Chapter 3
1165 Words
Rogue mining by low-class, poor, and impoverished peoples; mine infiltrations by gem thieves; and unsanctioned mining by landowners were common occurrences in Salvena, and the wider Ashrone.
In their country, gems were life.
Licensed miners also did the wrong thing, occasionally, but such acts were few and far between; otherwise, they could lose their mining rights, or even the land they owned.
Mine inspectors were key members of the Ashrone workforce for exactly this reason. No mine work was done without proper inspection of the location, tools, and qualifications of those carrying out the actual job.
The government had its Ministry of Inspections. The wealthiest mining companies had private inspectors.
“Brighton. Tell me,” Raymond continued smoothly.
“A section caved in. The materials used to hold the ceiling were all up to standard. It looks like intentional tampering, but with something far away,” Tyler rattled off, switching from casual to work mode.
“A caster?” Raymond asked suspiciously.
“Must be. The tech showed no readings, so it has to be magic-based,” Tyler replied, slowing down his speech as his mind worked.
“Could it be some of the locals?” Raymond remarked, copying his subordinate’s steady pattern.
“Most likely. I couldn’t go into the town; Miss Belarnt recalled me,” Tyler replied evenly.
There was a weighty silence on the other end.
“Ray?” Tyler called evenly.
“Yeah, I’m here. Sorry,” Raymond replied distractedly.
“What happened? Did she…” Tyler lowered his voice, “Find out?”
Silence.
Tyler waited, moving to the window after reconfirming that the office door was locked.
“She almost did, but mostly it was ‘cos you went with the old jet,” Raymond replied, part guiltily, part irritably.
Now it was Tyler’s turn to be quiet. Raymond was saying two things at once. Tyler waited to see which line his boss would follow.
“You sure you won't go to HR? I mean…,” Raymond’s voice drifted off.
Guess it’s the second one, huh, Tyler mused, stifling a snort.
Raymond had seen Ashley Belarnt’s handling of Tyler only once, and since then, the younger man made it a point to make Tyler feel as relaxed as possible, giving him free rein to run his time and schedule as he liked – as long as the work got done, Raymond Belarnt had no issues.
Tyler smiled again. He aspirated into the phone. Raymond picked up his cue, going on about limitations, boundaries, and equality. Tyler let him run, pulling out three gems he was crafting. Personal work.
While Raymond went about attending private auctions outside Salvena, on company funds, and company time, Tyler Esteil, the secret, elusive Master of the Miran Auction house, the largest, most prosperous black-market gem hall in the entire nation of Ashrone, created items for his clients or inspected properties brought to him by his clients.
“Malorcent,” Tyler murmured at the first gem.
“Junster,” he mumbled at the second.
“Azayine,” he whispered at the third.
Each gem was about an inch in diameter. Rough. Like stones picked off the ground. Not refined items. They were straight from the mines.
And they had not been logged in any register, as should be done under any legal mining process.
They were gems of the same grade and color. Tyler had found them in different mines. Found. Not stolen.
What most people did not know was that Tyler Varsen – Tyler Esteil – was a miner.
Illegal, as he had no license, but, since he only mined abandoned areas, not prosecutable under Ashorne law.
In Ashrone, ‘abandoned’ meant the owner was done with the site. It was empty. If anyone found something that the owners had not. It would not be considered a crime.
After all, everyone knew that no profitable mine would ever be abandoned.
On the other side of things, if anyone got injured, lost, or died while scavenging an abandoned mine, the owners were not liable.
A fair law. A just law. Ashrone’s law.
What Tyler did – either version of him – however, was nothing so simple as walking into a mine and picking up pieces of cast-off rock.
Not Tyler, son of Maid Linda Esteil. Not ‘mud-face,’ as he had been called by the Kramer heir and his boisterous friends.
What he did was dangerous. Very dangerous.
The mines he foraged were all near collapsing. In his ranging beneath the earth or into the belly of mountains, he had crawled, climbed, pulled, pushed, crushed rocks, cut tree roots, using his body as his number one tool.
More than once, from his youth to date, he had been buried alive.
But Tyler always found his way through, always made it out. Even if he had to dig his way with his bare hands. Even if he had to use his own magic, which always felt like he was peeling his own skin.
Most everyone in Ashrone, from the highest to the lowest class, could use magic. They were born with it.
Gems amplified it. And people could amplify gems, use them – based on their original properties – for any number of things; from basic, ordinary, day-to-day uses to warfare.
Gems were used in clothing, in accessories, in handheld tools, in technology, in medicines. Everything. They made items stronger, more durable, longer-lasting, more powerful.
They made people stronger, more durable, more – anything physical. But the better the owner’s body was at doing the thing the magic was used to amplify, the more powerful the effect would be.
They did not extend life. They did not heal sickness. They only made life easier, improving the efficiency or usefulness of things that already existed.
The gems before Tyler could be used for many things, but their base properties made them most suitable for the work the inspector was about to perform.
He stared at the gems as each one pulled at him to varying degrees. Not in the way of ordinary users. Something deeper, older, a pull from the earth itself, as if he were a bridge the stones were using to realize their potential.
Raymond was still talking, but Tyler was no longer listening.
His eyes were on the Junster.
A gem used for explosives. His favourite of the three. Also, the only one that could send him back to the Vault in a heartbeat.
And within the week, a carefully calculated number of these, activated, untraceable, delivered through Lincoln's people to sites Tyler had already identified, would arrive at Kramer Holdings' automated mining locations across the country.
No harm would come to human workers, but the impact would definitely be enough to make Edward Kramer feel the ground shift beneath him. Enough to cost him, at a very inconvenient time.
That was the beginning. Small. Clean. Deniable.
Tyler smiled faintly at the rough stone in his palm. The show was about to start.
- Writer
