Tales of the Vangen: The Dead King of Danic (Book 3)

Chapter 46: Digging Your Grave

The shovel made a hollow pinging sound as it struck something solid in the dirt.

"Found something!" Moss called out, wiping the sweat from his brow as he smiled up at Libro watching him at the edge of the pit. Long ago it had served as someone's larder in the now defunct town of Vale, but with all its homes burned to ash they were nothing more than empty grave sites now.

"You lot," Libro pointed at a crowd of rebels standing nearby. "Get a pulley set up so I can take a gander at the treasure my boy's have found. Hop to it now! Quick as you like!"

"You talking to me?" One of the bigger lads in the group pushed his way forward, looking Libro up and down, and clearly not liking the results. "I'm not gonna take no orders from some big mouthed shitfaced outsider."

"Then you will take your orders from me." A heavy hand clapped onto the big lad's shoulder, grabbing him firmly by the collar. He was guided, much in the same way one would guide a stubborn donkey, into the demonic gaze of Jarla Freyah and her equally nightmarish scowl.

"My...my lady..." the big lad blubbered, realizing far too late who had seized him in the first place.

"Be quiet," The Jarla said, and by some miracle the man had a quick enough mind to listen. "Do as he says and get the pulley set up. Until I say otherwise, this bigmouthed shitfaced outsider will speak with my authority." She let go of the man and he stumbled back warily, eyeing Libro in an entirely new light now.

"Well, you heard her! Get the damned pulley built!" The big lad roared, making a big show of it as he chased away the crowd, men scattering about.

"But not you," The Jarla said.

The big lad froze in his tracks. "Not me, my lady?"

"No, you're going to watch over the south roads and make sure the Right Hand doesn't know what we're up to. Any scouts you see sniffing about I want a swift report of. Quick as you like."

"Y...yes, my lady." The big lad turned, pushed his bottom lip out, and trudged off in the desired direction, all thoughts of buried treasure replaced with the drudgery of guard duty.

Like training dogs, Libro thought to himself. Keep them mean, and you'll keep them keen, or some shit. Not really a philosophy he could see himself adopting, personally. He preferred the nicer dogs.

"I appreciate the assistance, my lady." Libro stared into her one good eye, holding her razor sharp focus with his own. She may have left a bloom of bruises along his abdomen that made every tiny movement a living seven hells, but he wasn't about to show his throat to her just yet.

"Do not thank me," The Jarla said as she stalked towards a tiny pavilion, Olaf watching them from his folding seat. "They are the Bright Eye's orders, not mine."

Libro turned his attention back towards the hole. Moss and Cent, bless them both, were up to their calves in chilly muck, shirt and pants stained black, using their shovels as levers to wedge the heavy object out of the mud. With a sudden, greasy thwop, a brick the size of a man's torso popped up out of the grime.

"Nido's tits, this thing is heavy!" Cent roared as he sank down to his hands and knees. "No way I'm hauling this up alone!"

"Save your back," Libro called out. "Let the rebels do some work for a change." Over by the edge, a few carpenters had gathered around to hack up a decent sized pulley. It was a crude little thing, but the desire for perfectly crafted gears, triple corded silk rope, and a team of Imperial engineers just wasn't on the table for this little excavation.

So Libro settled with what he had. Shitty tools, inferior rope, and clay of the earth country men, but at least he had manpower, and plenty of it.

Silver linings.