Chapter 97: Idle Chess

"How is it?"

"Not much." Kraft let go of the small ore in his hand; its color was deep red and dull, like a clot of congealed blood. As it rolled down the steep slope, it reminded William of flowing red tears.

Sitting at the mine entrance, a pile of such ores cushioned his bottom, like liquid mixed with blood accumulating in hollow eye sockets, about to overflow.

For outsiders, seeing many of these mines does not mean taking them for granted; the more one sees, the stranger it becomes how so many caves of various sizes could form. The wheezing throats of the miners also give rise to unpleasant imaginings about the mines.

These past days, at Kraft's request, Peter had taken them to visit one working mine after another. Continuous operation for years had not increased the scale of the settlements; they all maintained a pattern of family succession and village units, with output adapted to transportation capacity.

Larger mines have been worked for generations; young miners and their fathers labor inside, so familiar that they can remind outsiders to watch out for which particular stone lies underfoot, and recall whose child fell there last time.

The straight-down caves had no branches. Kraft followed them to their usual working spots, some taking over ten minutes to reach. Then an invisible line separated the active area from the "deeper parts"; they stopped to begin work, letting Kraft see for himself what was needed.

The ancestors were rarely seen; even if present, they had lost the ability to labor, sitting in the shade at the base of village walls, bare-chested, with obvious rises and falls in their breathing. Typical signs of breathing difficulty manifested on them: the skin over their sternums and collarbones sank deeply, just like Yin Feng's father.

The dust flying at the mining site quickly drove out the enthusiastic visitors. The miners themselves were daily troubled by these things that caused coughing and sneezing, but did not directly link them to lung disease, or if they thought of it, had no time to verify, so naturally they did not cover their mouths and noses with their hands during heavy physical labor due to coughs and sneezes.

After all, dust causing lung disease is still something requiring long-term observation and summary; the cycle is measured in years. Without clear and sufficient comparative cases, it is hard to convince people, and obviously no one here is capable of doing this.

No discoveries were made on the ores either. Kraft, carrying a small bag, jumped down from the ore pile. "Iron ore, still iron ore; what they mine most is iron ore. For ten years it has been iron ore, and for ten years to come it will be."

"Then what are you doing here? Recommending your so-called... masks to them?"

After visiting two or three settlements a week ago, Kraft began his confusing behavior, attempting to recommend to the locals a lower-face mask made from cloth pieces and two cloth strips.

He claimed it was to conduct a survey, which might benefit improving the miners' lung disease.

"Yes, but the form has changed." Kraft took two severely worn copper coins from his pocket, privately minted versions. "I plan to sell them to them, one copper coin each."

"Are you sure many will buy? Before, even giving them trial use, no one used them." William still had market sensitivity. In relatively closed villages, persuading them as a strange outsider was very difficult.

Remember, he had mixed with the Ice Plain tribes for so long, yet still could not get the Ice Plain people to accept things that did not originally exist and integrate them into daily life.

"Not many will buy. Only two people paid up after I helped someone solve a small problem; you could call it another form of consultation fee?" The copper coin spun around his fingers, flipped back into his palm, and was stuffed back into the bag.

"Spending money makes people feel the item has value; they will use it for a few days. During those days, their coughs and sneezes will feel better; at least psychologically, they will feel it works. Besides, this is a mask with an added 'herbal formula'."

Ranwen

Herbs are currently the mainstream of medicine, yet William had not heard Kraft mention them before. "So you also know herbs?"

"No, I just randomly found a root with a faint scent, squeezed its juice, and let them guess. If there is a chance to promote it later, it might even form various family-inherited formulas, kept secret and used only on a small scale." Kraft leaned close to William's ear and said, though this point was irrelevant; the miners were far from resting, all still in the mines, with no one coming to eavesdrop on their conversation.

"The key is providing such a treatment method that fits general thinking. I don't care what they use, as long as they put effort into the mask."

William's expression was strange. The captain had seen much in his life, encountering all kinds of swindlers and good people; he could not evaluate someone who made such a huge detour just to conduct a survey.

"What if they don't do as you say?"

"After so many villages, some influence will inevitably arise. In the previous place, I sold five. Remember, behind every able-bodied laborer is an entire family. How much influence can that have on a small village with only a few people? Wait another five or ten years to collect the results."

Kraft shook the money bag; it jingled inside, estimated to be nearly half full.

"Will you come here again later?"

"Not necessarily. I can send one of my students over; I'll cover the expenses, consider it a business trip."

"Then I feel sorry for him in advance, and suggest you focus your energy on what we are diligently working on." William could not connect the recent itinerary with travel and expressed dissatisfaction with his partner's neglect of duty.

"Oh, my friend, the best plan investor, then you have misunderstood me." Opening the mouth of the money bag, a large handful of copper coins was displayed before William; the old metal's dark yellow and green rust showed how long their former owners had preserved them.

"I recall I just mentioned that there are many mines here, many mineral resources, and quite a number of villages, but... each village has very few people, so few that picking any child at random would allow them to recognize everyone in the village and call out everyone's nickname."

"We started in the wrong direction from the beginning. There was no need to investigate mineral outflows or grain destinations; over the years, the volume was too great. So I ask, what is least here?"

"What?"

Kraft pointed to himself, then to William's chest. "Outsiders; counted by the year, there are only a few. The deeper the villages, the fewer there are, so few that they are enough to leave a topic of conversation for a long time amidst this bland, repetitive life like clear water."

"Especially outsiders like us, who do not transport grain, do not want ready-made ore, but specifically drill into the mines."

A rare smile of self-satisfaction appeared on his face, like a constant winner William had seen in a casino: closing his eyes to listen carefully, then slapping down a chip, seeing the desired number revealed in the gap of the wooden bowl, illuminated by the fireplace light.

"Indeed, there is such a person. I am trying to trace his route."

Not coming for trade or exchange, appearing intermittently in the mouths of the original owners of the newly bagged copper coins, his footprints heading deeper into the mountainous areas. Integrating information about outsiders was far simpler than pondering daily ores or grain.

Gazing at the distant mountains, the overlapping natural barriers no longer blocked the view; days of travel had finally clarified this pool of muddy water stirred up by transportation and information.

"Now, guess what those two told me? A few years ago, an outsider moved into the neighboring village!"