Chapter 611: Chapter 521 Heaven_2
Leon paused in his tracks, turned, grasped his wifeâs hand, and gently stroked the swollen redness, being careful to avoid the two festering spots.
âLook at your hands; you need rest, not more work.â
hile. But if it works out, we could return to paradise!â
Marsans was the most unscrupulous baker in Antoine Town. His bread contained at least half sawdust and sometimes even mud. But it did have one advantage: four pounds of his bread were cheaper by one sou than others.
Paradise?
Leon was suddenly stunned.
...
He had once been a farmer, knowing no craft. After losing their land to Boka, he could only move to Paris and take up the cheapest and most undesirable jobs.
Like now, he worked for a dye factory. Specifically, he pushed carts of soil containing some âalkaline substanceâ from several miles away back to the factory, then dumped it into a large pool to mix with poisonous liquids.
The soil was said to reduce the toxicity in the water. Apart from that, everything else was bearable. Every ten days, he had to go down to the bottom of the pool to stir the soil with a shovel. He would be very close to the toxic liquid, and after a dayâs work, he would be dizzy, feeling a burning sensation throughout his lungsâŠ
Previously, every morning he would till the soil and water the plants in his own fields, returning at twilight. Although he would be sore from fatigue and have little food left after paying the taxes, there was always something for the family to eat, truly like paradise.
He found he had almost forgotten that life.
Every day, crushed nearly to breaking by over 14 hours of heavy labor, his remaining energy all focused on that small piece of bread, how could he think of anything else?
His wife continued to speak: âDom is ten years old and canât read yet. Father Hugo said Marsans can also start to attend the churchâs literacy classes, but they now have to sweep chimneys every day.
âIf they donât learn to read, theyâll never find jobs that pay a bit moreâŠ
âOh, and Mr. Pellier from the laundry mentioned that the recent order to review the tax records was issued by the Crown Prince, so perhaps those bureaucrats wouldnât dareâŠâ
A glint of light suddenly flashed through Leonâs cloudy eyes.
Leon sat wearily on the ground, his stomach continuously rumbling loudly. Waiting in line didnât require physical strength, so he had only brought a half-pound of bread for the dayâs nourishment.
Just then, a shout came from the front, âNext.â
âYouâre up,â someone reminded Leon.
He suddenly jolted awake and stood up, walking towards a row of tables in front of the Tax Bureau.
A young clerk looked up at him and asked, âWhat is your name, and what matter do you want to appeal?â
âI, I am Paul Gessien Leon. I, I feel that five years ago the Tax Collector Mr. Boka said I owed taxesâŠâ
Leon swallowed nervously and mustered his courage, âand fined me an unfair amount.â
The clerk at the Tax Bureau took a few documents from his hand and nodded politely, âCan you explain the details?â
Leon recalled the events organized by the factory manager Mr. Pierre, took a deep breath and said, âThat spring was a bit cold. You know, it slowed down the wheat growth.
âIndeed, by May the wheat had just started sprouting. Then Mr. Boka suddenly sent someone to the village, announcing that this yearâs taxes needed to be paid early, by mid-June.
âNormally, by mid-June, we would have started the harvest. But that year, the wheat wasnât ripe until July.
âThe Tax Collector came to my house three times for taxes, and he beat me. But since the wheat hadnât been harvested, I had nothing to give him. So, he claimed I was severely delinquent and fined me twice the tax amountâŠâ
Leonâs voice choked up a bit, he continued bravely, âAt that time, to increase the spring planting, I had borrowed 30 Leva at a high interest rate from Mr. Boka.
âI calculated that even if I sold all the crops in the field, it wouldnât be enough to pay the taxes after repaying his moneyâŠâ
He sighed heavily, âThe Tax Collector tied me to a tree at the village entrance for two days and nights. My wife was pregnant at the time and the shock caused her to miscarryâŠ
pression, told Joseph, âYour Highness, apart from planning to halt the caravan trade, they also intend to disrupt the normal operation of the Port of Marseille.
âI discreetly inquired with Pellier, and it seems that they plan to pay off all the managers and workers at the port to take leave and go home.â
Josephâs face immediately turned cold.
These fools really donât know whatâs good for them.