Compromise

As the expression on the flying overseer's face grew increasingly terrified, several dull thuds of bodies hitting the ground sounded in the distance.

"Fire!" As the explosion rang out, the miners lying in ambush all around emerged from their hiding places with bows and crossbows in hand, firing deadly arrows at the enemy.

Members of Shadow Kill also dropped down from above, raising combat knives, daggers, shortswords, and other weapons as they began their slaughter.

The overseers, already caught off guard by the sudden attack, immediately descended into chaos. Only a small number at the rear barely managed to organize a decent counterattack, but by then both sides had already become entangled, leaving those overseers constrained by their fear of hurting their comrades.

"Set the Laser Guns to burst-fire mode. Don't worry about that!" a captain at the rear ordered his squad.

At this point, they could no longer afford to worry about such things. If they hesitated any longer, the enemy would be upon them. Once the enemy reached a position where bows and crossbows could threaten them, the gap between the two sides would be leveled.

"Fire, fire... pff..." The captain urging the other overseers to shoot suddenly let out a miserable cry.

A slender metal-fletched arrow blew apart his head. The overwhelming force carried by its metal shaft was like a live round smashing a watermelon, sending red, yellow, and white brain matter splattering everywhere. A chunk of yellow-white gore even smacked hard into the face of the nearest overseer.

Several more metal shafts howling with death tore through the air, killing the armed overseers whose equipment surpassed the cold weapons in the miners' hands.

"Taken care of, boss." Korax put away the absurdly massive longbow he had personally forged.

The bow was an astonishing four meters long. Every material used in it had been personally selected and crafted by Korax, and even its arrows were made entirely of metal. Its range and power far exceeded those of an ordinary longbow, and under the Primarch's monstrous strength, it had instantly become a terrifying weapon of slaughter.

The miners had not used the captured Laser Guns and Stun Guns because the bodies would still have to be sent back to the Tower afterward. The wounds caused by Laser Guns were obvious at a glance, and that was a line the Tower could not tolerate. Even the captured weapons would ultimately have to be returned.

But the miners found this perfectly acceptable. As their boss put it, if they had no guns or cannons, the enemy would make them for them. For now, they were merely being kept in the enemy's hands.

"Comrade Train Captain, do you still have any hope for your reinforcements?" Sandman asked as he watched the battle below enter its final stages.

"May I ask which family of Kiavahr Your Excellency comes from, and why you are targeting the Tower like this?" the Train Captain asked with absolute certainty.

In his view, only the great nobles of Kiavahr, those who likewise belonged to the ruling class, possessed the ability to train a group of miners to such a degree.

The strength, bearing, and imposing aura radiating from the two people before him could never have been cultivated by these impoverished slaves.

"Comrade Train Captain, take your time thinking it over. Perhaps you will receive an unexpected surprise when the time comes. For now, just wait patiently for the Tower's orders," Sandman said after a brief pause, putting on an air of mystery.

Since the other side enjoyed making wild guesses, they could guess all they wanted. So long as the goal was achieved, that was enough.

More than half a day had passed since the miners organized their strike. Based on the procedures Korax had learned after infiltrating the Tower, Agamemnon, who was responsible for handling these matters, had surely received the information by now.

The people at the bottom would never dare conceal it for so long. This was truly the sort of thing that cost heads.

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On the lower level of the Tower, Agamemnon sat deeply sunk into a broad leather chair, the pale blue glow from his data-slate reflecting across his sharp features.

Agamemnon, normally stern and unsmiling, stared at the balance in his bank account with an expression of heartache.

"That old bastard comes down once, and I work for two months for nothing. My money, my money! It must be those damned miners aren't working hard enough. Starting tomorrow... no, starting now, double their workload again!" Agamemnon leapt up from the soft leather sofa, instantly arriving at the truth that the shrinking of his wealth was rooted in the insufficient effort of the beasts at the bottom.

If the employees below did not work hard, how could the boss become more Waaagh, more powerful!!!

"My lord, something terrible has happened! The supply station below reports that those slaves have gone on strike together. More than half a day has passed since the shift change, and not a single person on Lycaeus is mining. The overseers below have already clashed fiercely with the slaves," Agamemnon's assistant Budelin reported anxiously as he rushed straight into the office without even knocking.

"A strike? Who gave them the nerve?" Agamemnon had just sat back down when he shot to his feet.

This was utterly unforgivable!

"My lord, this matter does not seem so simple. These are the demands from the largest miners' camp in the east." Budelin's immaculate white fingers slid across the blue-glowing data-slate before he opened the recording of Sandman's conversation with the lower level and handed it to him.

"By sunset, I want to see the exchange rate changed. Otherwise, our people will deliver the message to the Lord of the High Tower. You may ask Agamemnon whether we have the ability to do that." Sandman's incomparably confident voice could not be concealed even through the data-slate.

"You damned remnants!!!!" Agamemnon viciously hurled the data-slate in his hand to the floor.

Under the tremendous force, the data-slate let out a series of overloaded cracks before shattering into fragments. Electronic components flew in every direction, and it landed back on the magnificent lambswool carpet.

The moment he heard Sandman's words, Agamemnon naturally thought of those political prisoners exiled from Kiavahr Prime.

Only they had the means to contact the Lord of the High Tower.

"My lord, should we request permission from above to deploy the Tower's troops and suppress those ungrateful slaves?" Budelin asked.

"Suppress your mother's head!" Agamemnon snatched up an inkstone from his broad desk and hurled it at him.

If Budelin had not been personally cultivated by him, he might have drawn the Laser Gun at his waist and given him two bursts. Deploy the troops? Was this fool trying to get him killed faster, or did he want to use this chance to take his place? Moving the troops required the Lord of the High Tower's approval. Wouldn't that be roasting him over a fire?