Kivamus moved his finger to the next level. “On the first floor, there will be two apartments, each with two rooms. On the second floor, four single-room apartments. So each building has seven apartments and 10 rooms total—a minimum capacity of 10 people and a maximum of around 20 people. But typically, maybe 15 people will live in one tenement, each served by that kitchen on the ground floor. Four such buildings in one standard block will house around 60 people.”
The carpenter nodded, then looked at Duvas. “That is much less than a longhouse block. The new double-story blocks have room for nearly 250 people in them.”
“That's true,” Duvas said. “But a tenement is not meant for the same people.”
Kivamus nodded. “A longhouse block gives us the bare minimum for housing people—a roof over their head, a bunk to their names, and shelter from the elements. But this tenement gives people privacy. A lockable room. A bed of their own. A storage chest. Shelves. Hooks on the walls. A small table or fold-down work board if there’s space. Shuttered windows. Food shelves. A covered stair landing. It's not luxury, but much better than a bunk in a hall filled with hundreds of people.”
The guard in the corner shifted slightly.
Kivamus noticed him listening more closely now. He did not blame him. A private lockable room would sound tempting to a lot of people in the manor and the longhouses.
“People will still use the outdoor privies for now,” Kivamus continued. “Later we’ll build a bathhouse too, before winter if possible. Water jars or small barrels can be kept in the kitchen so residents do not have to go to the well at night just for a drink or cooking water.”
“That will help in snow,” Duvas said.
“Yes. Especially for the ground-floor apartment, where the older people might live. Those who are young will have the task of refilling the barrels every day.”
The carpenter was still looking at the drawing. “The roof slopes down outwards?”
“It does,” Kivamus said. “The inner side near the cross-shaped lanes will be slightly higher, and there will be a small overhang to reduce how much snow falls into the middle. We aren't going to cover it completely to provide sunlight to the rooms on the inner side. But most of the snow should mostly slide toward the outer road side, where it can be cleared more easily.”
The carpenter nodded more confidently at that. “That should work. The overhang can cover the stair landing too, at least partly.”
“That is the idea.”
Finn studied the post layout. “These central supports around the chimney will need to be strong.”
“They will,” Kivamus said. “We'll use heavy fedarus posts. Seasoned ones only. No green wood for this, or any other wooden construction in the village.”
“Of course,” the carpenter said immediately. “Not after what happened with the first longhouse blocks.”
Kivamus glanced at Duvas, then back at the carpenter. “I have checked the load as best I can. With the spacing shown here, the main posts and beams should bear the three floors. But I want you to check everything with your own experience before you start. If something looks wrong to you, say so.”
The carpenter looked surprised for a moment. Then he nodded. “I will.”
“I mean it,” Kivamus said. “Do not follow the drawing blindly if something seems unsafe. Bring it to me first.”
“Yes, milord.”
Duvas pointed to the blueprint. “How long do you think the first building will take?”
Finn took a while before answering. He looked at the walls, the stairs, the roof, and the central chimney space again.
“For the wooden structure of the first one, around three weeks, give or take,” he said. “Maybe a little more if something gives trouble. Three stories means more lifting, better bracing, and more care. That is if I leave the chimney work for Master Taniok, and focus on the timber work only.”
“And the next ones?” Kivamus asked.
“The second should be faster,” the carpenter said. “Once we know the method, maybe 15 days each for the next three. The workers will know the measurements by then, and we can prepare repeated parts more easily.”
Kivamus nodded. That was close to what he had expected.
“Taniok should return from the encampment in two or three weeks,” Duvas said. “Maybe longer if the work there is delayed.”
“By then I should have the first wooden structure done or close to done,” the carpenter said. “When Master Taniok returns, he can take the lead on the chimney for the first block while I work on the second one.”
“That will do,” Kivamus said. “After that, you continue with the second, third, and fourth tenement blocks, all within the same standard village block size. Taniok can handle the chimney and stove work on each of them as he catches up, while you will work on the wooden part of the structure. At these estimates, I think we can get all four tenements done in around two months. The rains will likely start before that, but we should be done with the bulk of the work by the time that happens."
"I agree," Duvas said. "It will be better to get the roofs built first before the interior work is done, in case the rains come early. That will bog down all the construction work in the village. Two months is also our estimate of when the fourth longhouse block might be filled by new refugees. We will need another month to build the fifth block after that, but because we will have around 60 people shifting to these tenements, that will leave enough bunks empty in the current blocks for the fifth longhouse to be completed. I think it will work out well assuming there is no major problem."
"Let's hope so," Kivamus nodded.
Finn looked at the blueprint again, this time with less hesitation and more interest. “It will be strange to see four of these standing together, but I think it will be a big upgrade over the longhouses.”
“It's only the first step toward better housing,” Kivamus said. “It's not nearly as good as the brick apartments I want later, but far better than what we have now.”
“We can only hope people will be willing to pay rent for this...” Duvas said, more to himself than to anyone else.
Kivamus glanced toward the guard in the corner, who looked away quickly as if he had not been listening.
“Yes,” the carpenter said. “They will. A lockable room alone will make people interested. Especially married couples.”
“And craftsmen from other towns,” Kivamus said, thinking about Tesyb's sister living in Cinran. “If we want skilled people to move here, we need to offer something better than a bunk in a longhouse.”
Finn nodded. “Then I’ll start tomorrow, after the fourth block is fully handed over to a supervisor amongst the people who will live there. I’ll need the full construction team, unless Sir Duvas changes the assignments.”
Duvas shook his head. “You’ll keep them. We are focusing on increasing our coal production these days, but I'll try to add a few more laborers to your team once the first tenement is underway.”
“That's good to hear,” the carpenter said. “I’ll need them.”
Kivamus rolled the edge of the blueprint slightly, then stopped and looked at him. “Take this copy with you, but keep it safe. I’ll have another here, just in case. If any worker asks too many questions about the chimney or kitchen, tell them it will be explained when that stage begins. I know the workers can get excited when working on a new design, but we want to finish as many of the tenements as we can before the rains come. That will slow down construction everywhere.”
“I understand.”
“But remember,” Kivamus added, “this is the first three-story building in Tiranat. I would rather have it take a few extra days than have it constructed poorly.”
Finn gave a firm nod. “I’ll build it to Master Taniok's standards, milord.”
“Good. I’m counting on you.”
The carpenter bowed, then carefully rolled the blueprint copy and tucked it under one arm. The guard near the door straightened as he turned to leave.
Kivamus watched them go.
Once the door closed behind them, Duvas looked back at the table and let out a slow breath. “Seven apartments in one tenement. Four tenements in the space of one longhouse block. It still sounds kind of strange.”
“It is strange,” Kivamus said. “But it will work.”
Duvas looked toward the closed door. “If it does, we’ll have merchants and craftsmen asking about rent before the second one is finished.”
Kivamus smiled faintly. “That’s the hope."
Duvas tilted his head towards the door where the carpenter had just exited. "Even Finn, he is not a master carpenter like Taniok, but as a foreman of a construction site, he still earns 20 coppers a day. He will be one of the first ones to rent a room."
The majordomo was still looking at the closed door when another set of footsteps came from the side entrance.
Syrene entered the manor hall with a notebook held against her chest. She had been writing in that book a lot these days, filling it with short notes about whatever Kivamus taught her. The paper was rough by Earth standards, but it was Tiranat-made paper, and she had sewn the pages together herself. She guarded it more carefully than some people guarded coins. Perhaps that was the scientist in her mind speaking.
"You finished talking with the carpenter?" she asked.
"For now," Kivamus said. "He’ll start on the first tenement block after the fourth longhouse block is handed over."
Syrene’s eyes moved to the blueprint still spread across the table. "The chimney design too?"
"Not fully. He’ll handle the wooden structure first. Taniok will help with the chimney when he returns."
Duvas leaned back in his chair. "That is probably for the best. Finn is capable, but stone and chimney work is not his strength."
Syrene came closer and looked at the central chimney marked in the building plan. "And the tiles?"
"That is the next thing," Kivamus said.
He pulled another smaller sheet closer. It was less of a proper blueprint and more a set of notes and rough sketches, showing thick rectangular slabs, stacking supports inside a kiln, and a simple cross section of a chimney flue.
"The new clay firing kiln near the dam is about ready," he said. "The workers who had made the coke and steel furnaces finished it yesterday. It is on the eastern bank of the stream, far enough from the sawmill on the western bank that a mistake won't burn anything."
"The potters have already been told to go there tomorrow morning," Duvas said.
Kivamus nodded. "This is not a completely new craft for them. They already know how to handle clay and bake the pots. We’re just asking them to make thicker, flatter pieces instead."
Syrene looked interested at once. "For the chimney lining, right?"
"For that, and for the floor around the kitchen hearth," Kivamus said. "The smoothest and flattest slabs will be used to line the inside of the chimney flue. That part needs the best pieces, because the lining has to keep smoke and gases from leaking into the rooms around it. The thicker, warped, or rougher slabs can be used on the kitchen floor near the hearth, where they only need to protect the wood from heat and sparks."
Duvas tapped one finger against the table. "Are you sure the early batches will be usable? The potters seemed worried when I spoke with them. They said flat slabs may crack or bend more easily than pots, at least until they get more experience in how to handle them."
"They are probably right," Kivamus said. "A lot of the first batch will come out uneven, warped, or cracked. That is fine. We’re not expecting perfection on the first try."
Syrene looked up from the drawing. "Then what will we do with the broken pieces?"
"Break them further and mix them back into later clay," Kivamus said, glancing once at the door to make sure it was closed. "Those crushed pieces of fired-clay will help make the next batches stronger by acting as a binder—kind of like how gravel and sand particles help bind a slurry of cement when we make concrete. Broken old pots can also be used the same way. The potters will understand that once they see the result."
Duvas gave a small nod. "So even a failed batch is not fully wasted."
"Exactly."
***
A/N: That's all for this week. I hope you like the longer chapters in this new format.
I'll see you again on Monday. Take care.