Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence - Chapter 550 - 332: Fishman Massacre_2

Chapter 550: Chapter 332: Fishman Massacre_2

Louis placed the horn into the sealed box and slowly closed it.

In the short term, he still focused on establishing a defense system around the port.

Taking the initiative? That could only be discussed after the long-distance fleet was launched.

He stood up, his gaze fixed on the nighttime coastline: “That day won’t be too far off.”

……

On the third day after the extermination of the Fishman nests, a craftsmen corps from the Red Tide Territory also arrived at Dawn Port.

The meeting table was set up in the newly repaired makeshift office, with unpainted wooden walls through which the wind blew, carrying a salty scent.

Yet inside, it was already crowded with people.

Louis sat at the head, surrounded by a few neatly organized sketches.

He got straight to the point without wasting words: “With the Fishman problem resolved, our port construction should also enter the next phase.”

Mike, leading a dozen craftsmen from Red Tide City, stood to one side.

Louis said: “Dawn Port isn’t just a simple port. It should become a node on maritime routes and also the earliest coastal city of the Red Tide Territory.

So from now on, it’s not just about digging the harbor basin and building the dockyard; we also need to construct warehouses, residential areas, workshops, and market congregations.”

He pointed to several circles on the map on the table: “First step, the warehouse and workshop areas must take shape within two weeks.

Residential areas for citizens must keep pace, first building the Red Tide-style dome-shaped houses, moving the first batch of craftsmen in within half a month.”

Mike responded immediately: “Construction materials have been transferred from Red Tide City, the crane was assembled yesterday, the rail car tested this morning…if the rain isn’t too heavy, we can do it.”

“What about manpower?” Louis asked.

“Two hundred and twenty skilled construction craftsmen, plus thirty machine operators, and seven blacksmiths.” Mike paused, “They know what to do, but they still need a clear construction schedule.”

Louis nodded and said: “You have a clear division of labor, the schedule will be posted at each work area entrance by tomorrow morning. Inspections every two days, rewards and penalties will be issued on time.”

He paused, looking at everyone and emphasized: “This is the first city facing the ocean. Don’t build it like a temporary port camp.”

Everyone nodded quickly, promising to complete the task.

After the meeting, people gradually left, while Louis stayed behind, looking at the port area blueprint on the wall, as if seeing a city yet to be built.

……

The morning fog of the port hadn’t completely dispersed, and a group had already gathered on the high ground near the dike line.

Mike, carrying a tool bag, held folded blueprints in his left hand and several marker flags in his right, taking small steps but walking quickly.

Behind him were several craftsmen leaders from Red Tide City who came along with him, each with measuring ropes and peg hammers, discussing in low voices as they walked.

“This place has good terrain, sheltered from the wind.”

“The soil layer is firm, making the foundation work easier.”

“The ship unloading point can be set up nearby, making the transfer route short.”

Upon reaching the middle of the high ground, Mike stopped, waved his hand: “Using this natural rock as a point, the west section is for storage, the east section reserved for the market.”

Several craftsmen immediately dispersed to act; some sprinkled stone powder to mark lines, others took out marker stakes to measure distances point by point.

With feet on the damp soil, zigzag lines gradually outlined the area’s contours.

Mike looked up toward the direction of the harbor basin, the wind blowing from there carried a hint of saltiness.

He casually added: “Try to place the warehouse closer to the harbor basin for easy unloading. Move the market over there, open and facing the sun, making it easier to do business in the future.”

A young craftsman beside him chuckled: “You’ve even thought of the stall positions for vendors?”

“The Lord said this isn’t a temporary dock, it’s a city meant to last in the future.” Mike replied without turning his head, “If you don’t use your head, you’d better go back.”

After speaking, he stepped into the next section, comparing slope as he mumbled: “This side drains naturally, no need to dig too deep, go back and tell the carpentry team to prepare materials per the Red Tide Warehouse blueprint.”

The craftsmen exchanged remarks, no longer as cautious as when they first arrived, even adding light-hearted laughter during measurements.

……

On the west end of the port area, the clacking of steam winches rose and fell.

A massive stone foundation slowly lifted on a rail crane, steadily moving toward the newly designated warehouse foundation.

A craftsman with a shaved head sat on the gear transport vehicle’s back seat, holding a wooden beam, slowly sliding along the tracks, a smile unintentionally appearing on his face.

This was Dawn Port’s first time using a rail crane and gear transporter, brought by the Red Tide Craftsmen Corps’ new technology.

The equipment was improved by the Red Tide Craftsmen Corps at the main city, initially based on blueprints personally drawn by Louis.

The rail crane’s tracks were laid flat on the ground, with a winch and pulley on the boom’s front end, driven by a steam powered pulley, steadily delivering heavy objects several steps away.

The gear transporter was even more ingenious, with human power rotating the front axle, driving its internal gear ratio, aided by lightweight steam assistance, allowing a whole massive stone to be steadily transported, without dozens of men pulling together.

“It’s much lighter than carrying shoulder-to-shoulder…” gasped a workman, watching the crane steadily place a full keel-grade beam into the marked spot, “This thing, it’s a real monster.”

“Not a monster, it’s Red Tide technology.” Another person smiled, affixing hookup ropes, “You haven’t seen the steam workshop’s monster. Just burns wood, yet it can power all three hammer rooms in the forge.”

By noon, Louis arrived on horseback for an inspection.

Mike was about to instruct someone to lay a warehouse wall but was stopped by him on the spot.

“This wall is too low, too close to the harbor basin.” Louis glanced at the blueprint, speaking slowly, “Must be raised more than two feet. Winter tides reverse flow, coupled with salt mist, will corrode wood lightly and soak the base heavily.”

He opened a notebook, pointing out three issues: “The foundation pad needs a dual-layer drainage board; the walls use thermal insulation panels, the exterior coated with resin. If unavailable, get materials from Red Tide City.”

Mike responded gravely: “Understood.”

He turned to instruct the removal of the previous materials, ordering: “Re-check all laid foundation bases, redo them tonight.”

In the evening, workers in the dusk replaced the foundation with a new batch of taller stones, sending the old materials back to the yard for reorganization.

No one complained; this wasn’t wasting materials, but planning for the future.

On the east section, the area reserved for the future residential area, the atmosphere was lighter compared to other construction sites.

“This will be a tavern in the future.” Louis stood on a slope, speaking to Mike, “Beside it is the bathhouse and stage. The carpentry team will handle the drawings, but let’s fix the locations first.

If we want people to stay, there must be places for dining, drinking, bathing, and watching performances.”

Mike nodded and immediately instructed the carpenters to set marker stakes.

Not far away, a young craftsman grinned upon hearing about the bathhouse being built: “Really setting up a bathhouse? Thought I’d only take a hot bath in Red Tide Main City for life.”

Someone carved an image of the sun on the warehouse door pillar, with two wave patterns beneath.

That was the symbol of the Dawn Territory, representing the sun and sea tides.

Further away on the construction fence, several plaques carved from scrap wood were hung, inscribed with wobbly words:

“Port completed and resided in peace,” “Opening soon,” “Hope family arrives safely to settle here…”

These weren’t arranged by Louis.

Some illiterate laborer asked someone to write them and hung them up, and others did the same after seeing it.

As time passed, the outline of the residential area had emerged.

Several prototype wooden houses were erected in order, with roofs covered by double-layer moisture-resistant wood shingles, walls coated with resin paste, door frames following the Red Tide style rounded arch structure, and doors etched with Dawn motifs.

Mike led the craftsmen in inspecting the structure, wiping sweat as he said: “Build according to this standard for the rest, one row after another.”

Young craftsmen carrying wooden planks nearby couldn’t resist pausing as they passed by.

They looked at that house, eyes filled with a look they had never shown before.

“It looks somewhat like over at Red Tide City…” someone whispered, their tone airy, slightly incredulous.

“I stayed in a house like that last winter; it was warm as spring.” Another chuckled.

The subsequent construction speed clearly quickened, with volunteers working overtime, sweeping wood shavings spotlessly clean.

By evening, campfires lit up by the port; an elder craftsman looked up at the dome prototype on the high ground, silently placing a new wooden plaque beneath the fence.

The plaque read “May the Lord of the Red Tide bless us.”