33 About Blades, About Mines (2)

Wraith could see in the dark.

It was only recently that he realized how extraordinary this habit, which he had long taken for granted, truly was to others.

To Wraith, darkness was not a barrier that obscured his vision. In most cases, it was his ally. And he knew full well that as long as he remained cautious, it would stay that way.

Therefore, he could now easily spot the Shadow moving not far from a faint light source over a hundred meters away.

A mine, a shadow. It sounded like a fitting match, Wraith thought.

"I only see one person, Karyl," he said.

"Did you see any dark green tents, Wraith?" Karyl asked.

He did not answer Wraith's question directly, turning instead to another matter.

His tone was calm—a little too calm, which felt wrong, Wraith thought.

"No."

Wraith replied, then asked sharply, "Is that a good thing?"

"The dark green tents are where the miners live."

Karyl said calmly, still not answering Wraith's question directly.

His tone grew even calmer. By now, it was calm enough to make Wraith feel a vague sense of unease.

"They spend almost their entire lives underground, and constant labor leaves their bodies riddled with holes. Once the mine they are responsible for is exhausted, the mine owners won't spare another thought for them."

"However, they still have one last bit of utility."

"Utility?"

"Quintus owns many butcher shops, Wraith."

Karyl said calmly. "The dark green tents the miners live in are issued by the mine owners and stay with them for their entire lives. But in the butcher shops' slang, these tents are also called 'Cargo Cloth'."

Wraith remained silent, forcibly suppressing a terrible urge rising from the depths of his heart.

"Unbearable, isn't it?" Karyl asked softly without looking back.

He walked in the lead, knowing the environment here like the back of his hand. His ability to see in the dark was not as potent as Wraith's, but his familiarity with the place made up for it.

Dilapidated structures, narrow alleys, potential pits in the ground—Karyl navigated them all, appearing natural and relaxed.

He was even smiling. And this smile was identical to the one he had worn on a certain rainy night: skin pulled taut by muscle, teeth grinding slightly in the air.

"Yes," Wraith replied in a low voice. "But, Karyl, there is still one person there."

"That just means some butcher shops have already come to collect the cargo."

Karyl said calmly. "They only want the dead. Therefore, those who are still alive for the moment are left behind—if there are many, they will come back for another trip."

He stopped abruptly.

"Karyl?"

"I'm fine, just a bit sorry, Wraith."

"Sorry?"

"Yeah. I wanted you to meet them, but I didn't expect we'd be too late."

Wraith heard a soft chuckle from ahead. "Looks like our luck is bad, don't you think?"

"."

Wraith did not answer.

After that, there was no more talk along the way.

They approached the faint light source in silence. It was wind-powered, and as far as Wraith could see, the only reason the people collecting the cargo hadn't taken it was likely because it was on the verge of falling apart.

He could see the lamp flickering, and with the strong wind blowing now, it was clear that the instability of the light wasn't due to the energy source.

Under that light lay a frail person, shivering and collapsed on the ground.

Extremely frail, Wraith thought.

He wore tattered clothes. On that pale face was an expression of such terrifying numbness that Wraith gave up on the idea of remembering it.

The man lay on the ground, limbs splayed out on the cold, hard floor like a discarded toy. A thousandth of a second later, Wraith realized he wasn't lying like that to relax.

Wraith shifted his gaze away bit by bit.

He didn't want to look at him.

He didn't dare to.

Karyl, however, was different; he simply walked forward and offered a soft greeting, his voice carrying a natural familiarity.

"Hakan."

The man's eyes turned sluggishly to look at Karyl, remaining silent.

"It's me, Hakan. It's Karyl."

The miner shook his neck sluggishly, a flicker of movement finally appearing on his numb, withered face. He opened his mouth, wheezing out a raspy tone: "Ka?"

"Yes, it's me."

Kael crouched down, asking softly, "Have they all gone?"

"Meat shop, come."

Hakan answered Kael's question in broken, intermittent syllables. "Tent, no. I, cold."

Wraith saw Kael bow his head.

"Ka?"

"I'm here," Kael responded gently.

"I want, die."

The miner spoke bit by bit, and Wraith saw tears welling up in those dead, silent eyes. "Tired, I."

Wraith heard a sigh, followed by Kael's words. His body was healthy, but his voice was as shattered as the sound from Hakan's weak vocal cords.

"I understand, Hakan."

"Thank."

"You're welcome. I'm sorry, Hakan, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

In the darkness, a flash of silver flickered and vanished.

Kael stood up slowly; Wraith did not hear him make another sound. He saw Kael help the miner up, the latter's eyes now closed.

Wraith did not see a wound; it was not on the neck, nor on the chest—Kael usually preferred to inflict wounds in those two spots, but not today.

"I'm going down to the mines, Wraith."

"The mines?" Wraith asked sharply. "Are you going to bury him?"

"The rats have already left," Kael said, his back turned to him. "The mines have been abandoned for at least a week. They are clever; they know where the food is."

"Are you going to bury him?"

"Yes," Kael said, then paused for several full seconds. For him, this was unusual.

"I am going to bury him. A person deserves a small place to rest after they die."

"Do you need help?"

"No, there's no need. That place is too narrow for you, Wraith; you were uncomfortable down there even before you grew this tall. I'll go myself."

Kael turned his head, and Wraith saw his profile—he realized Kael was offering him a comforting smile.

However, there was no warmth in this smile.

He turned away, and Wraith offered a stiff, comforting smile behind his back. Kael did not see it, and Wraith began to regret his momentary hesitation.

What is wrong with you, Kael?

"Hakan?" Wraith asked.

"Yes, Hakan. A man who didn't like to talk much."

Kael smiled slightly and shook his head.

"He didn't have many friends, but everyone knew him. Because Hakan was a decent man; he would save half his food rations every day for those who were being punished, just so they wouldn't starve to death."

"Did you know him?"

"Of course I knew him, Wraith."

Kael answered in a light tone. "Otherwise, how would I know his name or what he was like?"

"Were you a miner before?"

"For a time, otherwise I wouldn't have met you in that mine."

Wraith nodded in silence, not knowing what else to say.

Before meeting Kael, he knew nothing of Nostramo. After meeting Kael, he had come to understand this world.

Yet just now, he realized he actually knew very little about Kael Lohars as a person.

Aside from his name and personality, he knew almost nothing about him.

"Mining is not an easy job."

Sitting on the edge of the high building, Kael said this in a soft voice.

He was unusually talkative and in high spirits; in the past, if Wraith didn't ask, he generally wouldn't speak at such length.

Wraith listened in silence, sensing something of Kael's current mood.

"The environment underground is harsh. Except for those who are particularly short, almost everyone has to work hunched over in poor light."

"They have a quota every day. If the amount of ore mined doesn't reach that quota, they are punished."

"Adamantine is precious and ranks very high in the quota. But it isn't easy to find. Coal is the most common, but it's also very cheap, followed by iron. Oh, and there's a type of pale blue crystal."

"It's beautiful, so it also reaches a high level in the quota. The nobles like it very much. However, most people spend their whole lives just digging coal and iron."

At this point, Karyl smiled, and Wraith noticed that he was rubbing his index finger against a blade hidden in his sleeve, moving with great speed.

"Ah, right, do you know how coal is formed, Wraith?" he asked suddenly.

"Plant remains buried underground form coal through a series of complex crustal movements," Wraith replied in a low voice.

A minute ago, he hadn't known this. But Karyl had mentioned coal, and so he knew.

These facts surfaced in his mind naturally, like an instinct.

No, perhaps it was an instinct.

"Yes, the remains of plants. This means that, a long, long time ago, Nostramo was not like this."

Karyl spoke softly. "Its sky must have been blue, with clear days and nights, the sun not obscured by clouds—and there were plants. Trees, for instance, or grass. And, of course, oceans and lakes."

Wraith listened in silence, and only after some time did he ask.

"How do you know these things, Karyl?"

"Sometimes, I have dreams. Illusory dreams from the past."

"Dreams?"

"Yes, dreams. People dream, Wraith. And the scenes in dreams usually lack any logic. Some dreams are tender, some are absurd, and others are terrifying. However, the word 'dream' isn't always used to refer to the visions produced by sleep."

"Do you dream?"

"Sometimes, Wraith, sometimes."

Karyl slowly stood up and shook his head. "Also. I apologize."

Why are you apologizing?

Wraith frowned; he stood up in silence, not knowing what to say. Beside him, Karyl continued.

"I intended to go to the mines to see if there was any iron ore left to make you a knife. But I forgot."

"I don't care," Wraith said quietly. "Besides, Karyl, forging a weapon requires a furnace, and we don't have one."

"Yes, we don't."

Karyl smiled faintly. He turned his head, and a chilling blue light ignited in his eyes: "But we have this."

He took a slow step forward and leaped off the high building, with Wraith following close behind.