"Clang, clang, clang..." The first rays of dawn slowly fell upon Lycaeus's dome. Miners, weary from half a day's labor, dragged their tired bodies onto the train carrying today's ore, heading back to their camps.
"Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh..." The steam locomotive continuously puffed out thick black smoke. The dark smoke, carried by the train's slow speed, evenly spread around the tracks, leaving a trail of black.
At the same time, an empty train began to depart from the other end. However, what struck the train's armed personnel as eerie was that after passing several camps, not a single person boarded the train. The slaves, who usually looked like zombies with perpetual fatigue etched on their faces, seemed to have vanished into thin air.
"Inquire about the situation of the other trains and report the situation to rulers in the High Tower," the train conductor said, watching the train approaching from the opposite track. Only the miners returning for their shift knew that things were troublesome. It was understandable if one or two camps were empty, but if no one was there at all, then the problem was serious.
"Train conductor, this is bad! The other trains have encountered the same situation; there's no one. It's as if all the slaves on Lycaeus have disappeared!" The communicator reported to the train conductor in a fluster.
"Has it been reported to the High Tower?" the train conductor asked, frowning deeply.
"The moment I confirmed with the other trains, I already reported it," the communicator said.
"It's not that those slaves have disappeared; it's that this group of slaves is on strike!" the train conductor said through gritted teeth.
"Order the train to stop. All armed supervisors disembark and gather on the platform, awaiting orders from above!" The train conductor pondered for a moment before issuing his command. In such a situation, the High Tower would certainly send the nearest supervisors to check on the conditions of the closest camps. The returning trains needed to escort the harvested ore, so they were naturally the closest. The patrolling supervisors, according to the High Tower's regulations, would only depart an hour later.
Sure enough, just as the train's armed supervisors disembarked and began to gather, the communicator received an order from the High Tower.
"I don't care what these slaves are up to. Go to the camp closest to you right now and drive them all back to mining!" A furious roar came from the other end of the communicator.
"Sir, what if this group of slaves doesn't obey our orders?" The train conductor had to ask for instructions from above, to know what attitude to take in dealing with this strike.
"Then they won't have to mine anymore." With that, the communication was cut off.
"Check which camp is closest to us," the train conductor ordered.
"Sir, the closest to us is Camp No. 169, but..." The communicator wanted to say something but ultimately swallowed his words.
"Don't be so wishy-washy, speak quickly!" The train conductor snapped impatiently. He was usually only responsible for the train's operation and wasn't clear about the distribution of nearby camps.
"This camp is the largest in the surrounding area, even in the Eastern District. As the superiors said, it's not easy to handle," the supervisor responsible for communications told the train conductor the truth.
"Damn it, I forgot to check the almanac before I left today!" The train conductor covered his forehead in pain. Now he truly wanted to feign illness and quit. If he really followed the orders from above, then all the supervisors on his train would be on the list for mining, and he would definitely be at the top. Although these supervisors didn't have access to information from above and knew nothing about politics, small people always had their own ways of survival. He had seen many of his colleagues sent to mine, but once these people went down, where would they have a chance to mine? They were torn to shreds by those slaves at the first opportunity. Literally shredded. The hatred of the miners on Lycaeus for these dogs of the High Tower was beyond even a blood feud. Even those supervisors who weren't responsible for daily patrols, these slaves could tell their origins at a glance in the vast crowd. This was fate.
The train conductor led a group of armed supervisors, guided by the communicator, towards the Saviors' camp.
"Stop, you, you come here!" Halfway there, the train conductor suddenly called out to the communicator who was leading the way.
"Train conductor, what are your orders?" The communicator said, bowing and stooping like a fawning dog.
"Click..." The train conductor didn't speak; he simply switched his communicator to silent mode.
"Everyone, gather closer! If you don't want to be sent to mine, listen carefully to every word I say next!" The train conductor swung the long whip in his hand. The slender, scaly whip made a huge sonic boom in the air. A group of dozens of supervisors, who had been walking haphazardly, immediately clustered around the train conductor upon hearing the sound.
"You all know the orders from above, but from now on, I will emphasize one point: no one is allowed to fire without my command, do you hear me!" The train conductor roared, glaring fiercely at the group of supervisors. After all, this bunch wasn't a regular army, and they were accustomed to throwing their weight around on Lycaeus. Now that their lives were at stake, the train conductor naturally wouldn't indulge them.
"Train conductor, don't worry, we know what to do. Even if we shoot, we won't aim at people. Although the brothers are a bit relaxed on weekdays, they are clear-headed inside. If we kill all these slaves, and the higher-ups blame us, then we'll be the ones sent to mine," the supervisor in charge of train safety said with a smile.
"Also, keep your mouths shut. If today's events are leaked, I'll make sure whoever did it faces a fate worse than death. Move out!" After speaking, the train conductor directed the group to continue towards the Saviors' camp.
Except for the most unlucky armed supervisors belonging to the train, who had to travel on foot, the supervisors from other supply points were all herded out like ducks. Suddenly, Lycaeus, which had been running smoothly for an unknown number of years, descended into chaos. Those supervisors who were accustomed to dawdling and slacking off were now being chased and cursed at as they rushed to the nearest camps. Even those supervisors who were just about to change shifts were also sent out.
"Train conductor, we're almost there, but the people in this camp are not to be trifled with. Please be careful," the communicator said, pointing to the large camp built with various stones about two hundred meters ahead.
"You call this thing a camp?" the train conductor said, looking at the fortress surrounded by thick stone walls. With city walls ten meters high, various towers, firing holes, and battlements appearing endlessly, it made the train conductor wonder if he had arrived at some ancient noble's castle.