Now that his business with the Baron was concluded, Stick returned to being a simple slave miner. Since it was still the middle of the day, he was brought to the mines on horseback by Gallagher. They raced through the forest path, his mind swirling with the weight of the Baron’s offer. Is there even a possibility to decline?
As they rounded a bend in the path, they saw the caravan returning to the manor. The wagons were now devoid of logs. The servants, exhausted and dejected, trudged alongside, their heads bowed while the Players sat comfortably in the driver’s seat, commanding the horses. Stick watched them pass, a pang of guilt twisting in his gut. If I accept the offer, what would they think of me?
He stared at the [Letter of Initiation] in his [Inventory] for a long time and didn’t notice that they had arrived at the mine. It was when the red shine of the knights’ armour hit his face that he realised he was supposed to dismount Gallagher’s horse. The Sword and the Mace sat at their usual spot under their canopy. Reacher lay by the fire, sleeping with a big pelt covering his body. His face looked softer and more relaxed after what had to have been a sleepless night. Becket, who waited for them to arrive, unceremoniously handed him a pickaxe and sent him to work the minute he got there.
“Your quota is still the same. No exceptions today,” the Sword said.
Stick snatched the torch Becket had just lit for him and immediately hurried to his spot at the end of the cave. The other miners eyed his fine clothes with suspicion as he passed them, sensing something had changed. Stick kept his head down, feeling the heavy burden of having to make a decision. What would Montgomery say right now?
In the deepest part of the cave, a wooden tunnel had been constructed where he had been previously working with PP, leading further into the darkness. The air was surprisingly fresh, a curious anomaly in the otherwise suffocating depths. As he ventured deeper, the air grew colder, but the flame on the torch that he’d usually snuff out at this point for safety reasons was still burning brightly. He tried to hold the torch as low as possible so as not to burn the wooden structure above him. Stick couldn’t help but marvel at the craftsmanship; it was solid, designed to withstand the treacherous conditions of the gravel above. Reacher sure knows his work.
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The tunnel opened into a spacious cavern, its walls sparkling with embedded gems. Stick’s breath caught in his throat at the sight. There were clearly visible rubies, emeralds and even diamonds lined up on the surface of the wall. This is big!
“Amazing, isn’t it?” he heard a voice.
It was the Battleaxe slowly approaching him from further inside the cavern with heavy, clanking footsteps. He was navigating the darkness of that place without a torch. Stick’s hair stood on end. The knight’s bulky silver armour was covered in blood on its left side. What the fuck?
He [inspected] the [Warrior] [Knight] and learned that his name was George Stamos. And he’s [LVL] 50!
Stick gulped.
“I didn’t think we’d find this place,” the Battleaxe said.
“What are you doing down here?” Stick asked, noticing a trail of blood leading further into the darkness.
The Battleaxe stopped walking. “Me? Just making sure that business is taken care of properly.”
Business? What business?
Stick, having only one thing on his mind, asked: “Where’s PP?”
Stamos tapped a finger against his helmet as if in thought, leaving a bloody imprint on his left temple. “The Prized Possession? It’s further inside.”
image [https://i.imgur.com/TeGdFvx.jpeg]
A nauseating feeling started building up inside of him, as the red liquid started to make a puddle beside the Paladin’s silver boot. The knight moved again. His heart started pumping. The air in front of his face filled with his vapoury breath as his breathing became flatter and flatter. The knight closed the space between them steadily, resolved. Stick’s clutch around his pickaxe tightened, his fingers turning white. Don’t come any closer. Or I’ll… I will-
But the knight passed him without a second thought. Stick just stood there frozen on the spot.
“I’d hurry if I were you. It’s dangerous around here,” Stamos said as he entered the tunnel.
When he could no longer hear the footsteps of metal on wood, a wave of relief overcame him. Stick coughed, only now noticing that he was holding his breath the entire time. If he wanted to kill me now, I’d be powerless to stop him. Fuck! I’m such a weakling. What kind of a hero are you, Stick?
There was no time for self-pity, however. There was a person in danger ahead. Stick put his doubts aside and started to head deeper into the cave. There was only one path he could follow and the more he ran, the bigger the trail of blood on the ground became. Shit!
He picked up the pace and his run turned into a full-on sprint when he saw the dying light of a torch on the ground. In its flickering light, he saw the silhouette of a big man sitting against the wall clutching his belly. Directly opposite him, a… thing with many big, stiff appendages lay still on the ground. PP!