Chapter 134

Anvil Brotherhood

In the depths of a dim, abandoned mine, a few oil lamps flickered faintly, casting the faces around the stone table in shifting shadows.

Hawke, with his thick beard, jabbed a calloused finger hard onto the map. The friction between the hardened knuckle and the parchment let out a raspy sound.

“According to our informant, a hidden medium-sized ‘Royal Mine’ has been discovered within the territory under the jurisdiction of our Anvil Brotherhood.”

His hoarse voice carried an unquestionable resolve. “There are over a thousand miners there, most of them forcibly conscripted civilians. A large number are widows and orphans sold into labor for failing to pay the ‘King’s Tax’.”

In such Royal Mines, the fate of widows and orphans was even more tragic than that of the miners.

By day, they too had to endure workloads far beyond their capabilities, and by night, they became tools for the guards’ release.

Hawke swept his gaze across the crowd, his eyes sharp and blazing in the firelight. “The mine is guarded by only about thirty men, but they are all members of the Royal Knights. Among them are a few fully-ranked knights. We must strike fast and end it quickly.”

“Karash, I need more explosives; Martha, organize the women to prepare stretchers…”

Hawke’s sentence was cut short by Tom, who was in charge of supplies and had been sitting in a corner.

“Leader…” The thin-framed Tom rubbed his frostbitten hands, his voice trembling. “The food in the camp is already running low. The batch of miners we rescued last week ate the last of the flour. With the people we saved today, the remaining food won’t last until next month…”

His words made everyone in the cave hold their breath.

To rescue people, they needed enough food.

But the Kingdom of Atley’s grain production had long been insufficient to meet the people's needs. On top of that, the nobility’s blockade had driven black market prices for even bran to sky-high levels.

The Anvil Brotherhood could no longer purchase food in large quantities from the market.

“I understand.” Hawke’s voice involuntarily rose, and the flames in the oil lamps on the table flickered violently. “All of you were rescued by me from the bottom of those mines—you should know the oppression miners suffer. Are we going to just watch them be beaten, starved, and worked to death?”

“As long as we keep sabotaging the nobles’ industries, they’ll eventually be forced to negotiate with us. And when that time comes, we’ll claim the rights we deserve through those talks.”

He drew a deep breath and forced himself to speak steadily. “As for the food problem, I’ll find a way.”

“What way could there possibly be?”

Tom’s voice trembled, edged with sobs. “The kingdom has already blocked off all grain routes. The other Brotherhood camps are starving too—what way could you possibly think of?!”

As the camp’s quartermaster, no one knew the Brotherhood’s dire straits better than he did.

“Those nobles don’t care at all about the damage we’re causing. All we do is scurry around like sewer rats—we can’t do anything!”

“Tom, I think you should step outside to cool your head and get some rest while you're at it.”

Tom stared blankly at the shocked expressions on everyone's faces. It was only then that he realized what he had just said.

“Sorry… I’m just really tired.”

With that, he clenched his teeth and stumbled out of the meeting chamber.

“Hawke, don’t blame Tom. He’s taken on too much. To save food, he’s been eating only half a piece of bread every two days.”

“I know. Let’s continue the meeting…”

But he was interrupted again—this time by Martha, who was in charge of medical care.

Her weathered face hardened as she slapped her rough palm against the table. “Last time we begged the wizard lord for help, they wouldn’t even meet with us! The nobles squeeze us dry, and the wizards sit high above. We risk our lives—how many people can we actually save? The nobles’ oppression hasn’t changed at all!”

Hawke’s gaze swept across each weary face—Martha’s reddened eyes, the hunched backs of Brotherhood members, and their evasive glances.

In the beginning, they had truly believed Hawke could lead them to defeat the nobles, to win freedom and stability.

But now, so many years had passed.

All they’d done was destroy, flee from the army, clash with nobles and hide in these dilapidated camps deep in the mountains, while miners continued to suffer from hunger and illness.

The kingdom’s oppression and cruelty hadn’t paused for even a moment because of the Brotherhood’s existence.

They had rescued miners, yes but there were always more, endless and unceasing.

“Enough!” Hawke slammed the table, his voice booming like thunder. Dust shook loose from the cave walls.

Only now did he fully realize—these people had come prepared today, to challenge him.

His gaze turned blade-sharp as it swept over them. “What exactly are you all trying to say?”

The meeting room fell into a dead silence, broken only by the crackling of burning oil lamps.

In the corner, a youth of about seventeen or eighteen suddenly stood up. “Leader, we’re running low on sulfur. At this rate, I won’t even be able to make explosives.”

Karash’s eyes were clear and bright, as if he hadn’t noticed the tension hanging thick in the mine.

Despite the abruptness, his words eased the suffocating atmosphere.

Martha sat back down and wiped the corners of her eyes, while the others let out a slow breath.

They might have started to doubt Hawke’s capabilities.

But as the Brotherhood’s leader for all these years, his authority still held weight—no one wanted to go against him directly.

Hawke rubbed his temples and softened his tone. “I understand. I’ll find a way.”

No one raised further objections, and Hawke didn’t bring up the mine raid again.

The Anvil Brotherhood was exhausted. What they needed now was rest.

“Meeting adjourned.”

With Hawke’s command, the others gradually left, until only Hawke and Karash remained in the cave.

Karash looked at the bloodshot eyes across from him and murmured, “Leader, you need to rest.”

Hawke gave a bitter smile and shook his head. “If everyone were like you, maybe I could sleep.”

Karash shrugged, offering no comment.

Everyone bore different burdens. If he had been responsible for food or medical care, he might’ve broken long ago.

As if remembering something, Hawke suddenly asked, “How’s the new weapon you mentioned coming along?”

Karash casually unfastened the cloth bag on his back and pulled out a metal tube the length of a forearm.

But one end of it looked like it had exploded outward in several petals.

“Another failure?” Hawke frowned.

Karash’s expression dimmed.

He had poured time, effort, and resources into developing this new weapon, yet progress remained elusive.

“It’s alright. You’re still young. You’ve got time—take it slow. I’ll figure out the issue with the materials.”

Looking into Hawke’s weary eyes, Karash finally shook his head.

“Forget it, Leader. Maybe the idea itself was flawed. I’ve already wasted too much time and resources. I need to focus my limited energy on something more meaningful. Please take me with you on the next mine raid.”

Hawke patted Karash on the shoulder.

This young man reminded him of himself—more accurately, of his younger self—equally full of ambition.

And despite his youth, Karash was the Brotherhood’s most skilled demolitions expert.

With him, the raid would become much easier.

Karash nodded. “Alright!”