XI. Walls
In those days this group of six, with Alexius heading the other five, was merely called the Council, and they met in the common hall of Sarfan with its chairs and tables, which is still preserved today in the heart of the Plaza Ajor. Little is known of the Council's activities from this time, when it was an informal advisory collective and not an administrative organ, as its various later iterations were to become: the Cabinet of the Councilors, the Assembly, the Divided and United Parliaments, and eventually, the Diet. But the events to come ought to speak for themselves.
These early Council meetings would later be depicted in the works of Magnus Petter, the great painter of Nistur, in his famous Conciliar Cycle. The most famous of these works, Scene at the First Council of Sarfan (which can still be seen hanging over the entrance of the common hall today), can perhaps lend a better image to these early meetings than words can, though Petter painted his piece over three centuries after that time.
In Petter's work, five chairs are arranged in a rough manner, all facing a great table with papers strewn over the top. At the far left sits Virod the Councilor of Agriculture, leaning on an iron hoe and inspecting harvest reports; to his right stands Ramaf the Councilor of Diplomacy, conversing deeply over a map of the Plains with Spayer the Councilor of Defense, who leans back in his chair. On the other side of the table, Hava Yal the Councilor of Trade counts emeralds in one hand and writes ledgers with the other—perhaps meant to be an allegory warning against avarice, although Petter is not particularly known for symbolism. In the style of that century's paintings, the interior is dark, lit only by a few lanterns on the floor and a single window. A dramatic scene depicting mundane events, to be sure.
Notably, the shaft of light from the window falls on an unusual subject: Arter the Councilor of Labor presenting a brick to Alexius himself, whose armor glints with dots of brilliant white. But it is indeed this unusual choice of subject that precisely underlines the painter's knowledge: for, from what few promulgations have survived from those early days, we can infer that the primary focus of the Axe of the People during this time was not trade, defense, diplomacy, or agriculture.
Rather, the vast majority of surviving Council declarations are on the subject of the Alexine Walls.
It's noon when he opens the door of the common hall and strides into five voices speaking all at once:
"... raids coming down south from what I've heard..."
"... not everyone can farm carrots for a living, for the last time, there's more to..."
"... masons scared of caves now, I can't even blame them, really, not after..."
"... look, Alexius, they're raising stone prices up north, it's absurd..."
"... less room for farms, especially with these fools raising houses wherever they..."
"Hey," Alexius shouts, "everyone, hey—God it's dark in here, light some damn candles—settle down!" And the voices are stilled. Five different faces, squinting at the light from outside, stare at him and mutter hasty "ver fespra"s. Virod sets a candle on the table and lights it. Ramaf scratches his nose.
"That's better," Alexius says as he sinks into his chair. The room is a mess: dark and shadowed from an oak tree that blocks all the windows, it's hard to make out anyone's faces. One of Ramaf's maps hangs on the wall; the beds that were here before sit unused in one of the corners. Six chairs are arranged clumsily around a cramped table already battered from arguments and dramatic slams. Seven days and seven meetings since he made the Council, and still it's a sad sight.
"Can't we clean this place up once in a while?" he mutters. "Christ..."
"What's Christ?" asks Hava Yal.
Alexius exhales and leans his head back. "Don't worry about it... what—what were we talking about?"
Virod frowns and shuffles some papers in his hand. "Yesterday's meeting was mainly on prices with the traders from Market Hane... I think that was, uh... yes, that was from Hava Yal—" he nods at the Fletcher, who grunts in assent "—as well as the construction of new farms from myself, which really we should have a serious discussion about sometime, Alexius, it's crucial to expanding population... " He flips to the final ream of papers. "Oh, and more on your Wall project."
Alexius sits up. "The Wall," he says. "Yes, that." He looks around the room. "So have we agreed to go through with it yet?" Murmurs of denial, and Alexius frowns and shoots a glance at Arter, who merely looks at a brick in his hands and mutters something under his breath. So he hasn't convinced them yet.
"Personally, I'm all for it," says Ramaf cheerfully. "I was reading with Saracid yesterday, some of his older histories, and all the authors write about these... these fortresses, massive stone walls that used to guard the old villages—zombies can't crawl over them, Pillagers can't shoot through them: it's fantastic defense, really—"
"Which is exactly why we shouldn't build that," Hava Yal snipes back. "I have to disagree with you here, Alexius. This is ridiculous. Can you imagine what these Pillagers would do if they saw us building this? The first patrol that comes across Sarfan, they'd report back to their masters that we're trying to defend against them..."
"We could finish the Wall by then—"
"But what if we don't, Ramaf? Imagine two stones and some fences defending us from the armies of evil, and for what?"
Ramaf waves his hand dismissively. "They're not sending out patrols anymore, the Pillagers are busy with their own wars; and besides, it's better than having no defense at all, in case a pillage does come."
"Which is exactly why we're better off not drawing attention to ourselves in the first place! Who knows how long this project will take?"
"I think Arter knows the answer to that," Alexius says suddenly, looking directly at the Mason, saying please work with me here with his eyes. Arter looks up from his brick and clears his throat. "Stone is not too difficult to obtain. Bricks, too. One moon at the most, perhaps two if we build more layers. The designs aren't exactly... finalized, but I think I have something."
He unfurls a great paper onto the table, and all six of them crowd around the Mason's diagram, who points to various places on his design as he speaks. "Five blocks tall at the banks of the Mer, seven facing the forest. The earth here is flat and good to work with."
"How thick will it be?" asks Virod. Arter points to a second diagram on the sheet: "Two layers, the first two blocks thick and the second one block thick. Gap in the middle for a double gate and, uh, supports."
"What about deepslate reinforcement?" asks Alexius. Arter shakes his head. "Too hard to get. Takes too long, and no one wants to mine too deep... no," he says, and places his brick on the table. "Stone brick is enough, and perhaps clay bricks towards the top. No deepslate."
Alexius nods his head slowly. "So we're ready to vote, then?"
"Now wait just a second," Hava Yal says, "we still haven't gotten to talking about costs and materials—and a whole moon to complete all this?"
"We talked about this two days ago," Arter says mildly. "Costs will be minimal. Stone we can easily mine ourselves, if we have to. And we need some time to build the Wall bigger than Sarfan itself—more houses are built daily..."
Hava Yal throws up his hands in exasperation. "Heaven knows why," he mutters, "at this rate we're asking the Pillagers to come raid us..."
"That's enough," Alexius says sternly. He stands up and looks across the table: all eyes on him. Now or never, he thinks, and he opens his mouth to speak: "We've argued over this for five days now. Five days. And we've just been going over the same points—which we've heard more than enough of, thank you," he adds, silencing Ramaf and Virod with his hand. "Aren't you tired of repeating the same things?"
"You can say that again," grunts Hava Yal. Alexius nods. "Right. So I say it's about time we come to a decision. You've all heard from Arter and I—" he nods at Arter, who remains silent "—about why we've proposed this. And you know that I only want the best for Sarfan... I wouldn't talk about this if I didn't think this would benefit us—all of us—you know that. Now, there are legitimate concerns about our safety—yes, I know, Hava Yal, on that you've said plenty—but I think they can be resolved.
"If not being noticed is our goal, we've already failed with the new houses and farms. We've already crossed that river. Now the question is whether or not we can defend those new houses and farms: whether we can protect our children and our property. I think we can." Alexius points to Arter's diagram of the Wall: the diagram which they've spent hours poring over and carefully measuring through the sleepless nights. "And that's the best way we can do it."
Alexius glances at Spayer, who sits in a shadowed corner, staring out to the world. "Spayer, you've been silent through this meeting. What do you say?"
The Armorer looks up at Alexius and thinks for some time. "Hava Yal is right," he finally says. "The Pillagers won't like this new Wall at all. If they ever catch sight of us..." He sighs deeply. "They would kill us all."
Alexius's heart sinks. Spayer continues: "But I'm done being scared of them." He looks up defiantly, triumphantly, at the other five. "I'm tired of living in fear of these—these animals. It's about damn time we started defending ourselves from these dogs. Have bell-ringers and sword-bearers guard the builders, if we care so much about safety. If they've noticed us already... well, let them notice. At this point, it's our best option."
"And what if the lord of the Pillagers brings his army down to Sarfan?" Hava Yal asks, his voice now less sure of itself. "What then?"
Spayer shrugs. "It'll happen sooner or later. It happens to every village at some point. Better to have a wall then, no? At least then we'll stand a chance."
He sits up and his gaze is hard and still. "I'm done with living in fear. Not when we can protect ourselves from it."
Alexius looks carefully at Spayer and smiles faintly. There we go, he thinks as he opens his mouth: "Then let us vote." He knows what the answer will be as he looks around the table triumphantly: Ramaf and Virod are smiling gleefully, Hava Yal is surly but convinced, and Arter is nodding very slightly.
Slowly the hands begin to rise.