Chapter 48
Two Sides of a Coin
It was already dusk when Lila pushed the door open. Nova trailed her with a small packet of hot flatbread, shoulders slumped.
Eren sat at the table, papers spread in front of him.
One was the mine-guard reporting slip. One was the new-hire brief. The last was a thin attachment. The oil lamp burned low; wind through the window crack bent the flame, and the print was hard to read.
"You're back." Lila barred the door, checked his face, then the papers. "Done with the paperwork?"
"Done." Eren pushed the slip toward the edge. "Western mines. Muster tomorrow at seven, warehouse outside the west gate. Five days of training. Days run till eight. First two at the warehouse on the town edge—last three out at the pit."
Lila set the bread down, pulled out a chair, and sat. "They board you?"
"No. Back at night. I feed myself."
"What are they paying?"
"Eight-twenty a month. First months, after deposit and training fees, maybe six-twenty take-home."
Lila nodded. "Not bad. That's decent."
"I'm in too." She dug a small sheet from her coat and slapped it on the table. "Crystone processing plant. Report day after tomorrow—they'll assign the post then. Five-sixty Crystone coins a month. No idea what's left once they dock clothes and gear."
"That went fast."
"Of course. You think nobody wants me?" Lila tipped her head. "Plenty of places'll take me."
Both of them had work lined up. Something in the room loosened. Lila pulled out the school papers next and spread them on the table.
"Asked at the school too," she said. "East Street, behind the block. Grounds aren't bad. Language and math in the morning. Afternoons are craft and general lessons. No split between primary and secondary—they place kids case by case."
Nova nodded beside her. "Teacher said general lessons cover interesting stuff. Animals, plants, weather…"
Eren looked at him. "Weren't you the one who didn't want school?"
Nova shook his head, smiling. "I want school. I'd rather stick with you two, though."
"This kid." Lila ruffled Nova's hair.
Then she changed tack and pushed the school sheet into the middle of the table. "Catch is, enrollment needs a fixed address."
Bottom line on the form: fixed address required.
"Inn won't do?"
"No," Lila said. "Teacher said they can't register it. Real enrollment needs an address."
Eren was headed into training. Lila started work the day after tomorrow. Nova needed school. They had to find a decent place to land, and soon.
"We'll be in town a while. An inn forever doesn't work either. Tomorrow I'll take Nova looking for rooms—find something that fits. You go train. Don't worry about it."
"I keep thinking there's a trap in all these paper rules. And what the union was yelling before…"
"I know," Lila said. "But don't chew on it too hard. We didn't come to Rusak to work for the Guild the rest of our lives."
Eren lifted his eyes to her.
"Worst case, we leave," she said. "Jobs hard to find, rooms hard to find—none of that's the real problem. What matters is finding our people in the Rusak branch first."
Eren still hated the papers on the table, and hated the thought of being pinned to a training yard all day tomorrow. But Lila was right—they weren't stuck here with nowhere else to go.
Nova listened, then bit a small corner off the hot bread.
"When I go look at rooms with Lila tomorrow, I'll listen around town too—see if any of the revolutionaries are here."
That got a laugh out of Lila. "They don't hang a sign on the door."
"I know." Nova tapped his ear. "But I can hear."
Eren gave him a look.
"Don't wear yourself out."
"I'll be careful."
Lila broke the rest of the bread and split it between them. "Enough. Tomorrow you train, I take him house-hunting. We meet back here tonight."
Next morning, when Eren reached the warehouse outside the west gate, only four people stood at the door.
A faded oilcloth was spread out front, a desk on top of it. A clerk with a ledger called names. When yours came up, you stepped forward, signed, then pressed a thumbprint after it. After that you moved aside for height and weight, and took a thin training sheet.
Eren finished his print. Ink clung to his thumb.
A young man beside him muttered, "Third time I've signed this."
The old instructor behind the desk looked up. "Who's talking?"
The young man shut his mouth at once.
"Newbies. Don't know the rules yet, but you've got the griping down." The instructor cracked a wooden stick on the desk. "Name."
The young man gave it. The instructor drew a short line in the ledger.
"One mark. Don't let me hear you again."
The morning moved fast. Five of them got measured, took wooden tags, recited post rules, then were led to a blackboard. The instructor hung a mine map—red lines, yellow lines, gray lines stacked over each other. The stick kept time with his lecture, knocking the chart on every beat.
Then he had them chant the regs after him. Where you didn't go. When you reported first. Who signed for intake. Who double-checked. Miss a word and you started over. Anyone lagging a half-beat got pulled out alone to recite from the top.
Eren went through it twice and had it down. The rules weren't useless. They just sat a long way from how the pit actually ran.
When they hit emergency procedure, a trainee asked, "What if someone's trapped inside?"
The instructor turned on him. "What was step one just now?"
The man blinked. "First… raise the alarm?"
"Step two."
"Confirm head count."
"Step three."
The man answered too slow.
The stick cracked down by his boot.
"Someone's under rock and you're still this slow? From the top."
His face went red. He forced it from the first line. At the report chain he stalled again. The instructor didn't shout—just stood in front of him and waited until the voice thinned out.
Only then did he say, "Report by the book first. You go in on your own to pull someone out, and there's a second accident—that's on you harder."
The trainee went quiet.
Eren had seen people throw themselves in to save someone. But when a body was actually under stone, blood seeping out along a boot sole, it was hard to think first about which desk got the report.
The stick on the desk snapped him back.
"This is what the exam's on. Codes, report chain, accident class. Miss one item and you don't pass."