"But the people here… How would they fend for themselves?" Dorl's hands faltered.
"My daughter?! How do you expect me to provide for her if there are no mines?!" He looked at Jorel, his face pale, eyes sunken.
That little girl…
She is too young to do anything by herself.
But that's why she has parents.
Jorel thought, his brows drawing closer, a slight upturn at the corners of his mouth.
"That's not my problem---it's yours and yours alone." Jorel wagged his finger in the damp air.
Dorl's eyes seemed to sink even further as he slumped back into the chair, his breaths ragged.
"No… No… Jorel… How could you do this to me…" he muttered, supporting his falling head by his temples.
"After everything…" Small wet patches appeared on the floor beneath Dorl.
Is… he crying?
How can a grown man be crying… especially someone of his caliber?
Jorel's expression twisted into one of disgust.
"If you give my father---I mean, the Ujochi clan your mines…" Jorel's gaze drifted towards the light brown, black-patched roof.
"You and your people won't inherently suffer… At least, not anymore." Jorel placed one hand on his waist, pointing the other towards the door.
Dorl raised his head to look at Jorel, tears streaking down his face, racing to hit the floor first.
"…What do… you mean?" Dorl's voice was a fragile crack, like an eggshell.
I mean, can't you think for once? Is the thing in your head just for fashion?
"Hmff…" Jorel sighed, huffing out of frustration.
"If the Ujochi clan uses those mines, that means more money."
For us, I mean.
Jorel smirked, the shadow subtly covering his left eye area.
"That also means that this town would develop. More money means better infrastructure." Jorel cupped one hand, tapping it with the other, as if explaining something to a child, while Dorl nodded.
"The quality of life would improve for everyone---including you and your daughter." Jorel tried to paint a vivid picture on the empty canvas of the air, his hands serving as the brush.
"...." Dorl's eyes squinted as he stroked his beard.
"Hmm…"
Even if you think of it just for a second… It's entirely beneficial to them.
Jorel thought, lightly blowing under his right hand, beneath his chin.
"But… What about jobs?" Dorl asked, his voice now more collected.
"That's your own personal problem." Jorel pointed his finger at him, so close it hovered between Dorl's eyes and nose, just above the skin.
"You can't expect us to fix every one of your problems."
Damn, that's the thing with peasants…
Show them a little help and they'll want you to completely fix everything.
Dorl's head bowed, one arm resting on the edge of the chair, the other on his lap, as he continued to nod.
"Since it's for the betterment of Slov…" He took a deep, shaky breath, his chest deflating as the air escaped.
"And based on what you said… Your father doesn't seem to have any harm towards us."
For the betterment of Slov… I guess.
A lone bead of sweat crawled down the side of Jorel's cheek. He quickly looked down at his feet.
Yes… Yes, at long last!
Jorel's hand fidgeted, his eyes almost popping.
"TINA!" Dorl screamed at the top of his lungs.
SCREEECH!
The sound tore through Jorel's ears, making him recoil slightly.
"BRING THE SEAL!"
Argh!---my ears again!
Metal clanked, and tiny footsteps echoed through the thin walls.
"Yes, Daddyyy!" she shouted back.
Are they normally like this?
Jorel stuck his fingers in his ears.
In Tina's hand, a tiny rectangular metal box appeared, with a stamp nested inside. Liquid sloshed violently within, proportional to her steps.
"Here it isss!" She stretched the box forward.
Dorl collected it, placing it on his lap beside the paper.
"Huh… it's still warm, still a liquid inside, huh." He gently shook the box.
He opened it, revealing a crimson liquid, almost mistakable for blood, as the stamp swam within it, guided by Dorl's hand. He removed it, the liquid dripping from the stamp onto the floor and even some parts of his lap.
He pressed the seal firmly on the bottom of the paper, then lifted the stamp, revealing Slov's insignia: a horse with a pickaxe and shovel forming a cross. It dried quickly, right next to the inked symbol of Jorel's clan: the twin snakes with their backs facing each other, forming a circle between them.
Dorl kept the paper on his lap for a minute. Tina, who had been zoned out, staring at Jorel, suddenly looked at the paper.
"A snake! Aren't snakes bad?" She pointed towards Jorel's symbol.
Dorl remained silent, not even batting an eyelid at her question.
---The end of chapter 15---