Chapter 3

My words hung in the cold air, stunning the crowd into silence.

A carpenter? What did woodworking have to do with drying firewood?

Even Felix looked at me, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Mr. Lewis, what exactly are you suggesting?"

I didn't answer right away.

Instead, I turned back to my cabin, rummaged through my toolbox, and retrieved a pencil and a smooth plank of wood.

Returning to the yard, I crouched down under the crowd's watchful, curious gaze.

My hand moved fast across the wood.

Lines, structures, perspective.

The blueprint of a building took shape in mere minutes.

It was long and narrow, resembling a warehouse.

At one end, I drew a massive masonry structure topped by a towering chimney.

The interior was filled with grid-like racks, stacked layer upon layer from floor to ceiling.

On the side, I sketched a cross-section, clearly marking how hot air would rise from the brick base, flow through every level of the grid, and finally escape through the roof vents and the chimney.

Then, I held the plank out to Felix.

"What is this?" he asked.

"It's a drying kiln," I said.

"A drying kiln?" Felix repeated, still looking confused.

"Yes. A house specifically designed to dry firewood."

I pointed to the drawing, explaining the logic, "The brick structure is the heat source. We can build a fire inside there.

"The grid racks are for the wet timber. We can stack a massive amount.

"By using the intake vents at the bottom and the exhaust at the top, we create a cycle. The hot air pulls the moisture right out of the wood. We can dry an entire kiln's worth of lumber in a single day."

I was essentially describing the principles of the curing barns or drying sheds common in the rural north of my homeland, though I had simplified and adapted the design to fit the materials and environment here.

Felix and several townsmen who had crowded around stared at the plank, their eyes wide.

Their expressions shifted from bewilderment to shock, and finally, to pure ecstasy.

"My God, this is a design of genius!" a burly man, likely a hunter, exclaimed.

"It is! The airflow, the heat utilization... it is simply perfect!" agreed another man wearing glasses, who looked like a schoolteacher.

They understood.

People in Northland spent their lives working with wood; they knew its nature intuitively.

They instantly grasped the value of this design.

It was infinitely more reliable than so-called "magic."

Felix's hands shook with excitement. "Mr. Lewis, c-can it really be built?"

"Yes," I replied, my voice steady and sure.

"How long will it take?"

I glanced at the sky, then at the distant cedar forests on the hillside. "If we have enough hands and materials, three days."

"Three days!"

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.

"Three days and we'll be saved this winter."

Hope reignited on every face.

But then, a dissonant voice cut through the optimism. "Easier said than done! Where will the wood come from? The bricks? Who will build it?"

I looked toward the voice.

It was a tall, thin man with a mean face.

The person next to him tugged his sleeve, but he jerked his neck back defiantly. "Is it not the truth? Building a house this size would take a week just to cut the trees. Can we afford to wait that long?"

His words poured cold water on the embers of hope we had just sparked.

It was true. Materials and manpower were colossal hurdles.

Felix's face fell, the weight of the problem returning.

*****

I just grinned, unfazed.

Pointing toward the dense forest behind the town, I said, "Wood? There is plenty of that there."

Then, I gestured to the dilapidated, abandoned stone saunas scattered around the outskirts. "Bricks and stones? We've got more than enough right there."

Finally, my gaze swept over the hundreds of able-bodied men standing before me.

"As for manpower..." I glanced over everyone. "Isn't it all right here?"

The townspeople exchanged glances, the atmosphere shifting.

"Yeah," a few people murmured, the realization settling in.

They were Northlanders. They might lack magic, but they possessed strength, axes, and an ancestral knowledge of how to build wooden homes.

The tall, thin man opened his mouth to argue again, but Felix spoke first, his voice booming, "Mr. Lewis is right. We have hands, we have feet, and we have the forest!"

Felix turned to the crowd, his presence commanding. "We cannot rely on elusive miracles, but we can trust our own strength and Mr. Lewis' wisdom."

He thrust the plank with my drawing high into the air like a banner. "This is our blueprint. It is our only chance to save ourselves.

"Everyone, let's get moving. Young men, to the forest for timber. Strong men, dismantle the old saunas and bring back the stones and bricks.

Women, prepare food and hot coffee! We follow Mr. Lewis' orders. In three days, we will build this miracle!"

A roar of approval erupted from the crowd, shattering the despair that had hung over them like a shroud.

Despair vanished, replaced by a fierce, fighting spirit.

Mark stepped up and clapped a heavy hand onto my shoulder. "Michael, you really are the hero of this town."

I shook my head. "It's too early for that."

My gaze drifted past the cheering throng toward the town entrance.

The tall, thin man was slipping away from the crowd, sprinting toward the town limits.

I knew exactly where he was going.

The only person in town who didn't want this kiln built was Tom, the man who had sold them the wet wood.

I turned to Felix. "Mr. Graves, we need to move fast. "I'm worried someone might try to cause trouble."

Felix followed my gaze, and his expression hardened. "I understand. Don't worry, I'll post guards at the crossroads."

He paused, looking at me with solemn determination. "Mr. Lewis, right now, we are all listening to you."

I looked at the blueprint in my hand, then at the hundreds of faces looking back at me with complete trust.

I knew then that this was my fight, a war for an outsider like me, a carpenter far from home.

And it was only just getting started.