"You're lucky, I know these shafts," Vargas claimed, rustling with armor plates.
It was strange to see him don Church gear, but he didn't have his own.
Gabrielle sent him as an advisor, not a mercenary.
"You always know everything," Konrad took a jab at him.
"Wasn't born a Captain." Vargas shrugged. "I happen to have worked here many years ago."
"As a guard or a slavedriver?" That claim raised an eyebrow.
"Lord Halstadt had executed every foreman here," he offered a clue, "and I'm alive and well."
So he was a miner. Or even a slave?
That image that didn't fit the cynical, self-serving captain he knew, but he didn't ask.
And, well, the captain did mention that Erwin had saved him.
"Before you get any funny ideas, I'm only here to give a swing to this beauty," Vargas patted the arming sword at his side. "And without my guidance, you'd be here forever."
"Right, I didn't assume anything nice of you." Konrad nodded with a grin. "Like self-sacrifice."
But the old schemer might have had a soft side to him, too.
They only took a small group down. As it turned out, goblins freaked Nimrod out.
Half-abandoned mineshafts weren't the ideal terrain for an army, either.
He would've faced the goblins alone, too, only to avoid unnecessary casualties.
But then the couple of dozen Blood Moons almost rebelled.
"We came to repay the adamantite and fight for every tribe," their leader shouted, beating his chest. "Church or goblins, it's all the same to us—but we won't stand idle."
At least they were eager.
Konrad embedded every spell into his sword that he could think of. The blade vibrated with an almost audible hum. But the air felt barren compared to the dungeon from a month ago.
He learned a lot since, and knew that he couldn't refill his mana down there.
"Don't fall behind," Vargas warned. "And watch your steps, it's easy to trip."
And so they followed him—weapons drawn—into the huge chambers.
The corridor beyond the entrance widened with every step taken. They descended at a steady angle, but the ceiling remained at the same height. Soon, they entered a vast, empty hall.
Walls glistened with a damp, crystalline sheen.
The air felt dry, crisp, and to nobody's surprise, salty.
No torchlight could touch the ceiling or the far end.
"Your first time in a salt mine?" Vargas asked, and Konrad realized that his jaw dropped.
The place was insane, as if the entire mountain was hollow.
"Not what I imagined."
"They say, this mountain range used to be an ocean," the captain explained. "Now the water is gone, but the salt is still here, waiting to be dug up."
Right. This wasn't an iron mine to search for elusive ore veins.
This was all salt—expensive stuff that they only had to move out of here.
"So that's the whole mine?" Konrad asked, confused. "How do you get lost in this?"
"No, seven similar chambers," Vargas claimed. "Or could be more since, and the connecting tunnels often caved in back in my days."
Imagining the ceiling coming down, Konrad shuddered.
Tiny holes dotted the walls, and he had to realize they were human-sized.
"O-okay, we should find Bor first," he noted, trying to focus on the tasks ahead.
"Hmm, that'd be—"
A scream cut the captain short.
It echoed from everywhere at once, giving no hint of the real direction.
"That way." Vargas pointed at a small tunnel regardless. He'd wait for no answer.
Konrad had to run to keep up, the Blood Moon torch-bearers following close behind.
This cavern was smaller, slick with moisture. Wooden support beams groaned under the weight of the mountain. And people were visiting places like this for recreation?
It wasn't long before it opened into another chamber that bore the signs of recent expansion.
Bor was there, and what remained of his scouting party.
Two tribesmen on the ground, throats slit with crude, sharpened stones.
Their blood looked black in the torchlight.
Bor stood over a third body, a small, wiry creature with sallow green skin and oversized ears.
Its skull? Crushed by the tribesman's axe.
"Goblins," he snarled, kicking the corpse. "The little shits set a trap. Took two of us before—"
A rock struck the torch in a Blood Moon's hand, sending it clattering to the ground.
Another rock whizzed past Konrad's head, striking the wall with a sharp crack.
"Lights out," Vargas barked, and they found themselves in darkness. "They aim for the flames."
Echoes brought sharp laughter and taunts in a language they didn't understand.
A daze—coming from nowhere and everywhere at once.
This felt very different from his dungeon visit.
"What now?" Konrad whispered, stones clattering around them. He and Vargas had armor on, but the tribesmen—they lost two of them already; his plans went out the window.
"You tell me," Vargas grumbled. "They came in behind us. I know a way, but we're surrounded."
Now, on top of the stones, crude flaming arrows rained down, too.
They were too small to cause damage, like matches—but they could illuminate them.
"Ugh, fine—everyone, close your eyes," Konrad commanded, summoning lights of his own. A lot of them—all at once—with the intensity of a supernova. "I'll give you light."
Whether the goblins became blind for good or not, they sure screamed a lot.
He toned the brightness down until it was safe to open their eyes. Tribesmen shot arrows back at the monsters right away, but it was pointless. There was more than they had ammo.
A guttural shriek came from the tunnel behind them.
More goblins, flanking—with their eyes intact.
"Vargas," Konrad snapped, "a way out, now?"
"The old pump shaft," the captain yelled. He pointed at a dark, narrow opening half-hidden behind a collapsed cart. "It'll be a tight squeeze with this armor on, but—"
A sharpened stick flew from the darkness and shattered against Konrad's armored chest.
"I'll cover our rear," he ordered without missing a beat. "Go, take that shaft."
He sent a fireball at the largest formation, buying a few seconds as they raced across the chamber. By the time it was his turn to jump into that black hole, the beasts were all over him.
The adamantite blade did a great service again, and he blocked the shaft with more flames.
It was a vertical drop, rusted iron rungs set into the stone. He descended into a suffocating darkness. His only guides were the grunts of his peers ahead of him.
The rungs ended at a horizontal tunnel, so low he had to crawl.
The air was thick with an animal musk, overwhelming in the claustrophobic place.
Vargas waited for him at a fork in the path.
"This leads to the main slave pens. If anyone's alive, they're down here," he said, and Konrad was ready to move on. The captain grabbed his arm, though. "But you want to look at this first."
The other tunnel opened into another small cavern. Full of goblins.
Their claws scrabbled at the rock around a deep fissure.
They weren't attacking. They didn't even notice them—or didn't care.
They were only digging.
From the fissure, a low, rhythmic pounding echoed.
As if something massive was trying to break in from the other side. The goblins tried their best to let it in—and Konrad regretted talking about balrogs earlier.