Chapter 91 Wealth
Jack Rabbi was the third child in his family, with two older brothers and a younger sister. His second brother was sent to work as an apprentice on a ship, constantly away from home, sending only occasional money. His younger sister was young and often ill, relying on their mother's care. The family's daily expenses were almost entirely covered by their father, who worked as a blacksmith in town. He would return home after classes at the mission school to help out, but life was still tight, and he didn't have enough to eat.
The most promising child in the Rabbi family was his eldest brother, Mardel Rabbi. Jack still remembered the evening he received his acceptance letter from White Tower University—his usually irritable father was beaming with joy, boasting to everyone he met: the blacksmith Rabbi's eldest son had been admitted to university! As long as he finished his studies, he could use his diploma to become a priest, a clerk, or even apply for a teaching position among the nobility, no longer having to rely on labor to earn a living.
"Study hard, kid." That day, his drunken father slapped him on the shoulder. "Your second brother isn't that smart, but if you can get into college, I'll sell everything I have to support you. If you dare to skip school again, I'll break your legs!"
Jack grimaced and acted unconcerned at the time, wanting only to finish his studies at the church school and then find a job to supplement the family income—until he heard his elder brother's name again, only to learn of his brother's death in the Inquisition due to "committing suicide out of fear of punishment."
Neighbors began to look at the family with strange eyes and whispered about them behind their backs. Their father remained silent, warning them not to say a word about their eldest brother. Their mother wept daily, weeping at the sight of their eldest brother's clothes until she practically went blind. Their youngest sister, still young and ignorant, cried when the adults cried, and her crying annoyed her father, who raised his hand and glared at her, threatening to spank her. Jack had no choice but to cover his sister's mouth and huddle at the foot of the bed, but for some reason, not a single tear escaped.
Big brother dead? This is ridiculous, he thought, like a dream. Not long ago, his big brother wrote home, happily announcing that he had met a kind and knowledgeable professor who was willing to tutor him for free, and that graduation was finally a sure thing. A good half of the letter was filled with praise for "Professor Brody." His mother complained at the time, almost thinking that big brother had wasted so much ink because he had found a girl he loved.
Somehow, Jack did not listen to his father. One day after school, he secretly stopped the teacher of the church school and asked the priest what "heresy" was.
"Heretics are heretics. They betray God, defile the soul, and deceive people into associating with the devil in the abyss." The priest looked at him with an unclear expression for a moment, then shook his head meaningfully. "But my God, those unforgivable lunatics deserve to be arrested and hanged by the Inquisition. Don't learn from them."
Jack didn't quite understand and didn't want to believe that compared to his second brother who was rude and always liked to bully him, the gentle and kind eldest brother who would hold him and his little sister and tell stories would be an "unforgivable lunatic."
Later, someone from Baita University came and brought their family a large sum of money. It was said to be a tuition refund, but in fact it was much higher than the total tuition they had paid every year.
Jack glared at the uninvited guest with wariness, even hatred. He seemed well-mannered and well-dressed, at least not as disheveled as the rabbi's family. His mother feared him, but also resented him. As soon as he left, she slammed the purse to the ground and collapsed in tears. Meanwhile, his father picked up the purse and clutched it tightly in his hand.
Write to your second brother and ask him to go to Kasa Strait, my father ordered, and we should prepare to move immediately and leave Baita Town.
Jack agreed and ran out quickly, but not to post the letter.
He wanted an answer. He had a feeling that if he didn't ask now, the question would haunt him in his dreams for the rest of his life.
He successfully stopped the black-haired man, Master Brody, and he said breathlessly and incoherently, "My eldest brother mentioned you in the letter. I know you are a smart man, smarter than my eldest brother - so can you, can you answer a question for me?"
—Is Rabbi Mardel really a bad man who deserves to be hanged?
When the Rabbi family left Baita Town and headed for Kasa Strait to reunite with his second brother, he picked up a page of newspaper stained with fruit peel and an unknown liquid from the roadside. He was about to throw it away, but when he saw a familiar signature, he stuffed it into his pocket.
Late at night, Jack quietly pulled out the wrinkled, smelly piece of paper. In the moonlight, the blurry words came into view. He suddenly began to tremble again, as if his brain had been immersed in ice water.
"What is the fact? What is the truth?" The tall, thin, black-haired man looked at him with his smoky gray eyes, which reminded him of the fragments of the silver mirror and the ice in his veins, which made him shudder.
"Is what the Inquisition says the truth, or is what I say the truth? Do you really trust the judgments I, or anyone else, makes?" The man looked at him calmly. "You've known Rabbi Mardel longer than I have. Since you're asking me this, it means you already have your own ideas, which you need to test through continuous action and reflection."
...Yes, I have my own ideas, Jack thought vaguely and fearfully. For a moment, he felt that the neighbor's whispers were wrong, his father's silence was wrong, and even the contempt and disgust of the distinguished priest were wrong.
——God of Light, I actually began to doubt the messenger who preached to you. Is this a blasphemy?
"...Don't pay attention to what those distinguished 'bigwigs' say. Use your own eyes to see what they have done and what they have achieved. Objective facts will not be distorted by lies forever..."
In the pale moonlight, the words burned like fire. The last few lines of ink were blurred by the spreading liquid. Jack squinted his eyes and leaned closer. A destructive premonition and impulse made his fingers tremble unconsciously.
"…Remain vigilant, and don't be afraid," the man said. "Just continue to think deeply and act conscientiously, and the truth will only become clearer as time goes by."
"Jack! I told you to sharpen the file, why are you slacking off here?!" He was frightened by his father's shout and quickly crumpled up the newspaper and stuffed it into his pocket.
"No, nothing, I'm just emptying the dirty water!" Jack picked up his tools, ran back to his father, and started working diligently. When his father's gloomy expression seemed to improve a little, he glanced at his father's face and asked casually, "Dad, do you know how often those newspapers sold on the street are published?"
What Jack wanted to know was also what the students at Baita University wanted to know. Perhaps deeply influenced by the professor's ideas, a large number of students quickly became Mr. Nova's loyal readers. One student, after returning from the professor's office, mysteriously claimed to have glimpsed the first draft of the second issue. Soon after, many daring young people began to sneak a peek at the seminary office under the pretext of answering questions. Unfortunately, they were all discovered and unceremoniously and shamefully escorted out.
But soon, a counter-article published in the Baita Daily drew people's attention back.
Unlike those previous low-brow tabloids that were purely for the purpose of attracting attention, the newspaper published this time is authoritative enough. The author, Mr. Ryan, is a well-known local tax official. The Baita Daily often commissions him to write articles, and he has published many influential articles.
Mr. Ryan disdainfully called the editor-in-chief of the new newspaper a "sensationalist, a charlatan," claiming that the revised energy tax law was merely intended to encourage the large businessmen and coal mine owners who controlled the empire's coal resources to quickly abandon outdated energy sources and bring more efficient and convenient coal into every household. This was a great benefit to the nation and its people, and all of Silver Iris should be grateful to His Majesty the King for his foresight. A mere theology professor was speaking out in a field he was unfamiliar with and had no expertise in, leaving no one to guess what his true intentions were.
Many students, enraged after reading the article, publicly denounced the other party for their servility and distortion of right and wrong. Anyone with eyes could clearly see that the new law was an undeniable oppression, yet the man boasted about it to the skies and pinned the blame on the professor. However, many newspaper editors seemed to appreciate Mr. Ryan's views, and similar fierce attacks flooded in, quickly branding the Limin Bao and its editor-in-chief as "clowns with ulterior motives."
But Mr. Nova's counterattack was even more understated. In the second issue of the Limin Daily, he did not directly address the controversies, but instead conducted a more in-depth analysis of how "wealth" is generated, increased in value, and expanded.
"Where did the wealth of these great merchants, wealthy people, large farmers, and miners come from? And where did the huge taxes the empire collected from them come from? Did some god descend from the sky and declare that these people were born to own vast amounts of land and wealth?"
Without naming anyone, he stated coldly and calmly: "No, in the final analysis, what they are doing is just continuing to exploit those who have nothing."
"Miners and farmers toiled through the day, trembling with fear, becoming exhausted and ill. But the fruits of their labor did not belong entirely to them. Their masters left them with just enough to keep them from starving to death, while the rest went entirely to the upper class, who did not have to work. They even controlled the media to express their opinions, mocking the 'poor devils digging for food in the mud' for being so poor because they were 'lazy' and 'brainless' - but who are the people who did not work?"
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