“Madam should be resting.”


    It was not so much a recommendation as a plea and both knew upon such deaf ears it would fall, Julia silently answering with a small smile. “One should remember that appearance is paramount. As a woman, I cannot be sickly nor naive. Those are, by my understanding, the greatest poisons to my legitimacy.”


    Her maid didn’t huff; however, she certainly let out a sigh, those months apart full of worry that had eroded her poise in private. “Is to view an almshouse that important?” she mumbled.


    A titter escaped from the lady. “It is.”


    Two words, such simple words, yet they were enough to sober her maid. “Of course, My Lady.”


    “Gianna is a clever woman. I am sure she will understand with time, if not with effort,” she said, gentle words that fluttered through the carriage. Once those words were heard, it was as if perfectly timed that the carriage then shuddered to a stop.


    For the moment before the door was opened, Julia bowed her head, eyes closed, and took a deep breath. Then, once the handle turned, she looked as poised as ever, a polite smile touching her lips.


    While the city was overall a lively place, they had come to the western edge, which was neither near water nor traffic. A poor place to farm, the land marshy and uneven, it had little value upon her negotiation for it, something which hadn’t much changed even after draining the area.


    However, it now began to serve its purpose.


    “Lady Augstadt.”


    Down upon the path, she looked across at a well-built road that simply stretched out towards nothing at present. Turning back, she looked upon the person who had spoken to her: a young man.


    “Mr Meyer, let us not waste our time.”


    He held himself tall with a notebook under his arm and he wore a blank expression that appeared unkind. However, she knew him well. He was the cousin of a baron under her and the second son of a landowner who could support a modestly prestigious lifestyle. At gatherings, she had heard of his mother’s worry that he wouldn’t marry, someone who didn’t socialise well.


    It was certainly true that he had a queerness about him. Rather than callousness which paraded as honesty, though, she understood him as someone without the inclination to learn the rules to the little games people liked to play. He had such a preference for books, that, to speak with him, one should endeavour to be as interesting as a good book.


    So she had personally recommended him, along with others, when it came time to expand the courts. Although Meyer had little of the personability of a judge, never mind working with the accused under the stresses of a trial, he had a mind for contracts and a tenacity about their wording which ground down opposition.


    The kind of lawyer she liked to retain for overseeing her building projects.


    “Very well,” he said, bowing his head, then lifted it as he turned around and led the way inside.


    It was a simple layout with this ground floor mostly taken up by a kitchen at the back and a general room in the front. Her gaze followed the brick walls until she came to the arrangement of spinning wheels and looms, along with faces unfamiliar but for one. Six women and twenty-odd children, some still babes, as well as someone from the textile guild.


    She spared them all a momentary smile before her attention returned to Meyer. “Well, it appears that everything is as it should be.”


    “Pray inspect everywhere before saying so, My Lady,” he said, opening up his notebook. “I would not wish to sign off on the work only for a defect to be found.”


    “Sir need not doubt himself in his appraisal,” she said, her tone light-hearted.


    Although she said that, she did not make to leave and instead walked over to the spinning wheels. They were, in a sense, crude, lacking the usual refinement that turned raw materials into furniture.


    However, that crudeness was not to be mistaken for shoddy work.


    Her gaze traversed the bits and bobbins of it, not quite understanding, yet knowing already that these designs produced a yarn competent to be used for more than rags. A mechanism allowed one to turn the large wheel with a foot, the wheel itself balanced to spin smoothly and with a comfortable weight. A tight loop of thin rope attached that wheel to a smaller part where the actual “spinning” happened, albeit a mechanism which she still couldn’t comprehend.


    She had, in her own ability, searched widely on this topic, from the purchase of a variety of such devices from across the country and its neighbours, to obtaining prints of works by such thinkers as da Vinci. Her efforts then fed into those carpenters like Jacob, people of curious minds, in the hope some incredible thought would emerge.


    The truth, so far, had proved disappointing, albeit what she had prepared herself for. While ingenuity could be imagined, it also had to be implemented. At the least, these devices still marked progress towards goals that went far beyond this almshouse.


    On the other hand, the looms were of less interest to her. It was already the case that as many as ten spinners could be needed to supply a skilled weaver, so she simply wished for a reliable design that avoided strain. While others apparently did not care, she would rather have workers who could work, especially since strain necessarily affected the most productive and experienced workers.


    Like the spinning wheels, the almshouse itself was an experiment which worked towards a goal far beyond the project itself. To others, it appeared wasteful; to her, it was necessary.


    Despite his work with her before, Meyer very much fell into the “others” category and, despite their difference in status, felt free to voice his thoughts on this matter once they had inspected the kitchen and the bedrooms upstairs. “My Lady, especially now that I see it completed, I cannot help but think this awfully… extravagant for an almshouse.”


    He also saw no issue with saying such in front of those widows and their children who now lived here. In truth, she saw in their eyes a certain agreement with him, a kind of shame. For those with little left, pride might well have been all they had left. At least, that was how she could rationalise it, very much separated from their situation by a vast, incomprehensible distance.


    Her gaze lazily turned to him. She neither fixed him with a heavy stare, nor criticised him. Instead, she gave a small smile, not quite patronising, but one that emphasised a certain distance between them.


    “When my mother passed, my father gathered what talented midwives and doctors he could,” she said, her voice gentle even as it filled the room. “He wanted them to share their skills and knowledge. However, one doctor questioned why he should divulge his secrets to his competitors….”


    She left those words hanging in the air and now pinned him with a look, forcing him to ask, “What did Lord Augstadt reply?”


    “What good does a dead babe do for anyone?”


    It was a sentence which, with every thought, beat louder in his head.


    Once she had given that answer a moment to soak in, she continued. “I am not someone who would be half-hearted with good deeds. Bricks will last much longer than wood. Not only that, but they shall keep in the heat better. This is but one aspect, yet it means that those who live here shall live more comfortably, and it means I would not need to supply as much firewood.”


    She paused a moment, her lips settling into a smile, then added, “God is good, that being generous in one’s compassion is rewarded.”


    In particular, she felt rather certain that, with the spinning wheels and looms available to them, the building would end up profitable. Of course, it would take a long time to pay back the cost of construction; however, the experience itself had intangible value—which would show in the rapid expansion of the area with similar buildings.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Before she devoted more resources to that, she did wish to see whether the families would cope well in this situation. While each family had their own bedroom upstairs, it was communal downstairs, which she hoped would develop a kinship between them, but conceded that it may end up causing friction.


    How she would evaluate that, well, someone from the guild would have to come along to supply fibres to spin and purchase spare cloth and lend an ear to any grievances.


    With the visit finished, he led them out. On their walk to where her carriage waited with a few guards behind it, she said, “Would sir accompany us to the next place?”


    “It wouldn’t be proper, My Lady,” he said, still facing forward as he bowed his head.


    She let out a gentle laugh. “Sir need not think too much, that there is a seat beside the driver.”


    He faltered in his next step, otherwise showing none of his embarrassment, his voice level as he replied, “Very well, then.”


    Upon reaching the road, her maid, careful not to be seen as rushing, eagerly helped her mistress up into the carriage. The moment the door closed, Julia’s strength gave and her maid almost fell, suddenly in charge of holding up her mistress.


    “Madam—”


    “We have one more stop, that is all,” Julia whispered.


    Her maid stilled for a moment, then helped her mistress sit.


    “My make-up will need to be tidied.”


    “Yes, My Lady,” her maid whispered back.


    The carriage then jerked into motion and the sound of horseshoes on brick kept the silence between the two at bay, accompanied by occasional groans and creaks. Meanwhile, her maid first carefully wiped clean her mistress’s face—flinching at the first touch, finding the skin so hot—and then spent a while longer holding a cold cloth to her mistress’s forehead. Too soon, she had to stop to apply fresh make-up and it had to be thicker than usual, the colour colder, hiding the heat from her mistress’s cheeks.


    Upon finishing, she panicked for a moment, so close, yet unable to feel her mistress’s breath. Only when her mistress’s hand rose did she settle—and then that hand touched her cheek, gentle.


    “Gianna is too kind to me.”


    “What is My Lady saying?” she whispered, her lips quirked with humour. “What kindness is there in a maid serving her mistress?”


    “Kindness is not diminished for being done out of obligation, nor is it diminished for being compelled. Otherwise, we would have to excuse cruelty under such circumstances, yet we know in our hearts how God would judge us.”


    The gentle smile Gianna held froze for a moment, then took an ironic air. “Indeed, we know how God shall judge us,” she whispered.


    Julia’s fingers pressed into her maid’s cheek before she took back her hand. “God is good, otherwise He would not be God.”


    Words weaker than whispers, yet Gianna heard them clearly, always heard every word her mistress had to say. “My Lady is good too.”


    She let out a breath of laughter. “That is not for Gianna to say,” she whispered.


    “I’ll say it anyway—to anyone and everyone and even God.”


    A smile lingered on Julia’s lips until, finally, she again said, “Gianna is too kind to me.”


    Silence blanketed them for the rest of the short trip, the loud silence of metal horseshoes on brick. However, the moment the carriage once again shuddered to a stop, Julia looked as poised as she always did.


    Down from the carriage, she looked over at the busy site. What had—during the grand bazaar four years ago—been a company of a dozen men, now numbered at least a hundred from what she could see, no doubt more elsewhere, whether on break or handling other matters.


    That was not to say she expected the company to now do ten times the work. No, she was very aware that some things could be done in half the time when shared, while other things took twice as long. So it was the case that she expected the company to instead handle jobs much bigger than before.


    Before them, it was as if a giant cup had come down and cut through the side of a gentle slope and scooped away the dirt. That had been the easy part of the project. Concrete was not unknown; however, no one here could be called an expert. It was by no means a difficult challenge. No, this was simply something which needed some learning first—hence why she set this project to them.


    A stage about ten strides across, with around ten rows of seating that would arc around it. Most of the construction would be huge slabs of concrete stacked atop each other with some trivial work to protect the audience and the actors from rain. She had no exact requirements and instead trusted the company to produce a reasonable result while learning how to work with concrete on this scale.


    This was something that could have been made from brick; however, it would have taken significantly longer and required more skill. More skill to place, more skill to produce the bricks, more skill to transport the materials.


    Yes, bricks served her well. She thoroughly understood them and made good use of them. Now, she wanted to understand how concrete could serve her as well as it did the Ancient Romans.


    Meyer stepped over to her side. Although he sighed without making a sound, she heard its echo in how he spoke. “This has progressed within My Lady’s expectations. Several incidents have brought about delays; however, if the rate of delays continues as it has so far, it would still be completed a before the deadline.”


    “Have there been any significant injuries?” she asked.


    His expression froze, the breath he had prepared for further reporting now held for a moment while he reorganised his thoughts. “That is not something My Lady need worry about.”


    “It is precisely the sort of thing This Lady need worry about,” she replied, a heat to her words that, to him, prickled. However, that was the extent of her heat and she continued in a moderate tone. “Deadlines are simply things we have made up. These people are what I care most about, that they have a growing experience which cannot be easily bought.


    “So I do wish to know if there have been significant injuries, and I wish to know that they have been suitably compensated, and that, if possible, they are retained to share their knowledge with those who would replace them.”


    A calm response, unhurried, quiet, that none who glanced over would have had any notion of something amiss—except if they knew him well. He was not one to fidget, certainly not in company like hers, yet his hands found no position comfortable.


    “Have there been any significant injuries?” she asked.


    He bowed his head for a beat before lifting it back up. “One of the new hires has had difficulty with a hand after it was crushed by a wheelbarrow. I’m not aware of any other… lasting injuries. Most of the incidents have been mudslides overnight or during heavy rains, so no workers were involved.”


    She listened along and saw no need to press him further. If he did not understand her wishes after she had made them quite clear, it was her own fault for misunderstanding him as someone who didn’t need every instruction to be entirely explicit.


    This company needed to be the one where the best builders in the city wished to work. Of course, she wasn’t strictly in charge of the company; however, a generous, prestigious client certainly held a certain sway.


    “Does sir know why I chose this place?”


    Her question hung in the air, taking him a moment to both hear it and to respond. “I presumed My Lady already had ownership of it or that it was the cheapest place by the city where such a sizeable area could be purchased.”


    She let out a titter, her hand over her mouth, before she then let out a sigh. “Sir should know that I am not constrained by such matters. Rather, I chose here specifically because I wished for our builders to gain experience with holding back earth.”


    A frown touched his brow, mouth thin.


    That was not entirely an answer nor was it intended to be. After all, when dealing with him, it was important to pique his interest lest he grow bored.


    “What use is such experience?” he asked, not dismissive, but curious.


    So she met his curiosity with a frankness. “No less than survival,” she said, a whisper for him alone to hear. “Cannons shall only grow in power and number, that every army would have hundreds if it could afford. However, while they may knock down walls, I have yet to see them knock down a hill.”


    Silence followed but for the noises of construction, the hundred-odd men chatting and grunting and groaning as they went about their work.


    “My Lady thinks such thoughts are necessary?” he asked, not chiding, but again curious.


    So again she replied with frankness. “It is easy for others to covet wealth and I intend for Augstadt to be a place easily coveted,” she said.


    That was all she needed to say.


    Compared to the “why” of this project, the “what” had always been secondary to her; however, not one to be wasteful, she had carefully considered what exactly made the most sense. The “what” she had settled on was a theatre. It was not to be a work of art suitable for the nobles, not at this stage, the company inexperienced with the construction material.


    However, like the school, it could serve an important role in “bringing up” the commoners. A building like a Greek amphitheatre and a bit of patronage would go a long way. Something sturdy, a mark left upon the world.


    “Does sir have an interest in construction?”


    After a second, he replied, “It would be wrong to say I have found overseeing these projects dull.”


    “Indeed, sir has a keen awareness of what is going on which goes beyond the simple requirements of ensuring the contracts are being followed,” she said, the confidence in her tone enough that he didn’t even consider denying it.


    “My Lady is correct,” he said.


    Her gaze scanned the area until she came upon a man in particular. As if feeling her gaze, that man happened to turn at that moment and so rushed over, one hand on his hat to keep it from falling off.


    He was a large man with a perpetual grin, half-hidden behind a beard thinned by scars. However, his dirt-stained clothing fit well, every tear invisibly stitched. She knew him well and she knew better his wife and oldest daughter, both members of the textiles guild.


    Before he could even greet her, only managing to bow, she said, “Look after Mr Meyer,” and no more.


    Holding his bow, he quickly nodded twice, then stood up straight.


    She turned to Meyer. “There is no need to say sir is competent in reading Latin, so I would offer sir some prints I have gathered which were written by Ancient Romans on the topics of construction. Look after Mr Holzer.”


    He bowed his head. “Of course, My Lady.”


    With nothing else to say to either man, she dismissed them with a gesture and immediately turned back to her carriage. Her maid was there to help her inside and to catch her as her strength gave once more. Guided to the seats, Julia tugged at her own neckline, desperate to let in even a little more breath and to let out a little more heat.


    Her maid said nothing, but dutifully wiped away the make-up and kept a cool cloth to her mistress’s forehead.


    “Gianna, I hope we live to see how important today was,” she muttered, a distance to her voice.


    “Madam shouldn’t be speaking now.”


    Hearing that, she had to smile. “Then Gianna must speak to me. She knows how polite I am, that I wouldn’t dare think of interrupting.”


    Her maid paused to huff, but, sure enough, followed by speaking on and on about nothing.


    Sometimes, nothing was the most important thing.