Chapter 552 — Spring
Blade of Dawn · Page 4 of 4
After all, this place was separated from the Golan Territory on the border of the Duchy of Cecil by nothing more than a single river and a small patch of woods.
Below the watchtower was the hastily constructed mining camp. Those Cecil people had transported a great quantity of strange and curious equipment through the Golan region, laid down a magical net across the mining site, put up prefabricated huts, and cleared a simple road—though the tools they used and the layout of their buildings were all quite peculiar, at least up to now, all that these Southerners had done was the preparatory work necessary for "mining."
"Marquis Belk, I hope this mining site can satisfy your curiosity," a voice came from beside him. "After all, in a desolate mountain wilderness like this, there really isn't much scenery to speak of."
The speaker was a thin, dark man named Holm. Belk Loren knew that this young man—who did not even have a surname—was the head of the "White Sand Mining Company," the "mining expert" sent by the Cecils. He did not know why the management of such an enormous enterprise, commanding hundreds upon hundreds of workers, should fall to a commoner, but he still nodded politely to Holm: "I didn't come here to look at scenery myself. I merely came to look at your mining site—please forgive my bluntness, but I must emphasize: though the mining rights have been granted to you, this is still the land of the Eastern Region, and I am responsible for every inch of land beyond the mining site."
Holm nodded. "Of course, Marquis. We only mine. We have no interest in any land beyond the mining site and the road."
In the distance, the Cecil people bustling among the crags had finally completed some manner of preparation. Accompanied by shrill whistles and several clear blasts of flutes, the miners clad in coarse work clothes swiftly ran far from the crags and hid behind a cluster of boulders.
Belk stared at the scene in astonishment. In any mining process he had ever heard of, he had never seen anything like this. "What are they doing?"
Holm laughed—this man born of slave labor had never in his life worn such a radiant smile. "Mining."
Out on the distant mining site, someone waved a conspicuous flag several times from a high place, and then all the miners near the crags covered their ears.
Belk Loren's face was full of curiosity. "Mining?"
A heaven-shaking roar came from afar.
More roars followed, one chasing on the heels of another, like rolling thunder.
The entire watchtower trembled faintly amid that unending series of roars. Under an impact more terrifying than an explosion spell, more terrifying than an earthquake spell, that distant crag—which would have required hundreds of men a whole month to carve through—collapsed with a thunderous crash.
Belk had all but drawn his sword. Amid the ringing in his ears, he heard the voice of the White Sand Mining Company's head from beside him:
"Yes, mining. We only mine, Marquis."