Hiring Clay and Harvesting Soil
The Earth Mother Temple in Bayfort Village, true to its devotion to the Earth Mother God, was caring for orphans without any relatives or connections.
In this world where labor was precious, it was common for people to take in children if they had even a slight tie to the deceased parents—like having known them somewhat well. So, kids who ended up flowing into a temple like this were the truly unlucky ones. It meant they had no acquaintances of their parents anywhere nearby, not even in neighboring villages or cities, or those acquaintances lacked the means to raise another child.
I explained the situation to Priest Ben upon arrival and asked him to introduce me to the orphans. There were two: a halfling-mix girl two years younger than me, and a sturdy, robust beastkin youth on the cusp of adulthood at 18. The girl looked at least five years younger than her actual age, probably due to her halfling blood. From what I heard, her parents had died of a contagious disease. The beastkin youth, with impressive horns sprouting boldly from his head, had lost his parents to a monster attack while they were farming.
With the orphans standing before me, I spoke up.
"I'm looking to hire some hands. The job will be making bricks or pottery from clay, and I'm planning to employ you for at least six years. Anyone interested?"
The beastkin youth seemed reluctant. When I asked why, he said his dream was to become a soldier. He clearly wasn't thrilled with my offer.
The girl, on the other hand, perked up at my words.
"Um, excuse me... how much is the pay?"
"Four large silver coins a day. Room and board provided."
"...! I-I'll do it!"
"Great!"
She was hesitant at first, but she spoke her mind boldly enough—it seemed she had more spunk than I expected. I'd been inwardly worried about what to do if both turned me down, so this was a relief.
I'd read in a book that halflings had a natural knack for craftsmanship due to their racial traits. Being a mix, she probably wasn't quite at that level, but she still seemed more reliable than the beastkin youth beside her.
"What's your name?"
"Clay!"
Clay was a girl with dark blonde hair and green eyes. Her small stature made me worry if she'd handle physical labor, but according to Priest Ben, her strength and stamina were on par with an adult human male. He even said if she were a boy, it'd be double that, which made me once again appreciate just how fantastical this world was.
After that, I donated a silver coin to the temple and thanked the priest before heading back to the manor with Clay in tow. I needed to inform the butler, Hermann, of her employment.
Now it was time to check out the building that would serve as my workshop. Clay and I headed to the structure the butler had permitted us to use.
When we arrived at the spot he'd described, there stood a wooden building that looked like a stable.
"Clay, I've got something to discuss."
With just the two of us, I didn't hesitate and pulled out the contract scroll. The terms were about keeping secret the manufacturing methods for everything I'd create going forward, and not using any knowledge gained from those methods to make items after our employment ended.
I also took out the pre-written paper with the contract details and read it to her slowly.
The employee shall keep secret all manufacturing methods learned during employment.
Upon termination of employment, the employee shall not produce items using said methods.
Violation incurs magical binding penalties.
Clay listened quietly and, finding nothing unfair, agreed without issue.
"Alright, then. Activating the contract scroll."
I infused mana into the scroll, and the magic circle began to glow.
"By mutual agreement, the contract binds."
⟨ Contract Sealed ⟩
The contract scroll was simple to use. The parties placed their hands on the activated magic circle, recited the terms, and voiced their agreement, triggering the contract magic.
Clay and I placed our hands on the glowing circle and recited the terms. The scroll activated, and mana chains wrapped tightly around Clay's heart.
"Ugh...!"
She swallowed a groan, but when I asked if she was okay, she said it wasn't painful—just a sudden pressure that startled her.
Soon the mana chains vanished, and the scroll burned away in an instant. My first time using a magic scroll, but it seemed the contract was properly sealed. It was an item sometimes used to forcibly enslave powerful knights or mages, so its performance was top-notch.
With the contract done, it was time to inspect the building.
The structure I'd been granted was next to a charcoal kiln on the village outskirts, in an area devoid of people. The plot was marked by a rickety fence barely holding its shape from rot. A wide open space fronted a dilapidated wooden building tucked to one side.
Inside, it was empty. Dust blanketed everything, scattered with wooden stumps, cloth scraps, and assorted junk of unknown purpose.
"Gonna need to clean first."
Aside from the filth, the spacious interior looked perfect for a workshop. The plot's clearing could easily fit several different kilns. I had no plans for mass production, so this was more than satisfactory.
I assigned Clay her first task: cleaning. We'd borrow tools from the manor for now. Replacing the rotten fence and furnishing for work could wait.
The next day, I arranged with the butler to borrow a cart and pack horse. Armed up, I grabbed a shovel and dagger, and set out with Clay.
Our goal: find soil for firebricks and pottery.
Obviously, we couldn't dig up farmland or managed forest soil near the village. To get enough, we'd have to venture farther to less-traveled spots.
We followed the patrol road—a dirt path along the farmland-forest border. It had been patrolled recently, with no recent wolf or goblin sightings, so as long as we didn't go deep into the woods, it should be safe.
For safety, we waited until after dawn instead of early morning, and soon the sun was high overhead. Before digging, lunch first.
Clay and I ate simple bread and jerky from the manor. She'd apparently never had white bread before; she stared wide-eyed, munching away happily. Adorable.
After eating, at the forest edge, we gathered vines and straight, suitably thick branches. While I stood guard armed, Clay worked with the dagger.
We stripped the vine leaves, coiled them, sorted the branches, and loaded the cart—filling about a third in no time. These would make sieves to filter rocks, roots, bugs, and organics from the soil.
That was enough vines and branches. For immediate sieves, I wove vines zigzag over spaced branches, improvising a rough one-square-meter sieve. Crude-looking, but functional.
Next up: the main event—finding soil.
Forest floor soil was mostly dark, humus from decayed roots, bugs, and leaves. Great for plants, but too organic for my firebricks or pottery—the organics would burn out during firing, creating voids that crack or weaken quality.
To get quality soil, strip the topsoil about 50cm deep. What I needed: kaolin clay, feldspar (common brown soil), silica sand (sand). Nature mixed them; soil color hinted at ratios—grayish for kaolin, brownish for feldspar, yellowish for silica. Dark meant high organics.
So, seek light-colored soil. Minerals separate easily by sedimentation. Find decent soil, and materials were no worry. Veins of pure kaolin or fine sand existed, but rare; better to scoop local stuff and process.
At the forest-patrol road edge, Clay and I dug test spots, seeking moderately light soil. Surface was unusable anyway, pure luck, but digging revealed colors under plants and humus.
Soon, we hit yellowish-brown soil.
I told Clay to strip nearby topsoil two or three spans deep. She dug in with the shovel.
Whack!Whack!
Soil flew satisfyingly aside with each thrust. Clay was better at this than expected.
Quickly, dark soil mixed with weeds and bark peeled away, revealing reddish-yellow earth. Digging deeper, water seeped.
"Hm..."
"Something wrong?"
"Cover it back up. Useless soil."
"Aww—."
Yellowish-brown or reddish soil meant high iron oxide. Too much iron complicated separation, lowered firebrick heat resistance and insulation, rusted for poor durability, and made pottery crudely colored. Adjustable iron could make celadon, but effort outweighed limited uses.
Water seepage meant high clay (fine particles) for poor drainage—a plus otherwise, but a hassle now with cart transport.
We covered the hole and moved on, soon finding moist grayish-brown soil.
"Nice, lucky break."
Coarse particles were a minor flaw—sieved out no issue.
"How much to dig?"
"Fill the cart with this color soil."
Clay sieved dug soil into the cart, shaking out fines and discarding rocks/roots. No sweat, no strain—worry unfounded.
Even pre-aura, my reincarnated body outdid my past life's stamina. Clay's racial traits matched adult male strength, explaining it.
Soon the cart brimmed, branches/vines buried—nearly a ton? Sky showed less time passed than thought.
I praised her good work and returned to the village. The pack horse pulled effortlessly.
Village gate guards eyed the soil pile puzzled, asking what it was. "Making bricks," I said vaguely, heading to the workshop.