This Lord Is Not Appropriate, Unless There Is a Mine

The Valley of Ashes is the most barren territory in the northern reaches of the empire. The land here is black and barren of grass. The air here smells of sulfur. There are only thirty-seven forgotten exiles here, and a young lord who was sentenced to a suspended death sentence. They said he wouldn't survive the winter. But he squatted down, grabbed a handful of black soil, and smelled a familiar smell. In his previous life, he spent three years on a coal mine site and was very familiar with this smell. That's not a curse, that's coal - a black stone that no one in this world knows yet, that can burn red for an entire era. Start from a coal cake, start from a brick kiln, start from an acre of renovated land. He reestablished order on the ruins and ignited hope in desperate situations. And deep in that low mountain, an ancient will that had been dormant for thousands of years was slowly awakening. This is a story about land, fire and rebirth. It is also a love letter to all those who refuse to be extinguished in the darkness. As long as the fire is not extinguished, hope will not be extinguished.