Seiko left Tyla at the riverbank, tasked with measuring the speed of the water by throwing sticks and counting. It was an imprecise science, but it was a start. He turned and walked back toward the hell of dust and sweat that the camp had become.
The sound of pickaxes striking stone grew louder, but it was punctuated by Kael's grunts and the prisoners' moans of effort.
When Seiko reached the main path, the scene was brutal. Kael stood on a rock, his iron spear gleaming in the sun, watching the men work. The trench they were digging for the wall's foundation was already almost 3 feet (1 meter) deep, but progress was slow and erratic. The prisoners worked with the desperate energy of fear, but without efficiency.
He saw the Legion sergeant, the same one Acies had intimidated, stumble under the weight of a rock. Kael was on him in an instant.
"Lift it!" roared Kael.
"It's... too heavy," gasped the man.
"Oran would have lifted two of those." Kael raised his spear.
"Leave him," said Seiko, his voice calm but cutting.
Kael spun around, his face twisted with anger. "Seiko. They are slacking."
"They are exhausted," said Seiko. He approached the fallen prisoner. The man flinched, expecting a blow. Seiko simply looked at the rock. Then he looked at the man. 'Malnutrition,' his mind diagnosed. 'Extreme muscle fatigue. Inefficient.'
"Kael, come here," said Seiko, walking a few steps away. Acies glided to interpose himself between Seiko and the prisoners, a silent warning.
"What?" snapped Kael.
"You are wasting fuel," said Seiko.
Kael looked at him in confusion. "Fuel? We are digging, not burning."
"They are the fuel," said Seiko, pointing to the prisoners. "They are the energy for our wall. And right now, you are burning wet wood. It doesn't work."
"They are our enemies."
"They are our assets," Seiko corrected him. "Kael, look at me. You have twenty men digging. Four of my warriors are watching them. That is a net loss. I need those warriors resting, training, or working in the forge. Not babysitting."
"And what is your solution, Seiko? Let them go?"
"No. Feed them."
Kael blinked, as if Seiko had slapped him. "What?"
"I said, feed them. Iris," called Seiko. The Wise Woman approached, having been watching from a distance, tending to one of Kael's warriors who had twisted an ankle.
"Iris, how much food do we have left?" asked Seiko.
"Enough for our people for two weeks. Three if we ration strictly," she said. "For everyone... including the prisoners... maybe five days."
"Good. From now on, the prisoners eat the same as us. Full rations. Three times a day."
"No!" shouted Kael, stepping forward. "Seiko, my people didn't... Oran didn't... didn't die so we could feast his killers!"
"Oran died defending this camp," said Seiko, his voice as cold as iron. "And this camp needs a wall. Do you want to honor (honour) Oran? Then build the wall faster. A hungry man moves ten rocks a day. A fed man moves thirty. We have twenty men. That is two hundred rocks a day, or six hundred. It is math, Kael. It isn't compassion, it is efficiency."
Seiko turned to Iris. "Make sure they eat. Now."
Iris stared at him, a complex emotion in her eyes. She saw the brutal logic, but she also saw the wisdom. She nodded and went to organize the kitchens.
Kael was livid, but he swallowed his rage. The logic was undeniable.
Seiko then addressed the prisoners, who had stopped working to watch the exchange, nervous.
"My name is Seiko," he said, his voice echoing in the silence. "You served 'Truth'. Your truth gave you bronze and poison. I offer you something different. A job."
He walked among them. "You are going to build this wall. You will build it for us. And in exchange, you will eat. Not scraps. Real food. As much as my own workers."
The men exchanged looks of astonishment.
"But," continued Seiko, "Your debt is great. You killed our people. You will work from dawn until dusk. Without rest, except to eat. Kael here," he gestured to the warrior, "Will make sure of that. Understood?"
There was a murmur of assent. The promise of food was a stronger motivator than the fear of Kael's spear.
"Good," said Seiko. "Now. Who among you knows carpentry? Not huts. Precise things. Wheels? Vehicles? Furniture?"
The soldiers looked at each other. Finally, three men raised their hands hesitantly. One was the sergeant Kael had almost struck.
"You, you, and you," said Seiko, pointing at them. "Drop your picks. You're coming with me."
The camp fell silent. Kael stepped forward, confused and angry again. "They are going to work on the wall!"
"No," said Seiko. "They are going to work on something more important. Kael, you have your orders. Feed the fuel. Build the wall."
Seiko turned. "You three. Follow me. And don't try anything." Acies walked behind them, his blades hissing softly as he moved, a steel shepherd for his new flock.
The three prisoners followed Seiko, leaving their seventeen comrades in the dust pit under Kael's furious gaze. The division had just begun.
Seiko led them to the river, where Tyla was still throwing sticks into the water, drawing symbols on her slate.
"Tyla, we have our team," said Seiko.
Tyla stood up, wiping charcoal from her hands. She looked at the three Legion soldiers with open distrust. They were large men, hardened by battle, and now they were here, in her quiet clearing, next to her precious tools and the Klinklang cores.
"Seiko, what...?"
"They are carpenters," said Seiko. He turned to the men. The sergeant was the obvious leader. "Name?"
"Garrick, sir," said the man, his voice rough.
"Garrick. You and your men served a Hero who forbade you iron and gave you engines you didn't understand. I am an engineer. I understand both. And you are going to help me build something your Legion has never dreamed of."
Seiko pointed to his drawing in the mud: the water wheel and the generator.
"You are going to build this," said Seiko. "With wood. And it has to be perfect."
Garrick looked at the drawing. As a carpenter, he understood the shape of the water wheel immediately. But his eyes fixed on the part connecting to the Klinklang cores.
"That is... that is sacrilege," whispered one of the other prisoners. "You are... you are taking apart the Hero's Gift."
"I am improving it," said Seiko. "Your Hero used this power to spin a small war machine. I will use it to light up the night."
He crouched and picked up a piece of wood. "But to do it, I need a wheel that doesn't wobble. I need gears that don't jam. I need precision."
He looked at Garrick. "Prove to me that you are more than a bronze soldier. Prove to me that you are a true builder. Help me build this, and your work will be here, with me. Not in that dust pit with Kael."
Garrick looked toward the camp, where he could hear the faint sound of pickaxes. Then he looked at the complexity of Seiko's drawing. There was fear in his eyes, but also something else: the craftsman's pride.
"What... what do you need first?" asked Garrick.
Seiko smiled. It was the first genuine smile in days.
"First," he said, "We will teach you to measure. Tyla, bring the iron rods. It is time to teach our new friends about the centimeter."
[A/N: I took a few days off for some rest and vacation, so sorry for not updating. I'll be posting more chapters right now. Since I've been away for several days, I'll be uploading 11 chapters in a row this time. But on Patreon, I'll keep the usual 10 chapter advance, just like I originally planned. You're all welcome to check it out. I hope you have a wonderful day, afternoon, or night. patreon.com/Nemryz]