Firing Clay, Part V
Sitting in the Beach Villa for the first time in a while, Chester and Monia gathered the bamboo they had left on the shore to harvest the dried salt. They vigorously scraped the salt clinging to the bamboo stalks and funneled it into their salt container.
"There's less here than I thought," Monia remarked.
"There probably isn't that much salt in seawater to begin with."
"Even though it tastes that salty?"
"Who knows. I did hear from a fisherman in a coastal city once that drinking seawater will kill you."
"Eek. Kill you?"
Unlike the days when they had diligently hauled and evaporated seawater every single day, the yield this time was meager. Still, because of the sheer volume of bamboo they had set out beforehand, they managed to gather a highly satisfying amount.
Once the salt was collected, the two of them quickly lugged the bamboo back to the ocean, scooped up fresh seawater, and set the stalks back up to dry under the blazing sun.
All the while, hot sand kept slipping into their shoes, scorching the soles of their feet. Hurrying off the beach, they had to douse their feet with water from their canteens to cool them down.
"Man, that is incredibly hot."
"My feet sting."
After cooling their feet, they set off again, foraging for any useful plants they spotted along the way. Unfortunately, the fish traps yielded nothing today. The land traps were empty as well, leaving them with nothing in their baskets except the salt container and their water jugs.
"If we're going to start farming, our best bets are Kkae-gamja and... some kind of grain."
"Grain?"
"It'd be great if there was something like wheat on this island. I wonder if we'll find any."
"What can you make with wheat flour?"
"..."
Chester was momentarily lost for words at her question.
"...Bread. Pasta. Cake. Cookies. Dumplings. And..."
"Oh, ohhh! That's amazing! This 'wheat flour' stuff! We absolutely have to find it!"
Did she seriously get all excited about baking a cake in the kiln without even knowing how to make one?
Besides, the cakes and cookies she craved were impossible to make without sugar.
And I don't even know how to make sugar, so there's nothing I can do about that.
Back in the kingdom, sugar was entirely imported, making it almost as valuable as black pepper.
Maybe if we can find wild honey, we could use that as a substitute?
As Chester pondered this, his gaze drifted to Monia, who was already scanning the surroundings in search of wheat.
Why am I even stressing over this?
"Do you even know what wheat looks like?"
At his question, Monia looked back at him with a face of pure, blissful ignorance. Then, she beamed.
"I have no idea! Teach me!"
"Why are you saying that so proudly?"
Chuckling at her sheer audacity, Chester gave her forehead a playful flick.
"Ouch."
"Listen closely. Wheat flour is..."
Back at the shelter, Chester grabbed a hoe and inspected the surrounding ground. Although the massive tree housing their home had roots spreading far and wide, fortunately, very few grew close to the surface; most plunged deep into the earth. Tilling the soil to make a garden plot wouldn't be an issue.
"..."
Chester planned to dig a small irrigation ditch from their water channel to make watering the crops easier, so he chose a plot of land not far from the stream.
"Let's do it here."
He drove a wooden stake into the ground to mark the spot, then estimated how much area they should till.
"Since it's our first time, we shouldn't make it too big."
Behind him, Monia stood with the extra hoe she had made yesterday slung over her shoulder, nodding along in clueless agreement.
"Indeed!"
"What do you mean, 'indeed'?"
Having decided on the plot, Chester paced out the dimensions, driving wooden stakes into the four corners to mark the boundaries.
"We're tilling everything inside these stakes."
"Alright! Let's do this for the sake of cake!"
Swinging their hoes, they began tearing up the earth, clearing away the hard, root-choked topsoil. Beneath the tough crust lay soft, crumbly dirt. However, breaking and clearing the compacted ground was grueling work. And the hardness of the soil wasn't the only obstacle—there were also large stones and boulders hidden just beneath the surface.
"Chester, there's a pretty big rock here."
"Really?"
This was far beyond Monia's strength, so Chester had to step in. He inspected the rock she pointed out and used a sturdy wooden stake to dig away the dirt around it. Once the rock was sufficiently exposed, he wedged the stake underneath, using it as a lever to pry it upward. As the deeply embedded stone dislodged, he slipped his hands beneath it, hoisted it with his entire body, and hurled it away with a grunt. Monia watched the rock fly in a slow arc and crash to the ground, clapping in admiration.
"Ooh, impressive."
"It wasn't even that big."
"It looked about the size of your torso."
"Not even close. If it were actually that big, there's no way I could move it."
If they did hit a boulder of that size, the smart move would be to simply work around it.
They repeated the cycle of clearing stones and stripping the topsoil over and over. Soon, sweat poured from them like rain. Their bodies overheated, and their heads began to spin. Ultimately, they decided to call it a day before they had even finished half of the designated plot. Opening the sluice gate of their water channel, they rested beneath the cascading stream.
"Ahhhhh..."
Monia stood under the flow, opening her mouth to catch the water or letting it wash over her hair to cool her down. Beside her, a soaking-wet Chester gulped down water and tore into some smoked meat he had brought along. The smoked snake meat still had its bones intact, making for a crunchy chew.
"The ground... is so hard."
"Usually, soil near big trees is easier because the trees stunt the growth of other plants."
"A tree can stunt other plants?"
"Plants grow by absorbing the nutrients from the earth."
Chester took another bite of the smoked meat.
"Since those nutrients aren't infinite, plants compete with one another to take as much as they can. The winners grow massive, while the losers wither away."
"Huh. I guess nature is a constant struggle, no matter where you look."
"It's the same everywhere. Is the civilized world any different?"
"Hehe, true. Most of our tea times were spent gossiping about whatever noble wasn't present."
Chuckling at the realization that some things never changed, the two shared a lighthearted laugh. Monia sat down next to Chester and began nibbling on her own piece of smoked snake.
"It's so tough..."
She complained, yet kept chewing diligently.
"Aren't you hot, sitting so close?"
"A little."
Despite her reply, Monia didn't budge from his side. Chester didn't bother pushing her away either, focusing instead on finishing his meal. He chewed on some soft plant pith alongside the smoked snake.
"Let's call it a day."
"Huh? Really?"
"Yeah. It's not like we're in a rush."
Pushing themselves too hard in this sweltering heat was a recipe for disaster. Chester knew all too well that heatstroke could be fatal.
Returning to the shelter, they left only a single window open, relaxing in the shade while quietly tending to their own tasks.
"Are you still working on that knife?"
"Yeah. I'm going to keep at it until I'm satisfied."
"Talk about obsessive..."
"Well, I don't have many claws left anyway, so I'll be done soon."
Some time passed as they continued their leisurely farming. Once the clay tiles they had prepared were thoroughly dried, Chester carefully stacked them inside the kiln and started the fire. While the tiles baked, he set about making other preparations.
First, he retrieved a length of bamboo from the corner of their storage area, split it in half, and meticulously scraped out the inner nodes using his claw knife. After preparing a piece of hollowed-out bamboo about three nodes long, he sat down in front of the stone slab he used for mixing clay.
Placing a small stone on the slab, he pulled out his hammer. It was a crude tool made in the same manner as his stone axe, featuring a thicker, rounder stone lashed to a handle. Aiming carefully, Chester began to pound the small stone on the slab.
It didn't take many strikes for the stone to shatter and crumble into powder. He repeatedly brought over more small stones, crushing them into dust. Once a decent pile of stone powder had accumulated, Chester transferred the fine dust onto a large leaf.
He carefully folded the leaf over the powder and weighed it down with his hammer so it wouldn't blow away in the wind, then checked on the kiln. After taking turns with Monia to monitor the fire, they finally extracted the fully baked clay tiles the following day.
The clay tiles, now hardened and vitrified by the fire, had suffered some casualties—many were cracked, just like the sinkers had been—but a good number survived intact. Once the tiles cooled, Chester carried them to the shelter. He then mixed the stone powder he had prepared yesterday with dirt and water, kneading it into a paste. Truth be told, even as he worked, Chester wasn't entirely sure of what he was doing.
I remember seeing people mix this kind of stone dust on construction sites back in my past life, so I'm just copying that... I hope this actually works.
Having whipped up a batch of makeshift concrete, Chester grabbed the hollowed-out bamboo from yesterday and a bamboo spatula. He scooped up the mixture, packing it tightly into the bamboo trough. Carrying it up to the shelter, he found Monia waiting for him. She had already stripped all the leaves off the roof.
"I did everything you asked!"
"Good job."
Onto the bare wooden rafters of the exposed roof, Chester immediately began slathering the makeshift concrete with his spatula. Because he had built the rafters close together from the start, the concrete clung to the branches without slipping through.
After smoothing out the concrete, he took the clay tiles Monia handed him and pressed them firmly into the mixture, grooved side down. The grooves on the tiles would bite into the concrete, securing them far better than a flat surface would.
"..."
Satisfied that the tiles were holding fast, Chester spread a larger layer of the makeshift concrete and began laying the tiles in neat, overlapping rows. Once the bottom row was set, he applied more concrete over the top halves of the tiles and the rafters, layering the next row over them like shingles. As they systematically laid the tiles, a proper, sturdy roof quickly took shape—looking far more respectable than the old leaf thatch.
"Alright, that's it!"
"Yay!"
That night, Chester and Monia slept soundly beneath a clay-tiled roof that carried a far stronger scent of civilization than their old leafy canopy ever had.