The land wore a new color. Where there had been cracked, thirsty earth, a mantle of vibrant green now shimmered under the sun. The barley and emmer wheat, sown with Enki's principles of companion planting, stood thick and strong. The village was no longer a desperate settlement clinging to a river's whim; it was the heart of a thriving, self-sustaining oasis.
Enki walked the fields with Lulal, his eyes missing no detail. He noted how the water from the main canal flowed into the smaller channels, where it slowed and pooled perfectly at the base of each plant.
"It works," Lulal said, his voice brimming with a pride that was no longer just for Enki, but for the land itself.
"For now," Enki replied, his gaze shifting from the fields to the bustling activity around the foundation stone. "But abundance brings new problems. Wealth attracts more than just friendly traders. And grain, once harvested, must be protected from damp, from vermin, and from envy."
He led Lulal to the foundation stone. "The granary cannot be a simple hut. It must be a fortress for our food. Dry, raised, and strong."
Under Enki's direction, the Hands began the granary's bones. They dug deep post-holes, setting great timbers traded from the north. They wove a raised floor of reeds and plaster, high above the damp earth. The walls they built of thick, straw-tempered mud brick, with narrow ventilation slits high up, designed to let the air breathe but keep the rain out.
"It is like building a palace for seeds," one of the Hands remarked, wiping sweat from his brow.
Enki nodded. "It is. For without these seeds, there is no future. This is the first wall of Ur. Not to keep people out, but to keep our future safe inside."