The autumn sun was pleasantly warm, and wagon wheels rumbled along Granary Front Avenue.
Convoys laden with grain packed the entire Grain Road, leaving no room to spare. Hoofbeats and shouted calls rose one after another, yet everything remained orderly.
Temporary registration stations stood at the head of the procession, where dozens of clerks wrote furiously, entering sack after sack of grain into ledgers and attaching numbered cloth tags.
Every number corresponded to a village, a field, and the name of someone who had worked it.
Green stood before the granaries, directing operations in a loud voice. "The north section of Granary Four is full. Divert them to Granary Five. Group Three, use the western ramp instead... Tell them to write the numbers more clearly."
He personally checked that the cloth tags were securely attached, their writing legible, and their classifications correct. He would not leave until he had even confirmed with his own eyes that moisture-proof cloth had been laid at every entrance.
Just then, a clear voice called from the foot of the slope. "Green."
Green paused, then immediately turned, stepped down from the platform, and hurried forward to greet him.
"My lord." He bowed, a rare hint of relief appearing on his face. "The autumn harvest is progressing smoothly. Forty percent is already in storage, and we expect to have more than seventy percent stored by the end of today."
Louis dismounted and surveyed the busy but orderly lanes between the granaries. "Well done."
"This way, my lord." Green promptly led him through the long passage beyond the granary doors, giving a brief report as they walked.
"The three newly built granaries are now in use. Granaries Four and Five have temperature-regulated structures. Combined with the forced-air drying system and sealed grain sacks, they can store staple