The next day.
The morning mist had yet to fully disperse, and the air, thick with coal ash and dampness, felt heavy enough to wring water from.
A simple yet solemn funeral was being held in a newly opened cemetery. Three fresh graves stood side by side, their rough wooden headstones bearing the words: "The Daz Family."
Dawn stood before the graves like a towering iron pillar. His eyes held just the right amount of compassion, his thin lips pressed together, his face wearing an expression of grief.
The sharply defined muscles beneath his tailored black formalwear faintly bulged, yet somehow did not make him seem brutish. Instead, they lent him an air of reliability and authority.
Many miners who had known the old miner Daz stood in silent attendance. Yet their gazes were not wholly immersed in grief; more than anything, they fixed on Dawn with barely restrained fervor and gratitude.
It was this lord who had provided them with work, improved the camp's conditions, and now sought justice for the Daz family's wrongful deaths. He had even paid to give them a proper funeral.
In these seas, where human lives were treated as worthless as grass, Dawn's actions were practically saintly.
Dawn took it all in, coolly assessing the effectiveness of this performance.
Very good. This effort to win their hearts had been quite successful.
He cleared his throat and began reciting the lengthy, heartfelt eulogy he had prepared beforehand in his magnetic voice.
Its language was ornate and its emotions abundant, speaking first of the Daz family's diligence and kindness, then of life's unpredictability, before extending into hopes for the future and the necessity of unity.
His voice echoed through the silent cemetery, every word seeming to strike directly at the miners' hearts.
"...Their souls shall surely