Chapter 294: The East Town
Exactly three days after the elite delegation from Crimson set foot here, notices recruiting people to reclaim the vast wasteland in the East were publicly posted on all four city gates of Lyra.
According to the city’s old custom, the City Hall still carefully deducted funds to hire a person with a good voice to stand in the middle of the large square reading the notice’s content loudly and clearly for the poor illiterate citizens to listen together. The notice’s content was also completely without any fuss or complexity.
The notice clearly wrote: Anyone possessing health wanting to participate in land reclamation go straight to the Department of Labor headquarters to register your name. Every single registered household will be distributed a plot of land by the authority. That household will be lent shelter tents and farming tools for free by the City Hall, as for houses the citizens must personally expend effort building themselves, during that process there will be experts accompanying guiding on the spot. The land reclaimed by whoever sweating will later be recorded into the red book by the City Hall, allowing exactly that person to legally hold the title.
Especially, the final concluding sentence of the notice was repeatedly read emphasizing up to three times by the hired reader. Because every time he finished reading, some citizens standing below shouted up, relentlessly forcing him to read it again so they could hear every single word clearly to confirm.
The number of people eagerly flocking to register their names was much more crowded than what the Department of Labor initially calculated. Occupying the majority among them were members belonging to the Lyra Maritime Fleet, exactly the non-human people having suffered slavery fate whom Sane had personally rescued and brought back from across the great sea.
The remaining number was the citizens belonging to the bottom impoverished class in the city. Some people worked as hired porters making a living day by day, some people worked doing precarious daily hired labor, there were even several destitute households previously mercilessly kicked straight out of their shabby rented rooms by the landlords just because they could not scrounge up the rent money.
The Department of Labor personnel proceeded to divide them into small groups for easy management. Every group was regulated to consist of thirty households, proceeding to assign ordinal numbers from one onwards. Every single group would elect a person as the group leader who was a local clearly grasping the terrain, simultaneously being additionally dispatched a Crimson expert accompanying supervising to instruct technical matters.
As for the position of head of this new town, Sane actually made a decision appointing a person whom absolutely no one in the City Hall could have expected.
Hodge was a guy having done the petty clerk profession in this Lyra city munching for nearly twenty years. Remembering the prosperous years previously, he was always proudly perched sitting at the desk exclusively issuing business trading licenses. That was exactly the powerful desk famously taking the most under-the-table bribes in this entire city.
Since Holy Son Kaelen began the work of completely reforming the Lyra city apparatus, old man Hodge had been transferred demoted down to the City Hall only to be a runner copying trivial papers. However, since the day of being demoted until now, his character and personality had suddenly changed, working diligently to an unusual extent.
Every morning he was always the person carrying his briefcase arriving earliest at the agency, at night he was also the person diligently leaving latest. Copying one word on the document he also did not dare to let the stroke be wrong, whenever he accidentally saw the figure of a Department of Public Security staff member patrolling past the window his face would automatically turn pale as a slaughtered chicken.
The moment Hodge received the order being called up to the small meeting room, his two exhausted legs trembled so violently to the point he had to tightly grip holding onto the wall to be able to drag himself up all the stairs.
Sane sat cross-legged majestically behind the desk, before him casually placing a notebook. He completely did not open his mouth inviting the old man to sit down, only coldly opening the notebook reading with a monotonous voice without the slightest fluctuation:
"Nine years ago, approving granting a license opening a fabric shop for the Morrow family, secretly receiving a bribe of ten silver coins. Eight years ago, approving granting a timber trading license for friend Tanner, receiving a bribe of a good horse. Also in that year, approving granting a license opening an inn in the West gate area, receiving..."
He stopped reading for a beat, flipping his finger to the next page: "This part the intelligence recorded not very clearly, only recording that people gave a small wooden box. You tell me, what was contained inside that box?"
Hodge hearing this his two knees went soft dropping to kneel down onto the floor, cold sweat pouring out soaking the back of his shirt like bathing: "Yes... Lord wise Lord, inside that was a pair of earrings crafted from pure silver..."
Sane nodded acting as if understanding, his hand flipping to the next notebook page again. He calmly read more than ten other successfully received bribery items. Every item he read out recorded extremely clearly the year and month, clearly the name of the giver, clearly the item received. Hodge groveling on the cold ground heard him reading to wherever his face was cut losing a drop of white blood up to there. By the time Sane read to the final item this old man was already about to faint on the spot.
Finishing reading all the crimes, Sane slammed the notebook shut, casually dropping a sentence: "Starting from tomorrow, you immediately pack your luggage going to work the position of town head in the East wasteland area."
Hodge was trembling when he snapped his head up, his mouth gaping open due to astonishment, a very long time still unable to close his lower jaw.
"Lord... Lord..." He stammeringly asked again to be sure: "You... you do not intend to order hanging this old life of mine?"
"If I hang your corpse up then who will drag their face going to work that town head position replacing me?"
Right at the moment the sentence ended, the meeting room door was pushed forcefully open by someone. Brian heavily carried a thick accounting ledger stepping inside, behind his ear also casually tucking a fountain pen, his face baby-faced and young but showing a serious expression exactly like a true little old man.
"Lord Divine Envoy, the Accounting division has a matter requesting to meet the newly inaugurated town head."
Sane silently jerked his chin toward old man Hodge still maintaining the groveling posture on the ground.
Brian used his sharp cold eyes sweeping looking across Hodge once from the top of his head down to his heels, then the boy opened the ledger, pulling the pen tucked on his ear down, beginning to declare with an extremely polite tone but carrying killing intent:
"I greet Mr. Hodge. Informing you to know, starting from tomorrow onward, every single copper coin of the budget exported spending for the East town is strictly required to pass through the hands of the Accounting division for censorship. You purchasing anything must present an invoice receipt, paying labor wages to anyone the money receiver is strictly required to roll their fingerprint marking. At the end of every work week, I personally will go down to the spot verifying every single ledger number. If I discover a deficit missing even just one coin..."
The boy paused, raising his face staring straight into Hodge’s panicked eyes: "Then I will personally lead soldiers straight to your house door to hold you accountable."
Hodge, a worldly man already past fifty years old, at this moment only knew to look at the wet-behind-the-ears boy only as tall as his waist, trembling nodding repeatedly yes yes.
After old man Hodge and kid Brian sequentially stepped outside the door, Kaelen finally leisurely stepped over from the room next door. Just now he had stood stealthily on the other side of the wall hearing the entire play from beginning to end, now just smiling asking:
"Such a heavily corrupt sinner, why did you choose exactly him to assign work?"
"It must be a person having dipped their hands embezzling public funds to be able to sniff out knowing clearly which loophole is easiest to embezzle the most. As for whether he after inaugurating has the guts daring to embezzle anymore or not, just leave it to kid Brian standing behind knocking his head taking care of it." Sane calmly answered back.
Kaelen pondered for a moment, ultimately could not hold back bursting into giggles: "You actually let a wet-behind-the-ears child act as the villain threatening other people replacing you?"
Sane shrugged showing an innocent expression, completely having no intention of answering this question.
The day the delegation officially moved out to the East empty land starting their enterprise, the clanking ox carts fully loaded with people and daily living belongings trailed each other forming lines, stretching endlessly from the East gate all the way out to the wild fields.
Newly appointed town head Hodge was the person present arriving earlier than everyone else. He climbed up standing on an empty wooden barrel placed right at the head of the land plot, his hand trembling holding the list dividing the groups, shouting reading the names to the point of becoming hoarse. Finishing reading the endlessly long list, he even loudly cleared his throat declaring an additional rule that absolutely no one in the leadership board requested, that from now onward, the individual town head would absolutely never receive any gifts from anyone at all.
He had just finished his eloquent declaration when a timid man in the ranks of the newcomers, perhaps because standing far away not hearing his words clearly, politely stepped forward to the front shoving into his hands an old pair of leather shoes, stammeringly calling it a bit of humble sincere heart wanting to send gifting to the town head.
Hodge being shoved the gift jumped in shock like a leech meeting lime, hurriedly throwing the shoes returning them to the sufferer as if he had just accidentally held a glowing burning coal: "Unacceptable! You take this burden back immediately! Take it back immediately for me!"
Finishing throwing the item back, he even panickedly rolled his eyes looking around the scene once, his facial expression furtive as if afraid within that chaotic crowd there was a boy bearing the accountant title tucking a pen behind his ear standing silently supervising.
The surrounding crowd witnessing that scene did not understand the head or tail of the story, only assessing this new town head’s temperament although somewhat hot-tempered and grumpy but definitely his heart was an honest and upright person, so they whispered nodding praising each other.
Wick was an impoverished Beastman belonging to the Badger clan, previously having to endure being a slave mining exhaustingly in the coastal area for exactly fourteen whole years. His entire family comprising four mouths to feed were all lucky to follow the Maritime Fleet escaping returning taking refuge in Lyra. Wick’s family was classified by the authority into the list of group seventeen.
The group leader directly managing group seventeen was Mr. Dunn, a local man living in the city, previously having worked the heavy porter profession at the river port, possessing a shouting voice as loud as thunder. While the expert person from Crimson accompanying group seventeen was a Beastman belonging to the White Elephant clan named Bram. This guy had a massive muscular physique no less competitive than Bertram, and especially possessed a bulging belly also completely round exactly the same.
The first time seeing Bram’s massive body, Wick’s two small children fearfully hid completely behind their ragged mother’s back. Bram seeing that also did not mind holding a grudge at all, he slowly squatted down, blooming a squinting smile holding out two paper-folded cranes handing them to the children. By that coaxing trick, not even half a morning passing, the two kids had boldly climbed up sitting cross-legged on his shoulders laughing and joking.
The allocated land plot in the East had a flat terrain, but weeds grew densely taller than the knees. In the North of the land plot there was a crystal clear small water creek flowing cutting across, both banks of the creek were entirely thick yellow clay.
Every single registered household was distributed by the organizing committee a shelter tent, a hoe, a shovel, a machete to clear grass and a bucket to carry water. The land patch belonging to each household had been surveyed planting stakes dividing ready by the Department of Labor personnel, every single stake being carefully tied with a piece of cloth clearly writing the ordinal number.
Right in the first afternoon of working, Bram whistled calling the entire group seventeen out gathering by the creek bank to start teaching how to make raw bricks building houses.
He bent his body picking up a handful of wet clay, meticulously rolling it in his large palm into a long string like an earthworm, then brought it wrapping rounding his finger. The clay string finishing wrapping had good plasticity not cracking at all, also not breaking snapping. Bram nodded expressing extremely satisfied:
"The soil quality here is very good. Everyone remember clearly, if trying wrapping it on your hand and it cracks splitting open it proves the soil lacks adhesion, must mix adding sand in. But if it is too mushy, sticking tightly all over your hands unable to take off then must find dry soil mixing adding in to the right degree."
The dug-up clay would be brought pouring gathering into a self-dug shallow pit, spread mixing together with dry grass having been chopped cutting finely to about the size of a finger joint, then pouring adding water in kneading. Bram pioneered taking off his shoes, rolling his pant legs high, wading steadily down into the pit beginning using his feet stomping the soil.
The people in group seventeen stood on the bank looking at each other bewilderedly for a moment, then also sequentially took off their footwear wading rushing down into the pit following. The children were exactly the most enthusiastic eager component, wading into the pit they competed with each other stomping splashingly, mud and dirt splashing flying all the way up to their faces.
Everyone exhaustingly stomped until the dry grass was mashed with the clay blending evenly tightly together, not leaving any lumpy dirt clods remaining, Bram finally signaled for everyone to go up the bank. He placed a four-compartment wooden mold neatly down onto the flat ground, used the shovel scooping mud pouring filling up every single compartment, used his two hands compressing it really tightly down, then used a dripping wet wooden plank scraping smoothing completely the top surface part.
After that, he lifted the wooden mold up really straight-handedly. Four square formed raw bricks lay silently remaining on the ground.
"Everyone just leave it like this drying in the shade for three days for the bricks to dry their surface, after that only then can be brought exposing out into the harsh sun." Bram caringly instructed: "Every two days must endure the hardship turning the face once to dry evenly. Exposing to dew exposing to sun fully half a month the bricks will harden and can be used to build."
Wick stood rigidly looking at the four square bricks under his feet, mumbling asking: "Building a house to live using this molded dirt thing can it be sturdy withstanding storms and winds?"
"Sturdy as a great mountain." Bram patted thumping his fat belly: "Making the foundation everyone go getting large rocks returning stacking, building the foundation higher than the ground surface about a hand span so rainwater has no path seeping backward up the wall. Building a dirt wall must build thick about one footstep. The top roof part go out roofing using the sedge grass growing wild outside that creek bank over there. A house built this style in winter is warm, in summer is cool, living durably several decades also cannot possibly collapse."
Wick hearing finishing did not open his mouth asking cross-examining further, he grasped the empty wooden mold then personally poured mud creating the first brick of his life. He operated doing fast and proficiently to the point expert Bram also had to widen his eyes looking. Because he did not know that, for exactly fourteen whole years being imprisoned digging under the mine, the thing Wick’s two hands were most familiar with in this world was exactly dirt.
Ending the enthusiastic labor afternoon that day, group seventeen alone had poured over five hundred raw bricks, stacked into neat long rows on the grass having just been cleared cleanly. Group leader Dunn with his two hands clasped behind his back, proudly walked along the brick rows counting back and forth, his voice ringing like thunder booming echoing across the entire plot, sounding as if he was showing off his family’s wealth.
The first night resting their backs at the East land plot, almost no one in the camp area could sleep.
Wick’s family lay crowded in the newly pitched tent. The two small children because of playing mischievously too tired during the day had snuggled into each other sleeping soundly early, soft snoring sounds echoing.
Wick lay flat on his back, his two hands rigidly pillowed behind his head, his eyes staring wide open intently up at the pitch-black tent roof. Lying beside him, his emaciated wife was also tossing and turning not yet sleeping, keeping continuously rolling her body rustling on the dry grass pile.
A really long time later, she finally softly reached out her hand shaking her husband’s arm: "Honey, you haven’t slept yet?"
"What’s the matter wife?"
"This land patch we are lying on... later the authority people truly record our names?"
"The day hearing reading the notice, people said so."
Wick’s wife lay silently thinking for a moment, then timidly continued asking: "Then when doing the paperwork do they record your name or record my name?"
Wick was stunned. This question he truly had never slightly thought about, and if he did think about it he also did not know how to answer his wife correctly. Exactly fourteen past years, both his given name and his wife’s name were only faint letters recorded in the slave ledger of the mine owner, recorded crowded right below the list enumerating several pulling mules.
He raised his voice mumbling in his throat: "I also do not know."
Outside the tent, sparsely still echoed the sound of people gathering talking murmuring in the night.
Some people carefully shone lamps going out all the way to the creek bank to check looking again at the raw brick rows newly poured in the afternoon, anxious afraid the night dew falling would ruin the first batch of bricks.
Some people just sat blankly right in front of the tent door, doing nothing at all, only sitting staring intently at the wooden stake having tied the cloth piece writing the ordinal number of their family’s land lot.
The flickering lanterns being hung before the tent doors were sparkling spreading across the vast land plot, creating a scene looking like a giant firefly flock resting peacefully on the night grass surface.