Baktou, a young leader of the mine, lay on the cold, unforgiving ground, his face battered and bloodied from a brutal attack. His left eye had already been cruelly cut, a testament to the savagery of his assailant.
As soon as he got his vision back, the memories of his loss came back to him and Baktou couldn't help but struggle. He was tied rather tight to a pole in the middle of the mine, so no matter how much he wanted, he couldn't break the restraints.
Nearby, another man, equally battered and bruised, but with a rugged determination about him, stood tall. This man was none other than Moga, who held a handful of iron ores in his hands, his curiosity piqued.
Moga's voice was gruff and demanding, "What are these rocks, boy? Are they important? Is that why you're digging them?" He eyed Baktou, expecting answers.
