He locked eyes with the big man, yet his expression stayed indifferent, his intentions unclear. They stood, merely staring at each other. He perceived no hostility, only a sense of pity. Then, PP pointed towards the sack with the pickaxes lying on the ground between them before joining the other miners awaiting the knights’ arrival. It must have been him. That asshole!

  He wiped the tears from his eyes and grabbed the sack. He joined the back of the lines, this time without a partner in his row, owing to an uneven number of miners. Soon, Reacher and Becket arrived at the shanty town to round up the slaves, and the march to the mines commenced, winding through the dense forest. The path was treacherous, and the air heavy with humidity. The knights appeared more composed that day, and the slaves chose not to test their patience.

  “You’re permitted to sleep in the manor as a Player, you know?” Reacher remarked, the horse strutting closely behind him. “Or at least pick a shanty like the servants.”

  The Mace hadn’t uttered a word all day, leaving Becket to oversee the commands, but now, after an hour of marching, Reacher attempted to engage in conversation. He kept his gaze forward, ignoring him. He didn’t want to give the other slaves any further reason to believe he was different or favoured. The other slaves plodded along, eyes cast downward, yet he felt their silent judgment. He wanted to shout that he was one of them, just another slave trying to survive, but he knew it would fall on deaf ears.

  “Are you listening?” Reacher asked.

  He yearned to lash out at Reacher, to tell him to fuck off, but he feared the Mace might retaliate against the slaves, so he remained silent. Following his unsuccessful attempt at conversation, Reacher refrained from speaking for the remainder of the journey. After a long and arduous walk, the group finally reached the mine entrance.

  “Don’t forget your quota. Five gems per person,” the Sword bellowed as they received their torches.

  The slaves swiftly grabbed a pickaxe from his sack and entered the cave. One miner noticed his shaking arms and deliberately dropped his pickaxe back into the sack, causing him to drop it. The clanging sound echoed throughout the cave, halting everyone in their tracks, drawing their attention. Reacher barked at the distracted slaves to continue moving, and the stream of miners entering the cave persisted. The miner who caused him to drop the sack apologised sarcastically. Don’t let this idiot get into your head.

  Once everyone had gone inside, Becket paused to offer him some water, which he declined before entering the mine. The air turned cooler, the scent of earth and damp stone filling his nostrils. He was assigned to work in the deepest parts of the mine once more, so he closely followed PP ahead of him. They received hostile glares as they passed others, insults like “goblinshits” and “pets” being hurled at them. Only a few of the miners like Cadmun and Varyan simply ignored them. After a while, they left the others behind, the clanging noises fading as they reached the fork. Now, as they descended into the mine’s depths, the silence between them weighed heavy with unspoken words. Passing the large chasm, he fantasised about pushing the big man inside. No one would know or even care. What the fuck am I thinking?

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  He quickly snapped back to his senses. He hadn’t even spoken to PP to confirm that he had revealed his secret. Why contemplate murder instead of talking to the man? The lack of fresh air must have been affecting him. Besides, I wouldn’t be strong enough to shove him anyway.

  They arrived at the section devoid of supporting beams and immediately got to work. The toil was gruelling. He struggled to focus, his thoughts drifting to the hostility from the other miners, the gnawing hunger in his belly, and his constant suspicion of PP. What irritated him the most was PP’s unchanged demeanour despite everything. How long have you been an outcast to stay unaffected by all of this?

  Of course, he received no answer. That day, his productivity plummeted. By the time the signal came to leave, he hadn’t met his quota of five gems. When they finally emerged from the mine, weary and covered in grime, Reacher awaited them. He braced for a reprimand, yet Reacher merely glanced at him and turned away. The lack of punishment was almost worse. The other miners glared at him, their resentment blazing brightly. The return journey was harrowing. Having skipped breakfast and with Reacher not utilising his magic, he bore the full brunt of his exhaustion, struggling until they reached the manor. Passing the palisades, he was reminded of the miners starting a fight once the knights left. He frantically scanned the others for any sign of hostility, yet they left him to his paranoia. Phew! I don’t think that I could survive a fight without PP.

  He felt ashamed to admit it. At dinner, he was last in line again. By the time he reached Cadmun, the food was gone. He clenched his fists, his stomach growling louder, but there was nothing he could do. A whole day without food. I must do something about that.

  He wanted to speak with Cadmun about Montgomery and the red-haired people Lydia mentioned. But Cadmun avoided him, maintaining his distance. He bid him “Good night” and left.

  As night fell, he finished washing himself and his clothes. When he hung the rags on the clothesline, he realised he had no tent because Cadmun had moved into Montgomery’s old one. He searched behind the shanty town in his undergarments, but by then, he was too hungry and exhausted to care about embarrassment. It took him a while to find the rock where he had washed the previous night, but fortunately, he found the discarded remnants of Cadmun’s old tent still atop it. To his delight, the cloth had dried throughout the day. It was scarcely more than a ragged sleeping bag now, offering little comfort against the night’s chill, but he felt a kinship with that piece of cloth due to his hardships. It stinks, but it will do.

  He curled up on the ground next to the dying fire where Montgomery had slept the night before, pulling the thin fabric over himself. The stars glittered coldly above, indifferent to his plight. Today felt like a bad dream.

  He wondered if this was his new reality until Cassandra returned. As he closed his eyes, exhaustion finally overtaking him, he slowly came to terms with this new reality. He was here now, among miners who resented him, with no escape. He had to survive, to endure, to find a way to make this new life his own.

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