Chapter 514 (1/2)

Hank’s group was walking on ground that was slowly sloping downward and then came to a lip of a wide gorge or ravine, the details masked by the fog. But what they could see were that there were about 50 men and women below, working with picks to crack off pieces of ice that covered the ground. Above them, and only a few meters below the lip on which they stood, about a dozen men with huge paper fans were sweeping their objects back and forth, knocking the mist rising from the ice out of the bowl and into the surrounding area. LIkely, these fan users were the reason the mist had been displaced and oozed into the surrounding area as much as it did.

What was most perplexing for Hank was that these people were truly mining ice like it was a precious material. He watched as a woman knocked off a small chuck the size of a ping-pong ball, grinned, and then made it disappear. They were also rugged, wild people wearing leathers and furs, to a greater degree even than the previous group they had encountered in the borderlands, lead by that Dinesh fellow.

”Do these people not have refrigeration? Why are they mining ice?” Ezekiel asked, not even bothering to keep his voice quiet. Some of the fanners turned to glance behind them, noticing Hank and his group, but they eventually ignored them, focusing on their task at hand.

”This is not normal ice,” Laurel said quietly. ”Look, do you see any water? It is not melting. Even if all it does as a substance is produce this mist, would not Ghost still harvest the lot of it to perform experiments?”

Ezekiel had nothing to say to that. And apparently, their presence had caused enough of a stir to merit a response, although Hank couldn't have indicated which of the people below caused it. Two parties came out of the crowd towards them, one of a single person, and the other of a duo. It quickly became apparent that these two groups were in fact from different sources, and as soon as Hank thought that it became obvious. The one group's uniforms were largely uniform, with black leather and seemingly extraneous straps and buckles along their arms and legs. It was certainly a strange fashion statement.

The other group had more heterogeneous clothing, with various furs, leathers, and metal armors. But each of these had a number emblazoned on their armor, at some point. A quick scan of the groups indicated that there were three numbers among the people scattered here: II, III, and 29. There didn't seem to be any discernible difference amongst the buckle people.

Walking quickly, the solo person arrived first. It was a teenage boy, his arms almost unhealthily slim.

”Who the fuck are you?”

About par for the course for a teenager, Hank supposed. Unfortunately, their group also had an individual whose maturity level was suspect.

”Did you practice that line in the mirror? You sound like a minor villain in a Shakespearean play.” Ezekiel said dismissively with a snort.

”The day Shakespeare says fuck is the day your balls drop far enough to take me in a fight,” The teenager declared.

Ezekiel turned to Laurel. ”Did he seriously just say that to me?”

Laurel remained unconcerned with Ezekiel, simply shaking her head. The teenager stalked forward, his eyes burning. At his waist, a dozen or so small pouched hung. He quickly reached into one and removed something that looked like smoked meat. ”Say that again!”

The duo arrived. One man was an overly muscled man with a shaved head. On his chest was the number II. The man next to him had his dark hair up in a ponytail, with half a dozen knives strapped to his sides. On his chest was an III.

”Oh, a duel?” The burly man said. Rubbing his hands together, his face split into a grin. ”I suppose I call the winner.”

”Then I'll fight you when you lose,” The knife man replied.

Chuckling, the burly man thumped his chest. ”Why, so you can lose to me again? You're truly are a glutton for punishment.”

”You cheated.” The knifeman replied. ”I would say you slept your way to the top, but I think it's more likely you didn't sleep your way to the top. When talking about sexual prowess, Sam on your team-”

”Hurry,” The teen interrupted, waving his hand airily. ”Get your men to set up an arena.”

”Don't we have the one outside of the icemist?” The burly man said, scratching his chin.

The other two nodded. Then, almost as one, they turned and stalked off through the ice mist. The knifeman whistled, the burly man clapped his hands, and the teenager burped. The workers instantly turned, on their heels, and began walking in this direction while chit chatting with each other. Some of the men did arm circles, as though they were warming up for an extreme amount of exertion.

Laurel turned to Ezekiel and patted him on the back. ”This seems like a you problem. I'm going to go look at the ice.”