Ask Questions Only When You Can Handle The Answers ملاحظة قصصية · الجزء 4 من 4

When we were brought here to dig, the task was clear as day — despite the blueprints for our build arriving in stages, and without annotations. I've never worked in construction as a surveyor without knowing the architect until now. I did not inquire into their identity, since many architects prefer solitude, and some don't want their name attached to something distasteful — say, a dungeon for prisoners of war.

Even dungeons have sick bays. Whatever we are building does not, but we were assigned many nurses instructed to archive any "unusual" incidents, and "symptoms"... I've since learned why. More workers are falling victim to strange accidents.

Instead of entering the new century with a celebration, we worked long hours to transform the storage unit below into a temporary, but well-needed infirmary.

I can keep quiet about many things. I know my place. But when breaching an enshrouded cavern and being told to continue onward, it's impossible to keep the workers from asking questions. What are we building? What are we reaching towards? I cannot answer, but whatever it is, it captures and imprisons the minds of my workers worse than any dungeon could.