Chapter 231: The First Batch of Bricks on the Eastern Continent

From the Golden Bull tribe to the White Elephant tribe, even the fastest running beastman would need four days of travel. Going back and forth took eight days, considering the unexpected situation that arose, Bertram calculated it would take at least ten days.

"For the next few days I will stay here waiting for news from the White Elephant tribe." He rubbed his round belly and narrowed his eyes smiling, "Anyway, I have to see what those dirt clods will turn into when fired."

In the following days, the empty lot south of the Golden Bull tribe was never without people.

Molded adobe bricks could not be dried in the sun immediately. Kaelen had a row of scaffolding set up using wooden pillars roofed with thatch, the bricks stacked on edge in rows under the scaffolding, each brick separated by a finger-width gap for the wind to pass through.

"Why not dry them in the sun for speed?" A Golden Bull Sub-Beast wondered.

"If dried in the sun, the outside dries first while the inside is still wet, the brick will crack open." Kaelen explained, "It must be left to dry slowly, dry evenly. Every two days turn it once, bottom side up."

On the third day, it rained.

At midnight, the sound of rain pelted down on the guest house roof. Kaelen jumped up first, hastily grabbed a cloak and rushed out, running while shouting. Just a moment later the entire tribe was in an uproar, people holding torches, people hugging animal skins, people carrying even grass mats running out to the empty lot.

The Golden Bull beastmen transformed into beasts and stood in a long row around the scaffolding, their broad backs catching the water instead of a roof. The White Elephant people used their bodies to press down on the four corners of the mats, no matter how hard the wind blew they would not fly away.

The rain stopped near morning. The whole group sat down on the mud, wet like drowned rats, but the three rows of adobe bricks were still completely dry.

Bertram wiped the water on his face, chuckling, "In my life I have never stayed up all night because of a few dirt clods."

That morning Kaelen cooked a large pot of porridge to nourish everyone. Cleanly washed rice was roasted briefly with a little fat for the rice grains to firm up, then water was poured in to simmer, simmering until the rice grains burst open, the porridge liquid thickening like paste. Minced meat marinated with salt and pepper was stir-fried separately for fragrance, poured into the porridge pot and stirred evenly, finally adding julienned ginger and finely chopped scallions.

Porridge cooked this way was both fragrant and easy to digest; people wet from the rain eating it would immediately warm their stomachs.

Old man Valmot slurped a whole bowl in one breath, even demanding more chili oil. Kaelen resolutely refused to give it: "You just got soaked in the rain, your stomach will not be able to bear it."

"I did not get soaked in the rain, I slept inside the house."

"...Then all the more reason you cannot eat it."

Seven days of drying passed like that. On the eighth day, the adobe bricks were dry to the point that picking them up and knocking them against each other sounded a dry "clack clack", trying to break one showed the inside was already the same color as the outside.

"Alright." Kaelen dusted his hands, "Stack the kiln."

Stacking the kiln was the most difficult stage, and also the stage that Bertram followed the closest.

Bricks could not be stacked tightly against each other. Kaelen had them stacked in a staggered manner, one brick resting on another in layers, leaving vertical grooves between layers for the fire and hot smoke to travel from bottom to top.

"Near the fire door stack them loosely, the higher you go the denser you stack." He said while stacking a sample, "Because the fire is strongest at the bottom, if stacked densely the bottom bricks will burn too much, while the top bricks will remain raw."

Bertram nodded, personally trying to stack a layer. He stacked very skillfully, his fingers as big as bananas yet placing the brick gently without a millimeter of deviation.

When the kiln was fully stacked, the door was sealed. People built an adobe brick wall blocking the kiln door, only leaving a space at the bottom just enough to shove firewood in, and leaving three small fist-sized holes at the top for observation.

That afternoon, the fire was lit.

"Three days." Kaelen said to the crowd surrounding, "On the first day only burn a small fire, called a drying fire. If a big fire is burned immediately, the water vapor in the bricks rises too fast, the whole kiln will explode."

Maxwell shrank his neck, "Really explode?"

"Really explode. I once saw a kiln explode, bricks flew ten paces away."

From then on, no one dared to add more firewood without permission.

On the first night, the smoke rising from the chimney had a cloudy white color, looking closely it even looked wet.

"That is water vapor." Kaelen pointed up, "As long as you see white smoke the bricks are still damp, cannot increase the fire yet."

The whole group sat guarding the fire all night. The Golden Bull people carried over a pile of wild yams and sweet potatoes. Kaelen told them not to boil them, just bury them straight into the hot ash layer outside the kiln door, occasionally taking a poker stick to turn them once so they cook evenly.

Potatoes buried in ash cooked very slowly but were several times sweeter than boiled potatoes. The outer skin was charred, peeling it revealed the golden inside, the nectar seeping out sticking to hands, taking a bite burned the tongue yet one still wanted to keep biting.

Finnick finished eating with his face smeared with ash, sitting nodding off on Sane’s lap. Edward persistently stayed awake, recording every half hour: what time how much firewood was added, what color the smoke was, how bright the observation holes were.

Old man Valmot sat by the fire, covering himself with an animal skin, telling Eastern continent stories for the children to listen to. Halfway through telling it he himself fell asleep first.

On the second day, the white smoke thinned gradually then disappeared completely. Kaelen ordered to increase the fire.

By afternoon, looking through the observation hole only a dark red color could be seen. By night that red color turned to bright red, then gradually shifted to orange-yellow, so bright it dazzled the eyes, looking for long made eyes water.

"Seeing an orange-yellow color is good." Kaelen said, "Inside the kiln at this moment it is so hot that the clay melts, sticking tightly together. Cooling down it becomes brick."

Bertram kept his eyes glued to the observation hole, not blinking.

He had stood there for almost two hours, sweat streaming down his round belly, yet he still refused to leave.

On the third day, when the fire color in the kiln had become a uniform orange-yellow from bottom to top, Kaelen ordered to stop adding firewood.

The kiln door was tightly sealed with mud mixed with straw. The three observation holes were also sealed. The chimney on top was covered with a large stone slab, plastered with mud around the edges.

"What do we do now?" Maxwell asked.

"Now we wait." Kaelen dusted his hands, "Three days, cannot open. Opening early the cold wind rushes in, the bricks will all crack."

Those three days were as long as three seasons.

Every day there were people wandering around the kiln. Some people even placed their hands on the kiln wall to see if it was still hot, after placing it they retracted their hands hissing in pain. Old man Valmot every half day would lean on his stick and come out to ask a sentence: "Can it be opened yet?"

"Not yet."

"Why so long."

"Grandfa, you have asked eleven times since morning."

Until the morning of the thirteenth day counting from the day Bertram sent the letter, which was the third day after sealing the kiln, Kaelen finally nodded.

People broke the mud layer sealing the door. The hot air rushed out in a blast, scorching the grass in front of the kiln door.

Waiting for the hot air to dissipate somewhat, Kaelen picked up the first brick on top.

It no longer had the gray color of dirt. It was reddish-brown, sharp-edged, the surface slightly rough. He knocked it against the brick next to it.

Clang.

A clear and resonant sound, completely not the sound of dirt.

Bertram lunged forward, so fast that his belly even slammed into the kiln wall. He snatched a brick, ignoring that it was still hot, turning it horizontally and vertically, knocking, scratching, then raising it to smash hard down on a rock.

The brick broke in half, but broke like a rock breaking, the broken surface sharp and smooth, not crumbling like dirt. His two eyes widened, asking urgently:

"It is truly very hard, just like this and a house can be built?"

Kaelen nodded, "Yes, once sun-dried and cooled it can be built, just using the type of adhesive that the tribes use to build stone houses to stick them together is fine. Waiting a few more days I will guide everyone to build the first brick house."

Bertram laughed loudly, patting Maxwell’s shoulder, "That’s great old man, from now on we do not need claws and can also build windproof houses like those other clans!"

At this moment Kaelen finally realized. What liking well-ventilated houses, it was merely an excuse. These two tribes did not have claws, could not carve boulders into square pieces therefore had to live in wooden houses!

Yet at first he naively believed their ghost stories!

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Four thousand bricks were unloaded from the kiln, stacked in square piles under the scaffolding. The Golden Bull children ran around the brick piles, every kid wanting to touch one. Great Elder Alton held two bricks knocking them together to hear the clanging sound, knocking endlessly without getting bored.

Kaelen told them to keep a few still-warm bricks, stacking them into a small stove right at the lot. He placed a pot on it, poured in bone broth simmered since morning, dropped in mushrooms, tofu, vegetables, glass noodles, whoever wanted to eat what could pick and drop it into the pot themselves.

The Golden Bull people had never eaten this way before, found it strange but liked it, crowding around in inner and outer circles. Bertram picked up tofu dipping it into the chili oil bowl, hissing while continuing to pick. Old man Valmot was served right on the spot by Finnick, every bowl overflowing, eating to the point of having to loosen his belt.

When everyone was laughing and talking happily, the ground suddenly shook violently, causing the dirt layer on the Golden Bull tribe’s walls to fall off in chunks. The Golden Bull tribe people hurriedly dragged each other running out of their houses, then witnessed an extremely magnificent scene.

A dust tornado was advancing towards the Golden Bull tribe at a terrifyingly fast speed. Leading the dust tornado, a white elephant as big as a small hill galloped over thunderously, crashing and ruining the Golden Bull tribe’s gate.

The Golden Bull Sage threw his walking stick and sat down on the ground, holding his belly laughing until tears came out:

"I told you so! I told you that old man would definitely crawl on all fours over here!"