Chapter 97: The Ground

  We landed behind a building that was part of a larger neighborhood, clustered not far from the closest mine.

  My COG burned through the Aero completely roughly fifty meters above the ground, forcing me to slot another one—this time, one from my Inventory—to manage my descent.

  The street beneath us was charcoal-black, ash filling up every crack. The surrounding buildings stood close together, packed, their walls matte gray, while their lower levels were completely blackened by soot. The windows weren’t in better condition—clouded, gray, sometimes shattered and reinforced with paper of all things.

  But what hit me first was the absence of people.

  Except for the more industrial or ready-for-renovation districts, Orlinth always had people around. Skyhaven had fewer, but that made sense given its smaller population. The Foundry, however, held just as many residents as Orlinth—maybe even more. And yet, the neighborhood stood empty.

  I could see a few figures moving in the distance, but they were far too scarce and far too few to even be considered a crowd.

  “Well…?” Riven said eagerly. “How does it feel to finally stand on Mother Earth like we humans were always supposed to?”

  He dropped to one knee and patted the ground twice, raising a small cloud of dust that reached his goggles. “Ahhh, sweet, sweet earth. Not the below average platform imitations from above.”

  I guess I never really thought about it when coming here…

  I stomped the ground lightly a few times with each foot, raising a cloud of dust myself. Then, I pressed my feet firmly against the ground before jumping once.

  It all felt very anticlimactic.

  “Doesn’t feel much different from the platforms,” I said.

  “Not a poetic soul, eh?” Riven replied as he ran a finger over his goggles to clean them from the dust that settled. “V, for example, just loves the Foundry. Mainly because it’s built on the earth. Me, personally? I’m like you. I can't seem to see it differently. Perhaps we're too used to living in high altitudes.”

  “But didn’t you just – “

  He waved a hand to stop me. “Was just having fun with you. Don’t take everything so literally, man.”

  I sighed, then glanced around again, still surprised by the lack of people.

  “People are either working, resting between shifts, or simply locked in their homes,” Riven said, catching my confused glance. “Usually, those who aren’t working stay inside.”

  He gestured vaguely around us.

  “Most homes have small filtration units. Crude, illegal, but better than breathing this all day. It’s safer for them to stay near those than wander around outside.”

  “Filtration units?” I echoed. I’d heard about the large systems set around the Foundry’s borders—desperate attempts to keep the Parasite out—but never about anything like this.

  Riven nodded, smiling—as was clear from his eyes. “Your mother’s invention.”

  My eyes widened at his words.

  “Something to keep in mind the next time you think Libra is all bad,” he added. “And yes. Your mother was always part of Libra. In fact, she was one of the founders.”

  Before I could ask anything, he gestured for me to follow him. “More on that later. Come on.”

  He set off, long strides through the narrow street, and into an even narrower alley.

  I followed, trying to put what he just said in the back of my mind, constantly thinking about ways to shake him even more.

  My plan was to force him to bring me to Novus. Right now, I played along, but that wasn’t the end goal, and I needed to remember that.

  I enjoyed some success in rattling him back on the airship. Now, I needed to press further.

  “You still haven’t told me where we’re going,” I said. “Are you taking me to him?”

  Riven chuckled and nodded. “Obviously. V should be in one of the nearby mines. I just need to check which one.”

  Around us, the sounds of machinery filled the air, creating a constant, oppressive symphony—metal striking metal, drills grinding into stone, pistons hissing, chains rattling under heavy loads, and furnaces roaring.

  The noise grew louder as we exited the neighborhood cluster and entered a street that almost resembled life.

  I counted at least five people walking nearby.

  Two of them were a mother and her child.

  The woman’s skin was darkened by soot, especially around her eyes. Her clothes were gray—from the soot as well—and patched. The child looked much the same, with brittle hair and dull skin. He was wearing an oxygen mask similar to ours. The mother was not.

  “Whatever masks they manage to obtain—illegally, may I add—they give to their children,” Riven said. “That shouldn’t surprise anyone.”

  I shook my head slowly. “Why not provide more masks? I get that the oligarchs just shit on all of us, but isn’t it in their interest to keep their main labor force alive and working for as long as possible?”

  Riven clicked his tongue. “Population control.”

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  And suddenly, it all clicked.

  The Foundry couldn’t expand outward due to the Parasite living in the soil of the Wastelands—a fact Vestige #2 had already put into question, but couldn't fully refute. If the population grew beyond its current limits, people would be forced to literally live on top of each other, risking famine, and sharper population collapse than the oligarchs could afford.

  Or worse—they’d have to move them to Orlinth. But with the middle platform already mostly stretched thin, they’d only be creating a new problem.

  The woman noticed us—Riven's uniform specifically—and immediately froze, arms pulling her child closer.

  Riven raised a hand slowly, gesturing for her to remove the mask from her son.

  The woman complied, quickly taking off the mask and slipping it into the wide sleeve of her coat.

  What the fuck was he doing?! Why was he forcing her to put her child at risk?!

  Anger flared within me, and I wanted to retort. But before I could, two Ironwatch Enforcers stepped out of a nearby alley.

  They were talking between themselves, masks on their faces, but once the noticed us, they stopped and gave Riven a salute. He returned the gesture calmly.

  The Enforcers continued on, their conversation alive once more. One of them briefly nodded in the woman’s direction as they passed her.

  The moment they were gone, the woman pulled the mask back out and secured it over her child’s face. She moved away quickly, murmuring quiet thanks to Riven as they went on.

  “Thanks for staying quiet and letting me handle that,” Riven said, his tone slightly biting.

  I shrugged. “Sorry I don’t trust you?”

  He chuckled. “Fair enough.”

  The whole situation that happened now weighed heavily on my mind.

  “So you’re telling me,” I said slowly, “that despite living here too, in these shitty conditions, Ironwatch still enforces the law this strictly? To the point of confiscating an air-filtering mask from a child?” I shook my head. “That’s insane!”

  Riven’s response caught me off guard.

  “You can’t really blame them.”

  My eyes narrowed, baffled. “What? How can you even say that?”

  He sighed, looking tired—not physically, but rather mentally. “They’re forced to enforce it. If they don’t, their families are punished.” He paused. “With the masks specifically, there’s a monthly confiscations quota they have to meet. Miss it, and the station’s entire workforce suffers.”

  I clenched my jaw.

  “At the end of the day,” he continued, “they’re not the bad guys. The real enemies are the ones who set the rules that turn us against each other while they sit comfortably on their ivory perches up above.”

  I knew he was right, but still…Valdemar wasn’t better.

  Yes, every revolution over the past seven centuries had ended in failure. And yes, Valdemar’s methods were by far more extreme than any revolutionary that came before him. But that couldn’t be the answer.

  More violence couldn’t be the solution.

  Call me a na?ve idiot, but I refused to believe that a more civilized path didn’t exist—one that didn’t demand innocent blood to be shed.

  There had to be another way. A way to save Solvane twice—once from Erebus, and once from itself.

  But if things continued as they had over the past three years—ever since Libra and Valdemar showed up—there wouldn’t be anyone left to save, or anyone worth saving.

  “There are more people back there,” Riven said, once again gesturing for me to follow.

  I walked behind him as we passed through the same alley the two Enforcers had emerged from earlier.

  Meanwhile, my head was threatening to explode from a massive headache—clearly the early consequences of coming here. The mask could only help so much. Still, at the moment, the headache ranked low compared to my other problems.

  We emerged from the alley onto a wider street.

  There, beside several large cargo carriages—massive transportation automatons—that looked like they were recently unloaded with food supplies, stood five adjacent buildings. Each bore the same faded, soot-stained, metal sign:

  RATIONS STATION.

  They were open—wide serving counters built into the front wall—metal grates raised up. Each one was manned by at least ten workers.

  Rations Stations weren’t unfamiliar to me—we had them in Orlinth too. What was different here was the absence of lines.

  Instead of kilometer-long queues, groups of men and women sat nearby on rough stone blocks, eating right where they were. They wore dark-gray work vests, identical to those I’d seen on the miners near the pits when we descended. Their skin was soot-darkened, arms permanently stained, and faces lined—not with age, but just hard work and well...life here.

  The food was simple: coarse black bread, boiled eggs, vegetable stews, and small portions of dried meat—all courtesy of House Agriculture in Skyhaven that oversaw the production of all food in Solvane.

  Nearby, at least two dozen miners had claimed a larger stone block as a table, playing some kind of game using small rocks and nail-sized pieces of wood. Food portions were stacked beside them—clearly the stakes of the game.

  None of the people here wore masks.

  “When the Stations aren’t distributing rations to the Foundry’s population,” Riven suddenly said, “they serve as a local hub for people off shift.” He paused, watching them. “They have fun here. Sorta.”

  I watched them as well.

  The miners were smiling. Laughing even. And still…I felt terrible for them.

  They had been reduced to this.

  Finding joy where they could, because there were no alternatives. They couldn’t leave Solvane because of the Parasite. They couldn’t rebel because they were too weak and had lost too many times before. Their choices were simple: die quickly by defying the oligarchs, run away and die painfully to the Parasite in the Wastelands, or keep their heads down and live out the forty years the Foundry would grant them, hoping that one day something would change.

  My heart twisted further. My head throbbed even harder.

  By comparison, our harsh lives in Orlinth suddenly felt luxurious.

  “If it isn’t Officer Duran,” a burly man—one of the miners playing the weird game—suddenly called out as he noticed us. He rose from the stone block with a broad smile and strode toward us. The rest of the miners paused mid-bite or mid-game, their attention shifting to us as well. Even the workers from the Rations Stations turned to us expectantly.

  “Xander!” Riven called back, stepping toward the large man.

  They met halfway in a brotherly hug, laughing as they pulled apart.

  Xander was massive—buff and broad-shouldered. Unless he was some freak of nature, there was no way he wasn’t “fed” by Libra in addition to the rations he received. The rest of the group couldn't compare.

  The miners around smiled too, some coming closer to greet Riven with nods or brief handshakes.

  Surprisingly, Riven seemed to know everyone by name, greeting them back.

  “How are you doing, you damn bastard?” Xander asked, grinning.

  Riven returned the grin, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ah, you know. Been better, could’ve been worse. What about you?”

  Xander shrugged. “Same shit, different day.”

  Then his gaze shifted to me. “Is that an Angel with you?”

  Angel…? What the fuck is that?

  Riven laughed, stepping closer and resting a hand on my shoulder. “Hey! No cursing him in my presence!”

  All the miners laughed.

  “Angels are from the old religions,” Riven leaned in and murmured to me. “Divine beings that came from the sky. Or something along those lines. I never got the gist of it. Folks here call people from Orlinth and Skyhaven Angels. Usually mockingly.”

  I had no idea Foundry residents still held onto old religions—even for slang reasons. I wondered if they actually believed in gods as well. If that was the case, I bet that if they knew that gods were more like Erebus and Dolos, their world would shatter.

  Riven turned back to the miners that had now gathered around us. “He’s from the middle.” Then, he hesitated, clearly considering if he should voice his next words.

  Eventually, he did.

  “He’s Cecilia’s son.”

  Suddenly, everything stopped.

  The smiles disappeared. The laughter died all at once. A heavy silence settled around us.

  I didn’t understand it until they moved.

  Every man and woman present placed a hand over their chest, above their hearts. Their expressions turned solemn.

  Xander stepped forward, his voice sending a chill down my spine.

  “We consider your mother a saint in the Foundry,” he said. “Her death was a day of mourning for us all. Please, accept our condolences.”

  One by one, the miners lowered their heads.

  The silence that followed was so loud that even the relentless machinery sounds around seemed to fade away.

  All I could hear was the weight of their respect for her.

  Without me noticing, a single tear escaped my eye.