Chapter 260 - Starting from the Bottom (Patreon)

Zeke sat with his back against the wall, frustrated by his inability to access his storage space. He hadn’t tried to do so while he was being escorted across the tundra to Min Ferilik, but the moment he’d been left in the slave barracks, he’d attempted to summon one of the pieces of barbecued monster meat he’d gotten back in Bastion. And he’d been rebuffed, stopped by the same restraints that prevented him from accessing his skills. Then and there, he'd considered breaking the restraints, but he’d chosen to stop himself.

After all, if he removed the bindings, he would likely never seize the opportunity Oberon had mentioned. It was frustrating, but Zeke had survived without his storage before, and he’d do it again. Still, it did push him closer to the mindset he’d cultivated in the troll caves. The inward-facing, survival-at-all cost frame of mind wasn’t healthy, and it had driven him to some horrible places. He didn’t regret his actions, but he didn’t want to go back to those endless hours where he was trapped in his own mind, with only the memories of his childhood to keep him company.

Zeke didn’t want to think about any of that anymore. He’d moved on. He still bore the scars, but he refused to give those memories any more power over him. So, he forced everything to the side and locked it in a cage. Hopefully, sequestered away like that, he wouldn’t dwell on the past.

To occupy his mind, Zeke glanced around the barracks. It was a simple place. Just four walls, some lights powered by runes, a room that he’d discovered was the privy, and a few dozen disorganized pallets. He’d been given his own blanket, but other than that, he’d just been shoved inside the building and told to wait.

So, that’s what he did, choosing to occupy himself by examining and mapping the runes that governed his restraints. The runes were complex, but Zeke felt confident that he could suborn them, given enough time. In fact, if all he wanted was to tear them apart, he was almost certain that he could manage the feat in a day or two of intense study. However, that would result in the destruction of the restraints themselves, which would no doubt create a fuss. So, Zeke looked for another way, one in which he could mitigate the restraints’ effects without compromising the integrity of the materials themselves.

With that in mind, he sank his mind into the complex matrix of glyphs and symbols, searching for the linchpin that held it all together. It wasn’t as easy as looking for a load-bearing wall; instead, he had to wrap his mind, which was augmented by his runecrafting path, around each individual symbol, inject a little mana, and use that energy to thoroughly explore the structure.

And given that there were thousands of the glyphs, Zeke felt certain that it wouldn’t be a quick or easy task. Not unless he got incredibly lucky, at least. Either way, after having spent untold hours examining the runes of his skills, Zeke was an old hand at the process. Still, he only managed to fully examine two runes before a sound at the barracks’ door roused him from his meditation.

He looked up to see a line of downtrodden people stepping inside. One after another, they filed in; some were human, but others clearly weren’t. Zeke saw a man who looked like a mythical minotaur, a couple of dwarves who had different coloring than the ones who’d captured him, and a willowy woman who looked like an elf. She was missing a leg, having replaced it with a wooden peg, but even then, she moved gracefully. The last entrant was another elf, though his skin was purplish-black, and he had white hair.

All of them were ragged, malnourished, and looked like they were dead on their feet. As each person entered, they dropped a mining pick by the door before heading to their pallets, where they collapsed in exhaustion.

The dark elf planted himself beside Zeke, gave him a single glance, then lay on his side and cradled his head on one arm. Then, the lights went out; Zeke got the message and laid down. Still, sleep was slow in coming, largely because he was surrounded by strangers of indeterminate power. They were all slaves, which meant they were equipped with the same restraints that smothered his skills, but who knew what kind of stats they had? And Zeke still hadn’t had time to discover the limits of his own stats.

Eventually, though, the day caught up to him, and he dozed off. It felt like only a second later when he felt a foot in his ribs and some saying, “Arise, fellow slave! A new day awaits!”

Zeke turned his head, seeing the dark elf standing over him with a wide smile. With a groan, he pushed himself to his feet; he towered over the dark elf by at least half a foot, but the other man had a presence about him that was undeniable.

“What’s going on?” Zeke asked, his throat dry.

“We have been blessed with an off day, my large friend,” the dark elf said. “I am known as Jasper.”

The dark elf held out a dainty hand, and Zeke took it. The elf returned his grip with surprising strength, and Zeke introduced himself.

“Zeke?” said the elf, rolling the name over his tongue. “I suppose that will have to do. You really should think of something better. A fierce nom de plume that will strike fear into the hearts of your enemies. I suggest something like Ripper. Or the Overly Muscular and Bearded Monster.”

“Uh…”

“Yes, that last one is a mouthful, I will admit,” said Jasper. “But to be fair, it is incredibly descriptive, which everyone loves.”

“I…uh…I guess?” Zeke said, a little confused.

Jasper slapped him on the upper arm, saying, “You’ll figure it out. Like me, my given name was Ter’alamnam Vul’Akhan. But Jasper rolls off the tongue so much more smoothly.”

Zeke just nodded, agreeing, “It definitely does.”

In truth, if he’d have tried to repeat the name, he’d have probably stumbled over it within a few syllables. So, Jasper was probably the better option all around. Perhaps that was why the dark elf had taken it.

Deciding to change the subject, Zeke asked, “So, you said this is an off day? What does that mean?”

“For us? Blessed rest before we must venture back into the mines,” Jasper answered. “You may also use some of your contribution points in the local tavern, but I don’t recommend that. They serve swill, and no self-respecting person should be caught drinking such horrible concoctions.”

“Contribution points?” asked Zeke.

“Oh, right – you are woefully ignorant of the inner workings of life in Min Ferilik,” the elf said. “Come. I must remedy that before you blunder into something dangerous. Like the swill served in the tavern.”

With that, he led Zeke out of the barracks. Zeke noted that most of the others were already up as well, and the joined a stream of people heading to the other side of the cavern, where there were a trio of lines leading toward a building that looked like it had been carved out of the wall, rather than built. At the head of each line was a window, and as Zeke followed Jasper to the other end, he recognized the queue for what it was.

“So, this is where we get food, huh?” Zeke asked, noticing a giant lizard man retreat from the building holding a metallic tray that was piled high with something that looked vaguely edible. Zeke didn’t recognize anything but meat, and he suspected that it hadn’t come from any animal he’d ever encountered. After all, they were far underground in the middle of a tundra; such a situation didn’t lend itself to raising livestock. Or crops, come to that. Perhaps they were like the people of Salvation, who grew a wide variety of mushrooms.

“What passes for food here, yes,” said Jasper with a sigh. “Tell me, Zeke – how did you come to be here? There are few humans who would venture into the Ianthian Wastes, much less survive such an ill-advised journey.”

Zeke shook his head. “I don’t know,” he stated, not wanting to reveal too much about himself. “I just woke up in the middle of a glacier. A few hours later, these dwarves slap a collar on my neck and start dragging me here.”

Jasper cut his eyes at him, and as they moved up in the queue, it was clear that he knew Zeke was concealing something. Still, he chose not to push because he said, “Well, in any event, you are here now. And together, we shall conquer this system, earn our freedom, and head out into the wide world to earn our fortune.”

“Uh…”

“Too soon?” asked Jasper with a smirk. “Very well. Getting through the first week will have to suffice. Then, we can talk about conquering the heavens.”

“Probably for the best,” Zeke said. “Now, what are the contribution points you mentioned?”

The name alone suggested their nature, but Zeke wanted to confirm how things worked. So, Jasper started to explain the situation in the mines. At present, they – as well as the others confined to their entire barracks – were planted at the very bottom of the heap. Even for miners, they were the lowest of the low, and they were only allowed in the shallowest mines where they would extract the least valuable ores.

“See that fellow over there?” said Jasper, nodding to another lizard man. “He is an elite miner. He is afforded a host of privileges and is paid triple the contribution points we earn.”

“How do you become an elite miner?” asked Zeke as they neared the front of the line.

“Production,” Jasper said. “Or some meritorious action. Kahl over there saved his entire team by noticing an impending cave-in and getting everyone out before the mine collapsed. There are other ways, but…”

“But what?” asked Zeke when Jasper trailed off.

In answer, Jasper nodded at a few other people who’d huddled nearby. They were all of differing races, but each bore a red armband.

“Redbands,” Jasper spat. “Be careful of them. They are the equivalent of the local constabulary and even more reprehensible than that label might suggest.”

“I see,” said Zeke. It didn’t take much in the way of reasoning ability to come to the conclusion that those Redbands would search out and report any misbehavior on the part of the captives. Perhaps they would even make things up if such things were tied to their own advancement.

“Most of them do it for the extra resources, but there are a fair few who are afflicted with a sadistic streak,” said Jasper.

The two had finally reached the front of the line, and Zeke stepped forward. A moment later, a dwarven woman that sort of reminded him of one of the women who worked in his grade school cafeteria, albeit one with pallid gray skin and hints of a mustache on her upper lip, shoved a metallic tray into his hand and yelled, “Next!”

Zeke quickly moved aside and watched as the same action was repeated with Jasper, and the dark elf soon led him across the cavern and back to the barracks, where they settled down in their pallets. Zeke looked down at his tray of food, which was comprised of unidentifiable meat and purple mushrooms. He looked at it dubiously, then shrugged; he’d certainly eaten worse things in the troll caves. When he grabbed a piece of the meat and shoved it in his mouth, he was pleasantly surprised. It didn’t really taste good, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as he was expecting. When he tried the mushrooms, he found that they were a bit bland but not as disgusting as their slimy appearance might’ve suggested.

He and Jasper ate in silence, with the elf picking daintily at his food. The man didn’t look like the miner type; in fact, Zeke got the distinct impression that Jasper didn’t belong.

Once they were finished, Jasper set his tray aside and resumed his explanation of the system in the mines. “If you want to earn a few extra contribution points, you can try your luck in the pits,” said Jasper.

“Pits?” asked Zeke.

“A venue for gladiatorial fights,” was Jasper’s response. “At your stage, you will only be allowed to compete in the lowest-ranked fights. However, if you prove yourself, you can earn enough contribution points to make the Redbands green with envy. Of course, the alternative path is to work your way up to the forges. The stone dwarves are possessive of their smithies, but they will allow a scattered few to assist them with the mundane work.”

He shook his head as if amused, “If my parents could see me now…”

Zeke wanted to ask the elf more, but chose not to. He didn’t want Jasper to ask him questions about his past, so he resolved to give the elf the same courtesy.

“No matter. The past is the past, as I always say,” Jasper went on with a forced grin. “Now, if you truly prove yourself, you will be recruited into one of the expeditions. They are dangerous excursions, but they are a great opportunity for anyone who seeks freedom.”

“Excursions to where?” Zeke asked.

Jasper shrugged, “A mystery. The ones who are chosen do not mingle with the likes of us. However, they are well-treated. Still slaves, but valuable ones.”

“And how do we earn our freedom?” asked Zeke.

“That is the question, isn’t it?” Jasper mused. “It is always dangled before us, and I suppose it is possible that some have achieved such a lofty goal. I think escape is the more likely option, though. So tell me, big man – would you like to escape? You have the look about you.”

“What kind of look?” asked Zeke, narrowing his eyes.

“The look of someone who will not be content with mining rocks for the rest of his life,” Jasper stated. “I will tell you now – if you do attempt an escape, I shall do whatever is within my power to assist you. After all, I am certainly not cut out for manual labor. Alas, I have had few opportunities to utilize my true talents in this blasted mine.”

“And what talents are those?” asked Zeke.

“I am a thief, of course,” said Jasper. “The best in Mibaris. It is only through unforeseen and unavoidable misfortune that I ended up here. You have heard of the Desert Rose of Mibaris, I am sure.”

“Uh…no. Sorry,” Zeke said.

Jasper rolled his eyes. “You must be a true bumpkin, then,” said the elf. “Still, I shan’t hold that against you, my friend. One cannot help the circumstances of his origin, after all.”

Zeke nodded. “Can’t argue with that,” he said. But inwardly, he was cheering. Who better to assist him in acquiring a few ore samples than a thief? And then, when it came time to actually escape, he was certain that Jasper could prove a valuable asset.