Draffen had drafted the plans for the quantities Ezra had asked for. He went to Corvin for the exact conversions, and Corvin sanctioned a purchase equivalent to the amount set aside. Then it was debited to the account.
Ezra had surveyed the suggested places where the blast furnace should be. Draffen gave him three places that were recommended.
The first was in the smithing district in the outer ring, close to the river and the coal traffic, with room for a yard and carts. The second was further downriver, nearer the wharves and the riverside tenements, where water and barges were close, but the streets were tighter and there were too many eyes. The third was out by the quarry road, where there was open space and fewer neighbors to complain, but everything would have to be hauled in by cart.
Ezra chose the outer ring site by the smithing district, since it was the best fit logistically speaking. A lot of stone and ore was delivered by a line of laborers. There were many hired hands. All of them were vetted, but Aerwyna still had Ashen help with security. The Keeper of the Peace had stationed a few armed men with spears, and four other Knights aside from Dynham and Galwell.
The block had been cleared and cordoned off. Rope lines were tied to posts. A few of the nearby smiths watched from their doors until they were told to move along.
Ezra walked the yard once before anyone put a spade in the ground. He had gotten up before daybreak along with his retinue.
A clerk from the Master of Works office stood off to the side with a wax case and a ledger.
Meanwhile, Galwell kept staring at the sky.
"What is it?" Ezra asked Galwell.
"Hawk won't land. Keeps making loops."
"What do you mean?"
"It should've landed in the Avarium already." Galwell squinted, mana sliding into his eyes, and kept following the circling shape.
After a while, the hawk flew away, seeming lost. Galwell just shrugged when he saw it.
Ezra then faced the two men who were leading the group.
Dynham gave Arran and Halvork the complete plans for the blast furnace. It was common for master smiths to be literate. Ezra was impressed that one out of five commoners were literate, at least in Bren.
Arran, Halvork, a foreman, a master mason, and a master surveyor—Albrecht von der Schnurbund—were present at the initial meeting.
Arran's mouth was set in its usual frown. Halvork hovered near the stacks of bricks, inspecting the final batch that had been approved. Halvork seemed pretty impressed by Ezra already, although he didn't want to show it.
Ezra ran AMP. He already had the golden grid overlay in his mind rearrange into the dimensions of the supposed dig. Upon inspecting the demarcations, Ezra was pleasantly surprised that the deviations were negligible.
Albrecht approached Ezra and greeted him while he was inspecting the lines. "Lord Ezra, are the measurements to your liking?"
Ezra looked up to see a smiling man. He was lean, sun-browned, and dressed in practical greys, with a clean collar that marked him as someone with an office rather than someone who toiled under the sun. His hair was cut short, but it was not thinning. A plumb bob and a measuring rod rode his belt, and he wore a calm, mild expression.
"These are excellent, Master Surveyor," Ezra replied. Master surveyors were a unique job. They were the technical authority for layout, levels, and boundaries. If Ezra were to give an Earth counterpart, it would be the Roman equivalent of the Agrimensor. They were very learned, and had impressive mathematical skills for their level at the time. It was hard placing an equivalent to a more modern setting, because the Master Surveyor had different responsibilities that overlapped. He was the lead engineer and project manager in certain aspects. He had the final say on where something went.
Albrecht nodded and smiled lightly. "I am very much acquainted with Maester Draffen, milord." He paused. "He has been singing your praises."
Ezra gave him a quizzical look.
Albrecht cleared his throat. "Well, figuratively speaking. Draffen mentions your lordship. He also mentioned the standardized measures. I agree with the standards."
Ezra wanted to say something, but refrained. He didn't think that Draffen would actually take into consideration his proposition.
"When did Maester discuss this with you?" Ezra finally said.
"It was a few days before my lord's name day."
Ezra really thought that Draffen had put the proposition on the back burner. He never thought that Draffen would take it seriously.
"In fact, all of the people in this project are the people that Maester Draffen talked to about the standard units. Master Smith Arran, lead kiln-maker Halvork. This very project is a testament to the standardization of the units. This is something that needs different backgrounds, but for us to be able to understand each other better, we opted to use your proposed units. The meter, and centimeter, and millimeter."
Ezra nodded. So Draffen actually took Ezra's ask seriously. When Ezra talked about people who were more open to change, Draffen actually gave them.
Now that Ezra thought about it, he saw some people bringing sticks with demarcations on them.
"So those are meter sticks, Master Surveyor?"
"They are, Lord Ezra." Albrecht bowed. "In fact, because the plans that came from Maester Draffen were in the units you prescribed, myself, Arran, and Halvork could easily communicate and go about how we would lay out the undertaking."
Albrecht paused. "Now then, I think all our hired hands are here. Let's get to work."
He clapped his hands once, bowed to Ezra, and then drew the men in.
"Meter sticks," he said, and the apprentices set the marked lengths down. "We will use the standard. Do not count your steps. We have provided these rods for your reference. Each small etch is a millimeter. Every ten is marked with a longer line, with the number above it. When the plan gives a measure, do not deviate and do not judge by eye. Measure from a single face and keep your reference. If you reverse the rod, your error follows you."
He walked to the first stake and planted a small frame in the dirt. It was a simple thing—upright wood with a crosspiece and hanging plumbs. Albrecht steadied it until the lines went still.
"Hold the string," he said.
A laborer pulled the cord tight.
Albrecht sighted along the plumbs, then nodded. "Straight. Now give me the right angle."
He rotated the frame a fraction. The plumb lines aligned with the second cord. The apprentices drove the next stake where he pointed.
They worked like that, stake to stake, until the footprint lay in string and lime. The foreman watched the cords as if they were a net that could catch him.
Ezra stood off to the side and ran AMP.
The golden grid in his mind settled over the yard and snapped to the rectangle.
One corner was a little bit off, but not by much.
Ezra stepped forward and pointed with his stick. "That one is off."
Albrecht looked up. "Off."
"By a finger, a centimeter or so," Ezra said. "Just push it in. Toward the river."
The mason frowned, but the foreman shifted the stake half a hand.
Albrecht made a contemplative look. Rather than argue, he turned back to his frame, grabbed his own stick, and checked again.
He paused.
Then he checked the diagonal cord, drew it taut, and measured.
A slow smile touched his mouth.
"You are correct," Albrecht said, and his eyes lingered on Ezra a moment longer than they needed to. "And you did not touch a tool."
Ezra said nothing. He only looked back at the lines.
Albrecht cleared his throat and raised his voice to the men again. "Good. Now we should dig and follow this line, no more no less. The foundation is the most important part. If we fail here, we fail the structure."
He walked the rectangle once, slow, and checked the strings with two fingers as he went, making sure they were tight and not sagging. The apprentices followed him with lime and refreshed the line where boots had scuffed it.
"Spades," the foreman called. "Pick-men on the corners. You, you, you—barrows. Keep the spoil to the east. Leave the west clear for carts."
The yard shifted into motion.
The first cuts were easy, sod and packed dirt. Then the soil turned dark and heavy. The sound of picks rang in an uneven fashion. Men worked in a line and passed the dirt back to wooden barrows, while others ran it out to the spoil heap, where it was dumped and leveled.
Albrecht stayed at the edge, watching the trench as it formed. When a man drifted too close to the string, he clicked his tongue and pointed him back. His apprentices made sure to scan the lines to prevent people from wedging it out of position.
"Do not widen it," he said. "Dig to the line. Straight down. If you undercut, you will have a wall that sits on air."
The mason stepped down and began trimming the sides, shaving loose dirt and tossing it up. He didn't like being told twice.
Ezra stood off to the side and watched. Letting Albrecht run everything
The clerk from the Master of Works office stayed near the rope line and recorded what came in and what went out. He counted each sack of gravel, and each sack of lime was marked. When a cart of gravel arrived, the clerk wrote the carter's name and the time, then had him swear to the load before the wax case.
This was so that Corvin and Draffen could reconcile their books.
By mid morning, the rectangle was there in the earth. The sides were straight, and the corners had matched the line.
Albrecht stepped down once. His boots sank a little into the damp soil. Then he took his rod and checked depth at three points.
He nodded to himself and climbed out without speaking.
Ezra activated AMP just to double check if the surveyor missed anything. Aside from the thing he caught much earlier, everything was in order. Ezra even doubted that Albrecht would have left the discrepancy unattended. He was in the middle of double checking everything when he caught the thing with AMP earlier.
Ezra observed the men working.
"Rubble," the foreman shouted.
Men brought broken stone and gravel in baskets and tipped it into the trench. They spread it with rakes, then tamped it down with heavy wooden blocks that had handles worn smooth. There was a rhythmic tamping that echoed, shaking the dirt off the trench walls and slowly making the ground even.
The tamping was rhythmic, dull thuds that shook dirt off the trench walls.
A few of the nearby smiths watched from their doors. They saw the strings, the rods, and the lime lines. It was taking longer than what they expected.
Arran watched too. He wasn't required to be here, but the prospect of a new type of furnace excited him more than it should have.
He didn't comment. He only stood with his arms folded and his frown fixed.
Halvork hovered near the brick stacks, checking corners with his thumb and looking at the trench like he was trying to imagine heat inside it. He was looking at his notes and measures based on Ezra's plans.
Ezra walked to the edge and looked down, just checking if anything was off. One could never be too sure.
"You will keep the bed even," Albrecht said to the foreman.
The foreman nodded quickly. "Yes, Master Surveyor."
"And keep it tight," he added. "No soft spots."
"Aye."
The forms went up after that.
Carpenters hammered planks into a low box that fit the trench. Stakes were driven outside it and angled braces were nailed in to keep it from moving. The carpenter foreman argued with the mason about where a brace should sit, then stopped arguing when Albrecht pointed and said, "There."
When the form was set, the masons did their work.
Lime and aggregate were dumped into a trough and mixed with shovels until the color was even. Water was added slowly. Men stirred it with paddles until it thickened and dragged.
It was common practice to use Imperial concrete and the workers here were familiar with the material.
The base had to be flat, and it had to stay flat. It had to take the weight of a stack that would never cool.
"Bring it in," Albrecht said.
They filled buckets and passed them down into the trench. The mix went in as a rough layer first. Then it was tamped down until it settled. More went in. More tamping. The surface went from loose grit to a tight, wet sheen.
By late afternoon, the first lift was in and struck flat with a board.
The mason straightened and wiped his face with his sleeve. "That's enough for today."
Albrecht looked at the surface and then at the sky. The sun was low, but there was still light.
"One more wheelbarrow," he said. "Then we strike again."
The mason's mouth tightened, but he signaled the men. Another batch came. Another thin layer. Another strike.
When it was done, Albrecht stepped back and nodded once, satisfied.
Ezra then inspected the site once and walked around. While other people seemed bothered by his presence, and that he could correct the master surveyor, Ezra didn't speak much because he didn't need to. The master mason, surveyor, and foreman were extremely competent. There were a little bit of stumbles on the way as they were still trying to wrap their mental model around the standard meter, but once they got it, they easily coordinated with one another.
The groundbreaking was successful, and with the team that Draffen had assembled, he could rest at ease leaving the rest of the work to the team. He would come to check again on a weekly basis. For now, he would focus on the other important things.