Three days later, Fink County.
Viscount Stalenf, a man as fat as a mountain of flesh, was sitting smugly on his large chair, which was draped in a snow-white animal hide. He toyed with a gold coin in his hand as he listened to his subordinate's report.
"...The envoys from Wischeim were extremely humble. They claim the warehouse fire was a pure accident and are willing to pay a large sum in compensation to the families of the two brave men who unfortunately died. They also hope to sign an agreement with you, my esteemed Lord Viscount."
"Oh?" Viscount Stalenf's fleshy chin quivered as he let out a smug laugh. "It seems that little wench Gertrude and the dog she keeps have been scared witless by my fire, hahahahaha!!"
"So what kind of agreement is it?"
"It's a 'Labor Import Agreement.' They hope to lease a batch of laborers from your territory for a term of one year."
"Lease laborers?" Viscount Stalenf narrowed his eyes, which were already squeezed into slits by his fat, and asked warily, "What's the price?"
"Well... this..." The subordinate hesitated before handing over a document.
Viscount Stalenf snatched it and scanned it briefly. His breathing suddenly grew ragged, and his eyes flew wide open.
The agreement stated in black and white that Wischeim was willing to lease laborers from Fink County at a price of fifty gold coins per person, per year.
Fifty gold coins!
Viscount Stalenf's heart began to pound wildly.
He knew that a single miner in his territory, after a full year of hard labor, would bring him a net profit of ten gold coins at most, after deducting living expenses and the foreman's cut.
Now, that idiot Lacey was actually willing to pay five or six times that price to lease them?
And it was only a one-year lease. After a year, the people were still his!
This was practically a pie falling from the sky!
"What are their additional conditions?" Viscount Stalenf asked, feigning composure as he suppressed his elation.
He instinctively felt something was off, but the enormous profit made it impossible for him to think clearly.
"None, my lord. The only condition is that you provide the first batch of laborers, five hundred of them, as soon as possible."
"Hahahaha!" Viscount Stalenf could no longer contain himself and burst into a deafening, wild laugh.
He stood up and paced the room, his obese body making the floorboards groan.
"Stupid! Utterly stupid!" he roared, spittle flying from his mouth.
"That country bumpkin named Lacey thinks he can get things done just by inciting a mob of riffraff? He's nothing but a hick who's never seen the world! One little fire and he's scared out of his mind! Hahahaha!"
"And now he wants to buy his way out of trouble, and he wants to borrow people from me to work for him?"
The more he thought about it, the more plausible it seemed.
Wischeim had just suffered a major fire, and that little wench Gertrude had only recently taken her position. With everything in disarray, she was in desperate need of manpower.
And those people in the Workers' Party were just a bunch of bumpkins. Besides shouting slogans and fighting, how many of them could actually do any real work?
Paying to lease skilled laborers was the only solution.
As for the price... it could only mean that the other party was truly desperate and had zero business sense.
"Tell them I agree!" Viscount Stalenf waved his hand grandly, his face a mask of undisguised greed.
"However, as for the price... it needs a little adjustment."
He picked up a quill, crossed out the "fifty" on the agreement, and changed it to "sixty."
"Tell them this is a friendship price, for Miss Gertrude's sake!"
"The first batch of five hundred will be delivered to the border in three days! Tell them to have the gold coins ready!"
He could almost see a continuous stream of gold coins flowing into his coffers.
He believed he had won a bloodless victory, not only humiliating his opponent but also making a huge profit.
...
When the news reached Wischeim, everyone thought Lacey had gone mad.
"Sixty gold coins per person! Why doesn't he just rob us instead! Lacey, are we really going to accept this humiliating condition?" Gertrude cursed, her face ashen as she looked at the agreement the envoy brought back.
Even Taylor the blacksmith, who trusted Lacey the most, couldn't help but ask, "Chief, are we just going to hand over the money we worked so hard to earn to that fat pig for free?"
Lacey took the agreement, a smile actually appearing on his face.
"Don't be impatient, Miss Gertrude. Of course we're going to accept."
"The more he demands, the faster he will die."
He turned to Taylor behind him and ordered, "Send word to prepare the camp, food, and hot water. In three days, we will welcome five hundred new comrades from Fink County."
Though Taylor was just as confused, he had an almost blind faith in Lacey.
He nodded and answered in a deep voice, "Yes, sir!"
...
The air in Fink County was always filled with the smell of coal dust.
Jonas clutched the ration wrapped in a dirty cloth to his chest. This was his food for the coming week.
His mother, a thin woman with sallow, stringy hair, gripped his arm tightly, weeping silently.
His sister, Lina, only seven years old, hid behind their mother, looking at him timidly.
"Brother... will you come back?" Lina asked in a small voice.
Jonas's heart was gripped with pain. He wanted to say he would, but he didn't want to lie to his family.
He had been chosen.
As one of the first five hundred laborers Viscount Stalenf was leasing to Wischeim.
No one knew what "leasing" meant.
To the miners and serfs of Fink County, it was no different from being sold.
Wischeim, in the stories passed among them, was a hell more terrifying than the pits of Fink County.
It was ruled by a gang of thugs who burned, killed, and plundered, stopping at no evil.
A small group of workers from Fink County had fled there before, but no word was ever heard from them again.
Anyone sent there would probably not even have their bones left.
But could he resist?
The viscount's guards stood not far away, the weapons at their waists and the indifference on their faces enough to crush anyone's foolish hopes.
"Take care of Mom." Jonas pulled three copper coins he had hidden for a long time from his pocket and pressed them into his sister's small hand.
"This is what I saved."
He couldn't bear to look his family in the eyes again. He turned abruptly and merged into the column of people.
Five hundred people, like a herd of cattle being driven, began their journey to Wischeim under the escort of the viscount's guards.
Behind them were the suppressed sobs of their families and the gazes of their fellow villagers, a mixture of pity and relief.
The column was quiet. Few spoke. Every face was etched with numbness and fear of the unknown.
Beside Jonas was a one-armed miner called Old Heige. His arm had been crushed in a mine collapse years ago.
"Kid, stop thinking about it." Old Heige patted Jonas's shoulder with his good hand, his voice hoarse.
"Once we get there, be smart. Live one day at a time."
"If... if you really can't go on, then leave yourself some dignity."
Jonas knew what he meant.
Many miners, driven to desperation, had chosen to end their miserable lives with a rope or a rock.
Could this be his end as well?
He was only seventeen. He hadn't yet given his mother and sister a single good day.
Resentment and rage grew wildly in his heart, only to be crushed under the heavy weight of reality, unable to lift its head.
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