A deep silence reigned in the meeting hall of the mansion, Rivaril's only luxury structure. The massive mahogany table in the center of the room looked like a map, marked by the grime of years and spilled wine stains.
The Island Administration Council chosen by Firel had taken their places. To the right of the empty seat at the head of the table sat Carlos, struggling to fit his massive bulk into the chair; to the left sat Aiden, now holding the title of "Father," in the seat he had won with that bloody deal three years ago. The other four leaders were spread around the rest of the table.
Heavy, metallic footsteps from the corridor cut through the silence like a knife.
When Lord Firel entered, the air in the room seemed to suddenly grow heavier. As if receiving an invisible command, the leaders stood up simultaneously, placing their hands over their hearts and bowing their heads. Firel walked with heavy steps without looking at anyone. In a single motion, he dropped the massive, bloody war hammer from his shoulder onto the table.
The wooden floor trembled as the hammer landed; the water in the cups rippled. With a tired but authoritative demeanor, Firel sank into his leather chair.
"Gentlemen, I am waiting for your reports," he said, his dry throat making his voice sound like a chain smoker's. He downed the water from the pitcher on the table in one go.
Hakan spoke nonchalantly while cleaning the dirt from under his fingernails with the tip of his hunting knife. "The last two transport ships... Total garbage. These bastards are good for nothing, boss. I suggest sending them all to the mines. At least they can carry a few rocks before they die."
At the other end of the table, Morris grimaced. "We can't expend people so easily. We have needs too."
Firel rubbed his temples and intervened. "What is the status of the mine, Nedim?"
Nedim straightened the papers in front of him. His face was covered in coal dust and exhaustion. "The toxicity is increasing. We've lost a lot of men, boss. We need manpower and, most importantly, those damned masks."
Aiden stopped spinning the coin in his hand. He turned his blank face toward Nedim.
"The masks I gave you three years ago are about to run out," Aiden said, staring blankly at the center of the table. "Our stock is limited. We will distribute masks only to the most efficient workers and warriors. Wasting holy masks on useless human scraps is a misuse of resources."
Nedim looked like he was about to object, but Aiden continued. "The denser the poison, the shorter the filter's life, Nedim. It's simple math."
"That doesn't change anything!" Nedim snapped. "We still need hands to swing pickaxes in the mine."
Firel gestured to Carlos, wanting to end the argument. "Carlos... How much fresh blood entered the island in the last two shipments?"
Carlos scratched the back of his neck and stared at the ceiling. "Uhh... According to the records, it was around one thousand seven hundred, boss. But... you know, there were a lot of problems getting off the ship. Mutineers, people trying to escape... Our boys had to clean up a few."
Firel's eyes narrowed. "How many?"
"Uhh..." Carlos swallowed hard.
Firel slammed his fist onto the table. The force of the blow caused Hakan's knife to slip, creating a small cut on his hand. "Give me a number, Carlos!"
"We lost about... nine hundred, boss."
A deathly silence fell over the room. 900 potential workers, 900 soldiers... Wasted because of Carlos's stupidity.
"If you ever..." Firel said, his voice a whisper but threatening nonetheless. "Perform a massacre like that without my knowledge again, I will bury you in the deepest pit of that mine, Carlos. Is that understood?" Carlos nodded rapidly.
Firel took a deep breath and turned to Nedim. "How many people do you need?"
"Not counting the useless dregs I have... 250 solid men will keep the wheels turning for now."
"Hakan?"
Hakan picked up his knife again. "I'll pass. This batch is too weak. I can't be bothered to train them."
"Morris?"
Morris, in charge of farming, wiped his sweat. "The fields... The situation is bad, boss. Invasive vines and carnivorous plants are choking the crops. The supplies sent by the Coalition aren't even enough for the birds. We need to take a risk and expand the fields, but..."
"Get to the point, Morris."
"600 men," Morris said with a trembling voice. "It will barely be enough."
"Good luck with the remaining 150, Father," Firel said, leaning back. "Anyone else have anything to add?"
As if forgetting the scolding he just received, Carlos raised a finger. "I hate this island, boss. Let's build a ship. I'm serious. Why don't we build our own ship and leave?"
Firel was walking the edge of his patience. "Carlos... All the trees on the island are poisonous and rotten. They would fall apart before reaching the mainland. Besides, I didn't know you were an engineer? With what materials and what plan are you going to build it?"
"I don't know about that stuff," Carlos shrugged. "But so many men are coming. Surely there's someone among them who knows how to build a ship."
"There are no materials, Carlos, no materials!" Firel roared.
Hakan interjected with a smirk. "What if we hijack the Holyland supply ship approaching the island?"
Aiden turned his head toward Hakan with a mocking smile. "Haven't you heard of the Resfozgu soldiers, Hakan? Those northern barbarians protect the ships. do you think you can stand up to those savage beasts with the strength of a few marauders? Maybe you intend to get us all killed, or..." Aiden paused, his voice icy. "That seat you're sitting in is getting a little too big for you."
Hakan's face tensed with rage. He stabbed his knife hard into the table. "Are you the one who decides where I sit, Eyeless Hunter?"
"Why is your knife on my table, Hakan?" Firel asked in a calm tone.
"But boss, this brat..." Hakan started, but was crushed under Firel's gaze. Gritting his teeth, he took his knife and placed it back in its sheath.
Firel's voice was heard clearly in the hall. "If you even breathe without my order again... I will cut that breath off."
Everyone shrank back into their seats. Firel stood up.
"Aiden... Find a way to produce those damn masks. Make a deal with the devil if you have to, but get those masks. Hakan, investigate if there's anyone among the soldiers who knows about galley construction. Scout the small neighboring islets; maybe we can find solid timber there."
Firel walked to the window and looked out at the grey, toxic fog.
"Carlos, make sure the newcomers behave. Next time, I won't ignore such a loss." He turned around and looked at his team. There was pure anger and desperation in his eyes.
"Gentlemen, I hate this island as much as you do. I have a wife and child waiting for me on the mainland. We need to find a way to get the hell out of here. Otherwise, we all..." He pointed outside. "Will rot in this fog and drown in our own vomit. The meeting is adjourned. Get back to work."