In the name of the true god

Captain Foster knew very well.

Despite Jude's denial that he was just there for show and his seemingly efficient work, he ultimately has First-Class Warden Connor and Deputy Warden Steele backing him up. Therefore, he is unlikely to truly endure hardship in a frontline position like a "regular prison guard." It won't be long before he tries to find ways to be promoted to captain and then second-class warden.

Otherwise, why would any normal person, with so many choices, choose to work in a prison?

Nobody wants to suffer.

Nobody wants to suffer unnecessary hardship.

Therefore, he intentionally wanted his men to maintain a good public relationship with Jude, so that no fool would underestimate Jude's background and needlessly cause trouble.

"Let me formally introduce myself first." Jude could sense that his colleagues were intentionally keeping a certain distance from him, whether out of respect or fear. "My name is Jude Viera, I'm twenty-one years old, from North Point, and I worked as a stevedore at the Royal Capital Wharf for three years. I don't smoke, my alcohol tolerance is average, and my biggest hobby right now is... eating meat."

Jude's introduction was very down-to-earth.

I used to do hard work, and my biggest hope was to fill my stomach.

Listening to this, she not only didn't seem spoiled, but actually acted more like an ordinary person.

"You might be wondering, since Connor Vieira is my brother, why would I work in a prison? And just as a prison guard?" Jude continued, "The question isn't complicated. It's simply that my abilities are limited. Whether I do a more respectable job or go to university, nothing is as stable and comfortable as being a prison guard."

The gazes of several colleagues seemed a bit more friendly.

If Jude had only said the first half of his statement, they might have thought he was just putting on an act, but once he said the second half, they could basically understand.

If it were them, these roughnecks, they wouldn't choose to study at university either. After all, if they could really learn something, they would have already settled down in another industry.

As for more respectable jobs, the rigid, authoritative positions can be just as suffocating. The slightly more relaxed ones aren't much different from being a prison guard. Given that his older brother was a senior warden, it was perfectly understandable that he ultimately chose to become a prison guard.

"My name is Killian Sams, I'm thirty-seven years old, I served in the Army, and I was assigned here after my discharge," the burlyest man in the squad then briefly explained his situation.

"Alan Granger. A little older than you, twenty-four. I also like to eat meat. They all call me Fatty, you can call me Fatty too." Another chubby young prison guard shook hands with Jude.

"Colin Chandler." The blond prison guard was handsome, and his grin exuded a vitality that was more vibrant than anyone else's. "He's about your age. I started working at the prison about two months ago."

"Hello, Jude, Jude, Jude, my name is Anders Marlowe, I'm twenty-eight years old." The tall, thin prison guard with glasses stammered as he greeted him.

After the four colleagues introduced themselves, Captain Foster added, "My team absolutely forbids verbal abuse, fighting, and any behavior that undermines unity. Remember, prison work is not child's play; in times of danger, each other is your greatest support in overcoming difficulties. So remember to help each other out, and come to me to resolve any conflicts."

"Yes, Captain!" Jude replied solemnly.

After some casual conversation, he also gained a general understanding of his four colleagues.

As the oldest and most composed veteran, Killian was often referred to as "Big Brother" by the other members of the squad.

Allen is a very easy person to joke with and doesn't mind being called "fatty" at all.

Colin is quite vain; his biggest hobby is styling his hair and clothes.

Anders stuttered from a young age, but because he liked to read poetry to improve his spoken language, everyone nicknamed him "the poet".

To Jude's greatest surprise, the captain and his four colleagues all had decent personalities, and the team atmosphere was harmonious. There was none of the troublemaker he had imagined who dared to provoke him.

Clearly, his older brother Connor had put a lot of thought into settling him in.

That would be perfect.

He simply didn't want to be bullied or ostracized; he wasn't interested in backstabbing or wasting his time trying to reform the workplace.

With no trouble in interpersonal relationships, I can focus more on finding ways to contact the sorcerers and resonance wizards imprisoned in the special cell block.

We rested for about half an hour.

At 10:30 a.m., Captain Foster divided them into three groups to take over from the other squads and keep watch on different watchtowers.

Given that Jude was new to the area, Captain Foster made a point of taking him under his wing.

"Ta-da..."

Climbing the ladder to the top of the watchtower with its panoramic view, Jude stretched and looked around in a good mood.

Captain Foster lit another cigarette, then grabbed a bolt-action rifle hanging on the wall: "Have you ever used a gun?"

"Never used it." Jude turned around to look.

"Here you go." Captain Foster handed the rifle to Jude. "Working in prison, you always have to be prepared for the worst. Being proficient with firearms is the best way to ensure your own safety."

Jude took the not-too-heavy rifle with both hands and set it up with a practiced air: "Captain, how do I use it?"

"Watch me." Captain Foster picked up another rifle and deftly unloaded the bullet. "First, while on duty in the watchtower, you must ensure your weapon is chambered. When changing shifts, you must unload the bullet to prevent accidental discharge. Also, for safety, even if you've just arrived on duty, you must unload the bullet again to check the weapon's condition before reloading..."

Jude imitated the captain, who deliberately slowed down his movements, pulled back the bolt to expose the loading port above, and then used his fingers to press the bullet into the magazine.

"Second, regardless of whether the firearm is loaded or not, it must be considered as potentially prone to accidental discharge. Therefore, the muzzle must never be pointed at your own men." Captain Foster pulled back the bolt, pushing a bullet into the chamber. "Now that it's loaded, put your finger outside the trigger guard to prevent accidental discharge."

"Okay." Jude once again replicated the captain's movements, firmly pressing the butt of the rifle against his shoulder to ensure a stable posture.

"Then align your eyes with the crosshair and aim at the target..."

Jude remembered the instructions and aimed his gun at the sky.

"When you finally pull the trigger, pull it smoothly, don't jerk it." The captain chuckled. "Of course, don't actually pull it either..."

"Bang." Jude imitated a gunshot: "And then, Captain?"

"Block-action rifles are not as advanced as the semi-automatic rifles currently in service with the mainstream military. Every time you fire, you have to pull the bolt back all the way to eject the empty cartridge case. Then you have to push it forward to load the next bullet into the chamber, and finally rotate it downwards to lock it, ready to fire again."

"OK."

"Alright, try unloading. First, rotate the bolt upwards and pull it back all the way. If there's more than one bullet, repeat the action. Finally, visually inspect the chamber and magazine well to make sure they're completely empty."

Jude had a good learning ability, and the operation of a bolt-action rifle was indeed not complicated, so he successfully completed each procedure under the captain's careful guidance.

To help him master the operation as quickly as possible, the captain patiently provided guidance throughout his two-hour shift at the watchtower.

Ultimately, although he hadn't fired a single shot, Jude had become quite proficient at loading, reloading, and unloading bolt-action rifles.

"Tsk." Jude paid no attention to the soreness in his hands from constantly pushing the bolt, his eyes filled with admiration for the firearm. "Captain, is there any chance I can actually fire a few shots to practice?"

"The prison conducts shooting practice at the end of each month, so there will be plenty of opportunities." Captain Foster looked at the ladder. "When the replacement arrives, check the firearms again to make sure they are unloaded."

"Yes." Jude carefully checked to make sure the magazine well was empty, and then hung the gun back on the wall.

By the time they climbed down from the watchtower, "Big Brother" Killian, "Fatty" Allen, Colin who smelled of perfume, and "Poet" Anders had all gathered.

Once everyone had arrived, Captain Foster took off his prison guard hat, tucked it into his waistband, and led the way towards the prison guards' canteen located in the administration building: "Let's go eat."