XIII. Brick and Stone
Construction of the first iterations of the Alexine Walls initially progressed slowly and methodically, with the Emperor taking cautions to send weaponsmiths and bell-ringers to accompany the workers building the Walls, whose numbers (initially limited to the few masons of the village) grew by the day. For, as the days passed, more and more villagers began to contribute to the construction projects; since the construction of new houses was temporarily halted until the completion of the Walls, the farmers were already accustomed to bringing bread and stone to the workers, the fletchers were used to hauling cobblestones from the nearby caves and dredging balls of clay from the bed of the Mer, and so on and so forth. So it came to pass that the Walls grew taller at an increasing pace.
By the tenth day, it is said that even the children of Sarfan brought bricks to the workers, who accepted them gratefully and gingerly placed them on top of the crenelated structure. By the fifteenth, the inner layer of the Walls, two blocks thick and seven blocks tall on all fronts, was completed; encompassing both Sarfan and further lands planned for future development, the first wall had an irregular form, with a shape not entirely unlike the head of an axe, which is why the Inner City is still sometimes called the Quarter of the Axe today. And by the twentieth day, the outer layer was also completed, one block wide and five blocks tall. And in between the two walls the villagers packed dirt and bricks, so as to make the structure stronger.
For the first time in history, a village of the Western Plains was circumscribed by walls, hundreds of blocks long and running to the edges of the birch forest. Some have written that the Alexine Walls encompassed the River Mer itself, passing over its banks, though this extension in fact came later in Sarfan's history. Nevertheless, the Walls were marvels of the world, unlike anything seen before; its hodgepodge of stone, bricks, andesite, and cobblestone, upheld by even buttresses, must have been a magnificent sight to the average villager of those days. It is said that it took an hour to walk around the entire construction, even though, by modern standards, it is low and somewhat rudimentary.
On the twenty-second and twenty-third day of constructions, the workers built four magnificent gates facing the directions, each sturdily built and encompassing both layers of the Walls; and the greatest of these gates, the Western Gate, faced the banks of the Mer triumphantly. Stubby buttresses barely a head taller than a man girded the lower cut stone, while crenellations of brick lined the upper ramparts. Towers, too, were built into the Walls, and the staircases within them led to the top of the inner wall, from where the villagers looked out to the landscape below them and were amazed. And iron doors were built into the gates, forged by Spayer himself, with lanterns lighting the way to the Western Gate.
In this way, the village of Sarfan, once humble and low, was protected by the Alexine Walls, as the warrior is protected by his armor. At this the villagers of the Plains were greatly amazed by these magnificent ramparts, and said amongst themselves, "How has so small a town made itself so great in so short a time?"
It's raining when the last masons emerge from the turret's entrance, descending in groups of two and accompanied by a few children hauling bells. One of them, Zef Rayel son of Azel, apprentice of Arter, walks up to Alexius and his Council and nods to them. "Ver fespra," he says, and glances over Alexius's shoulder: behind them, the entire village of Sarfan is assembled tightly, shivering in the rain and murmuring amongst themselves. Maro the Leatherworker, Azel the Butcher, Marad the Carrot-Farmer, Saracid the Librarian... even the children stand in groups, Cheni son of Maro and Jacob Efel Yed and the rest. They've all come to see the official completion of the Walls. A whole moon's effort. They must be proud of themselves, Alexius thinks: they did most of the work, after all. He can't help but smile with pride.
He looks behind him. 50 villagers, give or take, most of them still young. Sarfan grows by the day: it sways in the wet weather and glances upwards at the dark clouds, frowning. The rain pitter-patters on the iron skin of the golems. And the wall protects them all. It should protect them all.
Zef Rayel clears his throat and Alexius turns around, seeing the apprentice mason pointing at the looming mass of the Western Gate. "Two entrances—two turrets, that is," he says, pointing at the appendage-like towers at each end of the massive gate. "It's easy access to both of the walls—good for shooting down, ha ha—uh, and all the lanterns are in place." He scratches his nose and points down at the double iron bars that seal the gate off. "All the bars there, as you know, Alexius. Iron's expensive these days, what can I say..."
"You can say that again," mutters Nerev the Weaponsmith, back early from his voyage to Market Hane. Zef Rayel nods. "Right. The other gates, we blocked with bricks for now, we can get the iron sometime soon, Heaven willing." He smiles to himself. "So. Finally finished."
Alexius merely nods and gives a light smile in return—relieved more than jubilant—and steps backward, admiring the darkened silhouettes of Sarfan behind the Walls. The crenellated tower of the Ajor aligns with the crenellated tower of the Western Gate. The rain lashes at the buttresses and the tiered Walls: they look sturdy, strong, mighty. Glorious. For the past moon the logistics have been nightmarish, organizing stonebreakers and masons and bricklayers and spending hours in the caves by himself, mining loads of cobblestone for the construction effort himself. But it's paid off well, he thinks to himself suddenly.
He steps forth and turns back to look at the crowd. "People," he shouts, and the whispering stops. 50-something pairs of eyes turn to him, and he positions himself in front of the banks of the Mer, lashed with rain and reflecting the dark mass of the Walls. "People." He stands a little taller and speaks:
"A moon ago you said that this—" he points behind him "—was impossible. You told me that it was a fool's errand to build new houses and expand our population. You told me Sarfan could never become so great as it is today. You told me that no wall could enclose and protect it all." He smiles: "No doubt you all are happy to be proven wrong today." Cheers and applause from the crowd. Alexius holds his hand up and continues.
"I told you then—I remember it well, yes—I told you then that you had nothing to fear from the tides of evil. That I would serve you as a leader and as a friend. That I would ensure your safety and your well-being at any cost. That I would be your axe. And—forgive me of vanity—I think that I was correct in this." Even more cheers.
"Make no mistake, friends: dark forces move against us. Undead armies, Pillager hordes... we are not yet done with danger." Alexius pauses: Sarfan holds its breath. "But your effort and your work save you. Your hands built these great Walls from the earth, brought them up and made them mighty and strong. It was you who built this, the shield of Sarfan." They're hanging on to every word he says now. "So I would like to thank you all today. Thank you for making this dream become real. You," he shouts, "you have saved yourselves!"
Their clamor pierces through the dull rain and their faces are beaming with joy. Alexius smiles to himself. "Our enemies knocked on our doors—let them knock now on these stones! They knock on these stones—let them be crushed with arrows! They come to us now—I say let them come!" He thrusts his hand to the sky and the crowd roars with triumph. They're all smiling now, Hava Yal and Spayer and Arter and the rest of them. The cheers grow louder and louder and they call his name: "Alexius! Alexius!"
They haven't tasted victory in so long, he says to himself. Pride bubbles in his chest and he feels giddy. 50 villagers, 50 souls defending themselves now, ready to act. Let them have a taste of what's possible.
The rain falls on Alexius's helmet as he looks out towards the Plains. He can't help but laugh a little.