Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Major Ronald eventually appeared before Ivan, but he too arrived at the labor camp as a prisoner. Not just the Major, every living officer from the Revodan garrison had come.

Ivan had become numb; now, even if General Adams appeared before him in shackles, he wouldn't have felt the slightest surprise. He was promoted to an instructor, responsible for teaching his former superiors how to weave baskets.

Lieutenant Asko's will completely disintegrated. First, he tried to commit suicide and after being saved from the noose, he quit drinking and diligently learned basket weaving from Ivan.

Depths and even deeper troughs are the reality; days passed just like this, unremarkably.

That day, as usual, Ivan brought over the straw and distributed it to each cell. Then he went to the warehouse to inspect the products made by each cell the day before.

To prevent other prisoners from sabotaging the work out of resentment, Ivan firmly insisted on retaining the "marking measure." If any item was substandard, he would follow the "mark" back to the responsible person and deduct from their rations.

Now Ivan could not only eat his fill, occasionally eat meat, but he also received a wage.

As the proverb goes, "Though the sparrow is small, it too possesses blood, innards, and bones."

With its expansion, the Samukin labor camp gradually differentiated into many "organs," resembling a miniature society.

For example, Ivan now only handled teaching and quality control and no longer worked all day like an ordinary prisoner.

As basket weaving, shoe making required a large amount of raw materials, Samukin dispatched well-behaved prisoners to cut branches and collect straw as a reward.

Hard-working prisoners were in charge of light, significant tasks; they occasionally received ale and meat and could have a breath of air within the walls of the labor camp.

Prisoners with poor skills or attitudes were at the bottom of the camp's social hierarchy, spending their days sitting idly in their cells.

Unseen, basket production was divided into several processes, each managed by prisoners from different "levels."

In the labor camp, life was very cheap. If one intended to die, all they had to do was refrain from working, and they would soon starve.

Samukin, who ran the labor camp, had no fixation on "keeping everyone alive." His attitude had always been, "If you want to die, go ahead," leaving only those who wished to live.

The initial operation of the labor camp encountered some setbacks, including incidents of prisoners hiding tools in an attempt to kill guards and escape. But it continued to develop in a favorable direction—at least from Samukin's perspective.

The output of woven products steadily increased, eventually differentiating into large baskets, small baskets, wide-mouthed, narrow-mouthed, and other styles.

Samukin hauled the baskets away on wagons to trade with farmers from nearby villages for food.

At first, the wagons only went to the villages around Wolf Town because they were closer. But the farmers of Wolf Town soon had their fill of baskets, while the labor camp's basket-making capacity kept increasing, and Samukin had to send the wagons to neighboring towns.

The two basket-makers of Wolf Town were squeezed out; they couldn't compete with free materials, labor costs nothing, and the "one person, one task" production method.

One basket-maker was recruited by Samukin to work as a supervisor in the labor camp. The other had land; basket and mat weaving were just a way to supplement their household income.

The basket-makers from Blackwater Town and Wugou Town were also on the verge of succumbing, much like their counterparts in Wolf Town.

The reputation of the labor camp spread quickly, and even itinerant merchants from Saint Town came by cart to buy goods.

Samukin was ruthlessly destroying the "family-based" production tradition of the rural regions, but he was not aware of this himself; he was merely trying his hardest to maintain the operation of the labor camp.

Although Ivan was Samukin's "accomplice," he couldn't view the problem from a higher perspective. Honestly, he was merely working for food rations, to offset work hours, and also to earn a little money.

Ivan inspected the previous day's products, picking out those with evident quality defects—he even let pass those that were carelessly done, but some prisoners were just too careless.

After inspection, as usual, he patrolled each cell. Nowadays, Ivan was less a prisoner and more akin to a half-guard.

A real guard came over and affectionately patted his shoulder, "Old pal Ivan!"

"What's up, Officer Hamir?" Ivan recognized the voice without having to look.

"Commander Samukin is asking for you," Hamir whispered, adding, "Montaigne is here, and he specifically asked to see you."

Ivan walked uneasily towards the camp office, his mind racing with anxious thoughts along the way. Finally, he reached the office of Samukin and hesitated for a long time before mustering the courage to knock.

"Come in," came the voice of Commander Samukin.

Ivan swallowed hard and pushed the door open. He saw Commander Samukin and "Montaigne" engaged in a pleasant chat.

Winters turned around at the sound, encountering again this soldier from Revodan, infamous for his drinking and wife-beating.

Winters scrutinized the former soldier—now emaciated and skeletal, visible neck, shoulders, and wrists were all skin and bone, old clothes hanging on his body like tattered cloth on branches; only the hands remained unusually large, the knuckles swollen.

"Are you the one who likes to beat his wife, Ivan?" Winters asked, frowning slightly.

Ivan would wake up startled from dreams at this voice, which once belonged to the man who had dragged him out like a dead dog and smashed three of his molars with a punch. He shivered and dared not answer.

But Ivan was wronging Winters. It was Pierre who had beaten him that night. Winters had only asked questions, even telling Pierre to go easy.

However, Ivan's memory was already confused, convincing him it was Winters, and this misunderstanding might never be cleared up until death.