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Chapter 42 - Where the Weight is Shared
🕑 Added 2025-05-08 21:00:02 +0000 UTCAs Athan turned to leave, ready to return to his other tasks, Wade took a step forward and called out to him. They were still standing near the toilet site, close to the inner side of the village wall. Beyond the basin, the river glimmered under the morning sun, partially hidden by the trees lining its banks. A light breeze carried the scent of damp leaves and fresh soil from the forest beyond.
"Hey. What you doing now?"
Athan paused mid-step and turned back toward the three men. At first, he assumed they had more questions about the toilet structure—but something in their expressions made him stop. Their faces were different now. More focused. Serious.
Wade's brow was furrowed, not in frustration, but in concern. His eyes narrowed slightly, as if trying to understand something he couldn't quite put into words. Ok still held the model in his hands, but he wasn't looking at it anymore. His gaze rested on Athan—quiet, heavy, thoughtful. Yun stood with his arms crossed, jaw clenched, like someone holding back a question they didn't know how to ask.
Their silence was heavier than any words.
"I'm heading to the permanent kiln and the baths," Athan said after a moment. "There's still cement work to do, and it needs time to dry before we can move to the next steps. I want to make sure it cures properly before continuing."
Wade nodded slowly, but didn't move. Behind him, Ok and Yun exchanged a glance—brief, but meaningful. There was more than interest in their eyes. There was something close to worry. Not for the project—but for the boy leading it.
Then Wade took a breath and spoke again.
"From now on, I'll go work with you," he said simply.
Athan blinked. The words took a moment to land. Behind Wade, Ok and Yun nodded in agreement, their gestures quiet but certain. Ok carefully tucked the model under one arm, then turned and began walking back toward the construction site with Yun by his side.
But Wade remained. He stepped in the opposite direction—toward the kiln and the baths.
Athan stood there, momentarily frozen, caught off guard by the shift. As he started walking, his pace was slower than usual. He passed by the shelters surrounding the fire pit, their woven walls swaying gently with the wind. Everything felt still, quiet, as if even the village itself was listening.
From there, the path to the baths opened up, unobstructed. The rising sun bathed the clearing in golden light, casting long, stretched shadows behind them. In the distance, the steady roar of the waterfall grew louder with each step, the sound echoing across the stone.
It took Athan a while to catch up. He finally reached Wade just as the man arrived at the edge of the baths. The stone ring stood solid and quiet, water trickling nearby, glinting in the sunlight.
Still confused, Athan looked up at him. "Why did you decide to come with me?" he asked.
Wade stopped abruptly, and Athan didn't have time to react—he bumped straight into the man's back and landed on the ground with a soft grunt.
Wade turned at once. Seeing the boy on his back, he dropped to one knee without hesitation. His rough, calloused hand reached out to steady him, but it was his eyes that spoke the most—steady, grounded, and full of quiet strength.
"You make us strong," Wade said quietly. "But… you make us afraid too. We all not want you work hard if we lose you after that."
He paused, the moment stretching in the morning light. Then he added, his voice firmer now, "So now I work with you. You tell what we do, and I do. We clan, we are team. You no work alone anymore, alright?"
Athan stayed silent for a few seconds, surprised by how direct and honest Wade had been. The man's words cut through the usual quiet like the sharp edge of a tool, not harsh, but precise. He looked into his father's eyes and saw no trace of teasing or doubt—only sincerity, and a quiet strength behind his words.
There was something grounding in the way Wade knelt there, eye-level with him, not demanding, not pushing—just present.
As he stood there, Athan also thought back to the way Ok and Yun had looked at him earlier. The concern in their eyes hadn't been momentary—it had been rooted in something deeper. Subtle, but steady. It wasn't hard to imagine the three of them talking about it after he collapsed. Maybe it had been silent at first—shared looks, quiet nods—but eventually, someone must've said it aloud: He can't keep going like this.
This new arrangement… it wasn't just kindness. It was a choice. A decision made by the men of the clan—not to take over, but to stand beside him. To carry part of the weight, before it crushed him.
The boy swallowed and gave a small nod. "Alright," he said softly. "But I'll still explain everything. You know… I think better when I speak."
Wade let out a short breath that might've been a laugh and gently ruffled the boy's hair, his rough fingers surprisingly gentle.
"Then speak. I listen."
They stood there a moment longer, near the edge of the baths, with the sound of rushing water echoing around them. The morning light continued to warm their backs, painting gold along the stones and tree trunks.
Then Athan turned and gestured toward the kiln—its solid base already built, but the upper structure still missing.
"Good then, let's start there."
They walked in silence, Athan leading the way, with Wade following a few steps behind. The ground was still damp in places, the sun rising higher above the trees as they approached the kiln site.
As they neared the stone foundation, Athan slowed and finally spoke, his voice calm but focused.
"Now that the base is ready, we can start making cement again," he said. "We'll add three layers of bricks to the structure."
He stopped just in front of the kiln's ring of stone and turned slightly, glancing back at his father.
"If we try to build more before the cement cures and hardens properly, we run a big risk. The whole thing could collapse under its own weight."
He crouched down to check the foundation, brushing his hand along the edge of the stone.
"So we'll stop at three for now. No higher."
Standing again, he dusted off his hands and added, "If we have lime powder left, and if the weather stays steady, we can continue in about four days. That should give it time to set fully."
The two of them began with the first step: collecting sand. Athan grabbed the wooden wheelbarrow from where it was leaned against the nearby cliff, checked the axle briefly, then gave a short nod. Wade stepped up beside him without a word, and together they made their way toward the riverbank where the fine sand was gathering itself.
The trip back and forth took time, but Wade didn't complain once. He lifted, scooped, and pushed with quiet efficiency, keeping pace with his son. Athan gave short directions as they went, pointing out which type of sand to take and which spots had too much debris or moisture.
After several full loads, the pile between the kiln and the bath grew high enough to satisfy Athan's standards. He took a step back, brushing the sweat from his brow with the back of his sleeve.
"That should be enough," he said, more to himself than anyone else. Then he turned to Wade. "Can you bring water next? Use one of the large wooden pots. They're near my shelter."
Wade gave a small nod and turned without hesitation, heading off through the clearing.
Athan, now alone at the kiln site, walked over to the storage pit he had made with some brick where the remaining lime powder was kept. He lifted the brick and the leaf carefully and checked the contents inside—there was still enough for a full batch.
He grabbed one of his tool for adding and mixing before he began adding measured amounts of sand, lime powder, and ash directly on the ground next to the kiln. The mixture was light in color, and as he worked, the breeze carried a faint sting to his nose and eyes. He turned his face slightly, adjusting his rhythm.
By the time Wade returned, carrying the pot of water with both hands, Athan was already kneeling beside the pile, carefully folding the mix over itself with slow, practiced movements.
"Good," Athan said as his father approached. "Set it down there."
Wade lowered the pot next to the mix and stepped back slightly, watching.
Athan pointed to the fine white powder at the center of the mix. "That's lime," he explained. "We made it by heating the blue stones—those ones over there." He gestured to a pile of broken, bluish-gray rocks stacked nearby. "We fired them hot until they turned brittle, and white."
He paused, tapping the edge of the pile gently with the mixing stick.
"It becomes this white powder. Strong, but dangerous. It burns skin when it touches water. That's why I don't handle it with bare hands anymore."
Wade gave a thoughtful grunt, his eyes narrowing as he studied the mix more closely.
"Next," Athan continued, "we add ash and sand. Bit by bit, until the texture changes. You'll see it start to clump together evenly—like soft mud—but still a little dry. The color too. It needs to shift from pale gray to something smoother, more blended."
He began folding the water into the mix slowly, using a cup. The reaction was instant—the lime hissed and steamed where it met the moisture, and the smell grew sharper.
"We mix it all carefully. Not too fast. It needs time to activate and bind. Once it's smooth, we can start using it—for the kiln walls, the bath's outer shell, anything we need to build, seal or protect."
Wade nodded slowly, absorbing every word, and stepped closer.
"I show you," Athan said, "but be careful. Don't let it touch your skin. Not when it's fresh."
And so, side by side, father and son began the slow, careful task of mixing cement—one scoop at a time.
After a while, Athan ran his hand over the mix one last time and gave a small nod.
"That's good," he said. "The consistency's right. We can start."
Wade straightened and waited for the next instruction.
"Hand me the bricks," Athan added, pointing to the nearby pile.
One by one, Wade passed them over, and Athan began placing them carefully along the kiln's foundation. He pressed each brick into the mortar with precision, adding more mix where needed to hold them firmly in place. His hands and tools moved steadily, his focus sharp.
He worked in a circular pattern, gradually raising the walls layer by layer.
Still, when he reached the section where the door would eventually go, Athan did something different—he placed the bricks there without using any mortar. They sat on top of each other in a neat stack, but they weren't sealed.
Wade tilted his head slightly, watching in silence.
"This part's temporary," Athan explained. "We don't seal the door area yet."
He tapped the loose stack gently.
"When we start building the upper layers, we'll need a place for them to rest until the mortar dries. These bricks will hold them in place while they set."
He glanced up at Wade, wiping a bit of dust from his fingers. "Later, once everything is dry and the structure is ready to be fired, we'll pull these bricks out, load the kiln, then put them back using mud instead of mortar."
"Why mud?" Wade asked, eyes narrowed.
"Because mud can be removed after the firing," Athan replied. "Mortar is too strong—it would seal the door shut. But mud will trap the heat during the firing, and we can take it off afterward to remove the bricks inside."
Wade nodded slowly, understanding the logic. He passed the next brick without a word.
And so the structure began to take shape—one careful row at a time, laid by steady hands under the growing light of day.
With only three layers to build, and the two of them working side by side, the job didn't take long. Athan adjusted the placement, Wade passed the bricks and mortar, and together they built the low structure in smooth, quiet rhythm. Once the last brick of the third layer was pressed into place, Athan stepped back, brushing dust from his hands.
"That's it for today," he said, nodding at the kiln. "Now we wait."
He turned toward the open space where the unfinished baths stood—two low cement ring not far from the kiln—and gestured in that direction.
"Come on. Next is the baths. We'll move stone."
Wade followed his gaze, saying nothing. Athan pointed toward a scattered pile of rough granite stones a little farther out.
"For now we just need to move them near the bath," he said, lifting another stone with both hands. "We use their weight and the cement to lock them together."
He walked over to the base of the baths—two circular structures standing side by side, each one already surrounded by two rough layers of stone. Each layer measured about thirty centimeters high, forming the first part of what would become the outer walls. The cement between the stones had dried well, holding the granite in place like a natural puzzle.
With an extra pair of hands to help, moving the remaining granite blocks went much faster. Athan no longer had to carry each stone alone—Wade lifted alongside him, matching his rhythm without needing words.
They fell into a quiet, efficient pace, lifting, walking, setting the stones near the baths in neat rows. The sun was climbing higher now, warming the clearing and drying the cement from the earlier work.
As they neared the end of the pile, footsteps in the grass caught Athan's attention. He glanced up to see Lara and Kali approaching, both carrying bundles of wood in their arms.
Kali grinned when she spotted them. "Still building," she said cheerfully, dropping her bundle with a soft thud.
Lara gave a small wave. "We brought the wood, like you asked."
They carried the wood over to a spot near the kiln site—the one that had been used for temporary firings in the past. Since the permanent kiln wasn't ready yet, the old spot would serve again for the next burn.
Athan gave them a grateful nod. "Perfect. That's exactly where I wanted it."
Once the last of the granite had been moved and the pile beside the baths looked tall enough, Athan stopped, scanning it critically.
"That should be enough."
He turned to Wade. "Let's get the wheelbarrow. We'll start mixing again."
They returned to the cement pile and filled the barrow with fresh mortar. Back at the baths, Athan crouched beside the stone ring and began applying cement along the top of the third layer.
"Here," he said, spreading the mix carefully. "This is how we'll do it. I lay the cement first—you place the stones right after."
Wade nodded and got into position. Once Athan had prepped the first section, Wade stepped forward with a granite block and pressed it into place under the boy's direction.
They repeated the process, moving around both bath structures in slow, steady turns. One layer. Then a second. By the end of it, the outer walls had grown another 60 centimeters in height, sturdy and tightly sealed.
The sun was dipping slightly now, shadows growing longer.
But Athan wasn't done.
He motioned toward a stack of pre-cut wooden parts resting nearby. "Let's finish the benches and stairs."
By the time they finished placing the second cemented layer around both baths, the sun had begun its slow descent, casting longer shadows across the worksite. The outer stone walls now stood at waist height, rough but solid, locked together with mortar.
Athan stood up straight, stretching his back with a quiet exhale. He wiped his hands on his tunic, then turned toward a small pile of stones he had set aside earlier—similar in size to those used for the bath walls, but chosen for their flatter surfaces.
"Next, we do the steps and benches," he said. "Same stones, just placed differently."
Wade followed without a word as Athan wheeled over a bit more cement from the mix they had left.
At each of the two baths, Athan picked spots where the granite would serve a secondary function—either as a bench to sit on, or a small step to help people get in or out of the water. There was no carving, no cutting. Just good placement, balance, and mortar.
He laid down the first patch of cement and positioned a flat stone at the edge of the bath. "This one's a step," he explained. "Keep it low. Easy to reach."
Wade handed him another, and Athan added it to the side, adjusting it slightly to align with the curve of the wall. They repeated the same process at the second bath—two or three stones each for benches, and a few for steps.
The cement held well, filling the gaps and locking the granite into place. As always, Athan checked each piece with a firm push before moving on.
"They'll sit here while they wash," he said, mostly to himself. "And when the water's hot, they won't have to stand the whole time."
Wade didn't say anything, but his silence wasn't disinterest. He worked with focus, helping Athan place each stone with care.
When the last bench was set and the final step aligned with the bath's curve, Athan took a few steps back, breathing heavier now. His arms and legs ached from the repeated motions, but the result in front of him brought a quiet satisfaction.
The baths looked complete—usable, solid, and clean.
He turned to Wade, brushing dust from his fingers.
"I couldn't have done this today without you," he said, his voice tired but sincere. "Not this fast. I'd still be hauling stones right now."
Wade gave a slow nod, his face unreadable at first—then softened slightly.
"Good work," he said simply.
And that was all that needed to be said.
