The Hundred-Household Officer and the Ten-Household Heads (Fourth update, 10,000 words total)

Lane arrived in Minas Tirith at dawn.

The sea breeze carried the tang of salt and the dust peculiar to construction sites, brushing over his newly issued coarse-cloth clothes.

The little sense of superiority he had brought from Newborn Town was crushed the moment he stepped into this fjord.

This was nothing like Newborn Town, with its refinement and prosperity.

The construction site centered on the town hall was more like a vast network of blood vessels. Countless streams of people flowed out along the roads at regular intervals, then returned, while hammering, work chants, and the rumble of wheels blended into a steady drone.

The foundations had already been excavated two levels down. Countless people worked like ants in the enormous pit, digging and expanding the city at the same time.

Large, dark-red stains were still visible on the square's surface-blood that had been rinsed with water but not completely washed away.

A crowd had gathered ahead, apparently watching some commotion.

Lane was about to ask someone for directions to the town hall when the crowd ahead suddenly parted amid a stir.

"The Patrol Squad is here!"

"Make way! It's Captain Barton!"

Lane looked through the gap in the crowd and saw a figure both familiar and unfamiliar.

Barton still had that same bear-like bulk, but now he wore close-fitting leather armor, with a standard-issue longsword hanging at his waist.

A dozen or so men in the same leather armor followed behind him.

They were escorting two workers with bruised, swollen faces.

"Captain, these two got into a fight over a shovel and knocked down a wall someone had just built," a patrolman reported to Barton.

Barton walked up to the pair, his enormous shadow swallowing them both.

"What are your names?"

"I... I'm Pete."

"I'm Korn."

Barton neither