Construction Mage - Chapter 27: Roofing

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Two large men steadily hefted up long wooden pillars to a shabby-looking house in the middle of an empty grass field. The only structures in sight were the grand walls of the third ring and nascent fourth ring, sandwiching the worksite.

“You sure you want me to just hammer away at your hard work here?” the robust man with red hair asked.

“Yes,” Clay replied. “We’ll just fix it right up. We’ll need to bust that part of the wall open to create a pocket for the wooden beam to rest on, right?”

“Sure thing, milord. I’d prefer if you planned for this beforehand, but you don’t have to consider the material cost, I guess.”

With a hammer in hand, Garrick proceeded to demolish small sections of each of the four outer walls. Immediately after, the earthen golem would go in to do the repairs, except the new iteration would have room for the socket that fit the beams perfectly. Once the wooden beams were set, they used some proper clay mortar to fix the pillars in place as the finishing touch. This went on for a good part of the day until each side had three beams extending up to the roof, forming the rafters.

“At least you had the foresight to build a central pillar,” Garrick muttered. “It made things easy.”

What he was referring to was the thick square pillars, made of the same earthen bricks as the walls, right at the center of the house. It didn’t go as high as the walls, but it acted as a nice foundation that supported the main base of the rafters. 

“It’s not a looker, but it gets the job done,” the big crimson-bearded man commented.

With the support structure for the roof done, their work was almost complete. The next step they did was simply to nail some slats across the rafter and fix the thatch roofing onto it using some wooden spars. All of these materials were prepared by Garrick. His experience made the job go smoothly without incident.

Just as they were driving some willow rods through the thatch to hook it around the slats, a sound suddenly made Garrick freeze in place on the ladder.

“Meow,” a vicious creature cried.

“A cat?” Clay mouthed. “Come here, kitty kitty.”

The large man crouched down and slowly reached out to scratch the cat’s chin. He was determined to befriend it so he could carry it out of his prospective home.

The cat in question had an orange coat, with stripes of a darker shade and white paws. It shrank back cautiously at the outstretched finger until it had had enough of the human oppressor. It snarled with its teeth bared, sending a shiver down the spine of the large foreman on the ladder in the background.

It resulted in Garrick dropping the willow rods down on his friend’s head and the ladder shaking from his sudden movements. Clay swiftly moved to stabilize the ladder while rubbing his head.

“Ouch! What the heck, Garrick—are you scared? Of cats?”

“Shut up and get that thing away already!”

“Relax. It’s harmless. Just look at it.”

Turning back to the cat, Clay found the specimen in question missing. He looked around until he spotted it climbing onto one of the wooden beams that was part of the rafter.

“Shit! Get me down before that thing comes near me!” the red-haired man with a robust physique cried.

“Alright, alright. Just slowly climb down, and I’ll deal with it. Woah, I said slowly! I can’t catch you if you fall.”

As the two humans panicked, the orange cat completely ignored their antics and continued to climb to the highest spot. Once there, it lazily stretched its back for a few seconds before jumping off to the grass below, before Clay could reach it.

“Um, it should be gone now,” he reported.

“It better be!” The muscular foreman noticed the pointed gaze his former subordinate gave him and quickly cleared his throat. “Anyway, let’s continue. We’re almost done. Let’s finish up before it comes bac—ahem, it gets dark.”

With some extra motivation to work faster, the two men completed their task with a few hours to spare before the sky changed colors. 

“Here’s the coins for all the stuff you prepared for me,” Clay said as he counted out a gold coin and several large silver coins. “Thank you, by the way.”

“No problem. You sure you don’t want me to stick around until we’re sure the mortar dried properly? It could crack sometimes.”

“It’s fine. I don’t want Thalia to wait any longer.”

The two men glanced over at the green-haired woman, completely absorbed in some documents. As if she could sense their gaze, she instantly looked up and tilted her head.

“You already used up enough of your day off on me,” Clay continued. “At least enjoy the remainder of the day with her at some nice tavern or something.”

“Hmm, fine. I’ll drop by tomorrow morning, then. We’ll need to give it a thorough inspection before you actually move in.”

Waving his friends goodbye, Clay swiftly resumed work. The outer walls may be finished, but the interior was another challenge to tackle. It was time for him to do some floor planning. He would have to erect more walls to create a bedroom, a kitchen, and a bathroom.

He wanted to get it done quickly before the weather took a turn for the worse. Humidity was an enemy to be feared when working in such conditions. After having witnessed the damage rain could do if the mortar didn’t have enough time to dry, he redoubled his efforts to finish quickly. Otherwise, he might have to reapply the mortar. While the mud mortar was practically free, the labor he spent on it came with an opportunity cost.

Once he finished outlining the rooms, Clay grinned as he walked around aimlessly to inspect his property. He couldn’t help but imagine it in its completed form. A shelter from the elements, and a place he could truly call his own.

It wasn’t a lot, missing many basics like windows, but it was enough for now. There would be a bedroom and a washroom. The kitchen was planned to be part of the lobby, but he currently didn’t have any equipment. The thatch roof above could have gaps opened up for smoke to go through, so he only really needed to go shopping for the kitchen appliances.

However, he was hesitant to do so right away. He had yet to muster the courage to return to the dungeon, and the money from selling the kobold longsword wouldn’t last forever. Having spent over ten thousand Lyons on the construction materials, Clay also had to be mindful to save for the head tax at the start of the new year. To be precise, for him, it was his Delver license fee.

Everyone in Ravenhold had to pay varying amounts in order to be eligible to stay within the city’s confines. The amount and how it was collected depended on your profession. For Delvers, their license fee doubled as the tax, totaling a whole hundred thousand Lyons, or ten gold coins. With his finances unstable and such a large amount looming over, he couldn’t afford to waste too much money before his situation stabilized.

Well, the house is just about complete. No more excuses to drag my sorry ass aimlessly around.

Shaking his head, Clay departed for the dungeon enclosure. Of course, he wasn’t going there to venture into the Greymark’s Bastion. Night was arriving soon. Instead, it was time for him to do what he should’ve done long ago. Find party members.

The trust issue Clay had with random strangers persisted, but now that he had gotten somewhat used to fighting, he believed he could stomach someone weaker than him. A dedicated porter whose only job was to carry things. These specialists took care of all the logistics, allowing him to solely focus on the dangers of the dungeon.

From what he heard, these specialists consisted mostly of greenhorns or Delvers with some minor disabilities. His goal was to find someone of the latter category, particularly with experience in discerning and disabling traps.

The teleport incident had scared him enough for a lifetime. A trap expert was needed if he were to return to the depths of the first layer.

Walking around the bustling marketplace, Clay soon made his way to the plaza, where people often gathered to find groups. As always, dozens of Delvers were there hawking their skills, looking to join groups on their adventure to slay monsters and gather materials.

For some reason, the porters and combatants stood far away from each other, making it easy for Clay to see who was available. A mixed bag of teenagers and middle-aged men lined the wall, all busily chatting with their peers or people who seemed to be inquiring about their services.

Before Clay could approach any of them, a voice rang out right beside him.

“Sir, you’re back! Did you need help with selling something again?”

Without having to turn around, Clay naturally recognized the voice of the scrawny boy he had only parted with recently, Malik.

“Say, you said you were well-connected. Got any good candidates for porters who know how to spot and disarm traps?”

 “Of course I do! My network is my lifeline.”

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