[RP Blitz] Canaries in an Amber Mine

Far to the Northwest of Blitzia, on Eider Isle, there was a mine and in that mine, there was an alcove. It was positioned somewhat in the middle of the mineshaft, far enough in that the miners' picks could be heard tapping away at frozen stone as water dripped from the ceiling where torches were lit but not so far as the light from the entrance could not stretch to meet the doorway.

Despite this though, the roomy alcove itself was rather dim and so an oil lamp was lit and set upon the corner of the spacious field desk to counter this, a pool of warm light cast onto the surface and about the room. There were papers neatly stacked on the desk, ledgers, logbooks, maps, and more, and set nicely beside the oil lamp was a pot of ink.

Montgomery Sterling carefully dipped his pheasant quill into the pot of ink, a pair of dainty magnifying spectacles perched on the bridge of nose as he sketched a rough copy of one of the maps to mark down where the miners were working today. There were a few small crews working under his supervision down shafts that forked off of the main one he was in now so he liked to know where each one was in case he needed to find them for any reason.

After finishing his sketch and marking with small Xs where the crews were working, he scooted the paper to the edge of the desk and began the day’s accounting. Really, it was yesterday’s data, however, it was today’s work as the finished weight of what was mined could only be tallied at the end of the day. As for the amber found within the masses of earth mined, that was tallied after the rubble had been sifted through and in some cases, melted. It was quite a bit of work handling so much data at once but luckily organization was like a second nature to Monte. In fact, he found it quite relaxing as he created clean tables with his quill and bone ruler, listening to the flame guttering in the corner and the rhythmic tapping of pickaxes from elsewhere in the mine.

Once the tables were made, he wrote each employee's name that was working under him down from the logbook and took a moment to make sure he wasn't forgetting anyone. Looking over the signatures from that morning, he smiled a bit. He was grateful and very lucky to have such good crews under his supervision. They were always very hard working and knew how to get a job done. In addition to that, he hardly ever heard any complaints or had to solve too big of problems. He liked to think it was because he was a good supervisor and did his best to understand the miners but in all reality, he knew it was just because he had good crews.

Out in the main shaft, there was a small, yet noticeable, ting as the a small nail from a candle used to keep time fell into the tray of the candle holder. It was time to do another round to check on the crews. Monte set his quill aside before getting up, ensuring his hat was attached to the clip over his shoulder. A hat wasn't exactly useful inside the mines but it very much was when someone left them. The sun had a tendency to appear much brighter then it actually was when leaving the mines, even in the evening.

Monte stretched a bit, shoulders stiff from sitting so long, before calmly making his way down the main mineshaft with the sketched map in one hand and the time keeping candle in the other. Hopefully he wouldn't catch any of them slacking although after all, he thought they could all use a break anyway. A long weekend vacation would be wonderful.

Adiar stashed the remaining coins in a burlap sack–half full of shiny round metals–hiding them beneath the floorboards and covered by a rug. He checked his backpack for all the supplies needed for the day: rope, paper, charcoal, white chalk, med kit, flint, sleeping pack, rations, and a whetstone. He packed his things and dashed out of the room, but stopped at the last minute, turned on his heels to the nightstand for a gold locket containing a photo of his parents, his little brother, and two sisters. The locket brushed his lips, he wrapped the chain around his neck before tucking it beneath dark furs.

One of Adiar’s siblings greeted him with a warm bowl of hearty soup, the other brought a sharpened hatchet. Shortly after he taught them how to make a fire in case he’s out longer than usual. The youngest sister clings to his thick gloved hand, begging him to not go, unsure if he’ll even return today. He promised her that he’ll be back, after this big job they’ll all go back home. Following this he gives them a simple instruction: stay put and never open the door for anyone unless they hear a unique knock or hide if someone/something breaks in. He gives all of them one strong hug before marching out into the bitter winds of Eider Isle, far from Whitehook, far from any port or harbor.

Despite making a fairly safe trek to the mines, Adiar is constantly on edge with his weapon held tight. Never knowing if an outlaw is behind a tree or ambushed by a pack of frost wolves, never knowing which day will be his last. An infirmary tent sits just outside the tunnel entrance tending to the men’s wounds, from minor scratches to broken limbs. He puts his hatchet in his bag, retrieves the pickaxe and checks in for the day.

In the cave the walls were lined with candles encased in their lanterns on popular paths miners frequented but not much blue amber. For those who were a bit more adventurous, they could take a plunge into the darkness with a potential for blue amber that’s enough to feed several generations. Though very few make it back alive–never bothering to retrieve their bodies at the risk of adding another body to the count–usually written up as “missing in action”. Occasionally Adiar would pull a miner back from leaning on a weak beam or staying by their side who collapsed from exhaustion until help arrived. He wondered if the supervisor or someone higher up the food chain was remotely aware of the conditions or simply looked the other way, seeing the men as expendable.

Along the way he took note of new alcoves carved into the walls–some miners taking little naps in there–marking them on his map, as well as overlooked hidden passageways or potential spots for untapped blue amber. The map grew into a large interconnected network of both manmade and natural veins. On occasion he would discover bodies of fallen men in varying states of decay or fresh ones strewn on the ground with their packs attached to their backs, some half eaten by frost wolves who call these tunnels home. Once the darkness snuffs out the last sliver of light, he lights his torch and pushes onwards, keeping an ear out for any danger that may lurk in the void.

Adiar heads to a spot that's rumoured to have an abundance of amber but takes it with a grain of salt, unsure if they're real or fool's amber. While toiling away at the wall, his thoughts drift to his home in Whitehook and its cool ocean breeze on his face, his siblings' smiling faces, but most of all his parents; longing for their warm embrace but blames them for dragging them all on a fool’s quest for wealth. The next strike brought a hint of blue amber, each hit gave more and more. He didn't know what to do with them all or test them of their authenticity before grabbing his prize. Just as his ticket way home was within reach, he heard screaming echoing in the dark.