Time Lapse

Chapter 15 ~ Color of Depression ~

Wooden beams are the only support holding the Imsdal mineshaft together. Rusted, decaying nails offer little aid as the beams rot under the heavy toxins. The air becomes thick with an invisible gas that drives the average miner mad within three lunar phases. Daily, workers nearly wander into dead ends; the only thing stopping them from suffocating in aether pools are the weathered signs left by previous miners reading: Dead End!

By the time the workers enter their squadron stations, the morning sun is just beginning to rise. By the time they leave, the sun has already set. It's a relentless cycle, day in and day out.

Lunchtime brings little respite: the miners are served moldy bread, water from a nearby unkept pond, and unsaturated lard from the bellies of river slimes. The high-fat content slows their digestion, reducing trips to the privy. This isn't just to prevent workers from shirking duties but also because walking to the privy and back takes at least half an hour. As a result, the outhouses are rarely used, and most miners seldom feel the sunlight during their grueling shifts.

Dinner consists of more molded bread and a watered-down soup full of miscellaneous ingredients. One day, the soup might contain freshly cut vegetables. On another, a miner's pot might hold a floating glob of spit. Conditions are abysmal, so why would anyone work in the mine? Well, they're enslaved, of course.

Failed attempts at fleeing Imsdal, running from the law, thievery, burglary, murder. The most "common" offense as an Imsdal citizen was simply failing to display an Imsdal flag during impromptu "loyalty visits."Anyone who didn't align with Imsdal while on its soil was swiftly conscripted into forced labor for the kingdom, submission, or on-the-spot execution.

Most of Imsdal's slaves weren't even citizens. They were wandering vagabonds, unlicensed merchants, peddlers, immigrants, and fugitives from the neighboring Histolytica and Mellom Kingdoms. The grim reality is that none of the three kingdoms are better than the others.

Imsdal produced the stones that kept slaves, curse-bearers, and feys under their owners' control. Histolytica, in contrast, held a commanding position in the center of the continent, reigning as the powerhouse of Gestalt. It boasted the highest economic prosperity among the three, offering numerous opportunities to ascend to nobility. As the governing kingdom of central and southern Gestalt, along with various other territories, Histolytica also enriched nobles and lords across the kingdoms. Histolytica was the true mastermind behind the proxy wars that had claimed countless lives throughout Gestalt's long history.

But now, Imsdal and Mellom face a new dilemma: Gestalt's central authority and 'peacekeeper,' Histolytica, the inventor of curses, has been silent for the past five years.

***

Clang! The sound of stone against stone sounded in a desynchronized rhythm across the mineshaft's tight corridors.

Thunk! With every second swing of the pickaxe, the stone being attacked found itself teetering on the edge of breaking down.

Crack! And finally, the release of the stone splits down, separating into smaller chunks across the dirty ground.

His muscles had grown weary in the past five years, and his energy had faded. The small trinket that never left his chest was the only motivation that kept him going. He kept it hidden beneath his collar and shirt, for even a fork was a precious possession in a place where thieving hands were present. He had to protect the trident with his life.

Carnia picked up the scattered pieces of aetherstone at his feet and flung them into the basket behind him. Two workers collected everyone's basket every half hour, rotating shifts to carry the rocks to a wagon that transported them back to the mine's entrance. If a rotation failed to return with a wagon full of aetherstone, the corresponding squadron received a personal visit from the mining warden.