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Chapter 32 - Foundation and Flow
🕑 Added 2025-03-29 21:00:07 +0000 UTCUpon arriving at the construction site, the boy carefully observed the connections that had been completed. The three central columns now had almost all their joints successfully secured, with the top and bottom connections finished on the north and south columns. Ok was focused on completing the upper connections of the central column, ensuring the beams that would form the roofing frame were properly fitted and secured. The rhythmic sound of knife and axe scrapping or striking wood echoed through the site, blending with the murmurs of discussion as the workers coordinated their tasks.
Noticing that his father, Wade, and Yun were busy carving the joints for the beams that would connect to the columns, the boy gathered his tools and set out to assist them. He meticulously took measurements, double-checking the accuracy before marking the designated placements on the western side of the structure. The afternoon sun bore down on him, making the laborious task even more challenging, but he pressed on, knowing that even the smallest miscalculation could lead to complications during assembly.
As he worked, he frequently paused to wipe the sweat from his brow, his hands covered in fine wood dust from the continuous carving and marking. With each beam and column marked, he ensured that the cuts would align seamlessly, facilitating smoother construction in the coming days. By the time evening arrived, his arms ached from the repeated motions, but he was satisfied with the progress. Every mark was precise, and the framework for the next stage of construction was now clearly outlined, ensuring that tomorrow's work would proceed efficiently.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, everyone began assembling their tools before making their way to the fire pit, where the girls had prepared the evening meal. The air was filled with the rich aroma of roasted fish and simmering stew, a comforting end to the day's labor. The crackling fire cast flickering shadows on the surrounding faces, adding a sense of warmth and camaraderie to the evening. After a while, the three of them sat on the floor together, the heat from the fire keeping the cool night air at bay.
While eating, the boy listened intently to the conversations around him, particularly the growing enthusiasm among the rope-making group. The trend he had deliberately set in motion was taking hold. As he had hoped, his mother had remembered their past discussions about creating clothing from materials other than animal fur. Inspired by this idea, she had already begun guiding the group toward future garment-making. The women spoke excitedly, speculating about ways to refine the fibers, improve weaving techniques, and possibly dye the fabric with natural pigments found in plants and minerals.
For now, they were still focused on producing fiber-based fabric, mainly utilizing the finest and most durable cords crafted by Nat. Though in its early stages, the boy was certain that this development would soon evolve into something greater. The idea of weaving fabrics for clothing and bedding was no longer just a thought—it was becoming a tangible reality. He could already envision the future, where thick woven blankets replaced the rough, dirty and smelly fur pelts they currently relied on, and where garments were tailored to fit rather than draped loosely over their shoulders or their waist.
Satisfied with the progress, the boy stood up once everyone had finished their meal and clean their bowl and cooking pot. He picked up one of the flutes and began playing a few melodies that had remained in his memory. The soothing notes drifted through the air, catching Kali's attention. Seeing her interest, he began teaching her simple finger placements and breathing techniques on the other one. She eagerly followed his instructions, her enthusiasm growing with each attempt. Lara listened as well, occasionally glancing over with curiosity but preferring to simply enjoy the music rather than participate.
The evening continued in quiet harmony, the sounds of distant insects blending with the soft tunes of the flute. Some of the adults remained around the fire, chatting in hushed voices about the progress of the settlement, while others retired early to their shelters, weary from the day's efforts. The boy, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction at the progress made, eventually placed the flute down and stretched, his muscles aching from the day's work.
When night fully settled in, everyone retreated to their shelters, where they slept soundly until the first light of dawn, ready to face another day of building their future.
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The next morning, Athan woke up quickly, carefully extricating himself from Lara and Kali, who were still deep in sleep. He stretched briefly before slipping out of the shelter, feeling the cool morning air against his skin. Moving swiftly, he made his way to the basin, splashing cold water on his face to shake off the last remnants of drowsiness. The crisp sensation jolted him awake, and after rubbing his eyes, he turned his focus toward the kiln. Without wasting another moment, he hurried off, eager to check on its progress.
Arriving there, he noticed that it had cooled down overnight. The air around it carrying the faint scent of burnt wood and dry clay. Carefully, he began removing the stones and dried mud, ensuring that the structure did not collapse inward.
Each movement sent small clouds of dust into the air, making him squint as he worked. He spent several minutes dismantling the kiln's outer layers, gradually revealing the bricks and limestone inside. The stones had turned white and crumbly, clear evidence that they had successfully transformed into lime. Remembering the dangers of direct contact, he avoided touching the powder with his bare hands, instead using a stick to prod a loose piece, watching it disintegrate into fine dust with minimal effort.
Satisfied, the boy went to retrieve the wheelbarrow. The handles felt rough under his grip as he rolled it closer to the pile. Upon returning, he picked up one of the bricks, still slightly warm to the touch. He tapped it with his fingers, listening to the hollow sound it produced—a sign that it had become denser and more solid.
To test its quality, he walked over to the basin and submerged the brick in water before pulling it out and pressing on it. The well-fired clay did not become malleable again, confirming its durability. Reassured by the result, he began stacking the bricks neatly, organizing them carefully to avoid breakage. Each time he placed one, he took care to align them evenly, making sure they wouldn't topple over.
Out of the 93 bricks, he had fired this time, 7 had broken. He examined the fractured pieces, rubbing his thumb over the jagged edges. It was likely that they had not dried thoroughly before firing or that impurities trapped within had weakened their structure. Setting the defective bricks aside, he considered crushing them for future use, possibly as a filler for cement or reinforcement material.
Before continuing, he straightened and stretched his sore arms, taking a deep breath. The work had been tedious, but seeing the neatly stacked bricks filled him with a sense of accomplishment.
The boy, using a piece of wood, carefully scooped the lime powder into the wheelbarrow, making sure not to let any of the fine dust touch his skin. He added a measured amount of ash, watching as the two powders mixed, creating a soft, uneven texture. Just as he had done previously, he remained uncertain of the exact method, drawing inspiration from the Romans who, according to history books he had read, used volcanic ash in their concrete. Though the ash he used was not volcanic, it had not caused any noticeable issues with the foundation already in place, so he decided to keep it as part of the mixture.
Once the lime and ash were loaded, he wheeled the barrow to the gate, where the girls had already piled the sand. He tipped the contents into the growing mound, making sure to distribute it evenly before using the edge of his makeshift scoop to mix the components slightly. Without delay, he returned to gather his tools for working with cement, bringing them to his new workstation.
He began mixing the components, carefully observing the color change as the blend shifted from a yellowish hue to a more consistent gray. The dust rose in thin clouds as he stirred, clinging to his clothes and arms. He continued adding either lime powder or ash in small amounts, gauging the transformation until the mixture reached a pale gray shade. Every few minutes, he would pause to assess the texture, using his wooden mixing tool to check the consistency without making direct contact with the hazardous materials.
Satisfied with the color, he adjusted his grip on the wooden mixing tool and fetched water before returning to resume mixing. He poured the water gradually, watching how the liquid was absorbed, ensuring he didn't add too much at once. Using his tool, he stirred thoroughly, working the water into the dry materials until the cement reached the right consistency—smooth yet firm enough to hold shape. To test the mixture, he used the edge of his tool to scoop some up, observing how it clumped together before loosening. Once achieved, he loaded the freshly prepared cement into the wheelbarrow, carefully using his tools to scrape the sides of the mixing area to collect every last bit of material, ready for application.
He gestured for his father to follow him. Returning outside the wall, he immediately went to the toilet drainage conduit. Starting from the wall, he carefully applied the cement using his wooden trowel and other tools, ensuring every gap between the stones was thoroughly filled. He took great care to avoid any direct contact with the wet cement, knowing the irritation it could cause on the skin. Climbing onto the edges, he checked that nothing could overflow or leak, smoothing the surface with precise strokes.
Wade stood nearby, his spear resting against his shoulder as he scanned the area. His eyes flicked toward his son’s work from time to time, observing the process with his usual quiet scrutiny.
"Be careful," he muttered. "Last time… hands red."
Athan nodded, keeping his focus on the task. "I know. I’m not touching it."
Wade grunted, satisfied but still watching closely.
"Strange thing," he added after a moment, gesturing toward the cement. "Soft now. Hard later."
Athan smirked slightly, recognizing his father’s curiosity. "You’ve seen me do this before."
Wade gave a short nod. "Still strange." He crouched, inspecting the fresh layer without touching it. "How long?"
"A few days." Athan scraped off the excess cement and redistributed it along the edges. "It’ll dry faster with good weather."
Wade made a small noise of acknowledgment, his attention shifting back to the surroundings.
"Careful," he warned. "We outside."
Athan nodded but didn’t slow his work. He moved with practiced efficiency, ensuring an even coating. Every so often, he returned to the protected side of the wall to fetch more cement, making sure not to waste any material.
Once the conduit was fully sealed, he moved on to the drainage channels his father had dug. This time, instead of using stones, he applied the cement directly onto the soil, carefully layering it with his tools to create a reinforced pathway that would allow future rainwater to flow under the wall without causing damage.
Wade watched in silence before speaking again.
"Last time… same thing?"
Athan glanced at him, then back at his work. "Almost. But this one is for water under the wall. Needs to be stronger."
Wade grunted in approval. "Good thinking."
After completing all five drainage bays, ensuring each was coated with a solid layer of cement, father and son took a final moment to inspect their work. Wade didn’t fully understand the material, but he recognized the effort and precision his son had put into it.
"Looks… strong," he admitted.
Athan wiped the sweat from his forehead and nodded. "It will be."
Without wasting time, he loaded the remaining cement into his wheelbarrow, gripping the handles firmly as he pushed it back through the gate. Wade cast one last glance beyond the walls before following him inside, not wanting to remain exposed any longer than necessary.
Once they were back within the safety of the village, Wade relaxed slightly. "Better here," he said simply, closing the gate behind them.
Athan smirked. "Safer, yes."
Thanking his father, he returned to work. Reaching the designated area, he maneuvered the wheelbarrow and carefully scooped cement with his trowel, applying it over the remaining sections of the drainage channels. He worked methodically, smoothing the layers with practiced strokes, ensuring the cement adhered properly to the soil. He focused on reinforcing the weakest sections, making sure that no water could accumulate and compromise the structure.
Once finished, he refilled the wheelbarrow with the remaining cement and made three trips back and forth to apply it to the toilet conduit, which directed water to the basin. He continued carefully layering the cement, ensuring the incline remained precise so that water would flow smoothly without stagnating or losing momentum near the toilet basin. He used his trowel to spread the cement evenly, reinforcing weak points and smoothing out any imperfections. Despite using up the rest of this batch of cement, he was able to complete about one-third of the required path, marking where he would need to continue on the next batch to maintain consistency in thickness and durability.
Observing the pile of sand that the girls had gathered earlier, the boy paused to think. Based on how much cement he had used so far, he realized he could divide the sand pile strategically, producing only the amount of cement necessary to avoid waste. Making a rough estimate, he took what he believed was the right amount before heading back to the kiln. There, he once again collected lime powder and ash, now developing a clearer sense of the proportions needed for an efficient mixture. He began blending the dry ingredients carefully before heading off to fetch water for the next batch.
Once the pile of cement was ready again, he resumed his work, carefully inserting it between the stones, ensuring that the conduit would effectively direct water straight to the toilet basin. He took his time smoothing the surface with his trowel, making sure there were no gaps that could weaken the structure. The cement mixture was thick, sticking well to the crevices between the stones as he worked, reinforcing the durability of the conduit.
Reaching the riverbank, the boy paused to think. The cement required several days to fully dry and become water-resistant. However, if he left the conduit's entrance exposed as it was once dug up, the surrounding soil would inevitably be drained into it, leading to potential blockages. The last thing he wanted was for debris to collect at the entry point, clogging the system before it could even be properly used.
Simply adding cement directly to the entrance wouldn't work either—the wet cement wouldn't dry properly and would be washed away by the flowing water. He furrowed his brow, considering possible solutions. Then, an idea struck him. If he created a mold, he could pour the cement into it, allow it to harden separately, and then place the fully cured block at the conduit's entrance. This way, the water would flow into the conduit without eroding the cement, as it would already be solidified and resistant to water damage. Using a piece of wood, he measured the exact width of the conduit's opening, making sure his mold would fit perfectly.
Excited by the idea, he quickly grabbed his hoe and moved a few meters away from the river, where the soil was drier and more stable. He began digging directly into the earth, shaping the ground itself into the mold he needed. He then made sure to carve out a slightly smaller rectangular trench, ensuring that the final cement block would fit snugly inside the existing conduit without requiring force, also he would have room to adjust and properly secure it with an additional layer of cement or rock when the time came for installation. Still, he compacted the walls of the mold with firm presses of his tool, smoothing out any loose dirt to prevent imperfections in the final shape. He nodded to himself, satisfied with the mold, and moved to gather his tools and prepare the cement mixture.
Examining the remaining cement, he added more sand before heading back to retrieve both types of powder. He carefully remixed the materials, ensuring an even consistency. He then poured the cement into it, using his trowel to carefully level the surface. He smoothed the top, ensuring that no air pockets remained, and used the remaining cement to make final touch-ups on other sections of the drainage path. He worked efficiently, making sure every stroke of his tool reinforced the structure, pressing down to eliminate weak spots. When all the cement had been used, he fetched water to clean his tools. Avoiding direct contact with the mixture, he used a branch to scrape off the excess cement before leaving the tools to dry.
With the mold now filled and left to harden, he returned to the kiln to check on his remaining lime powder. As he looked up, he noticed the sun beginning to dip toward the horizon—the day was nearing its end. Wasting no time, he grabbed the wheelbarrow and carefully loaded all the remaining lime powder inside. He then covered it with a large leaf to shield it from the night's moisture, weighing it down with two long stones to ensure it stayed in place. The boy suspect that even a little morning dew could ruin the powder's quality.
Satisfied with his precautions, his attention shifted to the neatly stacked bricks. A small smile crept onto his face, pleased with the progress they had made. Turning away, he decided to check on the soil in the fields. Seeing that Kali had already watered them, he nodded in approval before heading toward the basin to wash up. He lingered there for a moment, letting the cool water run over his arms and face, savoring the brief respite from the day's labor. The dust and sweat washed away, leaving him feeling momentarily refreshed, though his muscles ached from hours of work.
