“Over here, we have men working constantly on the stonework,” he said, “which is a layer of the road, making it flat and easy for travel by wheeled vehicle.”
“Honestly, Franco,” Aron said with a sneer. “Such unnecessary explanations. Do you think Prince Magnus is a village idiot who doesn’t understand road construction?”
Franco blanched. “Of course not, my liege. I just wanted to explain it in a way that . . . that . . .”
“That even a village idiot could understand.” Aron took out one of his cigarillos, lighting it off a nearby torch.
“I meant no disrespect of course. I beg for your forgiveness.”
Magnus ignored the two and glanced off toward the clearing. The area was peppered with guards on foot and on horseback. A group of Paelsian slaves moved past where they stood, laden with heavy stones, their faces dirty, their clothes ripped. Those who didn’t glance toward their superiors with fear instead cast bold glares of hatred.
It was a very different sight than the road crew based in Auranos.
Magnus watched until they disappeared behind the farthest tent. “When do the slaves rest?”
“Rest?” Franco repeated. “When they drop.”
A young boy trudged past them with a stone that had to weigh half of what he did, his face a mask of pain and misery.
“How many have died?”
“Too many,” Franco said with annoyance. “Paelsians are supposed to be hearty people, but quite honestly, I’m less than impressed by what I’ve seen here. They’re lazy, selfish, and more often than not, only the whip will keep them focused.”
While unquestionably effective, Magnus had never been fond of the whip as a form of punishment. “I wonder how you’d fare with the same amount of work. Would you be hearty enough to handle the stresses of such a job without the threat of a whipping?”
Franco’s bushy brows moved upward, his face reddening. “Your grace, if it weren’t for such discipline there would be little chance that the road would be finished in the timeline Xanthus demands from us, especially this section into the mountains.”
“And is there any progress on the search?”
“Search?” The man frowned. “Search for what?”
“Never mind.”
It would appear that the assistant engineer did not know the true purpose for this road, other than its being . . . a road. Such dangerous secrets would best remain hidden.
Aron’s gaze slid past Franco’s sweaty, pudgy face as they made their way back to the engineer’s tent. A pretty girl was moving toward the tent, her arms heavily laden with firewood. She had light brown hair that fell down her back. Her figure, beneath the simple dress she wore, was thin but shapely. She was daring enough to look directly at Magnus with curiosity in her eyes as she passed without a word.
“And who is that beautiful creature?” Aron asked.
Franco glanced toward the girl. “That is my daughter, Eugeneia.”
“Tell her to come here. I wish to be introduced to her.”
Franco hesitated, glancing briefly at Magnus.
Magnus nodded to give permission for more introductions and Franco called out to the girl. She put down her heavy load, brushed off her hands on the front of her dress, and came to join them as they entered Franco’s tent, shutting out some of the noise from outside.
“Yes, Father?”
“Eugeneia, I’d like you to meet our very important guests. This is Prince Magnus Damora and Lord Aron Lagaris.”
Surprise lit her gaze and she immediately curtseyed deeply. “A true honor.”
“Tell me, Eugeneia,” Aron said, his eyes lighting up at the sight of her beauty up close, “how do you like spending so much time at this camp with your father?”
She flicked a glance toward Franco, then back at Aron. “May I be honest, Lord Aron?”
“Certainly.”
“I don’t care for it at all.”
Franco clucked with disapproval and reached for the girl as if to pull her backward. Aron held up his hand to stop him.
“What don’t you like?” he asked.
She studied the ground for a moment before raising her gaze to meet his. “My father is a brilliant engineer in his own right. It bothers me that he can make no decisions without approval from Xanthus, even if his decisions would improve things. It doesn’t make sense to have one cruel, brutish man in charge of everything with absolutely no one able to disagree with him!”
Franco drew her to his side, tightening his arm around her shoulders. “Hush, girl. Your opinions are not necessary or appreciated. Do you want to insult our guests?”
A flush spread across her cheeks. “Please forgive me. I forgot my manners for a moment there.”