Another break passed, and the monotony of their collective task was beginning to wear on the group. Asha had taken rest against one of the many pieces of rubble which lay scattered in the man-made tunnel. Nares still worked, relentless in his attack against the stubborn wall of stone, but Zafir could spy the Loth's arms shaking with effort. Zafir's own limbs shook with a strain of their own, and despite his drive, the Ellune was beginning to break under the weight of repetition. One could only bear the broken silence of steel tools against sheer stone for so long.
“Hear about what’s been going on topside? More troops from Ne’haer are coming. That’s what Jonah’s been saying at least, but he also fondles Ne’haer’s balls like they were a smooth pair of red rubies, so who knows if that’s true,” Asha’s voice chirped through the routine clanging which crashed through the cold cavern’s air. The normally stern lines which framed her face had softened from boredom in the dull firelight, and she had taken a seat against a sizable boulder which had broken free from the tunnel’s walls.
“Good. Need some more support from the heartland if we’ve got more of his lot working down here,” the guard grunted in response, idly gesturing to the breathless, sweat-slaked body of the Lotharro working before him. Zafir saw the man’s eyes flash dangerous for a fleeting moment, but return to focus on the stone in front of him.
“Is it?” Zafir’s voiced slid smoothly, almost apologetically, from his lips. His voice was soft and smooth, not rumbling or gravely like one might expect from the mountain a man that worked alongside his fellow miners. “A good thing, I mean?”
“Of course it is! Yurrova’s never been a safe place to work or start of family. If it isn’t bandits in the forest, its Ironridge from the hills. About time someone put this place into order, and Ne’haer is the one that’s doing it.” Though Zafir couldn’t see the man’s face well, the guard’s scowl was apparent in his tone. If he was a local, it was likely that he was desperate for the stability that Ne’haer had been promising for arcs-on-end. If he wasn’t, well, then it was likely that the soldier was from the city they were discussing.
“How?”
“I just said ‘how’, weren’t you listening? They’re sending more soldiers.”
“And that will help?” Zafir paused his work to look towards the guard, keeping his tone even. He was trying his best to not step on any toes, in the off chance that the guard wasn’t a local and was instead from Ne’haer-proper, but either the boredom from the trial’s work or the increasing stress of living in Yurrova in recent cycles must have ate at his patience. If people were going to state their opinions about the future of Yurrova, then the normally polite Zafir felt it more than fair for him to test those thoughts.
“Yes, that will help. More soldiers means more stability. A show strength will deter bandits and Ironridge alike, and make sure your lot feels safer at night. Don’t expect a civilian to understand.” The guard waved his hand dismissively at Zafir, as if the gesture would end the dialogue with him. If that was the intent, the man could not have been more inaccurate in estimating the Ellune’s response.
“Who is that best for?”
“Yurrova!”
“Really, Yurrova? Or just Ne’haer?”
Down the pickaxe came.
Steel ringing against stone, the sound of work moved to consume the now empty air. The guard made no move to respond, and if Zafir could see him in the flickering light of the lamp, he would see the man seething as he processed the Ellune’s words. He would see Asha, beside the soldier, flashing confused eyes towards the Ellune. He would see Nares toothy grin peek out from behind his lips, glad to see anyone take a stand against the man who help enforce his punishment.
Zafir returned to work as he waited for the guard’s reply, glad for both the discussion and the brief respite that it gave from his boredom. Yurrova was changing, and rapidly at that. It was always a region unbalanced, forever changing hands between nobles and cities as they squabbled over the town’s resources, but never as much as it was now. Ironridge stood at one-side of the encroaching conflict, Ne’haer on the other, and poor Yurrova in the middle. Now, more than ever, it was important to know on which side one stood.
“Excuse me if I’m out of turn, but the way I see it, Ne’haer only wants what is best for Ne’haer. If they’re in control, they get to decide what is best for Yurrova, not the Yurrovan’s. And what’s best for Ne’haer isn’t always what’s best for Yurrova. When was the last time that Yurrova, or the people of Yurrova, got to decide what was best for us? No time in my living memory, I'll bet you that.” Zafir slammed his war pick into the wall, tearing free a large section of rock which crumbled underneath the blow. A sliver of purple peeked out from the dull gray of the stone. A cache of Ametrine crystal; the foreman would be happy that his crew had found the gems and they could finally be paid for their work. He bent down and picked up a stray shard that had sprung free from the stone when his pick had pierced it. Zafir idly rolled the gem in between his thick fingers.
“Who knows, though? That might all be changing soon enough.”
Down the pickaxe came.
Zafir gathered the gems in his pouch, and began the long walk back up to the surface. He motioned for his crew to follow him. Today his work was done and he'd be dragged up topside to rest and recuperate. Though he suspected he be back in the underground's embrace soon, with what was occurring in the region he called home, he had no way to know for sure. Yurrova was a region in constant chaos, and as such, so were its people.
