Long shadows were cast across thatch and crooked wood rooftops as the sun hung low over the town. Ethan was standing on the edge of what may have been a granary, a partially collapsed structure.
With its walls patched with mismatched mud and its stone base eroded, it leaned like an old drunkard. As if to combat the chill of decay in the air, the steward rubbed his hands together and explained, "This is where the mason guild used to be." "Now? Just memories and rats. Ethan took a while to reply.
His gaze followed the angles of fallen walls, the joinery of timbers, and the way water had accumulated along the foundation. It provided him with all the information he required: there was no grading, no drainage, and definitely their building methods are definitely inconsistent. Each building appeared to have been pieced together using prayers and conjecture.
Ethan finally stated, "We're not fixing this." "We're starting over from scratch." The steward gave a blink. "With what?" Ethan dropped to his knees and picked up a handful of clay-rich earth, allowing it to crumble in his hands. "This," he stated. "We'll make use of the mud, straw, and wood we have."
He turned to a group of laborers waiting nearby. "We start with mud bricks. You mold them by hand or in simple wooden frames, then let them dry under the sun. It's how the Egyptians built for centuries. We'll reinforce them with straw or thatch fibers to improve tensile strength."
They gave him a blank stare. He let out a breath, lowered his voice, and gestured for Lina, the young girl, to approach. Among the villagers, she had rapidly established herself as his most trustworthy voice.
"Lina, instruct them to collect chopped straw, lots of water, and clay-rich soil from the river bend. Today, we will produce a test batch of bricks. Sun-dried will work for the time being, but we can construct kilns later.
She gave a nod and ran off, yelling commands with more assurance than her petite build indicated.
Ethan looked back at the steward. Additionally, we'll begin instructing the builders in fundamental geometry and layout. Everything must be level and square. Raising the foundation is necessary to keep moisture out.
"And what of roofs?" the steward asked, arms crossed.
"For now, wooden rafters with packed clay or wattle and daub. We'll evolve as materials become available."
Ethan looked around the village. The people had knowledge and a plan, but they didn't lack effort. Despite its imperfections, the town had a lot of promise. They had stone in the neighboring hills, soil for bricks, and forests for lumber. The work had already begun. Coordination was all they required.
The first molds were being shaped by evening. As muddy hands shaped their future, the townspeople looked on and whispered to one another. Under Ethan's guidance, men pounded clay with wooden paddles, children carried straw in bundles, and elders fetched water.
Ethan sensed the first real spark of change as he stood beneath the setting sun. Not heroic or grand. Just a brick. However, bricks gave rise to walls, which in turn gave rise to homes, and from homes, hope.
His eyes narrowed intently as he peered out over the muddy square. "This is where the foundation starts," he whispered, more to himself than to anyone else. Of a better life, not just of buildings.