After the usual lunch of thin soup and stale bread, James joined the rest of the slaves in the mine. He was worried about the boy he’d punched earlier, but that boy kept his head down and avoiding James’ gaze, swiftly if unsteadily made his way deeper into the mine, working to expand the tunnel rather than digging out any ore. The grey-eyed boy sidled up to James. “Don’t worry about him, he’s learned his lesson. Still a bit out of it though, so he’s working on his own for the rest of the day.”

  James gulped, and nodded. Without waiting for a response, the grey-eyed boy moved towards the richest vein of iron ore and got to work, faster than normal. Looking around, James could see that, short two miners, the amount of iron ore produced was less than the usual. Looking around, he caught a few of the other slaves giving him furtive glances before quickly looking away, studiously ignoring him.

  James didn’t feel lonely, per se, but it was different. He was clearly being treated differently than he had up to this point, and it wasn’t exactly a good feeling. This was the first time The Smith was feared, though it wouldn’t be the last. Not that James knew that at the time.

  James found a vein of iron ore a bit away from the rest of the slaves, took his pick-axe in hand, and swung. It should have been no different than all the other times he’d taken a swing at the tunnel wall, but there was a clear difference. CHUNK went the pickaxe, causing the ore to crumble away from the wall with much less effort than normal. Usually, the ore would stubbornly stick to the wall (for part of the wall it was), only picked out with tremendous effort over a period of time.

  Not so now. The vein of ore fractured and crumbled with a single strike. James paused, curious, then swung again. CHUNK. The fractures spread and even more ore crumbled to the tunnel floor, while the stone surrounding the ore remained intact.

  James paused again, then looked around. The other slaves were picking away at the tunnel walls like normal, causing tiny fractures in the wall and dislodging small amounts of ore only after many strikes. Everyone had their own rhythm but they all were clearly focused on conserving energy while producing a regular supply of the ore.

  In just two swings James had already produced thrice the amount of ore as any other slave would have. James thought back to several days ago, when he had mined out the Green Iron Ore for his forging tools.

  [Smith] Class Skill [Mining].

  Was that making the difference? He experimented with the tunnel wall next to the iron ore vein. CHUNK CHUNK CHUNK. This time it was the stone of the wall that fractured and crumbled away with unexpected ease, leaving the vein of iron ore intact. It was surreal seeing the stone peel away from the iron, leaving a smooth if wobbly surface behind.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  James thought about this for a minute. His Skill was clearly making a difference here, but going all out and overproducing would be a huge problem. All that would do is make the slavers expect more out of everyone. Thankfully, the slavers didn’t bother to actively monitor them inside the tunnel. In the end, James slowed down, slowed way down in fact, swinging way less often than the rest of the slaves, and with much less force.

  By the end of the workday, he had still managed to produce three times as much as anyone else had since lunch.

  The grey-eyed came up, eyes widening at the pile of iron ore around where James had been working. “What the…”

  “I got the [Mining] skill.” James said, answering the unspoken question.

  The boy stared at him for a minute. “Smiths get a mining skill? First I’ve heard of it.”

  “Yeah, me too.” James replied.

  “Well, keep it to yourself. Don’t want the slavers finding out. And from now take it easy, or go work on expanding the tunnel. Keep the production steady, get it?”

  “Yeah, I get it.” James nodded.

  Then, the grey-eyed boy turned towards the rest of the slaves. “Oy.” he said with a hushed voice.

  Immediately, everyone who had until then been pretending James didn’t exist turned to look at them both.

  “The Smith here worked extra hard to make up for being out in the morning and for Brian, but that’s just for today, un’erstand? From now on, he’s not doing more than a half day’s production.”

  He paused, looking everyone in the eye, and lingering an extra moment on Brian, who was swaying slightly where he stood. “Anyone got a problem with that?”

  Everyone shook their head. Brian too, though he got dizzy and had to steady himself with a hand on the tunnel wall.

  “Brian.”

  At the grey-eyed boy’s word, Brian gulped and walked up to James.

  “Uh, Smith, I’m, uh, sorry ‘bout this morning. I wuzzn’t in my right head. It- it won’ happen again, I swear.”

  James looked at him. The poor boy looked terrified. James guessed that the grey-eyed boy had had a talk with him earlier.

  Catching a glance from that grey-eyed boy, James responded. “Okay. We’re all just doing what we gotta do, right?”

  Brian flinched. “Yeah, uh, doing what we gotta do, yeah.”

  The grey-eyed boy clicked his tongue and jerked his head, and Brian fled, stumbling on the rough tunnel floor before rejoining the rest of the slave boys.

  “Seriously, keep your mining at the level it used to be. If they start getting the idea they can slack off, they will, faster than anything. Won’t say anything, they’ll just slow down and expect you to cover for them. Don’t give them an inch or they’ll take a mile.”

  James nodded.