The priest continued speaking.
His voice was soft, almost gentle, but the words were twisted.
"Obedience brings peace. Defiance brings ruin. The masters above are wise and just…"
Mantes listened, frowning.
That's… not what it says, he thought.
They're twisting the meaning. Obedience isn't the point. It's about fairness.
The priest went on.
"Labor must be done in the approved areas. No stone may be struck outside its bounds. To do otherwise invites the wrath of the heavens."
Mantes' mind raced. That's not in the book at all!
He glanced at the glowing pages. He could see the real words: fairness, aid, respect…
He's lying.
The priest's next words were smoother, almost hypnotic:
"Those who suffer… it is their own fault. The masters above know what is best. Accept your fate, and you shall be rewarded."
Mantes' fists clenched inside his sleeves.
This is wrong. It's not written anywhere. This is manipulation!
He looked around. The slaves stared at the priest with awe. Fear. Hope.
No one dared speak.
Then, quietly, in his mind, Mantes thought the words clearly:
It's not written there.
The priest paused, sensing a ripple of unease.
Perhaps one of them questions me?
He frowned slightly, hiding his annoyance.
Mantes imagined saying it aloud. It's not written there!
But he stayed silent. For now.
The priest's assistant, a small man in dark robes, whispered from the side:
"Priest —, it's time to go."
The priest's face hardened, but he nodded slowly.
He closed the glowing book carefully, as if sealing secrets inside.
Then he spoke to the gathered slaves:
"Remember… my words are the words of God. Obey, and you shall be safe. Question, and the heavens will judge you."
The slaves murmured, heads bowed. Fear and awe in their eyes.
Mantes' jaw tightened.
Manipulating them… openly… and they believe every word.
The priest stood tall, his glow fading slightly, but his presence still commanding.
He turned and left, followed by his assistant and a few guards.
Mantes looked at the book in the priest's hands.
He could read it. He could see the truth.
And they will never know it.
The moment the priest stepped away, the guards didn't wait even a second.
"Back to work!" one shouted.
Another guard kicked over a miner's wooden bowl. They didn't even left miners finish there leftover food.
Half a piece of bread fell into the dust.
"But… we didn't fin—" a thin woman tried to speak.
A whip cracked near her feet.
"No eating. Work!"
The miners scrambled back to their spots. No one dared complain.
Mantes stared at the scene, his heart pounding.
"They don't care if we starve… they don't care if we die…"
He looked at the tunnels, the guards, the chains, the endless stone.
"I have to escape this place. Not someday. Not later. Now."
The thought hit him harder than anything else since he arrived here.
=========================================================
Above the Mine — The Priest's Departure
High above the stone pit, a floating carriage waited—white, gold, and glowing softly. It had no wheels. It hovered in the air, held up by strange runes etched beneath it.
The priest climbed inside, breathing heavily.
His assistant, a stern woman in light-blue robes, followed.
"Priest Varastel," she said quietly, "your schedule is full. Should we move to the next site?"
Varastel sniffed himself in disgust.
"The dust of that pit clings to me. I spoke too closely with that… lower being. Prepare a bath the moment we return."
"Yes, Priest."
Varastel leaned back, annoyed.
"That child… the one who asked questions…"
The assistant nodded. "Shall we keep an eye on him?"
Varastel's eyes narrowed, cold and bored.
"No. Don't bother."
A pause.
"Just kill the kid who talked to me."
The floating carriage lifted higher, glowing brighter, and then drifted away into the sky—silent, elegant, and heartless.