One strike, two strikes, three strikes… Soundless as shovels plunged into dirt and clay, as pickaxes pierced stone, as mattocks split rocks and boulders into two, as odd, pipe-like tools were used to humidify especially tough pieces of earth.
The untiring workers had carved a perfect passageway through the ground of the Eastern Peaks, encountering all sorts of minerals, some known by the empire, some simple variations, other brand new, the composition of the soil itself was different, even if not so exotic on the surface, Belliste was rich with many things to discover.
Even wandering upon fossils and old remains, especially interesting findings for the undead, as those were not just remnants of the past, they were future fellows, the past and present were hardly distinguishable within the empire, the past always remained one with the present, both slowly eating away at the future as time progressed.