Chapter 96

Kraft saw Peter; apart from anything else, his spirit seemed decent, carrying a quality unlike that of the other locals.

It was clear he had washed his face before coming to the church, shedding the dusty, grimy appearance, looking more like an outsider than a native, and his eyes lacked the wall-like detachment common among locals—unobstructed for conversation, yet unwilling to engage.

Frankly, this attitude was acceptable; after all, in regions where the Church held dominance, no one would welcome an open heretic. If their difference stemmed from faith, they were at least friendlier than the Church.

He first greeted the priest; upon learning that Kraft’s group were outsiders of the same faith, the priest grew warm, stepping forward to embrace William, the leader. It was as if they had instantly become close kin, making even the unreserved captain feel slightly embarrassed.

“I never expected to meet a fellow believer in the Heavenly Father here,” Peter said, releasing William with a smile. It was his first time being welcomed so warmly as a believer—he had found a faint sense of identity in a foreign land.

“Please get in the carriage. The priest said we should be as brothers, helping one another is only right.”

Finding a devout believer in Gravel Town suggested the priest’s situation wasn’t as dire as previously thought. Though he refused, Kraft still grasped his hand as he passed, slipping a few coins into it. “Brothers in the Church shouldn’t be shortchanged; our journey ahead depends entirely on you.”

Kup pulled his cloak tighter, offering no comment, and found an empty seat at the rear of the carriage. He couldn’t bring himself to say “brothers in the Church,” but given the atmosphere, his simple common sense told him silence was best.

“No need for that,” Peter said, accepting the coins under Kraft’s insistence, then untying the ropes binding the mule and horse. “I heard you’re going to see the mine shaft?”

“Preferably one that shut down within the last two years, because the Church has a building material we can’t get anymore, and we’ve heard it’s produced only here—replacing it later will be troublesome.”

It was true, Kup reflected for a moment, realizing nothing was wrong—yet nothing was right either.

“Not easy. The mine shaft just sits there, unguarded; no one knows if anyone’s entered. What exactly does the thing you’re looking for look like?” Peter climbed onto the driver’s seat, cracked the whip, and the carriage shuddered to life, heading toward the other side of town.

“Possibly a newly discovered ore—we’re not sure what it looks like. Do you know of any mining sites?”

“Everywhere. Even this town used to be a mine. After they stopped, it became what it is now.” The carriage left the small town, turned a bend, and Peter pointed to a cluster of low, dense vegetation on the right. “That’s the old mine shaft, but it was abandoned before I came. Now I make a living trading grain and minerals.”

The passengers turned to look where he pointed; beneath the vegetation, a barely noticeable hollow in the hillside nearly slipped past their eyes.

It was barely taller than a man; new shrubs had grown over the debris at its entrance, blocking most of it, while fallen stems and leaves above obscured the rest. A faint path, branching off from the main road, led toward the opening.

Vegetation had nearly erased all traces of human passage; the nearly circular opening had returned to nature, as if it had always belonged here. Against the vast, weary backdrop of yellow-green, no one would have noticed it again—even after passing dozens of times—hadn’t someone pointed it out.

The surrounding ground was intact, showing no signs of construction; the transition from living area to mining area was seamless, making it even harder to spot.

William, who had some knowledge of minerals, frowned slightly. “How did you know there was ore down there?”

On the Ice Plain, ore often lay exposed on the surface, accessible even to tribes with primitive mining methods. But in the Kingdom of Nos, it was different: once a deposit was found, miners would carve out large pits on the surface, expanding outward in all directions to maximize open-pit extraction.

To tunnel directly into a vein required prior knowledge of the ore’s location—even with complete knowledge and rich experience, hitting it on the first try was difficult.

Even if someone truly possessed such skill, could they really be content to live quietly in a place the size of Gravel Town, buried in southern hills?

Peter didn’t understand his question. “Walk down with a torch and see.”

“Natural mine shafts—God’s blessing. How do people elsewhere manage?” Such circular openings certainly didn’t look man-made; they were hard to carve and unsuitable for supports.

“Same way—everywhere. As long as you find a steady water source to settle near, you won’t lack things to dig up.”

William glanced back at the opening, repeating his words in disbelief. “Everywhere?”

“Yes, but those people don’t see it as God’s blessing.” He separated himself from the other locals, spat on the ground. “They mutter constantly, but can’t name a single rule.”

“There’s another one up the mountain, but it’s too near the peak—too deep to use.” He pointed again—a plain hill. This time, no one spotted the opening; beyond a certain distance, distinguishing exposed rock from a half-hidden shaft became too difficult.

From his tone, similar natural mine shafts were so numerous here they outnumbered the hills.

“Such terrain exists?” Kraft had no term to describe it—large clusters of natural deep shafts appearing in water-scarce hills, like countless tiny holes suddenly forming in dry cheese—he couldn’t help suspecting flies had laid eggs.

“Are they deep?”

“Yes, I used to go down mines. I could walk for a long time inside, and endure the endless babbling of those who don’t believe in the Heavenly Father. Better to drive a carriage.” He harbored resentment; he rarely got a chance to vent, and feared the priest would grow tired of hearing it repeated.

“They lazily take only what’s near the entrance, then move elsewhere, wasting God’s blessing—they’ll face retribution soon enough.”

Kraft and William both groaned, pressing their hands to their heads. Kraft, however, was less shaken—he had prepared himself for disappointment before arriving; setbacks were expected. “Ah.”

The logic of searching by mine was wrong. At least they could now search by people: settlements producing large quantities of raw materials and trading with the outside couldn’t vanish like mine shafts hidden under weeds and shrubs.

Peter misunderstood their sighs, continuing his complaints about those people: “They won’t listen to me, or to the priest. They cling to a set of rules no one can even count, and no one knows who made them.”

“Don’t go too deep, don’t leave the mine too late, always remind each other which way leads out… too many rules. Honestly, I never used any of them. Those who stayed too long picked up their strange superstitions—I don’t want to become like them.”

Amid his complaints, the carriage turned another bend; their sense of direction grew fuzzy, the winding road unclear whether it led inward or outward. Kraft had to pause and recall to determine they were moving away from the canal.

In other words, they were delving deeper into the southern hills. Another cave appeared on the opposite side of the mountain—large enough, by instinct, to fit a small house from Gravel Town, sloping downward into the mountainside, light ending just beyond its mouth.

The circular walls weren’t smooth or gently curved like a cave formed by water; the rock retained sharp angles and small straight edges, showing little sign of erosion—at least, Kraft’s geological knowledge couldn’t attribute it to water dissolution.

Beyond that, nothing could be seen; the visible portion showed little variation in width, resembling a crude prototype of a tunnel.

“Hey, what do you think lies at the end of these shafts?” One sailor, unable to bear the silence, asked Peter. In other places, seeing a cave was rare—curiosity was inevitable.

“I don’t know. I’ve never heard anyone mention it.”

“Really? That’s strange. You never tried going down to see?”

Peter paused, as if searching through memories of his time working in the mine. “Too deep. Impossible to go further.”

The conversation ended. The carriage fell silent. Yin Feng pulled out a small notebook, glanced at it briefly—Kraft blocked him. “Don’t read in the carriage. It harms your eyes.”

There was still plenty of time. Yin Feng didn’t need to memorize a few more words right now, nor did he need to rush. The ore wouldn’t run away—searching for weeks or even a month was acceptable.