Chapter 545: A New Residence
A New Residence
The Tyrians prove excellent hunters, as could be expected, and the cohort feasted on fresh meat. Along with their victory, this created a merry mood in the small camp. A small stream had been discovered a short distance to the east, and once water had been brought back, Martel heated up a few barrels to provide a primitive, but hot bath for the legionaries. With the sun shining on the second day after the battle, Martel almost enjoyed the place especially after the charred remains of the dead had been buried, removing the ugly sight. And circumstances improved even further in the afternoon when a train of carts rolled into the clearing.
"Henry!" Martel called out, approaching the stonemage at the head of the column. "Welcome!"
"Thanks. What's that smell?"
"Oh, we burned the dead. They're buried now, so it shouldn't last long." Martel glanced at the wagons, trying to guess what they contained. Probably supplies, seeing sacks, crates, and barrels in most of them, but many also carried a load of hewn stones.
"Right. What do you think of my work?" Henry turned around and motioned towards the forest, from where they had emerged. "Nice little road from here and back to camp. Just dirt, mind you, but at least the carts can come through."
"I'm more interested in what you brought on those carts." While the fresh meat from the hunt had provided a delightful meal, it could not feed five hundred soldiers for long, and the Tyrians were bound to run out of game nearby.
"No appreciation for good earth magic, I see. Well, it's just the regular supplies that you'd expect. Food, tents, that sort. And some of all the stones I've been preparing lately. You lads are getting a real wall!"
"That actually does sound good," Martel admitted. He would rest more easily surrounded by stone.
"I also brought some of this." Henry unslung the wineskin from his shoulder and handed it over.
"Ah, thanks." Martel took a deep sip, enjoying the flavour after drinking nothing but water for days. He gave it back. "How long are you here for?"
"As long as it takes, really. First, we got to get the ground set up properly. Then build the actual wall. There are more loads of stone waiting back in Esmouth. Also a gate. It'll take some fivedays at least. No, over there," Henry added with a shout at the cart drivers. "Just leave the stones to me and unload the rest!"
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Building the outpost required more than just stacking stones on top of each other, as Martel soon discovered. Under Henry's guidance, the soldiers dug a circular ditch, using the removed dirt to create earthen walls, on which the stonework would be placed. While the legionaries provided the rough effort, Henry used magic to shape everything to his liking, strengthening the foundation.
"This is what's called a ring fortress, my friend," the stonemage explained as the earthen ramparts took form around them. "You get the most space inside with the least amount of wall needed to defend."
"What are you doing now?" Martel asked, as Henry created a small tunnel to run along the ground and underneath the wall.
"Drainage. When it rains, this camp will become a bowl, turning all of you inside into soup," he grinned. "You'll want the water to go outside."
Watching Henry work, Martel felt a familiar sense of envy, watching another mage use their skills to create and build. Granted, he was building military fortifications, and thus the overall purpose was basically the same as how Martel was put to use, all in service of war.
But it was easy to imagine how else Henry might use his gifts. In a few years, he would have completed his twenty years of service. He might build houses, or if artistically inclined, create sculptures.
Martel gave himself a mental slap. Such thoughts were old and too familiar. Self-pity about his fate would not help him. He had worked hard both to learn alchemy and enchanting, giving him different skills than those meant for battle. If he wanted to feel useful, he knew what to do.
"I see you are hard at work one of you, at least." Eleanor appeared by their side.
"I don't see you sweating and toiling," Martel retorted.
"I was overseeing work," she said in retaliation. "All the wood from the palisade needed to be sorted. Plenty of things we can use it for, like building a shed for supplies or other storage we might need, and so on."
"Sounds like a daunting task for a frail mageknight, wouldn't you say, Henry?" Martel looked around only to discover that the stonemage had moved along, continuing his work elsewhere.
"Your cry for support goes unanswered."
"Well, something else then. Our little supply train from the main camp brought tents." Martel had been unable to scavenge any the other day, and they had spent another night sleeping in the open. "I picked one for us, but we have to share, given how few there are. And it's just a piece of canvas, really, hanging on some sticks. I put up my cloak to divide the tent in half. You can choose which half you prefer."
"I cannot imagine there is much difference. All right, that will have to do. Thank you for making the arrangement."
"You may want to check the rigging. Some of the soldiers helped me put it up, and I wouldn't put it past them to make a shoddy work of it, just for a laugh."
"I shall be sure to examine the sturdiness of the structure," Eleanor promised with a serious face.
"Great. Meanwhile, I suppose I'll find myself some pebbles to enchant." He could ask Henry to make him some suitable rocks that would hold the enchantment well, but he figured the stonemage had plenty to do at present. "The lightstones will make it easier to work after nightfall." And the sooner the fortifications were complete, the better. Martel knew little of war and strategy, but he assumed the Khivans would not let this go unanswered.
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