Labor ipse voluptas

Posted on 30 Jan 2021 @ 11:27pm by Mage Kalian Winter & Warrior Martin Josceran & Rogue Elinowy Ursulas

3,521 words; about a 18 minute read

Mission: Lore's Labour's Lost
Location: The Mine
Timeline: Cloudreach 17th - evening

OOC: After 'Mine, mine, all mine'

The entrance of the mine had been secured with thick wooden planks, both tied and nailed together. Even to Martin's inexpert eye, the structure looked rather unreliable, and while he'd never been claustrophobic before he did feel a shudder up his spine as he stepped inside the stuffy tunnel. The ventilation was poor, based on the heavy atmosphere and also on the lingering smell of wet earth, rot and human waste. On the ground, a makeshift railway had been built, an extremely basic and narrow one but functional.

Though the entrance was quite wide, the tunnel grew narrower only a few steps in, and Gangue's horns looked incredibly cumbersome in this confine environment. Maybe now was a better time to overpower him... but Martin's line of thought was squashed as they got to the first curve of the tunnel and ran into a couple of guards. They wore somewhat ill-fitting armour, suggesting it had had a previous owner, and their weapons looked crudely made, but it was more than enough against unarmed men.

Kalian knew little about mines, but he had the distinct impression that there had been an older, more robust entrance, and that it had been hastily and less securely widened. And yet, it was narrow enough to be secured and held by only a couple guards. If this was the only exit, it wouldn't be hard to prevent workers from leaving.

"Oh, hey," said the first one, a dwarf with long, braided brown hair. Though a fair amount of dirt covered his face, Martin could only just make out the tattoo on his left cheek. "Long time no see, Qunari." The last few words were said with a considerable lack of enthusiasm.

Gangue grunted wordlessly.

"Bringing some new fodder?" The other guard was a human, with tawny skin that suggested Antivan roots, tall, brawny and bearing a look of supreme boredom on his face. He did eye the newcomers with a bit of a leer, but while he completely ignored sister Elinowy his eyes rested a little longer on Kalian.

"There he goes again," muttered the dwarf.

The extra attention from the Antivan guard didn't go unnoticed by Kalian. Good to know… maybe he could use that to his advantage.

"New workers," Gangue said, terse as ever, and he turned to leave. One of his horn hit the supporting beam overhead with a wooden sound and a growled curse escaped the Qunari. A muffled snicker escaped from the dwarf's mouth, but quickly vanished when Gangue glared over his shoulder at the offender.

"Alright, new workers," the human said. The leer had gone, leaving only the bored look behind. It did his already unappealing looks no favour. "I'm Angelo, this is Bratan. This way. Any of you used shovels or pickaxes before ?"

"Huh... I shoveled manure a few times before," Martin said. It had the benefit of being true - he'd helped out taking care of the horses a few times back home - and also fit his backstory.

"Gardening and splitting firewood with an axe," said Kalian affably. "And cleaning. Pickaxes look not much different than a broom with a heavier business end."

Looking up at the overseer with her large innocent eyes, Elinowy responded, "Large tools were not usually available for me to work with. I have done some work in restoration and domestic maintenance, and lots of cleaning up." Her mind went to the heavy beams and wreckage that needed to be cleared when the Chantry had burned. It was weeks of exhausting labor, but it still wasn't trying to break rocks.

"It'll have to do," the human guard, Angelo, said. "Anyway, you'll learn fast." There was the barest hint of a threat in his tone.

"As best humans can ever hope to," the dwarf sniffed. He sounded surprisingly snobbish for someone in his position.

"We're very motivated," Martin assured them. "Huh, when do we get paid? Everyday?" He did his best to look and sound as naive as he'd been pretending to be.

Kalian nodded enthusiastically, adding his feigned naivete to his friend's.

The two guards shared a look and Bratan had a fit of coughing that sounded suspiciously like a snicker. The pause before either of them answered was too long to be comforting.

"Nah, you get one lump sum at the end," Angelo said half-heartedly, barely attempting to be convincing. "They use the benefits from this place to pay you, see? So you gotta wait till the stuff gets sold before they can pay you." He sounded like he was reciting a line he'd been forced to learn.

"Oh, I see. And, huh... what "stuff" are we talking about?" Martin asked. He felt like the situation was truly stretching his less than stellar acting skills.

"You humans can't begin to understand the stone, so just stick to stuff", Bratan sniffed. He definitely seemed to labour under the misconception of his own superiority.

"Oh, come on Brat, don't be like that," Angelo cooed, then snorted.

"Don't call me that," the dwarf grunted.

As they spoke they had been walking further into the mine. Small lamps hung at regular intervals, casting a weak, yellow and flickering light across the narrow tunnel. It was in fact so narrow that at times they had to pass one at a time, as two people could not walk side by side. The smell of smoke from the lamps was, in places, overpowering. Sounds echoed far in the distance, carried by the stone and dirt enclosing them.

A little further still the tunnel opened into what looked like a wide natural cave, with stalactites hanging from the ceiling, some of which had reached the ground and now looked like beautiful white columns. A makeshift camp had been built there, and as they stepped closer Martin saw the missing Fereldans. Some were carrying crates or bags full of dirt and rocks ; others were washing the contents of the bags in a shallow natural pool. A bit further, near the entrance of another tunnel, a few were using pickaxes to dig into the walls. A few large firepits gave slightly better light in there than in the tunnel, though the stench of smoke was proportionally greater too. Several more guards watched the proceedings, though when looking closer Martin could tell they were more interested in the dice game two of them had going on than in the miners.

"Here," Angelo picked up pickaxes and shovels and tossed them to Kalian, Martin and Elinowy without warning. "Now get to work. The others will show you what to do."

Kalian managed to catch both the pickaxe and shovel that was thrown at him. He winked at Angelo – just in case he could exploit the Antivan guard's interest later.

It was evident to Kalian that the hardest job they'd seen was digging the… some kind of ore, maybe. He pointed to the furthest group using pickaxes and shovels, thinking to speak with his two companions on the way there. To Martin and Elinowy he said, "Looks like we can join in over there."

As they walked toward the group wielding pickaxes and shovels, Kalian said in a voice pitched to be heard only by Elinowy and Martin, "Guards keeping the workers in the mine... this doesn't look good."

"You have a knack for euphemisms, don't you," Martin grouched. "This looks like bloody Tevinter." His expression grew darker. He had been to Tevinter before, and he hadn't enjoyed it. "Well, we got this far. Now we need a plan."

"Certainly some of the workers will have a solid notion of what is going on. Maybe we can ask discreetly." Elinowy hinted.

"So, we talk to a few of the workers and find out what's going on?" Kalian did a quick count of workers and guards and observed, "A shovel or pickaxe is no match against a sword in the hand of a warrior, but the workers outnumber the guards by at least five to one."

"But they're untrained. And... look. Some of them have shackles. The troublemakers, I'd wager. And I've seen at least two with lash marks." Martin glanced around, as surreptitiously as he could. A lot of the workers looked drawn and thin. They probably didn't get served the best fare.

"Hungry stomachs and strong backs can be a powerful ally in a crisis." Elinowy stated, "Perhaps with sympathetic suggestions, we can find a means for the odds to shift in our favor."

As Kalian neared the group of workers at the entrance to a side tunnel, a Fereldan man was earnestly trying to get the attention of a guard. "Please, ser, please tell serah Roxa I must speak with her. My dear Jaquenetta needs me."

"Get back to work," said the guard with an irritated growl, then walked away.

"Excuse me," said Kalian, thinking of the note he'd found on the back of a flyer. "Is your name Costard?"

"Do I know you?" Costard asked. He picked up a shovel and headed to the tunnel. "You three must be new here. Don't get caught resting or they'll make you regret it. Come on, I'll show you what to do."

"Is it so bad here?" Martin glanced at his friends. "Maybe we should quit." Playing dumb was always a safe bet.

"So you don't know yet what you got into?" Costard snorted as he led them deeper in the tunnel. Sounds echoed eerily around them, but their voices were adequately covered by the noise of steel hitting rocks. "This is hardly what the flyer promised, friend. There is no quitting."

"Why not? I mean, worst that can happen, they don't pay us, right?"

"Maker help you." Costard shook his head. "I've been begging for days to be allowed to go. My fiancée... she's with child. Due anyday now. I thought I could make some quick money and be there for her when the time comes. Now... it looks like I won't even be there. I can't imagine what she's thinking of me now."

"And they won't let you go?" Martin asked.

"No. At first they made excuses, now they just ignore me. I guess they don't want me to tell anyone about the cosy operation they got here. I'm beginning to wonder if they'll even let us go one day, let alone pay us."

"The Maker looks out for those that look out for each other. You, your fiancé and child are not alone. Even now there is hope." Elinowy prattled on with a sincerity to what she said, even if it had no course of action. She shifted the heavy pick axe she carried form one shoulder to the other.

"What about the other workers? Together, you way outnumber the guards. Why don't you rebel?" asked Kalian.

"The others are scared, or they still hope to get paid. Or both." Costard stopped and lifted his pickaxe. "Here looks like a good spot." He hefted his tool, swung it and hit the wall. The pickaxe bit into the rock and small pieces of stone flew across the tunnel. "Basically, break the rock down, one of you gets it into a basket, once the basket's full you empty it in the cart. Another group goes on to clean it and separate ore from rock."

"What kind of ore?" Martin asked, squinting at the rock. It looked like... well, rock.

"Silverite. I heard one of the guards mention it." Costard shrugged. "For all the difference it makes."

Silverite? Martin with renewed respect at the pile of rocks. He'd thought silver or iron, he hadn't imagined the ore could be something as rare and precious as silverite. His father owned a silverite sword, a family heirloom that would go to his older sister someday, and it was worth a lot of money. No wonder Roxa didn't want word of it leaving the mine.

"Come on, get to work," Costard urged. "We'll get in trouble if we're idle for too long."

Elinowy raised an eyebrow at the mention of the precious metal. She had purchased a silverite goblet for the Chantry a few years prior. It cost a hefty sum, but few materials showed the majesty and fire resistance of silverite in rituals before the villagers. Its reflective abilites provided a useful teaching tool to the sisters as they described Andraste's passion at the stake. She began to understand the profitability of such an enterprise.

Kalian lifted his pickaxe into position, and copying Costard's movement brought it down against the rock wall, breaking loose a few pieces. He turned to Elinowy. "Maybe best that you start by shoveling rocks into a basket?"

The guards looked bored and less than watchful; if they'd worked under Martin's orders he'd have given them a good telling-off. Still, one of them had begun glancing more and more often at their little group, hand drifting towards a short, thick whip at his belt, so Martin hurried to pick up his own pickaxe. He could tell just by holding it that the balance was off; and when he struck the first blow against the stone, the dull sound revealed the poor quality of the metal almost as much as the blunted end.

"We can take turns shoveling," he suggested as he hefted the pickaxe again. It wasn't unlike wielding a sword. "To get a bit of a break."

The heavy rhythm of physical exertion was a familiar sensation to Martin. He even kind of enjoyed it - for the first hour or so, maybe. Then it started being boring, and then the pleasant warmth of exercise deepened into a burn. If he'd been practicing his swordskill, this was the point where he'd have stopped. As he worked he looked around, studying the layout of the mine, the miners and the guards. It kept his mind busy, at least, rather than thinking about the hard labour.

The men threw themselves into the work, Elinowy let the heavy blade of her pickaxe fall to the earth as she watch the others as to what she was supposed to do. It looked simple enough. Hit rocks. Break rocks. Repeat. she walked closer to the wall of rock and lugged the pick axe up to her shoulder trying to focus on an area to strike with the blade. She swung. Sparks flew. As did the pickaxe as it popped out of her hands and bounced back at her. She narrowly dodged the free flying tool. The Guard with the whip start chuckling to himself. Her fingers throbbed as she bent down to left the pickaxe up again. She looked at it blankly. Certainly it couldn't be that difficult. She raised it up again and swung. Her arms felt the impact of the blade even with the minimal force she projected it with. The blade struck the ground and turned sideways glancing of the rock. She felt betrayed by the dumb tool. There was something too this she just had to figure out. She watch as Kalian Martin swung their axes. The sheer strength that they wielded the tools.

"Less watching and more hitting!" shouted the guard with a laugh. "Ye aint gettin paid ta watch the men's backsides. Git to it!"

Elinowy lifted the pickaxe again, her arms aching from the first two blows. She started to wonder how these people could do this all day. She swung. A tiny chip of rock flew off the wall. She looked at the tiny piece laying down in the piles of dirt along the wall with amazement. It actually worked! She had broken a rock. Not a big rock, but a rock all the same. She picked up the axe victoriously and smashed it downward, once more deflecting and popping out of her hands.

"You there." the guard grumbled as he started to stand. "You best git a shovel and do something useful." He gestured over to the pile of tools.

Elinowy closed her eyes for a moment in resignation. She calmly drug her pick axe over to the wall and left it leaning as she picked up a shovel and proceeded to scoop up the broken rocks at the base of the wall. Rocks were heavy. She felt her jarred muscles protested the weight. She reasoned that the job could be accomplished in shorter burst of digging to depositing the ore into the baskets. After a few minutes she found a rhythm to the movement, much like her training in dance. She would scoop, lift and throw in almost fluid motions that carried momentum instead of enforcing her will on each movement. She found this was something she could do. Oddly, she looked remarkably graceful doing it.

Once the baskets were filled, workers carried them to the cart in the center of the cave. One guard inspected the contents, then gave the go ahead to empty them in the cart, and the workers returned to their spot. None of them looked very happy, and many stumbled under the weight of their loaded baskets. Some were thin to the point of starvation.

Still, if they're strong enough to work, they're strong enough to rebel...

He'd never been one to shirk hard work, but by the time they'd filled one basket, Kalian was ready for a break. He tied his ragged cape around his waist and kept pounding the rock wall. Watching the other workers made it clear that breaks were not allowed.

An elven man who couldn't be much out of his teens and a familiar-looking older human woman with grey hair approached to take up a filled basket. She looked like Isla, the woman they'd met in the refugee camp. "Excuse me madam, do I know you?" asked Kalian.

The woman shook her head and stumbled. The elf reached out a hand to steady her. "Orla, rest here a moment. I can take this basket of ore by myself."

"No, no, Varvin. The guards will punish you if they notice I'm missing, then they'll punish me too. I can do it." Orla started to pick up one side of the basket, staggered, then collapsed.

The elf, Varvin, crouched beside the human woman, obviously worried. "Mamae and Hahren Liriel told me I shouldn't come. But I didn't listen. Orla has been good to me. She said I reminded her of her son, Seamus."

Kalian rested a comforting hand on the young elf's shoulder and looked to Elinowy. "What's wrong with her?" He had healing magic, but if Orla was suffering from a lack food and rest, his magic wouldn't help.

The scarlet haired sister laid down her shovel and approached the woman. Elinowy looked closely into the woman's eyes as her fingers went to the woman's wrists. She watched her breathing. This was more than simple exertion. The sweat on the woman's brow was not from her work. "She needs attention. Someone bring us some water." she calmly ordered.

Martin dropped his pickaxe to kneel by the fallen woman, acutely aware that they'd only have a couple of minutes before one of the guards came to check what this was all about. He only knew the basics of patching up someone in the field, and he really couldn't tell if Orla's pasty complexion, ragged breathing and sweaty brow was caused by mere exhaustion or sickness. Sister Elinowy would probably know, but she also wouldn't be able to do much without any supplies.

"Whatever's wrong, she's not getting up," he diagnosed with uncomfortable certainty. The image of Isla, wrapped in the tatters of her shawl and dignity, flashed into his mind. He didn't want to have to go back there being the bearer of bad news. "We need to get her to the infirmary."

"There is no infirmary, not really," said Varvin. "There's an area for the sick and injured to keep them out of the way, but no healer or herbalist. I can show you where it is, but then I have to keep working. Anyone who doesn't work, doesn't eat. And that's not the worst punishment." He sounded scared.

Elinowy slipped her hand up. "I have training as an herbalist and I am not an unskilled healer." she claimed. "She needs immediate care, if you can take me to your place of resting. I will see what I can devise for her."

An infirmary with no healing was little better than a mortuary, Martin thought darkly. Maker help him, if there were dead bodies in there he'd make sure whoever was guilty was put on trial and sentenced with the harshest punishment the law had to offer.

"Well, at least she can rest," he offered, for what little comfort that was. Varvin looked bleak and terrified, and Martin couldn't fault him. The elf's gaunt frame suggested he might be next to collapse. "Here, let me." He took Varvin's place to support Orla.

Kalian supported Orla's other side, and together they made it to the mouth of the tunnel. The young elf pointed across the main cavern. "Over there." Varvin kissed Orla's forehead, then hurried back into the tunnel.

 

RSS Feed