay where you are, otherwise you will be arrested."
The young man who had been speaking at the counter had moved to the fireplace by now, throwing the booklet in his hand into the hearth.
The secret police chief’s gaze sliced over like a knife, shouting sternly: "What are you doing?!"
Two secret police pushed through the crowd with sword scabbards, only to see blackened and curled book pages under the licking flames.
"Stop him!"
The secret police chief yelled.
One secret police hurriedly grabbed a nearby fire poker and reached into the hearth, trying to retrieve the burning booklet.
Stephens’ face turned pale. He knew very well that the "Declaration of Human Rights" was a first-class banned book by the government, just a glance would land one in prison. Public dissemination, however, would be directly sentenced to death by hanging.
He gritted his teeth, suddenly lunging towards the fireplace, desperately pressing down on the flickering book with his hands, the smell of burnt flesh immediately overwhelming the scent of tobacco in the café.
"Damn it!" The secret police chief, seeing his men dazed, rushed up a few steps, grabbed a chair, and smashed it on Stephens’ shoulder.
Stephens, a teacher weak from years of desk work, couldn’t withstand such a heavy blow, screaming as he collapsed to the side.
Finally, a secret police retrieved the booklet with the fire poker, frantically beating out the flames.
After a moment, the fire was out.
The secret police chief squatted, took the fire poker, and with the tip, flipped open the ashes to reveal a remnant page.
Immediately, his lips curled up slowly, like a vulture seeing a corpse: "Excellent. This is indeed a first-class banned book.
"According to the Empire’s special security decree of 1801, anyone printing, disseminating, or hiding such items will be charged with treason."
He stood up, brushed the ash from his sleeve, and signaled his subordinates to gather the evidence, then smiled as he surveyed the people in the café: "I’m pleased to inform everyone here that each of you will be judged as accomplices."
With his words, more secret police flooded in at the door.
The café was silent for a few seconds, then suddenly erupted in sharp screams and curses.
First, two people speaking Hungarian cursed something, rushing towards the nearest secret police. Then a shoemaker overturned a table, blocking the policeman in front of him.
"We did nothing wrong!" Stephens struggled to lift his upper body, shouting desperately, "Everyone, don’t be afraid, these Emperor’s dogs have no right to arrest us! Rush out quickly!"
His words reminded people, immediately a middle-aged woman grabbed a coffee pot and struck a secret police’s head.
More people were inspired, starting to wrestle with the secret police.
The leading policeman frowned, drew his pistol, aiming not at the sky, but at the woman who first acted, forcefully pulling the trigger.
A booming "bang."
The woman was lifted by the immense force and then fell like a sack, her chest was already a patch of black.