Children of the Mines

Jarathia | Ceral District

Lantern light glimmers across a tall house at the edge of the district. A brunette woman slips inside, exhaustion painted across her face.

“Mom!”

Jule rushes into her arms, hugging her tightly.

“I missed you.” She whispers.

He nods, eyes searching. “Did you talk with the mayor?”

Her lips tremble. “No success. If they keep ignoring it, this will all end in doom…”

From the side room, a tall man in a brown suit emerges, his smile weary.

“Keep your head up, sweetheart. Someday they’ll realize it. They have to. For now… let’s enjoy our time together.”

The woman presses her lips into a thin line. “You always look on the bright side. But I can’t shake this fear that they’ll do something reckless.”

The tall man rests a hand on her shoulder. “Jule. Go to the living room. We’ll follow in just a moment.”

The boy obeys but slams the door behind him, frustration ringing through the house.

The woman exhales, voice breaking. “He’s drowning in hatred. I don’t want him to lose himself any more.”

“He’ll understand eventually.” The man reassures. “And he supports us, doesn’t he? More than that, he listens. He’s the one who evacuated the forest villages. And told us about Mersa’s plan. He is—young, yes, but sharper than men twice his age.”

She nods reluctantly. “It still disgusts me, how Rizario left them to die. Entire villages! As if their lives were worth nothing…”

“It always circles back to the mines.” The man replies bitterly. “But… you’ve noticed it too, haven’t you? The Wyverns always appear near miner-heavy districts. And every time, the nobles call it mere coincidence!”

Her jaw tightens. “I don’t believe in coincidence anymore. The Caruzu family knew something. They were executed for it.”

The man sighs, pulling her close. “That’s why our choice is clear. Stand with Rizario and die for nothing… or follow the boy who refuses to give up. Ironic, that it’s a teenager who sees further than them all.”

The woman clings to him, silent.

Jarathia | Near The Volcano | Bandit District

Blackwood cabins circle like hunters around the clearing. The bandits gather, faces hard, eyes sharp.

Chisa’s voice rips through the night.

“ARE YOU HAPPY LIKE THIS? HAPPY TO BE BRIBED? TO USE UP CHILDREN AND YOUR OWN PEOPLE? AND ALL OF IT, JUST TO LOSE EVER MORE CONTROL!”

A murmur runs through the crowd.

“Of course we’re not!” a few voices shout.

Jerome steps forward, his voice steady but fierce. “WE ARE JARATHIANS—ALL OF US! CHILDREN OF THE MINES! WE BEAR THE RED DUST SYNDROME—AND THEY DON’T CARE! BUT NOW WE HOLD THE CHANCE TO TAKE BACK THE MINES! EVEN THE WHOLE VOLCANO! AND TO PROTECT THE KIDS FROM THIS FATE! WE KILL! WE MIGHT LOSE! BUT WE NEVER! GIVE! UP!”

The chant rises from the throats of bandits and outcasts alike, echoing into the forest.

“WE KILL! WE MIGHT LOSE! WE NEVER GIVE UP!”

Jerome lifts his hand, shouting over the frenzy.

“WE LISTENED TO YOU! SOME OF YOU DREAM OF OWNING SHOPS! SOME OF YOU WANT TO BE HAIRDRESSERS! OR COOKS! WRITERS! SINGERS! EVEN ADVENTURERS! BUT WE DON’T HAVE THAT RIGHT YET! THEY MADE US LEAVE THE CITY! THEY SHUT THE GATES! TOOK OUR DREAM! THEY FORCE THIS ROAD UPON US—”

The crowd roars back, “—SO WE FORCE IT UPON THEM!”

Chisa raises her axe high.

“WE ARE JARATHIANS! AND WE WILL END THIS MADNESS OF DISCRIMINATION!”

The clearing explodes into cheers, bandits pounding weapons against the earth until sparks fly.

Chisa leans toward Jerome, her voice a whisper drowned out by the chants. “No one truly wants poverty. This world is full of riches… overflowing with it.”

Jerome’s grin is grim. “And they took it from us—the nobles, the mayor, and the foreign powers. We have to act now, or we remain pawns forever.”

Chisa bites her lip. “Wouldn’t it be better to wait for Nine?”

Jerome’s eyes glint in the torchlight. “I don’t know if he will ever come back… and if he does, he will kill no one. That task is up to us.”

Chisa lowers her gaze, melancholy tugging at her features. Still, she nods.

Jarathia | City Outskirts | Central Area

The night air is heavy with mist. Dozens of miners clutch packages of food, stone, or medicine. Teenagers, gaunt but defiant, grip rusty knives with white knuckled grips.

At the center stands Mersa, green coat brushing the dusty ground, his voice calm and clear.

“People of the Outskirts. Children of the Mines. Be reasonable. Think ahead. Think clearly. Then you’ll find the solution! Don’t let hate consume you. Kill only if it’s necessary. We do this clean—as clean as any war allows—dethrone the mayor, and nothing else! We will do only what’s right!”

He lowers his gaze, letting silence stretch before lifting it again.

“You’ve learned from us. You’ve learned from your parents. We are Jarathians. It is our duty to protect this island. Our only shelter. Our only home. We fight not for a better present… but for a better future!”

The crowd breathes as one, voices rising:
“FOR A BETTER FUTURE!”

Jarathia | Jarathia City | City Hall

Torchlight flickers against the walls. Guards pound their spears against the stone floor. Rizario stands tall, face twisted with rage.

“WE KILL OUR ENEMIES! THINK OF YOUR FALLEN COMRADES! TAKE REVENGE! KILL THEM ALL! WE WILL NOT LET CHAOS RULE OUR BEAUTIFUL ISLAND!”

The guards roar, weapons raised high, their voices echoing through the hall.

Behind Rizario, in the shadow of the pillars, the assassin waits—motionless, silent, grey eyes watching everything.

Jarathia | Jarathia City | Ceral District

Inside a lantern-lit home, Jule sits stiffly on the couch. At his feet, the cooling corpses of his parents bleed across the floorboards.

Across from him, the toothless mage rocks slowly, lips peeling back in a grotesque grin.

“…good info… Jonath happy… you noble now…”

Jule’s hand trembles, but his voice is steady.

“Yes. I’m a noble now.”

His eyes are hollow.

Jarathia | Ember Valley

The giant sits on a bench, wyvern bones scattered like trophies at his feet. He flips through a book about medicine, legs crossed, chain necklace glinting under the moonlight.

“Hm. So much pain that a human body can endure… fascinating. They’re fragile. But can survive a lot too. That warrior girl will make a fine wife once I crush her.”

His laughter shakes the valley, deep and manic.

Jarathia | City Outskirts | War Tent | The Last Hour

Maps and scribbled plans cover the wooden table. Fire Stone lamps hiss away. Outside, hundreds wait with sharpened resolve.

Inside, Mersa pours black tea into three cups, hands steady despite the weight pressing down on him. He passes one to Chisa and Jerome each.

Chisa lifts hers, eyes steady. “Today is the day.”

Jerome nods, sipping. “All or nothing.”

Mersa exhales. “If I fail, you know what to do.”

Jerome’s voice hardens. “Hold the mines. Keep the chain of communication alive.”

Chisa bites her lip. “Mersa… we WON’T fail though… right?”

He slowly shakes his head.

“No. We are not alone. And beyond the sea, we have another friend waiting. He’ll come back.”

Jerome glances at Chisa with a crooked smile. “Chisa Crystal. It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

Her face heats, and she presses the edge of her axe to his throat. “Say it again and I’ll split your jaw in half.”

Jerome only chuckles.

Mersa stands, glancing at them both—his closest friends, his family in arms.

“Thank you. For following me this far.”

Chisa’s eyes soften. “Mersa, you’re the only reason any of this worked. You gave us hope.”

Jerome nods. “Same as your old man. Torvea would be proud.”

Mersa breathes deep, hand clenching around the icy knife at his side.

“Well, then… let’s make him even prouder.”

The three step out into the night, where thousands wait in silence. Rusty blades, patched armor, shaking hands—but their eyes burning with determination.