Victor joined the guard rotation without fanfare, donning the half-plate of a Bai–Qin sentinel.
He greeted his fellow guards, most of which were haggard looking with long hours and little food. Only a few were youngsters like him.
Victor took his station on the ledge overlooking Pit Four: the deepest, most lucrative chamber.
He spent the day learning the rhythms of the operation: the dual carts that clattered along rail tracks, packed heavy with iron-laced crystal ore; the overseers who counted loading quotas; the slavers who watched the laborers' exhaustion, meting out rations of stale bread to keep them alive.
In the third watch, after dusk had settled into the mine's bone-deep dark, Victor slipped from his post and crept along the narrow catwalk that ran beside the pit wall.
Beyond the bustle of carts, he found a hidden door. It was a seam in the stone where Jang, a junior overseer, slipped in and out.
