The driver snapped the reins, and the horses slowly began to move. Behind the carriage, the prisoners were dragged along by their earthen bindings. The ropes of compacted soil held their wrists tightly and pulled tighter whenever someone tried to resist.
Ashamed, humiliated, and silent, they followed the carriage toward the city.
The closer they came to the walls, the more restless the bandits became. The first city guards at the gate reached for their weapons when they saw the scene. Bound men, injured, being pulled along behind a carriage—this was not an everyday sight.
Then they recognized the wagon.
And then the young man inside.
Sebastian stepped down at once, gave a short bow, and went to speak with the guards, asking them to fetch their superior. Meanwhile, the driver led the horses deeper into the city, straight toward the poor district.
People stopped in the streets.
Some whispered.
Some stared.
Some recognized the bandits. Faces hardened. Others stepped aside. No one seemed to know what was happening.
When the carriage finally came to a halt in the poor district, the door opened.
Lares stepped out.
Well dressed. Upright. Calm.
He walked through the staring crowd as if none of it touched him. No hesitation. No flinch. Only that steady, quiet gaze.
A large man, easily over two meters tall, suddenly stepped into his path. He puffed himself up, crossed his arms, and grinned crookedly.
"Well, would you look at that," he said loudly. "Our new lord in person. Want to follow your father's favorite hobby too? I can show you the way."
A few nervous laughs broke out.
The laughter stopped abruptly.
Bands of earth shot from the ground, wrapping around the man's wrists and yanking them behind his back. Before he could react, he was lifted off the ground and pulled toward the carriage, where he landed roughly beside the other prisoners.
Lares looked at him calmly.
"If you can talk like that, you can work too."
He let his gaze sweep over the crowd.
"Let's see where the two old masters are."
He searched for a higher place and stepped onto the rim of a well. His foot slipped slightly, and for a brief moment he nearly lost his balance. For an instant, he looked like the clumsy boy from years ago. Then he steadied himself, cleared his throat softly, and looked out over the people.
"People of this district," he began calmly, but clearly.
"I am looking for Master Garett and Mister Zaun. If anyone knows where they are, please bring them to me at once."
A murmur spread through the crowd.
"From today on, the mines will be reopened," he continued. "And not only that. There will be new work. Workshops. Construction. Things that must be built."
His voice remained calm, but his eyes held determination.
"You have lived your own way long enough. From today on, that will change."
He paused for a moment.
"Anyone who has even the smallest crime to their name will work. And believe me—not lightly."
Some lowered their eyes.
"Anyone who wants to work honestly, for pay and food, may do so willingly. Those people will not be investigated."
He tilted his head toward the prisoners.
"The others… will have to earn back their freedom."
Silence.
"Welcome to the new Schneeberg territory," he said at last. "I am your new king. I will give you work. Food. And a roof over your heads."
His gaze hardened.
"But for that, everyone must pull in the same direction. I will not tolerate crime any longer. No more shameful behavior."
He took a slow breath.
"Give me a few days. Even if you complain… you will see that what looks like garbage today may be worth gold tomorrow."
After his speech, a low murmur hung in the air.
On one side, there was fascination.
On the other, open doubt.
People whispered to one another, glanced around. Some nodded carefully. Others only shook their heads. No one knew if this young king could truly be believed.
Then two men stepped forward from the crowd.
Both were in their fifties.
One was thin, almost wiry, with a narrow face and calm eyes.
The other was broader, with strong shoulders, thick dark hair, and skin hardened by years of working underground.
"Karl…" someone murmured softly. "That's Mister Zaun."
"And the other one—Master Garett."
They stopped a few steps in front of Lares.
For a moment, time seemed to stand still.
Then their faces brightened.
Whatever his father had been, the boy had always been a kind, curious ray of sunshine. Even as a child, he had asked them endless questions whenever he visited the mines with his grandfather. He had stood there for hours, watching, wanting to know how stone behaved, how it was cut, what could be made from it.
Back then, the mines had still produced something.
Now they stood empty.
And that was exactly why confusion lay in the eyes of the two men.
When Lares recognized them, he stepped down from the rim of the well—or tried to. His foot slipped slightly, and for a brief moment he lost his balance. Instinctively, the two older men stepped forward, as if they were used to catching him.
Like before.
As if he were still the boy whose thoughts were always three steps ahead of his body.
Lares caught himself, straightened, and gave a short, almost embarrassed smile.
"Master Garett. Mister Zaun."
Garett stepped closer. His voice was rough, but honest.
"Is everything all right, Your Majesty?" he asked. "Have you found new ore? Is that why we're supposed to mine again?"
Mister Zaun, however, studied Lares with growing curiosity.
"And these new jobs you spoke of… new companies, new buildings…?" His eyes began to shine slightly. "What are you planning?"
Lares looked from one to the other.
Then he gave a small nod toward the carriage.
"I'll explain on the way," he said calmly. "If you would both follow me."
The two men looked visibly moved.
Without thinking, they glanced down at themselves—their dusty hands, their old work clothes, the grime of years settled into every fold.
Mister Zaun cleared his throat softly.
"It is an honor, young lord," he said carefully. "But we are too dirty to soil your carriage."
For a brief moment, Lares' jaw tightened. His teeth pressed together.
Then he spoke quietly, but clearly.
"I said… into the carriage."
His golden eyes rested on them.
"After all, I am the one who invited you."
He took a breath, the anger still present in his voice.
"Dirt can be removed. Cities can be cleaned. New wells can be built."
A brief glance over the poor district.
"So. Move."
The two masters exchanged a surprised look, then nodded quickly and made their way toward the carriage.