Marrick read the tool column after the midnight bell while Hajin kept Corin's furnace drawing beside the census.
Ninety-four miners filled the pick crews' tally, and every damaged tool sat listed beside the name of its last owner. Across the table, Juna glared at the guttering candle while Vella unrolled a fresh dressing well clear of the ink.
"Haulers next, my lord," Marrick said, flipping the page with a wince, "thirty-eight timber haulers, the masonry crews still working under Tetsu, and not one builder trained to prepare the chamber that core needs."
"Armorers?"
"None, my lord," he answered, turning the guild entries toward the empty specialty column, "our smiths patch ordinary tools, and nobody here can shape Apex crystal without losing a face to it."
Hajin slapped the twisted-tongs drawing over that empty column, "So the gold bought us a big shiny sphere, and our hands still can't turn it into one damn useful tool."
