Pulling the flap open, I carefully begin to enter the confines of a hastily assembled shack, slightly lowering my head due to how short the entrance is.
As I entered, my eyes were drawn to a lone familiar miner seated with his back against the corner wall The air was heavy with the musty scent of dirt and dust, but I paid it no mind whatsoever.
"It's done, Erik." I said, resting my pickaxe on the wall besides me.
Erik, the miner, acknowledged me with a nod, then rose from his seat and walked over to a wooden chest on his right.
He stood at least a couple of inches taller than me, yet despite his slightly towering figure, he appeared incredibly slender. In his current topless state, the contours of his ribs were visible, protruding from his chest. His face had an intriguingly slightly-oblong shape, with droopy eyes and a long nose. A mop of short, tousled hair sat atop his head, and a modest stubble adorned his mouth area, suggesting he was likely in his thirties.
Opening it, he began to browse inside, as I waited for him, my mind began to wander somewhere else, specifically to how I met this man.
He was a recent addition, having arrived at the quarry just a month ago. His sentence was the result of a thievery conviction, and rumors circulated that he had once been known as the finest thief in Runderdale. It was said that his criminal career came to an abrupt halt when someone betrayed him to the commander, ultimately leading to his current predicament.
The rumors were swiftly confirmed when, a mere two days after his arrival, he made off with a bag full of bread, it also marked the very day our paths initially crossed. I was one of the first miners to propose a deal: I'd cover his shift during the night's mining hours in exchange for food. Fortunately, his shift aligned with the hours just following mine, and his overseer didn't raise any objections when I volunteered to stand in for him.
As a result, I had to meticulously balance my time and priorities, swapping nights dedicated to learning the Artanian language and training for toiling tirelessly to secure extra rations.
My thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the sound of a chest closing. I shifted my attention to Erik, who was now approaching me, cradling a pair of bread rolls swathed in grimy rags.
By the looks of it, the bread appeared to be a few days old, likely confined within that chest all along. However, for someone who had endured days of hunger and now had the luxury of a slightly increased diet, with the ridiculous privilege of eating just once a day, like myself, it appeared incredibly appetizing.
"Here, just as we agreed." He said, offering the food in front of me.
Without hesitation, I grab the food from his hand and began unwrapping the rags concealing it. To my surprise, I found it had been sprinkled with salt.
I quickly look up at him, "Just where...?" I ask, disbelief clearly audible on my tone. I then pick up a grain of salt with my two fingers and began rubbing it for him to see.
He tilted his head at me before breaking into a smile. "You jest, my friend," he began, pointing a finger at his chest. "I am Erik. I could steal you right here... right now, and you'd never be found out ever again."
I knew he was only joking, but I couldn't help but feel a shiver run down my spine in response to his words.
"Of course," was the only response I could muster, tucking the foods in my clothes before extending my free hand toward him. He shook it, and I added with a smile, "Thank you."
With that, I turned away from him, retrieved my pickaxe, and made my way out of his shack. The cold night breeze greeted me the moment I stepped outside, sending a chill that coursed throughout my entire body.
Inhaling deeply, I hoisted my pickaxe and rested it on my shoulder. I spared a brief glance at my frozen left arm, still secured in a sling, before embarking on my journey toward the shed.
As I strolled along the mostly quiet road, dimly lit torches perched on wooden structures on both sides casting a feeble glow, the only sounds that reached my ears were the subdued chatter of men in their quarters and the ceaseless, rhythmic quarrying operation on the hill that appeared never-ending.
I then notice figures of miners approaching, seemingly headed in the opposite direction. They appeared to be on their way home from their shift, and their weary countenances and bodies drenched in sweat were clear indicators of their exhaustion.
As they drew nearer, the nearby torches cast their glow upon them, illuminating their faces. Among the group, I recognized Erik's mining group, and my gaze specifically fixated on Vesfa himself, their group's overseer.
He nodded in recognition, and I returned the gesture. This exchange repeated a couple of times with the other miners in their group. After all, I had sweated and toiled alongside them on numerous occasions, including this very day.
When they were finally out of sight, I continued on my way, navigating a series of turns and corners along the way, I passed by miners, some of them on their own and some of them in groups, not to mention I'm already familiar with most of them
One instance was a group of miners that I recognized as the ones I had assisted when they had fallen behind in meeting their production quotas. Cidrek, the group's overseer, greeted me with a nod before offering a friendly pat on my shoulder, the rest of the miners under his responsibility also followed suit.
As the chatter of the miners gradually faded into the distance, I once again found myself walking alone along the dimly lit street.
Well that was until I noticed a group of cloaks emerging from a hut that I was just about to pass by, two of the five cloaks appeared to be dragging an unmoving figure of a miner, but it wasn't the cloaks themselves that captured my attention. Instead, it was the sight of the miner who had been brutally beaten, his body limp and bloodied.
I came to an abrupt halt, my heart quickening its pace as fear surged within me. The hand clutching the pickaxe began to tremble uncontrollably.
What on earth have I walked into?
As I felt panic and fear bubbling up, I made a conscious effort to regain control. Thankfully, the hardships and sufferings I'd endured and witnessed in this unfamiliar world had fortified my mental and emotional resilience. With a few deep breaths, I managed to rein in my anxiety and regain my composure.
One of the cloaked figures noticed me and began to advance with a menacing scowl etched across his face. His hand tightly clutched a bloodstained club, and I could still see fresh droplets of blood trickling from its wooden surface.
Just what the fuck is going on here?
I instinctively took a single step back as he loomed right in front of me, his slightly labored breaths practically brushing against my face. The scent emanating from him was no different from the rest of us; an overpowering blend of sweat and grime.
"I-I didn't see-" Fear laced my voice, but before I could finish my sentence, the cloak abruptly cut me off.
"Scram, boy, or do you want to end up like this pig here?" He pointed at the unconscious miner. By now, all the cloaks were watching us, their faces displaying a mix of amusement and annoyance.
No words needed to be said. In an instant, I was on my feet, sprinting down the road like a mad man... or a mad boy to be exact, the only sounds echoing in my ears were the thundering beats of my heart and my rapid, panting breaths.
Spotting an alleyway in the distance that I recognized as the one that I had been using as a shortcut back to my shed in previous days, I didn't hesitate to enter it.
The alley's pathway was wide enough to fit two Gulframs side by side, and its length meant that it would take a few minutes to traverse even at a sprint. However, not a single light illuminated the way, rendering the other side of the path entirely invisible.
But that didn't deter me from running straight into the darkness. After all, I've been using these shortcut numerous times and not a single accident had happened to me. Maybe I'd trip a few times along the way since I'm running at my full speed, but that's just probably it.
As I continued to run, my vision grew progressively darker with each passing second, until even the faintest glimmer of light from my peripheral vision had completely vanished.
Yet despite this, I relentlessly continued on... That until I bump into something that sent me sprawling onto my back, a sharp sting radiating across my nose and forehead, I also dropped my pickaxe, creating a deafening clatter as it struck the ground below.
I was about to curse something when a booming voice suddenly spoke in front of me.
"You're quite the runner, aren't you?"
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CHAPTER DONE!!