CHAPTER 581: THE AFTERMATH OF THE REBELLION 2

TL: Rui88

Alda’s prisons were different from those in other places. With the explosive growth of fiscal revenue in recent years, the lord, Count Paul Grayman, had instructed the Department of Public Safety to carry out a series of renovations on the prisons.

The prisons of other lords were often dark and damp, never seeing the sun year-round. When you walked inside, a rotten, turbid, and nauseating stench would assault your nostrils, stimulating your brain as if you had been struck by a club. These terrible smells often came from decaying objects, the feces or rotting wounds of prisoners, or even from bodies that had not been dealt with in time. Even if you could endure the smell itself, the poor ventilation would always leave you feeling as if there was not enough air to breathe. Not only that, but the prisons were often infested with rats, cockroaches, and lice. These unwelcome creatures made their homes and multiplied here. You would see a rat scurry past your eyes from time to time, and if you did not leave promptly, you would most likely contribute to the expansion of the cockroaches’ and lice’s living space…often to your own quarters.

But after the renovations personally supervised by Paul, Alda’s prisons had practically become a paradise in the eyes of those mortals serving sentences in traditional prisons…if they were fortunate enough to see it. Every cell had a small iron window for ventilation, and it also ensured that natural light could shine in for a period of time each day. The prison floors were paved flat with bricks and stones, and the walls…both in the corridors and the prisoners’ cells…were coated with a layer of chalk powder. Even if the window faced away from the sun, the reflection of light prevented it from being too dim during the day.

The prison’s hygiene requirements were almost draconian. There were fixed toilets, and the prisoners in each cell were required to keep their living quarters tidy. A major cleanup was organized every month. Each prisoner was issued three sets of standard-issue prison uniforms upon arrival and was required to change their clothes at least once a week and bathe twice. Rats, cockroaches, and lice were treated as major enemies, and any trace of them discovered would be met with a full-scale assault.

The prisoners got up at 6:30 every morning for roll call and were taken to the courtyard for morning exercises. Breakfast was at 7:30, and they began their labor at 8:30. They had lunch at 12:00, continued their labor at 1:00 PM, and had dinner at 6:00 PM. After dinner, they did handicrafts. At 9:00 PM, their labor ended, and they could rest and apply for a bath. They had to be in bed by 10:30 PM.

To outsiders, Alda’s prison seemed almost like a scaled-down version of Alda’s military barracks. In fact, after several years of detention, many prisoners’ physiques and temperaments had actually improved due to the years of physical training and regular routines.

Tennyson Fajeyev was hammering a nail into an already-formed high stool. His task for the day was to assemble fifty of these stools.

“Hey! Student boy! Want me to help?” someone around him asked mockingly. Physical bullying by inmates was strictly forbidden in Alda’s prison, and violators would face severe punishment, but it could not stop some people from running their mouths.

Tennyson ignored them. He raised his head, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and planned to take a short break. Just then, he heard someone call his name.

“Tennyson!”

The prison guard…who seemed to be the warden here…whom he had only seen a few times, was approaching him, accompanied by a guard.

The other inmates consciously distanced themselves from Tennyson. If this fellow was in for bad luck, they did not want to be implicated.

“Tennyson Fajeyev?” The warden stood before him, studying his face.

“Yes, my lord, I am Tennyson.” He was a little scared. He was already unlucky enough; could there be even greater misfortune awaiting him?

Terrible memories resurfaced in Tennyson’s mind. That day, he had just finished preparing the acid his teacher had requested in the laboratory when a group of fierce-looking police officers rushed in and handcuffed him, saying he had participated in a rebellion. A baffled Tennyson was taken to this godforsaken place. The Department of Public Safety and the Department of Intelligence interrogated him repeatedly, and only then did he learn that his family had been involved in a rebellion against the lord. Members of his family were being held in a labor camp that had previously housed mercenary prisoners. Tennyson, who knew nothing, naturally did not yield any useful information during the interrogation. However, he was not released despite his innocence. Instead, he was ordered to work here every day. His hands, which had often been burned by experimental chemicals, had developed a layer of calluses from the labor.

The warden patted him on the shoulder and said with a deadpan expression, “Congratulations to you, Mr. Tennyson Fajeyev, you are about to be free.”

“I… I can get out?” The sudden good news left Tennyson at a loss.

“Yes, your teacher has come to pick you up. Come with me.”

“My teacher? Is it Master Wells?”

“Yes, hurry up and follow me!” The warden turned and left after speaking.

Hearing that Tennyson was to be released, the surrounding prisoners all cast envious, even jealous, glances at the fellow they mockingly called “student boy.” What a lucky kid. How did he end up with such a considerate and powerful teacher?

His heart pounding with excitement, Tennyson closely followed the warden’s steps and, in the prison’s reception room, saw his teacher, Wells, whom he had not seen for more than ten days.

“Tennyson, you have suffered!” Wells greeted him first as soon as they met.

“Teacher Wells, why have you come?”

Tennyson soon learned the whole story from his teacher’s mouth, including the conditions for his release.

“But… but what about my family?”

Tennyson was initially very excited to hear the news that he had a chance to escape his prison sentence, but before he could thank his teacher, he thought of his relatives from the same clan. ꭆᴀŊÖ₿Εs̩

Wells sighed and stroked his student’s shoulder. “His Lordship has already said that if we can find a method for mass steel production within half a year, everyone in your family who did not directly participate in the rebellion will be pardoned.”

“Half a year? But… but… we are facing an almost entirely new field!” Tennyson’s tone revealed serious doubt.

Wells encouraged him, “Oh, Tennyson, you must have confidence in yourself, and you must have confidence in your colleagues. I will also be involved. Let’s return to the laboratory immediately and begin our research. Let’s not waste a single second.”

Wells was now slightly excited. In fact, on his way to the prison, having already received the lord’s promise, he had temporarily set aside his worries for his student and slowly began to think about the task the lord had assigned him. The more he thought about it, the more he felt there was great potential in it. Although it was not a method to turn other substances into gold, turning ordinary iron into much stronger steel was something that would surely leave a rich and colorful mark on history.