Chapter 228: Twelve Bunks

Construction of the sleeping gallery began in the rear annex.

Rask carried a bundle of straight timber offcuts into the room and dropped them onto the floorboards. The wood lacked the thickness for load-bearing spans, but it held enough density to support resting bodies. Elian counted the pieces and handed Rask a stack of silver coins.

"You pay for scrap," Rask said.

"I pay for usability."

Rask pocketed the coin. "You finally discovered wood has uses outside of holding up the sky."

Dorvik drove iron rails directly into the masonry. The bunks would not stand on four legs. They bolted to the walls, anchoring the frames into the stone foundation of the building. Dorvik measured a cross-brace and demanded thicker iron brackets from the forge.

"Overbuild the joints," Dorvik grunted. "Travelers throw themselves onto beds."

"Agreed," Elian said.

Heda leaned against the doorway with her arms crossed. "Why does a commercial bunk need iron capable of surviving a siege?"

Dorvik stopped hammering. Elian stopped writing. They both looked through the doorway toward the taproom. Sif and Varg were currently dragging a full ale cask across the floorboards. Sif bumped a heavy stool out of her path with one knee, splintering the wooden leg into three jagged pieces.

Heda followed their gaze. She closed her mouth and asked no further questions.

Sseka glided into the annex. She inspected the lower tier of the framing and pointed to the far corner.

"Two lower bunks need floor access," Sseka said. "No ladders blocking the approach. One needs removable side rails."

Elian marked the change on his slate. Naga coils required a wide turning radius. Deep-Basin traders could not climb vertical rungs.

Kaelis looked through the doorway from the main hall. She watched the narrow wooden rectangles take shape against the walls. A centaur could never fold her legs into a human-sized box. Elian looked at her, then at the ledger. Mixed traveler accommodations could not mean one universal body shape. The standing bay outside remained necessary. The Hearth's original structural choices kept their value alongside the new additions.

Bruna carried a stack of heavy canvas covers into the room. She dropped them onto the floor and began filling the first tick with dried straw.

Vaelia followed her. She bypassed the doorway, picked up an empty canvas cover, and plunged her hands into the straw bale. She worked with brutal efficiency, packing the corners tight so the center would not sag under human weight. Decades of old military camps had taught her everything about miserable bedding.

Heda watched Vaelia wrestle the canvas into a flat, firm rectangle.

"Do legendary Vanguard commanders traditionally stuff straw?"

Vaelia drove a bone needle through the thick fabric to seal the end. "Legendary Vanguard commanders traditionally prefer sleeping."

Twelve bunks stood anchored to the stone by late afternoon.

Elian brought his ledger to the center of the room. He did not write down a cheap number just to fill the beds. A bed cost the house money every time a body touched it. He calculated the heat draft from the main flues. He priced the laundry soap for the canvas covers. He added the cost of sweeping the floor, replacing crushed straw, and the hot water the guests would pull from the shared washroom.

He wrote a price that covered the wear on his building.

A merchant walked into the storage room, stepping over a pile of scrap wood. He looked at the bunks and pulled a heavy purse from his belt.

"I will reserve all twelve bunks for my workers for the entire month."

"No," Elian said.

The merchant frowned. "I am offering guaranteed coin."

"The Hearth requires turnover available to road traffic," Elian said. "I do not sell out an entire lodging category to a single company. You may rent beds by the night for the hands currently present."

The merchant turned around and walked back to the taproom.

Bruna watched the man leave. "Do you enjoy refusing guaranteed money?"

"No."

"Good. You looked ill."

The first guests arrived at dusk. They were ordinary teamsters hauling ironware from the northern ridges. They paid the posted rate without haggling, carrying their travel bags into the annex.

One teamster dropped his bag, climbed into a middle bunk, and fell asleep before he finished unlacing his boots. He slept entirely through the dinner rush.

Bruna walked into the annex an hour later with a lantern. She stood beside the bunk and watched the man's chest rise and fall.

He breathed.

Bruna set a covered bowl of stew on the floorboards directly beneath his head.

Elian closed the ledger for the night. The Oaken Hearth operated with different services for different needs. Private rooms occupied the second floor. Mixed-body accommodations filled the covered bays. The emergency refuge sat at the north marker. Twelve commercial bunks anchored to the annex walls.

Elian stood in the doorway and looked into the dark room. The heat from the common room drifted steadily over the threshold.

Twelve pairs of muddy boots sat lined up beneath the new bunks.