The tunnel was stifling and cold.
Soil and sand sifted down from the ceiling and walls, mixing with sweat and caking every soldier's face and body in a layer of icy mud.
Every kind of stench fermented in the cramped space, making their chests feel tight.
Rosso Brune said nothing as he swung his pick at the hard earth in front of him. Clods of dirt and shards of stone flew everywhere, some striking his cheek and leaving muddy streaks.
He didn't care. He simply wiped his face with his arm and continued the same mechanical motions.
The men formed a long line.
At the front, soldiers struggled to chip through the hard earth with short-handled picks, each blow landing with a dull thud. Their companions caught the loose dirt in wooden tubs and passed them down the line.
The silent conveyor stretched all the way to the tunnel entrance. The excavated soil was carried away and dumped at a distance without a sound.
At a wider junction reinforced with wooden beams, several knights who had been working there took a break.
"Seven days!"
An irritable voice broke the silence, unable to contain its frustration.
"Ever since we arrived at Seaguard, we've been digging in this damned place!"
The speaker was a young knight whose fine silk lining had been stained black with dirt.
Another knight wiped the muddy water from his face. His voice was low, but his resentment was impossible to hide. "That's right! It's the seventh day already! We've all turned into moles in this tunnel!"
He angrily kicked the earthen wall beside him.
"I'm a knight who's been anointed! My honor comes from charging on horseback, winning glory with a lance! Not from digging dirt alongside these damned peasants in a filthy hole!"
An older knight