Building houses

Louis stood on a slightly elevated hillside, looking down over the desolate land.

The spot he was looking at was the site he had chosen for the Red Tide Fief's first settlement, which would one day become its central town.

It was close to a geothermal vent, which meant higher temperatures, so people would not freeze to death in the middle of the night.

The hillside blocked the biting wind, offering a little shelter to the people who had just arrived.

"My lord, shall we begin building the castle?" asked Mike, who stood beside him.

Mike was the most experienced of the craftsmen Louis had acquired from Duke Edmund in a trade.

Louis had appointed him the Red Tide Fief's building officer.

"The castle can wait." Louis shook his head. "Build the residential area first."

"Then where will you live?"

"I can live with everyone else for now."

"You'll live with us?" The old craftsman froze in surprise.

"What, worried I won't be able to sleep?" Louis shrugged, seemingly unconcerned. "We're already in the northern frontier. Why fuss over such things?"

The old craftsman immediately saw the young lord in a new light.

After discussing it together, Louis and the old craftsman settled on semi-subterranean communal dwellings as the Red Tide Fief's first houses.

The design combined the common homes of this world's northern frontier with the Viking Longhouse Louis had read about in his previous life.

These houses were dug one-third of their height into the earth, keeping them below ground level to retain heat effectively.

The walls were supported by wooden frames, woven with willow branches on the outside, then reinforced with a coating of mud and straw, keeping out both wind and damp.

Most importantly, they could be built extremely quickly!

Their brief discussion left Mike full of admiration.

In such a short time, this young lord had actually designed a building perfectly suited to the northern frontier. He was nothing short of an architectural genius.

Once the design was finished, construction began immediately.

They worked efficiently in teams of twenty, with two soldiers leading eighteen slaves or displaced people, each assigned clear duties.

The cold wind howled. The slaves hunched their shoulders and gripped their crude shovels, driving them hard into the frozen earth.

Thud! The impact numbed their wrists, but the soil finally loosened a little.

"Don't just stand there. Keep going!" the soldiers urged.

As they worked up a sweat, a figure stepped into the pit.

It was Louis. He rolled up his sleeves, took a shovel himself, and bent down to dig a few times.

"My lord, you're going to do the work yourself?" Everyone was astonished.

"Hmm... this really isn't easy work. Thank you for your hard work, everyone. Dinner's almost ready, so you can take a short break," Louis remarked thoughtfully after digging for more than ten minutes.

Then he turned and headed to the next construction site, continuing his tour of working alongside his people.

Some soldiers had initially resented being assigned to build houses and perform hard labor when they were supposed to be fighting men.

But now that even their lord was pitching in, what did they have left to complain about?

The slaves felt that even more keenly. Many had struggled just to feed and clothe themselves. Now they not only had food but would also have a permanent place to live. That was already an enormous kindness.

During construction, Louis would occasionally "pass by" a worksite, lend a hand for a moment, leave a few words of encouragement, then dust off his hands and move on.

"That frame looks good. You'll be able to sleep well tonight."

"Make that mud coating thicker. Don't cut corners, or you'll be freezing."

"Almost finished here, aren't you? I'll have some hot soup brought over in a bit. Finish this batch, and you can rest."

And so, wherever Louis went, the people worked a little harder.

With ample food supplies as well, the soldiers stopped complaining.

The slaves also worked with all their might. With their morale buff maxed out, construction across the fief progressed at an astonishing pace.

In just a few days, the first semi-subterranean communal dwellings rose from the earth.

They looked like mounds rising from the ground, their roofs covered in thick layers of mud and straw that blended into the snowy landscape.

Most of each house was buried underground. The log-supported frames were sturdy and solid, while the outer walls were woven from willow branches and sealed with packed earth, conserving wood while keeping out the cold.

The entire residential area was also built around the geothermal vent, which dispelled much of the chill.

Though it looked crude, it could be considered one of the best living environments in the northern frontier.

With the completion of the first semi-subterranean dwellings, the Red Tide Fief had finally established a real foothold in this cold northern land.

Of course, houses alone were not enough. Winning people's hearts mattered most.

To motivate his people while further establishing his image as a "benevolent and wise" lord, Louis decided to hold a grand celebration.

He wanted everyone to understand that following Louis would pay off!

As night fell, a huge bonfire was lit in the clearing in front of the Red Tide Fief, driving away the northern chill.

The clearing had once been nothing but barren, frozen ground, but now, with the arrival of the celebration, it bustled with life for the first time.

Nearly a thousand people gathered around the firelight.

They came from different backgrounds: slaves bought from slave traders, natives of the northern frontier, displaced people taken in along the way, and soldiers and knights who had followed Louis here.

But at that moment, they had one thing in common: they were all people of the Red Tide Fief.

The crowd's eyes turned as one toward the tall rock in front of the bonfire.

Their lord, Louis Calvin, stood upon it.

The young pioneering baron wore a long black cloak, his face flickering between light and shadow in the firelight. No one knew what he was about to do.

Once everyone had arrived, Louis spoke. "Today marks the Red Tide Fief's first celebration! We are here to celebrate the completion of our first houses.

"With these houses, this land will become your home, and you will become the true masters of the Red Tide Fief!"

Yet the crowd below gave no response.

They merely exchanged glances, some even looking at a loss.

What did becoming masters mean?

These slaves, displaced people, and forced laborers had never imagined becoming the "masters" of any piece of land.

All they knew was work. All they knew was obedience.

Even their courage to resist had been worn away by years of suffering.

They had initially assumed this celebration would be some sort of proclamation by their new lord, or perhaps a display meant to intimidate them.

Louis had anticipated this reaction, but it did not matter. He would show them what hope meant through his actions.

"Next," Louis said, surveying the crowd, "I will reward those who have been the most diligent and loyal."

He raised a hand, and Silco, the steward behind him, immediately unrolled the parchment in his hands and began reading out a string of names.

"Hake, Morgan, Sharna..."

The slaves whose names were called flinched, fear spreading across their faces.

In their experience, being singled out by a lord usually meant punishment, or even death.

Some had begun to tremble. Others lowered their heads, and a few even wanted to kneel and beg for mercy.

They had no idea how their fates were about to change.