The outline of the breakwater had already taken shape.
Guide piers stood in a row, pinning down the channel at the harbor entrance like a straight line.
Gear Haulers rolled along the shore, steadily delivering heavy timber beams to their foundations.
Rail-Mounted Cranes swung back and forth overhead, thick ropes dangling as they hoisted blocks of granite into place.
A craftsmen's foreman directed the crews at the far end, while someone in the middle section tested the lifting arm's locking mechanism.
As Dawnlight Harbor's technical supervisor, Russell stood atop the slope with his arms folded, watching the newly driven piles.
He remained motionless until the piles settled, then gave a slight nod.
The workers along the shore spotted him and called out, "Lord Russell!"
No one thought there was anything improper about that title.
Russell did not answer. He merely nodded.
Yet a subtle feeling stirred within him. This harbor, this breakwater, had somehow given him a sense of belonging... even pride.
Russell had originally been a harbor craftsman under the Calvin Family. Though he ranked as a foreman, within the family's hierarchy, a craftsman was still just a craftsman.
But as a commoner, Russell had been quite content with his lot: marrying, having children, and slowly working his way up through years of service.
He had imagined spending his whole life tending the embankments in the Southeast, then sending his son to Tidewater City to become a foreman when he grew older. Such a life would not be glorious, but it would be a success.
Until one day, a transfer order shattered his plans.
The Calvin Family needed men to help the "Eighth Young Master" build a harbor in the Northern Frontier, and Russell had the misfortune to be chosen.
They called it recognition of his abilities, but he