Word comes from Krofburg, eager, whispered breathlessly from mouth to ear, ear to mouth. The word says that silver has been found, silver beyond imagining, silver beyond possibility. Word says that the Burgomaster will grant a claim to those who wish to work it, and that Bellegarde is hiring men to push their own shafts deeper into the mountain than ever before. From across Barovia, men and women leave their families hurriedly, carrying little more than the shirts on their backs, marching towards Krofburg, towards a gleaming future. And as word spreads, they come from farther afield: Borca, Invidia, Kartakass, then Hazlan, Nova Vaasa, Mordent, Richemulot, even distant and snowy Lamordia. Great eyes are fastened on Krofburg now. The small half-ruined hamlet is suddenly the subject of conversations and considerations that only a day before would have been entirely unthinkable.