Chapter 30: The Foundation of Ash and Iron (Part 2)

Three days. It had been exactly three days since  Amutenya sorted the refugees into their labour divisions, during lunch that first day, the system had notified him of a population increase of 470 people. The system had finally recognized them as part of his community, raising his population count to 2051. He had a nagging feeling that something good will happen once his population reached 5000.

Now the village was completely unrecognizable. The lethargic settlement of the past was gone, replaced by a roaring engine of industry under the punishing midday sun. 

Amutenya was covered in a thick layer of soot, mud, and limestone dust. Because he was the only one holding the blueprints to this new world in his head, he hadn't stopped moving since dawn. He was a blur of motion, sprinting between the three labor divisions to keep the bottlenecked supply lines flowing. 

At the eastern ridge, he had to physically reposition the wedges for the Heavy Labor Division, showing them how to strike the natural fault lines of the limestone so it would fracture cleanly. Down at the Forgeworks, he and Hedimbi had spent hours every day packing wet clay over the twelfth and thirteenth earth-kilns, fine-tuning the ventilation shafts. By the time he ran over to the Processing Division, the air was thick with the earthy smell of boiling omumborombonga and mopane bark. His aunt, Meme Kauna, was moving between the wide clay pots, guiding the women on how to mash the softened fibers, and dry the residue thinly.

Amutenya wiped the sweat from his eyes and scanned the bustling perimeter until he found the one person who has been managing the administrative chaos. 

"Mother," Amutenya called out, jogging over to Meme Nangula, who was organizing a stack of dried grass mats near the main food reserves storerooms. 

Meme Nangula looked up, offering her son a warm, albeit exhausted, smile. "You are pushing them hard today, Amutenya. But they are working well."

"They are, but we need to scale up the payroll," Amutenya said, catching his breath. He handed her a smooth, flat piece of light wood and a sharp piece of charcoal. "We are expanding the old wage scale you used for the fields before I left. I need you to manage the master ledger."

Meme Nangula looked at the smooth wood, her brow furrowing slightly. "For all four hundred and seventy of them?"

"Yes, and soon you'll be managing the 588 from the village and army, plus the workers from the surrounding villages, but you won't be tracking them individually all day," Amutenya explained, his corporate instincts taking over. "Anyone in the Heavy Labor Division at the quarry, and anyone building kilns with Hedimbi, earns 8 work points a day. The people making paper earn 7 work points, since the physical strain is slightly less. One work point equals exactly one kilogram of food—either grain or cured meat. But the payout is weekly, not daily. Once the village starts construction, the work of cutting trees, clearing fields, baking bricks, building houses, digging trenches, tearing down the old houses and laying foundation will all be worth 10 points per day per person, so you need to get a group of subordinates that are fast with numbers and are honest to help you, make sure you get people that are diligent and smart. The work won't be too tiring, their job is mainly to compile all the ledgers from the overseer, keep stock of our food reserves and handle payments, your job will be to manage them, pay them 6 work points per day, its not alot, but its enough for the work their doing."

Meme Nangula’s eyes widened as she grasped the efficiency of the system. "And how do we track who is actually working?"

"The overseers— for now, Mukoya, Haufiku, and the veterans—are handling the daily tracking, but they are also busy with their own work, so I am currently having them train a few people to take over this task, by the time construction starts, an overseer team will be ready to take over." Amutenya said. "That is why I have been keeping them awake by the fire these past nights for extra lessons. I taught them basic numbers and tally marks. They have their own small boards. If someone is dragging their feet or holding back the line, the overseers deduct their points. At the end of the shift, they bring their tallies to you and your team to update the master ledger."

Meme Nangula nodded slowly, a fierce pride in her eyes. She gripped the charcoal tightly. "I understand. The workers build the village, the overseers watch the workers, and I watch the ledger."

Right on cue, the heavy, rhythmic thumping of wooden spoons against clay pots echoed across the village square. Ndilimeke and a crew of 19 other young women emerged from the cooking fires, carrying massive woven baskets of thick pearl millet bread and deep clay pots of steaming warthog broth. 

"Lunch!" Ndilimeke called out, her voice carrying over the crackling fires and grinding stones. 

The village ground to a halt. The exhaustion on the workers' faces was instantly replaced by eager anticipation. But there was no desperate scramble, like the first day; the veterans kept the lines tight and orderly. 

Unlike the weekly wage, lunch was a guaranteed work benefit. It didn't cost a single work point. Amutenya had promised that those who sweat for him would eat, and he intended to deliver. Ndilimeke and her crew handed out massive, free portions of thick millet bread and rich meat broth to every single worker, regardless of whether they were a top earner or a slacker who had been docked points that morning. 

Among the crowd, Nande and Tuwilika stood quietly in line. Nande’s scholarly hands were blistered and bleeding from hauling heavy limestone baskets, and Tuwilika’s arms ached from mashing bark, but they hadn't complained once. 

When Ndilimeke handed them their steaming bowls, the couple walked to the shade of the palisade wall and sat down. They stared at the rich broth in their hands. In the capital, a day of grueling labor for the King might earn a man a handful of dusty grain. Here, they were eating premium meat for free everyday, knowing their actual wages were still safely accumulating on a ledger for the end of the week. 

They looked around the village and saw the same relief on the faces of the refugees. The system was absolute. The hard work was rewarded, the slackers were noted, and nobody starved. It was a perfectly balanced economy.

Amutenya didn't stop to eat. He grabbed a piece of dry meat, chewing it quickly as he watched the village rest during the hottest part of the day. 

As the workers scraped the last bits of broth from their bowls and the harsh midday sun hit its peak, Amutenya walked toward the center of the village and stepped onto the thick, sprawling roots of the great omwandi tree. 

"Finish your water and gather around!" Amutenya’s voice rang out, instantly commanding the attention of the sprawling crowd. 

Slowly, the men, women, and children left their shaded resting spots and gathered under the massive canopy of the ancient tree, finding a place in the dirt. Even Hedimbi wiped the soot from his hands and took a seat in the front row. Nande and Tuwilika quietly joined the back of the crowd, their eyes fixed on the young leader. 

Amutenya looked at the crowd shining eyes, looking at him for knowledge and smiled slightly. These people were his lifeline, and maybe even his modern self's ancestors, so he will do his best to guide them out the shadows and lead them to claim the light.

"Welcome to the afternoon class," Amutenya said, picking up a piece of limestone to use as chalk against a large slate of dark rock. "Today, we are going to talk about water pressure, and why we are going to dig a canal."