Ch. 27
Chapter 27. Selecting the Constables
Inside the timber Council Hall, Old John’s face was streaked with sawdust and dried mud, and there was a faint, barely concealed note of pride on it.
He pointed at a simple draft spread out before Eli. “My lord, as you instructed, the watchtowers in all four directions—east, west, south, and north—have all been completed!
“They were built from hemlock cut from deep in the old forest. The wood is hard and tough enough.
“The bases were tamped firm with large round stones picked from the riverbank and packed clay, so they’re steady too.
“Each tower is eight meters tall. The view is excellent! The platform at the top can hold four men.
“They can be used for keeping watch, sounding the gong, or firing arrows! The ladder is inside, just as you wanted. Look...”
Eli’s gaze swept over the four clearly marked watchtower positions on the draft.
Then he lifted his eyes and looked out the window toward the wooden towers that had already risen at the edge of the camp. He nodded in satisfaction.
“You’ve worked hard, Old John. Well done.” He tapped the draft lightly. “Next, the internal planning of the camp—especially the layout of the new residential district—needs to be pushed forward as well.”
“Yes, my lord!” Having received praise, Old John seemed even more energized.
Old John had barely left when Agricultural Officer Hadi came in right behind him, his face full of helplessness.
“My lord... well... the four public latrines have all been built just as you ordered. The deep pits as well. I have also arranged for people to clean them out and bury the waste regularly...”
“And then?” Eli knew from that expression alone that the rest would not be good.
“And then...” Hadi sighed, his old face flushing slightly. “People... still aren’t used to them. They think it’s troublesome.
“A lot of them... still want to save themselves the effort, so they just find a hidden corner and...”
Eli rubbed his forehead. This was exactly what he had expected.
Changing ingrained habits was not something a few newly dug latrine pits could accomplish by themselves.
“I understand.”
“Hadi, pass the order down. Starting today, anyone caught relieving themselves in the open by the security patrol unit or by anyone else on the spot will be punished with three days of cleaning the public latrines!
“They will also be responsible for digging up and burying the contaminated soil in the fouled area! If they refuse to learn after repeated warnings, the fine will be doubled! Slaves will receive an additional punishment of reduced rations!”
He paused, then added, “At the same time, have every team supervisor repeatedly explain the dangers of plague to them.
“I want to see whether their habits are more stubborn, or whether my rules are harder.”
When Hadi heard the punishment measures, the bitterness on his face finally eased a little. He nodded hard.
“Yes, my lord! I will carry out your orders!”
...
While Hadi was busy dealing with the latrine problem, another piece of news, like a giant stone thrown into a still lake, stirred up an even greater wave throughout the camp.
The lord was going to select fifty full-time constables.
The news seemed to sprout wings and spread through every corner of the camp in an instant.
Whether they were freefolk who had only just regained their freedom and were eager to prove their worth, or still slaves who had finally seen a chance to change their fate, every strong young man who met the requirements had his eyes light up!
Constable! What did that mean? It meant getting away from exhausting manual labor. It meant putting on what might be a more respectable uniform.
It meant possibly holding a little bit of power in one’s hands.
More importantly, it meant serving the lord directly. If they caught his eye, their future prospects would be limitless!
“I’m signing up! I’m signing up!”
“Count me in! I’m strong as an ox!”
“My lord! I never slack off when I work! Let me try!”
The temporary registration point Brandon had set up was packed with people, and the crowd was brimming with excitement.
In less than half a day, the number of applicants had already broken past two hundred! A dense mass of men crowded the open ground, each one rubbing his hands eagerly, eyes burning with anticipation.
When the news reached the Council Hall, Eli looked at the thick papyrus roster Brandon had brought him, its pages filled with crooked names and brief personal details, and frowned slightly.
“More than two hundred...” Eli’s fingers tapped against the roster.
“This is the first time we are establishing constables. Their authority may be small, but it concerns the internal order of the camp.
“If I choose well, they will become a support. If I choose poorly and let a few bullies and street thugs slip in, what will be destroyed is my authority, and what will be ruined is the very foundation of Black Territory.”
He raised his head and swept his gaze across the core members gathered in the Council Hall.
Brandon, Bol, Aika, Wolfgang, Hadi, Estor, Ella—and even Clark, who had only come to watch the fun, stood leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded.
“So this matter must be handled with caution.” Eli’s voice was firm and decisive.
“That is why I have decided on an open selection. I want everyone to see for themselves that being a constable is not something just anyone can do.”
The largest open ground in the center of the camp had now become a temporary selection field.
More than two hundred applicants stood in formation, each one drawing himself up and trying his best to display his finest side.
Around them, the people of the territory had formed layer upon layer of spectators, and the sound of discussion and cheering rose one after another.
The first round was simple and brutal—strength and endurance!
At the center of the grounds sat more than a dozen stone weights of varying sizes, ranging from twenty-five to seventy-five kilograms. They were the tools the soldiers normally used for training.
“The rules are simple!” Bol’s booming voice overwhelmed the noise.
“One by one, step forward and lift the fifty-kilo stone weight in front of you! Raise it over your head and stand steady for three breaths, and you pass! If you can’t lift it, or if you wobble and drop it, you’re out! Begin!”
The instant the order was given, the open ground filled with a rising chorus of grunts, roars, and heavy breathing!
“Hrrgh—!”
“Up—!”
Bang!
“Ah...”
Some men turned red in the face, veins bulging, but still managed to lift the stone weight over their heads, earning a burst of applause.
Some used every ounce of strength they had, only to get the weight half a foot off the ground before it refused to rise any farther. In the end, they could only lower it in defeat.
Others managed to force it up, but their footing wavered. Before they could hold out for three breaths, their strength failed and the weight crashed down, drawing a wave of regretful sighs.
One slave, not especially tall but built like a stump, steadily lifted the fifty-kilo stone weight in a clean, decisive motion.
After setting it down, he wiped away his sweat and gave a simple, honest grin in Eli’s direction. Eli remembered him. He was one of the hardest workers in the mine.
That cruel and direct first round, like a giant sieve, eliminated more than half the applicants in an instant.
The second round tested judgment and fairness.
Several crude wooden tables had been set up at the center of the grounds.
Eli sat at the main seat, while Brandon, Aika, Bol, Hadi, Old John, Estor, and Ella took places at both sides.
Even Wolfgang had been ordered by Eli to sit in and observe, though he clearly had little interest in it.
“Next, listen carefully!” Eli’s voice carried across the entire field.
“You will each come forward one by one. I will read out several real disputes that may arise within the territory.
“You must explain how you would handle them if you encountered such a matter as a constable.
“Also explain your reasoning. The supervisors seated here will score your answers!”
The atmosphere turned solemn at once.
“First question: Two freefolk have a dispute over the same plot of newly opened land near the water source, one with a better location than the rest. Both insist they spotted it first, neither is willing to yield, and they are on the verge of coming to blows. How would you deal with it?”
The first burly man who stepped forward had clearly not expected this kind of question. He scratched his head for a long time before finally squeezing out, “L-let them fight? Whoever wins gets it?”
Eli remained expressionless.
The second was a young man. After a moment’s thought, he said, “Let them draw lots? Leave it to luck?”
Brandon immediately drew a cross behind his name.
The third was a middle-aged freefolk man. In a steady voice, he said, “First, separate both parties to prevent the conflict from escalating.
“Then... ask questions and verify whether there were any other witnesses. If there is no evidence proving who arrived first, then according to the land distribution principles set by my lord, the steward or the Agricultural Officer should reassign the plot based on family size and available labor...
“The reason... is to preserve order.”
A flicker of surprise passed through Eli’s eyes. Brandon, Ella, and the others all gave him quite high marks.
“Second question: A freefolk resident has lost the new iron hoe the lord recently issued and suspects that a slave living in the same shack stole it. The slave denies it adamantly and is highly agitated. How would you handle it?”
“Third question: During the night, the security patrol unit discovers a slave secretly slipping out of camp in a suspicious manner. Upon investigation, he turns out to have been going to the riverbank to gather herbs for a sick companion. Should he be punished? If so, how?”
...
One realistic and sometimes deliberately tricky question after another was thrown at them, like mirror after mirror reflecting the vastly different temperaments and ways of thinking among the candidates.
Some were crude and violent, advocating harsh punishments and strict laws.
Some tried to smooth everything over, eager to please both sides.
The numbers on the score sheets kept changing, accumulating, and being rearranged into rank.
...
After an entire afternoon of tense and careful evaluation, the final list was at last decided.
The glow of the setting sun dyed the camp in a warm golden red.
On the open ground, fewer than a hundred candidates remained, waiting anxiously for the final verdict.
Holding the final list, Eli stepped onto the raised ground at the center of the field. Ella stood at his side, cradling the roster.
“When your name is called, step out! Stand in front!”
Eli’s voice rang clear and authoritative.
“Kent!”
“Hansen!”
“Milo!”
“A-Tu!”
One name after another was called out with perfect clarity.
The moment a man heard his name, wild joy exploded across his face. He would straighten his back and shout, “Here!”
Then, beneath the gazes of envy and congratulations from the people around him, he strode proudly to the front ranks.
A-Tu, the honest slave who had performed so well at the mine, was among them as well, so excited that his whole face had turned red.
At last, all fifty names had been called. Fifty men, tempered by the test of strength and the trial of judgment, stood in neat ranks before Eli.
“Congratulations to all of you!” Eli’s gaze swept across those fifty faces, some young, some weathered by life.
“From this moment on, you are the first constables of Obsidian Territory! Your duty is to maintain order within the camp, safeguard everyone’s safety, and enforce the rules of the territory!
“Remember the word fairness! If anyone dares abuse his authority and oppress the people of the territory, I will be the first to show him no mercy!”
“Yes, my lord!” Fifty voices merged into a single roaring wave beneath the sunset.
The crowd erupted into thunderous cheers and applause.
From then on, the camp’s daily patrols, sentry duty at the checkpoints, warehouse security, outer-perimeter watch at the mine, and internal order were all placed in their hands.
Though those who had failed were disappointed, when they looked at the companions who had been chosen, most of what filled their eyes was acceptance.
At the edge of the cheering crowd, the little boy Luca, who had once been caught stealing grain, stood on tiptoe, staring enviously at those tall and imposing constables at the front.
He had wanted to sign up as well, but Brandon had turned him away because he was too young.
Luca pouted unwillingly, but after looking down at his own thin little arms, he finally lowered his head, turned, and ran back to his shack, throwing himself into his mother’s arms.
“Mom, I want to grow up quickly.”