Chapter 618: King of Slaves—Sparta
Ka! Ka! Ka!
The massive mechanical chains slowly rotated upwards.
The heavy gates gradually opened.
Countless pairs of expectant eyes lit up.
The rich aroma of wine quickly spread as the gray dwarves couldn't wait to crowd forward.
Ash snorted impatiently, waving them off:
"Why are you crowding here? Hurry up and get to work, or you can forget about having any wine."
Watching their reluctant backs, Ash couldn't help but sigh inwardly.
Compared to the gray dwarves of Bay Territory who had received "education," these fellows who had just escaped from the Underdark were truly unsophisticated.
Having undergone strict training, Ash knew very well that only discipline and restraint could make a group stronger.
These guys, intoxicated by wine and food, struggled to show any real cohesion.
This thought flashed through Ash's mind, but he quickly returned to calm, waving at the golem train behind him.
The massive construction golems descended from the golem train.
They worked at top speed, quickly moving down one large shipping container after another.
Worgi rapidly inventoried the supplies, deep anticipation in his eyes.
When he saw a group of tall figures slowly approaching, he got even more excited and walked up, saying:
"Welcome to the Cantrell Mountains. We've been waiting a long time."
Leading the group, Matthew silently glanced at him, his gaze sweeping calmly over the chaotic city, showing no surprise.
Piles of stones, heaps of excavated ore and ruins, the stench of household garbage, and life supplies all carelessly dumped together.
Matthew hadn't placed much hope in them, but even he didn't expect the gray dwarves to be doing this poorly.
Still, he hadn't expected much; as long as they didn't mind this area, it was enough.
Ash, supervising the unloading, waved at Chris and hurried to introduce Alice to Worgi.
When Worgi learned of the identity and strength of Alice's adventurer party, he was thrilled and eagerly invited them into the inner fortress.
Having seen the power of Bay Territory's adventurers, Worgi couldn't wish for anything more than their numbers growing.
However, Alice, burdened with an important mission, had no intention of chatting with Worgi and responded crisply:
"Thank you for your hospitality. But the mission is important, and we must get started immediately."
Hearing this, Worgi, who'd been unable to hold back his excitement, nodded quickly and said loudly:
"No problem. I'll assemble the troops right away. We'll get started immediately."
Matthew, who no longer harbored any hope for them, secretly said to Alice:
"Let them gather and prepare first. Let's go."
Hearing Matthew's words, Alice felt a rush of joy and immediately signaled to the nearby adventurers:
"Operation is starting! Everyone, move out."
As soon as this news got out, the long-waiting adventurers quickly gathered.
Alice browsed through masses of information, updating and recording bit by bit on the map.
Next to her, Ash couldn't help but smack his lips, saying expectantly:
"Didn't think the Cantrell Mountains would be so vast, and the resources so rich."
The area explored by just the gray dwarves and adventurers had already uncovered more than twenty high-quality metal veins.
Among them were four rare metal veins and one mithril vein, which Bay Territory urgently needed—plus, it was a medium-sized vein with decent reserves.
Just this information alone made Bay Territory invest over a million gold coins.
The adventurers weren't putting in all this effort for a bit of petty profit.
They were after the massive shares Bay Territory promised them once these veins were developed.
Now that was truly tempting, irresistible wealth!
They'd made many preparations for this, and now, it was finally time to reap the rewards.
Adventurers quickly gathered, a considerable portion of them high-tier professionals.
Many had participated in battles in the Rocky Mountains and against the Cole Elves, having fought the Cole Elves' elite troops.
Meanwhile, Matthew carefully looked over the map, quietly watching the Cole Elves' mines and metal refineries in the Cantrell Mountains.
"The Cole Elves are digging seventy-three mines in total, including five cities with populations over 100,000, and about ten strongholds and forts each with tens of thousands."
"The interesting thing is, they don't do the mining themselves…"
Ash, who had prepared extensively, recalled the various mines controlled by the Cole Elves, a strange and emotional look in his eyes.
Of course, Matthew knew the true nature of the Cole Elves. They were nothing like their self-proclaimed gentle, kind, and slightly proud image.
The Cole Elves really knew how to play dirty!
After counting the number of people able to participate in the operation, Alice, who had just passed the advanced commander training, pondered aloud:
"The Cole Elves have about 120,000 troops in this area, with each large city holding 20,000 regulars."
"But considering their lifespan and troop structure, there are at least another 80,000 retired or reserve soldiers."
"We have 20,000 high-level adventurers and about 60,000 gray dwarves warriors."
"In a head-on fight, we'd be able to take at most two cities before being surrounded by the elven army."
80,000 versus 200,000!
The pressure was intense!
Recalling the vast ruins of the Cole Elves' mines and those mountains of bones…
Matthew pointed to Glory Fortress, the westernmost city of the Cole Elves, without hesitation:
"That's our target. Taking out the city's defenders won't be a problem."
"The real challenge is holding it and destroying the troops from other cities."
"Let me remind you—the Cole Elves won't use excavation golems like we do for mining…"
Having realized it, Alice carefully reviewed the details of each Cole Elf city.
When she saw that each city held seven or eight hundred thousand slaves, she understood the lord's meaning.
Handling refugees, "educating" captives, "training" soldiers—these were the three secrets to Bay Territory's rapid development!
Around noon.
The warm sunlight brought a bit of heat, driving away the chill.
A howling wind swept by, stripping down a layer of withered leaves.
Faint mist slowly dissipated, revealing a vast valley.
A snow-white river lay in the middle of the valley.
The sound of running water echoed, reminding Sparta that he had to get to work immediately.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
Sharp whistles came from the mine tunnel, making Sparta quicken his pace. He didn't want to taste the whip.
The wide mine passage had almost no ore left to dig.
He'd have to go deeper into narrower tunnels to find ore of acceptable quality.
Dim lights, spaced dozens of meters apart.
Groups of shifting figures gradually filed into the mines.
Over a dozen half-elf slaves followed Sparta, who directed them to hidden tunnels, where the sounds of mining soon rang out.
One of them leaned in close to Sparta's ear and whispered in a low voice:
"The Cole Elves attacked the Ail Elves, but failed and lost hundreds of thousands of elite soldiers."
"Now the Cole Elves are building up more forces, preparing to make new weapons and gear…"
Sparta nodded quietly, saying nothing more, gesturing for him to keep mining, then continued deeper into the tunnel.
The sharp sound of curses came from the equipment deposit, mixed with the screams and cries of slaves.
Sparta picked up his basket, grabbed his pickaxe—wrapped with blood-stained bandages—and ran quickly to his work zone.
A pitch-black, cramped corner.
He swung the pickaxe with all his might, prying loose a large piece of gray-green ore in a shower of sparks.
Skillfully, Sparta put the ore in his basket and continued mining the second piece.
Light footsteps approached; Sparta, sensing something, dared not look up.
Focusing intently, he kept mining along the gray-green vein.
The overseer glanced at the ore in Sparta's basket, snorted softly, then whipped the basket with his lash and snarled:
"Orders from the elven lords—starting today, everyone's ore quota increases by 50%."
"I know you all slack off, so you'd better work hard now. Or there'll be no dinner tonight."
Another 50% increase?
That meant each slave would have to turn in more than 150 jin of ore!
Sparta's movements didn't slow; he just nodded heavily, not daring to protest.
"Get your crew in line—I don't care how you do it, but you must complete the task given by the elven lords."
"Or else, you're in for it…"
The harsh voice faded, and Sparta, suppressing his anger, dug even faster.
One chunk of ore after another quickly filled his basket.
It took Sparta a full two hours to dig enough ore for his quota.
Wiping the sweat from his brow, Sparta was long used to the rough pain of dust against his skin.
He hesitated for a moment, then squatted down and took out a chunk of blackened rice ball from his pocket, biting into it hard.
The tough grains slowly softened in his saliva.
Sparta chewed cautiously, one grain at a time, ignoring the faint mold and bitterness. The hunger in his stomach gradually calmed.
His frail body slowly regained a bit of strength, and Sparta put the remaining half of the rice ball back in his inner pocket.
Looking at his basket, now nearly half full, he stood up and swung the pickaxe again.
Until afternoon.
The dark corner was now completely devoid of light.
Sparta caught his breath and left the stinking mine.
"It only went up 50% last month, and now it's up again this month!"
"You don't think it'll end here, do you? It might go up again in the future!"
"Are they trying to work us to death?"
"Maybe it's those overseers trying to curry favor with the Cole Elves…"
"What can we do about it? We're all starving, and if we don't work…"
"Heh, work so we can eat? Last night, eight people in my camp starved to death… literally starved to death…"
"We barely have enough for ourselves, let alone to feed wives and kids."
"..."
Over a dozen sullen-faced slave miners walked over, arguing heatedly. When they saw Sparta, they lowered their voices.
When they saw Sparta's face, they parted to make way.
The lead slave miner opened his mouth,
but ultimately said nothing, joining the others in cursing the overseers.
Sparta didn't reply, passing by expressionlessly, but his mind was racing.
As he made his way to the outer mine, more and more slave miners appeared.
Over a dozen slaves followed behind Sparta, their rough burlap clothes caked with thick dust.
They all looked pale; some had growling stomachs, waiting for the overseer to inspect the ore and hand out food.
"Hurry up, dump all the ore out!"
"This piece won't do, the quality's too low."
"You didn't meet your quota today. Only half rations for you."
The overseer waved impatiently. A pale half-elf slave opened his mouth and knelt, begging:
"Half rations aren't enough for my family of four. Please, give us a bit more!"
A whip lashed out, cutting the half-elf slave's flesh.
As sharp wails rang out, the overseer sneered, sweeping a fierce glare over the nearby slave miners and roaring:
"If I can't survive, I'll make sure you die first!"
"Now get out of my sight!"
The strong gnoll enforcers beside the overseer tossed a few rice balls on the ground.
The half-elf slave, enduring the pain, hurried to pick them up, carefully brushing them off before putting them away.
But the suffering on his face only deepened.
The other half-elf slaves immediately bowed their heads, not daring to meet the overseer's eyes.
Because it was so sudden, quite a few slave miners hadn't finished their quota.
Wails and sighs filled the air, while the overseer's face grew even more unpleasant.
The food rations kept shrinking, while the punishments got harsher.
Several half-elf slaves were beaten to the ground, some struggling for ages before even trying to get up.
One of them even stopped breathing, dying right in front of everyone.
Pain flickered in Sparta's eyes, anger smoldering in his heart.
Yet, like all the other slaves who had stopped working, he was utterly powerless.
"You can have this filthy thing."
Two gnolls grinned wickedly, and in front of all the slaves, opened their blood-stained jaws.