By the afternoon of the 33rd day, the town was alive with activity. I walked along the central terrace, flanked by Zevra, who held her tablet tightly. "The numbers are steady, my lord," she said, her brow furrowed as she scanned the figures. "In the mines, we have about 260 miners in the iron and copper shafts, 150 in coal, and 120 in stone quarries. Another 90 gather lime and clay for bricks."
I raised an eyebrow. "Have we lost anyone to fatigue or injury?" I asked.
"Only a few minor injuries, my lord. Nothing serious. The healers are managing well," she replied, a hint of pride in her voice.
We passed a group of builders carrying beams. One young man tripped slightly and caught himself, glaring embarrassedly at his companions. "Keep your hands steady, Joren," I called out. His cheeks flushed, but he nodded, determined.
"The forests hold 80 woodcutters and 40 carpenters, with 25 charcoal-burners near the east kilns. In the fields, 260 workers sow hybrid seeds, while 40 herders and 60 haulers manage the livestock and carts," Zevra continued. She paused to watch a small boy stumble under a bucket of water. He looked up at me, wide-eyed. "Careful, little one," I said, offering a reassuring nod. He grinned sheepishly and straightened his load.
A group of smiths and tanners passed by, wiping sweat from their brows. One of the smiths, an older man with a lined face, raised his head and gave me a weary smile. "My Lord , we will see this finished by the end of the season, if the sun favors us," he said.
I nodded. "I trust you. Keep the fires steady, and make no shortcuts." His hands trembled slightly as he tightened a leather strap around a hammer handle, pride and exhaustion mingling on his face.
"320 builders are raising houses, workshops, and storage halls," Zevra added as we crossed the square. "The workshops are busy—180 smiths, potters, tanners, and cloth-workers, and 120 weavers and tailors managing clothing and straps."
I noticed a young weaver staring at me, her eyes wide with curiosity. "Do you find our work adequate, my lord?" she asked timidly.
"It is more than adequate. You shape the town as much as your hands shape cloth," I said. She blinked, surprised, and a faint smile tugged at her lips.
Merchants shouted numbers, and clerks hurried past with ledgers. "60 storekeepers and warehouse keepers manage supply," Zevra explained, "with 10 clerks under Oswin maintaining records. Defense includes 200 militia and guards, while 80 hunters provide meat. Others are spread across smaller tasks—healers, cooks, and waste haulers, about 80." She looked up at me. "Population has now increased to more than 3,000."
I allowed a brief nod. "No one idle. Children too—about 300 under 15 help with hauling, herding, and deliveries," she continued.
I scanned the passing children. One little girl tripped over a loose stone, and another handed her a bucket without a word, her face serious with responsibility beyond her years. "Well done," I said quietly, earning a shy smile from both.
"Good. No idle hands. Those without tasks join the wells or waste crews," I said, my eyes briefly meeting Zevra's. She nodded, a small smile of approval on her lips.
Food reserves would last 5 months for 4,500 people, and the coin system was beginning to take root. Weapon production had slowed as the smiths were redirected to construction. I turned to Oswin. "Send small portions of food and hybrid seeds to nearby villages in need. Invite them to join Orshek if they wish. Have Zevra and Elias continue daily scouts." He bowed and left, his face solemn but determined.
The next morning, the 34th day, I was storlling around the neighbourhood and a heard news about a woman had delivered a baby the night before. I told Oswin I wanted to meet her.
As we walked, a faint, foul smell drifted along the street. I did not cover my nose; the townsfolk had to see that I did not find them repulsive. I waved at passing workers. Many looked at me, expressions cautious at first, then softening when I offered a nod or a brief smile.
The woman's house was small but neat. Inside, she rested with her newborn daughter, swaddled simply. Her husband knelt beside her, eyes glistening. "My lord, she lives because of your grace," he said.
Oswin spoke softly. "Maelis was here, my lord. She used her light magic to ease the pain and stop the bleeding."
I looked at the child, then the mother. "Then name her Maelis," I said. The husband bowed deeply, whispering his thanks, tears streaking his face.
Outside, several women had gathered. With most men at work, the street held only mothers and the elderly. "The Divine Lord watches over those who labor and stay true," I told them.
I observed their expressions—the wary glances of suspicion had shifted into quiet trust. Because of Natalia and Maelis, their tireless work and care, people were slowly opening their hearts to witches, I realized.
One woman stepped forward, holding a small boy. "You helped us when we starved," she said, "and Maelis healed my son's fever. We are grateful, my lord."
They began to chant a short prayer, a verse of their own making, rough in places but full of sincerity:
O Divine Lord, Warden of dawn and earth's span,Guide our hearts, and sanctify the work of our hands.Through labor and storm, through grief and flame,Let Thy boundless grace redeem our pain.
Their voices faded, and I walked on. Soon, the foul odor returned. I asked a servant, "What is that smell?"
He hesitated. "From inner streets, my lord. Some residents throw waste outside their homes."
"Show me," I said firmly. He tried to refuse, but I insisted. The narrow lanes were lined with puddles of waste, flies buzzing overhead. I noted the grim expressions on the workers as they avoided stepping into the filth, muttering curses and complaints under their breath.
Back at the terrace, I called Zevra. "Why wasn't this reported?"
She lowered her eyes. "Oswin thought it too minor for your attention, my lord."
"Nothing affecting my people is minor," I said sharply. Within the hour, Zevra and Oswin delivered a full list of civic problems: waste disposal, shortage of wells, and stagnant drainage near the market.
I gave my orders decisively. "Call Dareth, Aveline, and Natalia. Begin digging new wells immediately. Assign 10 men from each of the sowing, stone, and mason crews. Build communal toilets with running water, separated for men and women. Assign 30 dedicated waste haulers with carts to maintain cleanliness."
Faces around me reflected determination, some hesitant, some grim, others with quiet pride. Smoke rose in the evening, and workers returned to quarters, witches withdrew, and guards took up posts. Orshek rested briefly, ready to rise with the next day's labors, its people carrying with them hope, diligence, and the light of guidance.