Chapter 209: The Wall Is Rising!!
The dawn broke over Esgard in rust-colored streaks, the sky painted the bloodied hue of war not yet fought.
The streets near the southern trench stank of smoke, mule sweat, and the iron tang of churned soil. The wall had begun to rise, stone by stone, and the city moved with a thousand hands toward its uncertain salvation.
Nellan of South rose before first bell, as he always did. His hands were already caked with grime before the sky fully lit, shoulders aching from days of lifting and hauling.
He was not a soldier, not in any noble sense. Just a wall-hauler. A digger. One of many.
"Up, up, up, you gods-forsaken moss-pissers," barked Foreman Darrek, a voice like gravel in a barrel. He limped between sleeping pallets, swinging a rusted iron rod to prod the sluggish.
"Work won’t wait for the likes of you. The Sovereign’s orders were clear!"
Nellan didn’t need the prodding. He was already dressed, already strapping the worn leather belt that kept his pickaxe at his back. He didn’t pray before labor. The gods hated Esgardians, everyone knew that much.
He trudged into line beside the others—boys from Eastern Verge, old tradesmen from River Quay, a few scarred prisoners promised their freedom in exchange for labor. They all stank. They all limped. They all coughed. But none of them complained. Not today.
Because to complain would mean looking up.
And if you looked up, you saw the wall.
And if you saw the wall, you remembered what it was for.