Chapter 877: The Miners Dilemma

The eastern mining sector had fallen into its usual afternoon rhythm.

The distant clang of pickaxes, the rumble of ore carts rolling along rusted tracks, and the occasional shout of a foreman calling out orders.

For the workers scattered across the various shafts, it was just another day of hauling rock and praying the tunnels held steady.

—

Inside a small break area carved into the mountainside, three miners sat on overturned crates, their helmets resting beside them as they dug into their packed lunches.

"Stewed rock-lizard again." Grumbled Durn, a stocky dwarf with a copper beard and hands calloused from forty years of swinging a pick. "My wife means well, but I swear she’s trying to turn me into one of those things. Third time this week!"

"Better than mine." Replied Merek, a lanky human whose face was smudged with ore dust. "Cold mushroom porridge. Again. I told her I’d rather eat the mushrooms raw than have them congealed into that...that sludge."

"Both of you should stop complaining."

Said Torvin, the youngest of the three, a beastkin with reddish-brown fur and ears that twitched whenever he was amused.

"At least you have wives to pack your lunches. I’ve been eating the same dried meat for six months straight! I’ve forgotten what vegetables taste like!"

"That’s because you spend all your coin on ale!" Durn shot back.

"Ale is a vegetable." Torvin said sagely. "It’s made from grain."

"That’s not how vegetables work, you fool!"

The three men shared a laugh, the camaraderie of coworkers who had spent countless shifts together in the darkness below.

But as the meal wore on, the conversation took a more somber turn.

"I’ve been thinking about quitting." Merek said quietly, staring at his half-eaten porridge.

Durn nearly choked on his lizard meat. "Quitting? Are you mad!? You’d never find wages like these anywhere else on the continent!"

"I know, I know." Merek sighed heavily. "But my wife...she’s terrified. Every morning when I leave, she looks at me like it might be the last time she ever sees me. The mine beasts, the cave-ins, the mana fiends..."

He shook his head. "She’s started having trouble sleeping. I hear her crying sometimes, late at night, when she thinks I’m asleep."

The two didn’t what to say until Torvin’s ears flattened against his head.

"My mother was the same way when I first signed on. Begged me not to go. Said the money wasn’t worth the risk."

"My sister won’t even let my nephew visit the mining towns." Durn admitted quietly. "Says she doesn’t want him getting ideas about following in his uncle’s footsteps."

"It would have been different if the uniform project had worked out." Merek said finally. "Remember last year? When they announced they were improving the safety gear?"

Durn grunted. "Don’t remind me! My wife practically danced when I told her. Said she’d finally be able to sleep through the night without worrying."

"Everyone had such high hopes." Torvin agreed, his tail drooping. "And then...nothing. The project stalled. They couldn’t figure out the enchantments. All that excitement for nothing."

"It would have been better if they’d never told us at all." Merek muttered bitterly. "At least then we wouldn’t have felt the disappointment. My wife cried for a week straight when she found out the improvements had failed. A whole week."

"At least your wife cared enough to cry." Durn said with a wry smile that didn’t reach his eyes. "Mine just threw a frying pan at my head and told me I should have picked a safer profession."

The three friends sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

Then a commotion broke out somewhere nearby.

"Quickly! Quickly!"

"Come on, let’s go!"

The miners looked up, startled by the sudden shouts.

Dozens of their fellow workers were sprinting past the break area, their faces flushed with excitement.

"What in the world...?" Durn muttered, rising to his feet.

"Is there a collapse? An evacuation?" Merek asked, his face going pale.

"Only one way to find out." Torvin said, grabbing his gear. "Let’s go see what’s happening!"

They caught up with the rushing crowd and grabbed the arm of a passing miner.

He was a young goblin with wild eyes and a grin that stretched ear to ear.

"What’s going on?" Durn demanded. "Why’s everyone running?"

"THE UNIFORM PROJECT!" the goblin shouted, practically vibrating with excitement. "IT’S BEING COMPLETED!"

The three friends froze.

"...What did you just say?" Merek whispered.

"The uniform project! The safety enchantments! They’re finishing them!"

The goblin was already pulling away, eager to join the crowd.

"Some incredible mage Commander Ragnora brought in—he’s already solved the whole thing! Everyone’s getting upgraded uniforms right now! Haven’t you checked your wristbands?!"

The trio stared at each other in stunned disbelief, then simultaneously looked down at their communication bands.

Sure enough, messages were waiting.

[Urgent dispatches instructing all mining personnel to report to Sector 3-0-2 with their uniforms and any spare sets they could carry]

[The enchantment teams are ready]

[The improvements are being implemented]

"No way." Merek breathed. "No way. This can’t be real!"

"If this is a prank, I’m going to murder someone." Durn growled, but he was already gathering his things.

They joined the flood of workers streaming toward Sector 3-0-2. The path was crowded with miners of every race all wearing identical expressions of disbelief and desperate hope.

When they reached the sector, they stopped dead.

Hundreds of miners had already gathered, forming orderly lines that stretched across the open area.

And at the front of each line, working with feverish intensity, were mages. Over fifty of them. Maybe more.

Every available enchanter had been mobilized.

Some were inscribing runes by hand, their fingers glowing with magical energy as they traced intricate patterns across the uniform fabric.

Others used specialized tools. Enchanted pens that left trails of shimmering ink or feathered quills that wrote in letters of pure light.

The air crackled with so much magical energy that the workers’ hair stood on end.

"I can’t believe it." Durn breathed, his gruff voice barely above a whisper. "It’s really happening. The uniform project...they’re actually doing it."

"After all this time." Merek added, shaking his head in disbelief. "All those months of waiting, all that disappointment...and now look at this."

Torvin’s tail swished back and forth with barely contained excitement.

"My mother is going to weep when she hears about this! Actual tears of joy!"

But as they watched the flurry of activity, something else caught their attention.

"Who is that?" Torvin asked, pointing toward the center of the operation.

The others followed his gaze. There, moving among the mages with the easy confidence of a conductor leading an orchestra, was a man they had never seen before.

He was strikingly handsome, with snow-white hair and piercing blue eyes that seemed to see through everything they touched.

His presence alone would have been remarkable enough as he looked like he belonged in a noble’s palace rather than a mining camp.

But what truly stunned the miners was what he was doing.

He was instructing the mages.

Not just observing, not just supervising...he was actively teaching them.

—

Cassius moved from mage to mage, leaning over their shoulders and offering quiet guidance.

"You’re applying too much pressure to the third sigil." He told one young enchantress. "The mana flow needs to be steady here—think of it like pouring water into a cup, not throwing it at a wall."

"Yes, Sir Cassius!" the woman replied, adjusting her technique immediately.

Another mage called out to him with a respectful bow.

"Sir Cassius, I’m having trouble with the resonance alignment on this batch. The secondary harmonic keeps slipping out of sync with the primary circuit. Could you—"

Cassius was already at her side, guiding her hands. He pressed her fingers along the correct path on the uniform, tracing the proper inscription pattern.

"You’re starting the resonance too early." He explained, his voice patient. "Let the primary circuit stabilize first. Feel the mana settle before you introduce the harmonic."

The mage’s face flushed crimson at the close contact, but she nodded eagerly. "Y-Yes, I understand! Thank you, Sir Cassius!"

He flashed her a charming smile. "Good. You’re doing excellent work."

She practically glowed at the praise, returning to her task with renewed vigor, though she couldn’t help but cast shy glances in his direction every few seconds.

The miners watched this exchange with growing amazement.

"Look at them." One of the miners nearby who knew what happened murmured. "Just an hour ago, I heard the mages were ready to blast that man apart for insulting their tower."

"And now they’re...they’re worshipping him."

The change was indeed dramatic.

Just an hour ago, the mages of the Magic Tower had been ready to incinerate Cassius for his crude jokes. But everything had changed when Sisi shared what she had witnessed.

At first, many had refused to believe it. Impossible, they’d said. The enchantments he’d created defied all known magical theory.

But then they’d seen the gauntlet with their own eyes.

They’d analyzed the sigils. Traced the rune channels. Studied the impossible configuration that somehow, against all logic, worked.

And their resistance had crumbled.

Mages were a proud lot, certainly. Arrogant, competitive, convinced of their own superiority.

They had looked down on soldiers and miners alike, secure in their intellectual dominance.

But this man...this white-haired stranger with the easy smile and the impossible knowledge...he was on a completely different level

A realm so far beyond their understanding that comparison was meaningless.

They didn’t even dare to call him a rival.

Instead, they called him what he truly was: a sage.

That was exactly why mages who had once glared at him with murderous fury had sought his approval like children seeking a parent’s validation.

Those who had threatened to blast him with fireballs apologized profusely, practically prostrating themselves at his feet in fear that he might hold a grudge.

But Cassius, carefree as ever, had simply waved off their concerns.

"Don’t worry about it." He’d said with that disarming smile. "Water under the bridge."

"Now, let me show you a few things that might help with your current projects."

And then he’d begun teaching them.

Without cost, condition or asking for anything in return!

The mages couldn’t believe their fortune. They clustered around him whenever he paused, desperate to absorb even a fraction of his knowledge.

When he demonstrated a new technique with Sisi’s help, one elderly enchanter actually broke down in tears.

"Forty-seven years!" The old man wept openly. "Forty-seven years I’ve struggled with that exact problem! And you’ve just...you’ve just solved it! In thirty seconds!"

"Sir Cassius, I’m naming my firstborn after you!"

"I’m going to build a statue in the town square!"

"My grandchildren will hear of this day!"

"I’m renaming my familiar! He shall be called Cassius the Second!"

The enthusiasm back then was overwhelming, bordering on absurd.

—

Finally, Torvin snapped out of his daze.

"Come on!" He urged, grabbing his friends’ arms. "We need to get in line! If we wait too long, we’ll lose our spot!"

They hurried forward, joining one of the many orderly queues that had formed. Despite the excitement, there was no pushing or shoving.

The miners of the Holyfield estate were disciplined professionals, not unruly rabble. And even if someone had been tempted to cause trouble, the presence of Commander Ragnora standing watch would have quickly discouraged them.

She stood at the edge of the operation like a crimson sentinel, her massive arms folded across her chest, her golden eyes scanning the crowd with quiet vigilance.

Under her gaze, even the most boisterous worker became a model citizen. No one dared step out of line literally or figuratively.

The queue moved steadily, and before long, the trio found themselves nearing the front.

Finally, it was Torvin’s turn.

He stepped forward hesitantly, his ears pressed flat against his head in a mixture of nervousness and awe. Sisi hovered before him, her tiny form radiating authority despite her size.

"I—I have a question." Torvin stammered. "How much is this going to cost? Because I really don’t have much saved up, and if the price is—"

Sisi cut him off with a gentle smile. "There’s no charge. Everything has already been taken care of."

Torvin’s jaw dropped. "F-free? Completely free?"

"Completely free!" Sisi confirmed. "Sir Cassius refused any form of payment. He told us to consider it a gift to the people of the Holyfield Mines, so even the treasury got away easily."

The three friends exchanged disbelieving looks. An enchantment upgrade of this magnitude, offered for free?

It was unprecedented. The kind of generosity that would have been dismissed as a fairy tale if they hadn’t witnessed it themselves.

Torvin’s face flushed as another question occurred to him.

"Sh-should I...um...do I need to take off my clothes?"