I built my fort while others gather my wealth!
The noises of the pickaxe hitting the soil rang nonstop. Sweat trickled down the forehead, forming a single dro on the chin. The slaves, once, and then one more time, smashed their pickaxes on the hard soil, after ten minutes, half a square meter was softened and could be shoveled away.
This process was repeated unceasingly, through all the twenty-four hours with no pause. As there was only night, the sun was of no problem but the eeriness of being inside a dim-lit tunnel with beasts hidden, forced a person to look front, back, left and right, every time the wind whistled a little differently.
At any moment a beast might jump out and attack.