Lysander had previously said he was too soft hearted, he now sees why.
The mine air still clung to Kaelen's clothes, damp, mineral, thick with the ghost of ancient stone. He smelled of earth and sweat and the faint, sharp tang of the crystals he had spent the morning harvesting. Markus walked beside him, the pack on his back clinking softly with each step.
"Markus," Kaelen said, not breaking stride. "You take all the mined crystals. Store them somewhere safe."
Markus's step faltered. "My lord?"
The big man was silent for a long moment. The snow crunched beneath their boots, and the wind carried the distant sound of the estate's bells, marking the hour.
"Are really going to give it to him?" Markus said finally.
[What is happening? You are giving out this much?]
"It will not just benefit him, but the whole estate."
"But…
"Listen to me, I have a plan."
[You actually became more stupid]
"As you command, my lord."
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