For most people, farming was a way of life.
Food was the most important thing to the people.
Farmers made up the majority of the population.
Tile was one of them.
"Even if it doesn't bring much wealth, a good harvest after a hard year of farming is one of life's few joys, isn't it?"
Tile didn't much care for that saying.
Farmers didn't like the land. Farming was hard, and Tile didn't like being a farmer.
He didn't like farming.
That happiness after a good harvest.
People only said that because they had no choice, because there was nothing else they could do.
They lived at the mercy of the weather. The grain they grew barely earned them anything over the course of a year, just enough to keep them fed. If a famine came, they'd have to eat dirt.
They really did eat dirt.
But now that they had been cast adrift and enslaved, the good harvests after those hard years of farming had indeed become one of the few happy memories Tile had.
Tile pondered for a long time. Only after the two of them lay down did he speak quietly. "I support you."
"If there really is such a thing as freedom."
In the darkness, Rick, who had been anxious, finally received a much-needed reassurance.
Rick let out a long breath of relief.
The next day was another day of mining.
Rick continued to follow the same approach as the day before.
Meanwhile, the slave named Anqie'er stayed by Rick's side. Today, there was one more person with them.
When joining forces to resist, the thing to fear most was being reported.
There could be a traitor among them.
So before they started working, Rick told Tile not to say a word and not to