It was the third day since the new regulations were implemented.
A group of idle men had appeared at the quarry.
Their leader was a burly man named Grom, formerly a mine foreman from Broken Stone County.
They didn't speak, nor did they work. They just swept their cold gazes over every worker who entered the quarry.
It was a look that seemed to be taking stock of their own property.
They called themselves the "Iron Fist Gang."
An unwritten rule spread among all the workers through various channels.
You wanted to work in the quarry? That was fine.
At the end of each day, you were to go to Grom's camp of your own accord and hand over a pound of rye bread.
This wasn't an order, more of a "suggestion."
No one dared to speak of this openly.
The farmer Lars had personally seen the consequences of ignoring this "suggestion."
