We reached the village quickly. As our cavalcade entered, we had to slow down—the main street was packed with people, even in the pouring rain. But the presence of the orcs seemed to be enough to make an impression; the crowd immediately parted, clearing the way for us.

Cries and shouts filled the air as we made our way through the narrow street, between clusters of distressed villagers. The road widened as we approached, and soon we came to a halt in front of a larger building. Two orcs leapt from their horses to open the door and stand guard by my side.

With the noise of the coach and the clatter of hooves quieting, the voices around us became clearer: "Save them!" "Oh, Gods, help us!" "What can she do?" "Please, help us!" "Mammy, mammy! Where’s my mammy?"

I scanned the ground, searching for a less muddy path leading to the main building we’d stopped in front of. Judging by the crowd, there were at least a hundred people gathered around. As Alice and the boys climbed down, I decided to take my chances and stepped out behind them. By my second step, cold water surged over the tops of my shoes, flooding them.

"This way!" Alice called, and I followed, resigned.

I sighed in frustration as my toes squelched in the soggy, cold mush that filled my shoes. I should’ve worn boots. Too late for that now. Maybe once we got inside, I could make the switch.

Two orcs followed me while the other four stayed back, guarding the coach and horses. I glanced at them: warrior, level eighty-four; warrior, level seventy-five. Alright, two very high-level monsters assigned to protect me. I shrugged. It felt like overkill, but Drackar clearly wasn’t taking any chances with my safety.

The crowd around us didn’t seem particularly hostile, though a few shouts pierced the rain. As we approached the building, the main door was shut, but at least I could step onto the wooden platform running along the wall and scrape the mud off my shoes. I'd need to wash my feet before switching to boots. Alice knocked on the door, waited, then knocked harder when no one responded.

"Durham! Open up! Lady Lores is here!" she called out.

Meanwhile, from the crowd, a small delegation of five approached us through the rain. The man leading them, a burly fellow in his forties, spoke up.

"Lady Lores, my name is Bertran. I’m the mayor of Oxfarm, and these are our priests. May we join you?"

I nodded. I assumed the village was called Oxfarm, but I refrained from asking, not wanting to seem too out of touch.

Finally, the door creaked open. One of the orcs peeked inside, then stepped in, scanning the room before turning back and giving a nod to his companion.

The two orcs took their positions on either side of the door as I walked in, followed by Alice, the boys, and the small group of villagers.

“Oh, thank the Gods, I thought I’d have to fight my way out!” Durham exclaimed as soon as he saw us, though his relief quickly turned to a snort when he noticed the villagers behind us.

I glanced around the room. It was spacious, with several desks and cabinets filled with what looked like index cards and binders. Inside, there were seven people: Durham, four Xsoha, and two other humans, who were soon introduced as the engineers.

Durham and the chief engineer began explaining what had happened. Apparently, the heavy rains of the past few days had triggered a massive landslide, causing a cave-in that buried nearly an entire shift of workers in the mine’s main galleries. In total, around five hundred people worked there, divided into two shifts of thirteen arcs each. Each shift had over two hundred workers.

I blinked, thinking I must have misheard. “Thirteen arcs?” I asked for clarification. Yes, they were working the equivalent of thirteen-hour shifts. Oh my!

To make matters worse, after the first cave-in, workers from the previous shift were called in to help free those trapped, only to be buried themselves by a second, much larger landslide. They couldn’t even account for how many were now trapped in the mine, as the rescuers had rushed in without being properly counted in the chaos. Even the main access shaft was now buried.

The mine would have to be reopened from scratch, and connecting to the old galleries could take weeks, if not months. This meant that most of the miners were almost certainly dead, and any potential survivors were likely beyond saving. The real challenge was that their loved ones—partners, parents, children—refused to accept that grim reality.

They suggested I address the crowd, explain the situation, offer a promise of help, and possibly discuss some kind of bonus to entice new miners to replace the dead. The five villagers who had entered with us remained silent, likely waiting to gauge my reaction before saying anything.

"Are you certain they're all dead?" I asked, still trying to grasp the enormity of the situation.

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The chief engineer sighed heavily.

"The access shaft was almost vertical, over a hundred meters deep, and it connected to tunnels that stretch for kilometers underground. The shaft, along with large sections of the tunnels, has completely caved in. On top of that, it's all been flooded by the rain. Even if someone somehow survived deep in the galleries, they’re probably wishing for death by now. There's no way we can reach them in time," he explained somberly.

Durham nodded and repeated, "You need to explain this to the people to calm them down!"

I hate it when someone tells me what I have to do, especially when it’s not what I thought I’d be dealing with. Besides, I still had questions.

"How could this happen? I mean, why did it cave in?" I asked. Shouldn't the construction be sturdy enough to handle some rain?

“The torrential downpour weakened the ground, and a lot of water seeped into the tunnel,” Durham explained.

"Shouldn't it have held up regardless? Was the rain really that unusual?" I wondered aloud. I couldn't recall any rain at all.

The two exchanged glances. Only now did the mayor finally speak.

“There weren’t enough support beams to hold the ceiling and the shaft," the mayor growled. "My boys warned me a cave-in was coming! I came to you just a couple of weeks ago, asking for the shaft to be reinforced—and you refused! Now they're dead! Someone has to pay for this!”

His eyes blazed with anger, directed straight at Durham and the engineer. Durham turned to the engineer.

“We followed the royal standard,” the engineer replied calmly. “Accidents happen, but no one is to blame here.”

“No one’s to blame? More support beams would’ve saved them!” the mayor shot back.

“Support beams cost money, and the extra expense wasn’t approved,” the engineer said, his voice tight.

“That’s why we have standards!” Durham interjected, pushing back. “Maybe the beams were just placed incorrectly?”

“The problem is the orcs!” one of the priests exclaimed, with the others nodding in agreement. “The gods are angry with us! As long as we harbor those unholy creatures, disasters like this will continue!”

“My boys spoke of missing support beams, not orcs!” the mayor snapped, refusing to be swayed.

As they kept arguing over whose fault the catastrophe was, I had a different kind of a problem and I could feel the stress building inside me. The air in the room was thick and stale, a mix of unpleasant smells that seemed to be growing stronger by the minute. Some of the men clearly hadn’t bathed in ages, and the rain hadn’t helped—it only seemed to intensify the stench. A sharp wave of foul odors assaulted my nostrils, and I knew I was close to gagging.

Before I embarrassed myself by retching all over the table, I stood up quickly, covering my mouth with one hand, and rushed out—leaving Alice to take my place.

I barely made it outside. After stumbling a few steps past the orc standing guard, I leaned over and retched into the mud. That was all I could manage to hold back. Once it passed, I slumped against the wall, taking in deep breaths of fresh air as the rain washed over my face.

“Lady Lores!” an orc greeted me.

I thought he was mocking me and snorted, but when I raised my eyes, I recognized Drackar standing a few meters away.

“Drackar!” I exclaimed, surprised.

I might have said nice to see you, but this was hardly a pleasant occasion. He chuckled.

“I’d have the same reaction with that lot inside,” he said, amused. “That’s all I have to say about them.”

Caught off guard by the comment and unsure how to respond, I blurted out, “Is there no hope?”

He chuckled again, his tusks glinting slightly in the rain.

“There’s an orc saying: hope dies last. As long as there’s life, there’s always hope.”

Was he trying to tell me something deeper, or was it just casual conversation?

“No, I mean... to save those people?” I asked, trying to clarify.

Drackar shrugged. “Some could be saved. It’s just a matter of money. Money, organization, and will.”

“You mean they can be saved?” I pressed, hopeful.

He shook his head. “I said some. I don’t know how many. It depends on luck and how quickly they’re dug out. The longer we wait, the worse their chances.”

“Then why are they still in there arguing instead of doing something?” I asked, gesturing toward the room I had just stormed out of.

He lifted his hands, palms up. “Like I said—it’s about money, organization, and will. They don’t have any of those. Even if you gave them the money, they wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

“And you could do it?”

He shook his head. “Not me. But a skilled Earth mage with mining experience could.”

“And do you have such a wonder worker?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He glanced at me sideways and nodded. “Yes, I happen to have one.”

“So what are you waiting for?” I asked, impatient.

He chuckled. “I take it you’re prepared to offer him a couple of gold for the extra work, then? If so, I’ll have him start immediately.”

I snorted and nodded. What’s a couple of gold if it means saving hundreds of lives? Since when did orcs become so mercantile? But just then, he had to add:

“I should warn you, though, that a couple of gold is just the beginning. More resources will be needed.”