The fact that I’d already witnessed healing magic didn’t even register as I lay on the hard, stony ground, paralyzed with panic over my flopping jaw.

  People walked by, but nobody paid me any attention. Would the Overseer really leave me without any medical care? Wincing and sore, I gathered myself and gingerly wriggled up to a sitting position. I hated this new stage of my new life already.

  To my shame, when a shadow fell over me, I winced and tried to shuffle back before I received another unwarranted attack. I knew one thing. Nobody was getting a free shot like that again. Everyone here was an enemy.

  “Looks like you need healing,” the shadow said.

  I looked up through watery eyes to see a dark, almost purple-skinned woman stood over me. I couldn’t reply, but within seconds, her hands glowed with the familiar hue of healing, and she touched the side of my head. I didn’t even recoil this time, knowing roughly what to expect and desperate to be healed.

  The jaw bones knitted together far more slowly than the healing I’d received on Unalar, and I took in the woman’s identifier.

  Name: Keala Unstele

  Title: Healer of Minareth

  Level: 18

  Class: Mage

  “Thank you,” I said in a half gasp as she stepped away.

  “Needn’t thank me, it’s what I’m paid to do. Though not nearly enough, mind you,” she scowled. “Now get back to work and try not to break yourself again.”

  She turned to leave, but I shouted after her. “Wait, I have Harmony, which means I can do magic, right?”

  She cast a withering look back over her shoulder. “Everybody has Harmony, fool. Don’t mean you’re a mage.”

  “Ah… right. I was told my base Harmony is high enough to learn.”

  She wasn’t impressed. The irritated look on her face turned sour. “Doubt they’d be putting you in a mine full of stone to quarry if you were any use whatsoever.”

  “I just want to know how to do it. If I learned, could I heal myself?”

  “If you could learn, then of course you could heal yourself. But even if your base Harmony was thirty, you’re working in a mine, not learning to heal. Now get back to work before I report you to Ashin.” She walked away a few steps, then looked back. “And look after yourself. I’m busy enough without a clumsy fool like you tottering about.”

  I sighed and then looked around, trying to find some idea of what I was supposed to do now. That’s when my assailant popped his head out the window of his shack and pointed behind me.

  “Wooden shack—you’re looking for the charge hand, Eest. He’ll get you started.”

  Then he was gone, vanished into the shadows of his cottage. No apology, no acknowledgment of what he’d just done. I shook my head with disappointment, then turned and headed in the direction he’d said.

  It didn’t take long to find the hut as it was the center of activity in the area. People were coming and going amidst a lot of shouting.

  I was ignored as I passed my fellow workers and popped my head in through the blanket door. “I’m looking for Eest.”

  A short, red-faced man with a short, brown beard sitting behind a desk looked up from his scribbling. “Whaddya want?”

  “I’m to start working here. To improve my Toughness.”

  “By the gods. Did you actually choose to come here?”

  I nodded mutely.

  “You must be soft in the head, lad? Nobody chooses the mines.”

  “I figured it would be the best way to level fast.”

  “Aye, well, there’s some truth in that, up to a point. But start slow and steady, or you’ll be regretting it afore the day is done, and it’s already half done.”

  I grimaced at his words. I’d far rather be out in the forests, but I had a job to do. I had to power up and get into a position to meet people who might be able to help me get home. The fact that I’d already met a mage who could heal gave me a sliver of hope that I’d be able to find somebody who could make a portal.

  “I won’t,” I promised. “Can’t be any worse than the torture chamber in the mountain.”

  He laughed at that. “Bah! It’s barely a tickle in there! Waste of time and money if you ask me, but no one ever asks me because I’m a Grunir, and Archons don’t give a shit what a Grunir thinks. Unless it’s how to make them even more money, of course, but that’s a rant for another day.”

  I realized that I hadn’t even checked his stats, and took a moment as he blathered on.

  Name: Eest Morva

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  Title: Chargehand of Minareth

  Level: 20

  Class: Tradesman

  Lower than I expected, but with three points per level and looking like they were all in the durable aspect of Toughness, I didn’t have cause to doubt.

  “Right,” he said, clapping together shovel like hands. “Let’s get you to work. I’ll put you on cart duty to start.” He pointed behind me to a bunch of horse-drawn vehicles, though it actually wasn’t a horse at all. It was more like some hybrid between a horse and a bull.

  “The boys break out the stone, put it in the carts. The carts come up and you transfer the stone into the lorries and send the carts back down.”

  “Do I need to speak to the others to slot in?”

  “No. Go over, start hauling. It’s that simple.”

  That simple, I muttered as I slunk out of the shed. Nothing was ever that simple. But at least I was out of the cell and with some kind of purpose now. And to be fair to him, the Chargehand wasn’t so bad. We didn’t exactly have a heart-to-heart and dish out hugs, but he was simple and straight to the point. And there didn’t seem to be any inbuilt animosity in our interaction like the kind I’d felt from the Overseer.

  I knew it wouldn’t be simple as I slotted into the gang of workers. From the looks they gave me, you’d think I had just walked into their house at dinner time, dropped my trousers, and took a shit on their family dinner table.

  There were five of them in total, two Grunirs, and a green-skinned race with tusks that reminded me of orcs. A little shorter than me, but strong and vicious looking. To be honest, I was more interested in joining in the work than marveling at the multicultural prison I’d walked myself into.

  I stood like a spare wheel while the next cart was emptied, which earned me more disdainful looks, but it was worth the price to get the beat of the work and to judge where I could fit in without too much disturbance.

  Finding a clear space on the next wagon, I finally joined the work following the simple pattern. Lift jagged rock, jerk up onto shoulder, then hurl onto cart bed.

  Following the others, I kept to the same steady rhythm, and with my new levels of Toughness, I found that I didn’t tire half as easily as I expected too. An hour in, I decided to pick up my rhythm. Grab, jerk, step, throw. Grab, jerk, step, throw.

  I still didn’t go as fast as I could have as I didn’t want to risk exhausting myself as I tested out the limits of my new physicality.

  We had a few moments of rest between carts, and I took the opportunity to look around at my fellow workers to see if I could find common ground with any of them.

  It didn’t take long to be dissuaded of the notion. Almost all of their eyes glared daggers into me. I couldn’t see any reason for them to be so angry with me, so I just chalked it up to a touch of paranoia, and smiled at anyone whose eyes I met.

  After the third set of eyes and not one return smile, I reverted back to my original suspicion. They were angry with me for some reason.

  Thankfully, the next cart was wheeled into position. The wheels were chocked, the tarp was pulled off, and the sides dropped so that we could access the rocks within. I ignored the death stares coming my way and threw myself into the work.

  A little mantra played in my mind: Get stronger, get stronger, find who you need, and let’s go home.

  As the light began to wane, a whistle sounded, and everybody stopped what they were doing immediately. I didn’t know what came next, so I observed and followed the other workers back to the Chargehand’s hut. They didn’t stop there, but I did.

  Pushing my head through the canvas, I announced presence. “Hello?”

  There was no one there. It appeared as though Eest cleared off before anyone else. Perks of being a Chargehand, I supposed, but it didn’t help me. I still didn’t know where I’d be sleeping tonight.

  My best bet would be to catch up with the tail end of the workers and see what they did for sleeping quarters. So I hurried to catch up with them.

  I moved alongside a straggler. “Hey, friend. What happens now? It’s my first day here and didn’t exactly get a tour.”

  He grunted, “Food, sleep.”

  My heart soared at the thought of food and solid sleep. “Where do we sleep?”

  “Anywhere you can find unless you got a patch,” he muttered. And then he sped up, the set of his shoulders, the turn of his head, telling me I’d exhausted all the conversation he was willing to give.

  I was practically last to the food-serving area. Long rows of wooden trestle tables and benches were already filled with hardened workers devouring food from stone bowls.

  I was happy to sit on the floor as long as I got some food. Especially when I saw chunks of meat floating about in the grayish-brown liquid.

  I joined the back of the queue, and after around a five-minute wait, I was finally presented with my own bowl of stew. Despite being last, it was a good-sized portion, and I was so ready for it. Mystery meat and all.

  I looked around just in case there was a spot at a table. But people seemed to like to sit around even once they were finished their meals like it was fucking Costa or something.

  Tonight I thought it might be best if I was alone, well away from everyone until I got into the swing of things. Finding a shadowed corner with a jutting rock to lean against, I sat down and devoured the stew in a few minutes.

  The warmth of the food after so long, combined with the hard work, brought a sleepiness that I wasn’t prepared for, and my eyes started to close of their own volition.

  I fought to keep them open, and had to stand up and shake out my limbs just to stay awake long enough to find out where we slept.

  People began to slope away after another hour. I followed them to rows of long stone and thatch huts along the base of the mountain. They had the feel of barracks or dorm rooms. So I wandered over to the first of them to see what I could see. I didn’t hold out much hope to be sleeping inside tonight as I saw only groups entering the huts, and other people curled up on the ground for the night.

  My heart sank at that point. Accepting that there probably weren’t enough huts or beds in the huts to accommodate everyone, I set off to find a secluded location. Preferably one where my back could be against the wall so that I could see anything coming.

  As I moved into the shadows, I felt the presence of company following. It was a strange sensation, but I felt the menace radiating from them before I even laid eyes on them. A kind of ominous, foreboding itch at the base of my neck.

  I turned a few corners to make some room, and also remove all doubt that they were following me. Once there was no doubt, I turned to face them. “Everything okay, gentlemen?”

  Four of my fellow coworkers appeared from the darkness.

  “No, it’s not,” the biggest and most violent looking of the orc types said. “You show up today and start working too hard. You making the rest of us look bad. It’s gonna have to stop.”

  I held up a placating hand, “Guys, nobody cares what I do. You just crack on as you were. I’ll do my thing, and hopefully, I’ll be out of here in a few weeks at most.”

  While I spoke, I checked the ringleader’s stats. Worry hit as they didn’t show, but a feeling of understanding filtered through the mire. They weren’t ascended. They didn’t have stats.

  The leader grunted and hocked some phlegm before wagging a finger. “Nah. You already caused the problem. You don’t think the Overseer noticed how fast you were working? He’s gonna want us all to be working that hard now. And me and the boys here, we don’t much want to work that hard. So we need to reset the status quo.”

  I groaned. “I’ll try and make it look like I’m working slower. That’s no problem,” I lied. I fully intended to work as fast as I could again.

  “Yeah, well, it ain’t that we don’t believe. But you still gotta pay for the trouble you already caused. You see, everything comes at a price, and you already did what you did.”

  I shuffled back with a little more urgency. “Look, guys, I don’t want to do this.”

  “Oh yeah? We didn’t think you would,” he leered, then gestured to his cronies. “Get him, lads.”