Darora was a compact man with crew-cut black hair and the steady confidence of someone who expected tools and wood to obey him. A few months ago, he had been a freed slave from Nokozal’s quarry. Now he was a master carpenter in Tiranat and had more than enough pride to fill the workshop.
He noticed Kivamus and came forward at once.
“My lord,” Darora said, wiping sawdust from his hands. “You’ve come to check the fourth scorpion?”
“Among other things.”
Darora grinned. “Then you’ll be pleased. I already fixed the third one at the southeast tower properly this morning. Last night’s support held well enough, but it was ugly work. I didn’t like leaving it that way.”
Hudan shrugged. “It worked when it had to.”
“It did,” Darora admitted. “But it wouldn’t have lasted if the guards needed to use it for more than a night. The proper mount is in place now. It turns more smoothly, and the crew won’t have to fight the frame every time they aim.”
Kivamus looked toward the larger pieces being assembled near the rear of the workshop. Several thick arms, carved rails, and reinforced wooden blocks had been arranged separately from the ordinary carpentry work.
“That’s the fourth scorpion?” he asked.
Darora pointed to the pieces. “It is. It’ll take five days at most, if no one drags half my workers away for something else.”
The majordomo gave him a mild look.
The manor often needed the apprentices to help out with small tasks, whether it was just usual repair work, or to make moulds for papermaking, buckets for use during soap-making, new plank targets for practicing with scorpion and crossbows when the old ones got destroyed, and so on.
Darora cleared his throat. “Which I’m sure no one will do unless there is a good reason.”
Kivamus smiled. “Five days is good.”
“It would be four if Cedoron stopped sending his apprentices here asking whether my measurements are wrong for forging the steel pieces.”
“Are they?”
The carpenter looked offended. “Of course not! The big guy just needs to trust others more.”
Duvas looked at one of the waiting frames. “The steel parts have all been delivered for the fourth one?”
“They have,” Darora said. “Cedoron finished them earlier than I expected. He grumbled the whole time, but he finished them.”
“That sounds like Cedoron,” Hudan snorted.
Darora’s grin returned. “After this scorpion, I’ll get back to the lathe. Half the steel components are already here, so the wooden bed, frame, treadle, and supports are the main work left. A week to finish crafting all the parts and another few days to assemble them, if nothing goes wrong.”
Kivamus had learned to treat that last part as a warning rather than modesty. “Will it work as I expect?”
“It should,” Darora said. “The idea is similar to the bow drills I use but still unique, but the drawing makes sense. Turn the piece steadily, hold the tool firm, and shape it evenly. I agree that it’ll be useful once we get it right.”
“That is the hope.”
“Hope?” Darora looked offended. “My lord, once I build it, it’ll work.”
Hudan gave a low laugh.
Kivamus nodded. “Good. Keep going. I’ll visit again when the lathe is ready.”
“I’ll have it ready,” Darora said. Then he raised his voice without turning around. “Layita, don’t let him ruin that joint again.”
“I’m not,” Layita called back.
The younger worker beside her sighed, and several carpenters laughed.
Kivamus left them to their work. It seemed like they were coordinating with each other properly.
They turned south from Darora’s workshop and continued toward the temple. On the way they met a small crew putting gravel on the newly marked dirt roads. They had already done the work in the east and the central part of the village, so now they were finishing up the road-marking work in the west. Drains had already been dug where needed, and by now the whole northern half of the village had proper square shaped blocks marked all around. It would make it easier for any future construction projects, since the building crews wouldn't have to spend too much time marking straight lines with a groma to make sure it aligned properly with the other buildings. Now they could just transport the construction supplies to any empty block where something needed to be built, and get to work immediately.
Closer to the temple, the road was quieter, though not empty. A few villagers passed with baskets, tools, or bundles of cloth, and each of them stepped aside respectfully when they saw Kivamus approaching with Hudan and the guards.
The temple of the Goddess stood on the right side of the road, its old walls heavily patched in several places.
Duvas bowed his head as they passed near it. Hudan and the four guards also gave respectful nods. Kivamus did the same a moment later, though his own gesture came more from respect for the people around him than personal belief.
He had never been a deeply religious man.
That did not make the temple unimportant.
Father Edric’s temple had been built more than two decades ago, and it looked every year of its age. Some of the outer boards had been replaced with mismatched timber. The lower stonework had been repaired with whatever material the villagers had been able to spare at the time. Even the roof looked as if it had survived several winters only because people had patched each weak section before it failed completely.
Kivamus would have to do something about it.
It was not an immediate priority though.
Tiranat needed barracks, a proper road connecting to the industrial area, more longhouses and workshops, and better defenses before it needed a larger temple. But the population had grown too much for the old building, and it would keep growing if everything went well. Kivamus had seen it crowded in the evenings, with villagers waiting outside for their turn because there was no room within. People came there to pray, speak to Father Edric, ask for blessings, or simply sit somewhere quiet after work.
Once the most urgent construction was finished, he would speak with Father Edric about rebuilding it.
Not merely repairing the old structure. Rebuilding it properly, with a larger compound, stronger walls, and enough room for the village Tiranat was becoming.
Duvas noticed him looking.
“The temple needs work before winter arrives,” the majordomo reminded him quietly.
“It does,” Kivamus replied. “We'll get to it. Not immediately. But soon.”
“May the Goddess give us enough time and timber for all these plans.”
“At this point, I would settle for just one free construction team.”
Duvas smiled faintly. “That may require a greater miracle.”
As they continued southeast toward the village center, Kivamus noticed the work beginning on the first tenement block. The building itself did not exist yet, but the ground had already been marked and men were digging the foundation lines. Stacks of timber, planks, and stone for the kitchen’s fireplace had been gathered along the roadside, leaving just enough room for carts to pass. Farther ahead, Finn stood near the trench with his hands on his hips, shouting at two laborers to check the line again and make sure the foundation was straight. The finished block would rise three floors high when complete, but for now it was only a marked rectangle in the ground, surrounded by dust, sweat, and piles of building material.
They continued walking toward the center of the village.
The sound of Cedoron’s forge reached them before the heat did.
Then the heat reached them as well.
The blacksmith’s workshop was open at the front, but the forge burned fiercely inside, adding its own thick heat to the already warm morning. Sweat shone on the arms and faces of everyone working there. The air smelled of charcoal, hot metal and oil.
Cedoron stood near the main anvil, tall and burly, with his sleeves rolled high and a large hammer in one hand. His hair was damp with sweat, and his face was darkened by soot. He was watching one of his apprentices draw out a heated bar while another worked the bellows.
At a second work area outside the workshop, two men were shaping what looked like the beginning of a sword blade. Farther in, another apprentice was grinding a shorter blade that would likely become a dagger. Near the side wall, a woman sat beneath the best patch of shade, carefully weaving fine metal mesh for the safety lamps used in the coal mines.
None of them looked comfortable in this heat. All of them kept working.
Kivamus stopped near the entrance rather than stepping too close to the forge.
“Anyone who chooses to work beside that in this heat deserves extra respect,” he called out.
Cedoron looked up and snorted. “Respect doesn’t make the iron softer, my lord.”
“No, but the triphammer helps.”
“That it does.”
Cedoron gave the apprentice at the anvil a quick instruction, then came over to Kivamus and the others.
“The third cementation furnace should give us another batch of steel tomorrow,” the blacksmith said before Kivamus could ask. “I’ve already finished the steel pieces for the fourth scorpion and components for the first lathe are nearly done, so for the first time in weeks, I’m beginning to have some extra steel instead of another list waiting before the last batch gets cold. Iron is still being used for the repair work of the old tools.”
“What are you doing with the surplus steel?”
“Making ingots for now. Easier to store, easier to count, and easier to issue when someone decides I need to make another impossible thing by yesterday.”
Kivamus ignored the complaint with long practice. “What about the steel swords we discussed? Are they ready yet?”
“We’re working on it,” Cedoron said. “This latest batch is using steel instead of iron. The first batch should be finished in a few days.”
Hudan’s attention sharpened immediately. “Full steel swords will be ready in a few days?”
“A few,” Cedoron said. “Don’t look at me like that, Captain. I’m not forging enough for every guard by tomorrow.”
“I wasn’t going to ask for every guard.”
Cedoron gave him a flat look.
Hudan smiled. “Not today.”
“As long as steel remains available, keep using it for new weapons,” Kivamus said. He looked at the captain. “The experienced guards should get the better blades first. Their iron swords can be passed to the newer recruits who aren’t being sent outside the village much.”
“That makes sense,” Hudan said. “The recruits do need real weapons instead of playing around with wooden swords, but I’d rather the best steel go to the people most likely to fight first. Will you keep providing more steel swords every week?”
Cedoron nodded. “As long as no one expects miracles.”
Hudan glanced toward the woman weaving metal mesh, then back at Cedoron.
“What about the chain mail?”
The blacksmith’s expression changed in a way that suggested he had expected the question and disliked it anyway.
“I want to see it finished as much as you do,” Cedoron said. “But I’m buried under work. Weapons of all kinds and shapes, mining tools, farming tools, clay diggers’ and road crews’ digging tools, hinges and fittings for the construction teams, repairs for whatever someone breaks by using it wrong, and now safety-lamp mesh and the paper mould mesh on top of all that.”
“You have taken on new apprentices again though,” Duvas frowned. “Your weekly wage budget was increased just last week.”
“I have, and they help, not that they know anything about smithing yet. The new forge on the eastern bank of the stream helps too. The triphammer helps more than both. But every time an apprentice completes his training and we increase our production, the manor just asks for more.”
“That is usually how growth works,” Kivamus said.
“I don’t mind growth. I mind having only two hands.”
Kivamus snorted.
Cedoron wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his sinewy forearm. “The lathe should help once Darora finishes it. If it works the way you say, we can shape round pieces faster and more evenly. Tool handles, rods, fittings, maybe even parts for more machines. I could certainly use one here, although Darora will want the first one for himself as soon as he sees it working. I'm sure Taniok or Finn will ask for a lathe of their own, even though they construct buildings not intricate components for weapons and machines.”
“Darora says the first lathe should be ready in about two weeks,” Kivamus said. “Five days for the fourth scorpion, then around ten for crafting all the lathe parts and assembly. This is after he had already been working on it for a week before I put him to make scorpions because of the adzee threat.”
“At least those beasts won't threaten my workers when we have to go to what you call the industrial area,” Cedoron repeated. “That means another three weeks at least for a second lathe—my lathe—assuming nothing goes wrong.”
“Probably. I know we won’t have enough lathes for both your workshop and Darora’s immediately,” Kivamus said. “But once the first one works, we can build the second one faster. And so on.”
Cedoron looked toward the half-formed sword blade on the other side of the forge.
“Then I’ll keep my complaints ready for when it arrives.”
Hudan laughed.
Cedoron pointed his hammer toward him. “And you can stop asking about chain mail every time you see me. It's not like I'm wasting time setting lazily, so it’ll get ready when it’ll get ready.”
The captain grinned. “Means I can’t send a recruit to you by evening to ask about the progress?”
The blacksmith snorted. “You guards seem to have way too much time on your hands after the adzee pack was defeated.”
Hudan shrugged. “Our work is different from yours. We don't have to fight every day, but that's why we train, so we are ready when we do need to fight.”
“That you did.” The blacksmith nodded. “Did quite well too, I’d say, judging by those five huge carcasses lying outside. I hope I'll also get to taste the nobles’ meat?”
Duvas nodded. “Every villager should get some of it. All four longhouse blocks will be sent a good amount by noon.”
“But I don't live at—“ the blacksmith interrupted.
The majordomo raised up palm and chuckled. “Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about you and the others who live in their own houses. I'm not that old yet.”
Everyone laughed at that.
“Well, I need to get back to work before that boy ruins the heat on the blade,” Cedoron said. He looked at Kivamus. “Thank you for allowing Leah to stay in the manor during the attack.”
“Think nothing of it.” Kivamus smiled. “Keep up the work. The village needs all of it.”
Cedoron gave a short nod and returned to the forge, already calling instructions before he reached the anvil.
Kivamus turned away from the heat with some relief.
The morning had grown hotter while they stood there, and the forge made the air feel worse than the open road.
“We should keep moving,” he said.
Hudan looked more than willing to agree.
Duvas dabbed his forehead with a cloth. “Goddess save anyone who works there through the afternoon.”
Kivamus looked back once more at the workers inside the forge.
The blacksmith’s hammer came down again, sharp and steady.
They continued southeast through the village.