Chapter 9: Iron in the Hills - Part 2
POV: Corwyn Darke
The collapse happened on the twelfth day.
I was reviewing inventory logs with Edric when the runner burst into the keep, face white, breath ragged. "My lord—the mine—cave-in—men trapped—"
The stylus dropped from my fingers. I was running before conscious thought caught up.
[ ⚠️ EMERGENCY ALERT: MINE COLLAPSE ]
[ STRUCTURAL FAILURE: SECTION 3 ]
[ CASUALTIES: 2 INJURED, 0 DEAD (PROVISIONAL) ]
[ IMMEDIATE ACTION REQUIRED ]
The hillside path had never seemed so long. I reached the mine entrance to find chaos—workers shouting, dust billowing from the shaft, Gareth already organizing rescue efforts with grim efficiency.
"Two men trapped," he reported as I arrived. "They were reinforcing the east tunnel when a support beam gave way. We can hear them calling—they're alive, but the passage is blocked."
"How much rubble?"
"Ten feet, maybe fifteen. Loose rock, unstable ceiling." His jaw tightened. "If we dig wrong, we could bring the whole section down on them."
I pushed past him into the mine, ignoring his protests. The dust made breathing difficult, turning the torch-lit darkness into a choking haze. The System overlay cut through it, highlighting structural weaknesses, safe paths, danger zones.
[ STRUCTURAL ANALYSIS ]
[ SAFE EXCAVATION ROUTE: HIGHLIGHTED ]
[ CEILING STABILITY: 34% (CRITICAL) ]
[ RECOMMENDED: SHORE BEFORE DIGGING ]
"Stop!" I grabbed the arm of a worker about to swing his pick. "Stop digging. Everyone back."
Confused faces turned toward me. Beyond the rubble, muffled voices called out—the trapped men, alive but scared.
"My lord, we have to—"
"We have to do this right." I pointed at the ceiling, where cracks spread like spider webs from the collapse point. "See those? One wrong hit and the whole thing comes down. We shore up first, then dig."
Willem pushed through the crowd. His face was pale, hands trembling—one of the trapped men was his cousin. "Lord Corwyn, please. There's no time for—"
"There's time to do it safely or time to kill everyone in this tunnel." I kept my voice steady, channeling every ounce of authority I could muster. "Willem. I need timber. Every support beam we have. Now."
He hesitated for a heartbeat, then ran.
The next two hours were the longest of my life.
We shored up the ceiling section by section, following a pattern the System provided but my workers couldn't see. I directed them with gestures and brief commands, forcing myself to stay calm while my heart hammered against my ribs.
"Modern engineering. Medieval tools. Impossible odds. Perfect."
Finally—finally—we cleared enough rubble to reach the trapped men. They emerged dusty, bruised, one with a broken arm, but alive. Alive.
The cheer that went up echoed through the tunnels like thunder.
POV: Edric
Edric watched from the mine entrance, heart in his throat, as Lord Corwyn emerged from the shaft supporting one of the rescued miners.
The lord was covered head to toe in gray dust, blood seeping from a cut on his forehead, exhaustion evident in every movement. But he was smiling—a fierce, triumphant expression that transformed his face.
"Get Maester Harlan," he ordered. "Tomas has a broken arm that needs setting. And Willem—your cousin's going to be fine. Bruises and scrapes, nothing permanent."
Willem broke down crying. Not from shame—from relief so intense it couldn't be contained. The other workers clustered around, slapping backs, offering water, checking injuries with rough concern.
"They're not just coworkers," Edric realized. "They're... something else. Family, almost."
Lord Corwyn caught his eye and gestured him over. Up close, the lord looked even worse—the cut on his forehead was deeper than it had seemed, his hands were scraped raw, and his breathing was too fast.
"My lord, you should—"
"Later." Cole gripped his shoulder. "I need you to take notes. Everything we did wrong that led to this collapse. Every protocol we need to change to prevent another one."
"Now? But you're hurt—"
"I'll survive. The lessons won't wait." Cole's voice was firm but not unkind. "Memory fades, Edric. Write it down while it's fresh. Every detail. We'll review tonight and implement changes tomorrow."
Edric pulled out the small notebook he'd started carrying everywhere—a gift from the lord, who insisted that good managers recorded everything. His stylus was already moving as Cole dictated.
Support beam inspections every four hours. Maximum occupancy limits for unstable sections. Designated safety observers with authority to halt work. Emergency response protocols. Injury reporting requirements.
By the time they finished, Edric had filled three pages with cramped notes. His hand ached. His mind raced with everything he'd learned.
And somewhere deep inside, a conviction crystallized: This is what leadership looks like. Not crowns and thrones—this. Bleeding for your people, then making sure it doesn't happen again.
POV: Corwyn Darke
Week three brought the first significant production.
[ MINING OPERATIONS STATUS ]
[ TOTAL ORE EXTRACTED: 523 POUNDS ]
[ QUALITY: HIGH (84% AVERAGE) ]
[ WORKER SAFETY: +47% (POST-COLLAPSE PROTOCOLS) ]
[ WORKER MORALE: 91% ]
I reviewed the numbers in my chambers, Harlan sitting across from me with his own copies. The candlelight made the pages glow amber, casting dancing shadows on the stone walls.
"Five hundred twenty-three pounds," Harlan repeated. "At current market prices..."
"Roughly three hundred gold dragons." I'd done the math already. "Minus forty percent for worker shares, sixty for materials and overhead, leaves us with a net profit of..."
"One hundred twenty gold." Harlan set down the ledger, shaking his head slowly. "In three weeks. More than Duskhollow's annual surplus."
"And this is just the beginning." I leaned back, allowing myself a moment of satisfaction. "Production will increase as we open new sections. Once we establish proper buyer relationships, prices will improve. Within six months, we could be clearing four hundred gold monthly."
Four hundred gold monthly. Forty-eight hundred annually. Enough to pay off the Crown debt, fund infrastructure improvements, and still have reserves for emergencies.
"Economic independence. The foundation of political independence."
"My lord." Harlan's voice was careful. "The... methods you've employed. The profit-sharing, the safety protocols, the written contracts. They're unprecedented."
"I know."
"Other lords will notice. They'll ask questions. Some will be hostile." He met my eyes. "Are you prepared for that scrutiny?"
I considered the question seriously. The innovations I'd introduced came from a world eight hundred years in the future, from economic theories and labor practices that wouldn't develop naturally for centuries. If anyone looked too closely at the source of my knowledge...
"Let them notice. Let them ask." I stood, moving to the window. Outside, torchlight flickered in the mining camp—night shift workers heading home, day shift preparing to replace them. "By the time they understand what I'm building, it'll be too strong to tear down."
A knock at the door interrupted us. Ser Gareth entered, his expression grim.
"Scouts report from the border."
My satisfaction curdled instantly. "Darklyn?"
"Drilling troops three miles from our territory. Two hundred men, maybe more. They're not making any attempt to hide."
[ ⚠️ THREAT ALERT ]
[ DARKLYN MILITARY ACTIVITY DETECTED ]
[ FORCE ESTIMATE: 200-250 SOLDIERS ]
[ THREAT LEVEL: ELEVATED ]
I looked at Harlan. He looked at me. The same thought reflected in both our faces.
"Time's running out."
"Double our patrols," I ordered. "I want to know the moment they move. And Gareth—start training the miners. Basic formations, defensive tactics. Anyone who can hold a spear."
"My lord, they're not soldiers—"
"Then make them soldiers." I turned from the window, the satisfaction of moments ago replaced by cold calculation. "We have weeks, maybe less. Whatever Darklyn's planning, we need to be ready."
Gareth nodded once and left to carry out his orders.
The night suddenly felt much darker. And somewhere in those shadows, two hundred armed men waited for a signal to march.
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