Instead of carts and hammers, the morning started with singing.
Startled, Ethan stopped at the market square's edge. A few kids were humming a happy song as they swept the stone walkways. Despite their rudimentary brooms, which were bundles of tied twigs, their effort was evident. As she swept, one girl whirled with joy and exclaimed,
"Every corner cleaner than the last!" one girl shouted, twirling in delight as she swept. "Milord Ethan will see!"
Ethan blinked, amused and bewildered. "When did I become a symbol of tidiness?"
He got a knowing glance from Lina, who now goes with him on most of his daily rounds. "People are observing everything you do. So they follow."
It was a different market square. Not grandeur but order. Even the noisiest peddlers lowered their voices when they were close to the central fountain, drainage trenches were lined with pebbles, and merchants had set up their stalls in neat rows.
In addition to health, the clean water had brought a sense of rhythm.
However, not everyone was in favor of it.
With his arms folded, a man stood in the shadow of a shattered pillar. Old stone eyes, thick arms, and a grizzled beard. One of the few elders who remembered the town before it was destroyed was a blacksmith named Garren.
As Ethan walked up, Garren remarked, "You've made the place pretty." However, you haven't dealt with winter. or raiders.
Ethan looked him in the eye. "If we're still ill from drinking, we can't fight what's coming."
Garren nodded but did not smile. "That's reasonable."
Trust, however, was not easily purchased. Ethan was aware of this. Even after cleaning the streets and constructing trenches, people would continue to have doubts about the man wearing their late baron's crest, the heir of the late Baron.
So he made a choice.
Ethan rolled up his sleeves and personally helped rebuild the houses, rather than calling meetings behind closed doors or in the high hall. Once used to sketch blueprints, the same hands now held shovels, raised beams, and repaired roofs. Along with the carpenters, he shared meals with laborers, and sat by the fire with families who told him stories of the old days.
One evening as they watched the sun drop behind the rooftops of the town, Lina remarked, "You're not just building houses." You are sewing something back together.
"Trust," Ethan said gently. "I am trying to earn it."
In the days that followed, the town's defenses became less important than its citizens. Now Ethan realized that stable lives created strong communities, and stable homes meant stable lives. The exterior wall could wait. Untidy homes couldn't.
Houses were straightened one by one. Families collaborated together. Even the complaining elders quietly approved of the children's efforts to paint protective symbols above their doors.
Ethan then installed community boards, which were straightforward wooden frames placed at strategic points where people could post offers and needs. Do you need assistance re-thatching? Share it. Have extra wood? Say so. "This wall won't just hold messages, it will hold us together."
It was successful. Voices started to rise in a town that had previously been dominated by silence and fear, but they did so in cooperation rather than protest.
Garren eventually returned—not with a scowl, but a wagon of scrap metal. "Can't build homes with just words," he said, tossing down bundles of nails he'd forged.
Lina smiled. "I believe he likes you based on that."
By the end of the second week, there was hope instead of just houses being rebuilt.
Individuals greeted one another by name, swept their thresholds, and adorned their doorposts. They shared meals once more. The air was filled with songs again.
Ethan knew that enemies could be kept out by a wall. However, only homes that were fair and strong could unite hearts.
And when danger came again as it surely would, it would not just meet a wall.
It would encounter a revitalized town.