Chapter 14 - Aldric’s Labor of Love

The first light of morning cut through the mist that hung over the town like a veil. The air was cold, but not harsh. The bustle of the village had already begun, with the sounds of carts rumbling along the cobblestone streets and the murmurs of early risers. But today, there was a subtle shift in the atmosphere—a quiet tension, a sense of anticipation.

Aldric's latest project, the poultry coops, was taking form.

It had been a few weeks since Aldric's decision to sacrifice his garden's beauty for something far more practical, and the ground around the manor had slowly morphed from meticulously designed flowerbeds and ornamental hedges into a massive, sprawling structure that was nothing short of revolutionary. There was no grandeur or gilded marble here. No fountains, no statues. Just wooden beams, coops, and tools. It was raw, but it had a purpose. The entire area, once filled with the nobleman's comforts, now stood as a symbol of Aldric's intent—to help the people.

The craftsmens that worked on Aldric previous project the Water Wheel, held true to their promise and eagerly work on this new project.

As the workers continued to construct the frame, Aldric spent every day side-by-side with them. He wasn't a distant noble observing from a balcony, sipping wine. He was down in the dirt, hammering nails, lifting beams, and carrying supplies—just like everyone else. It was not something anyone had expected. Not from him, and certainly not from someone of his status.

But Aldric believed in leading by example. He was a man of action, not empty promises.

At first, only the workers that had work on the Water Wheel had come to the manor, responding to Aldric's open call for help. But soon, more began to arrive. The sight of Aldric, the Lord of the Manor, working tirelessly alongside the peasants had stirred something in the hearts of the villagers. The whispers started—at the local inn, in the town square, at the market.

"You see him? Aldric, out there with the workers?"

"Aye, I saw him. He's hammering in nails like any common man. What's he up to?"

"I heard he's building coops in preparation for the winter. Chickens, ducks, geese… you name it. It's for all of us, you know?"

"He's really doing this? For us? A nobleman, like him?"

The whispers weren't just from the common folk anymore. Servants, travelers, knights, even the patrolling guards started noticing. They'd stop for a moment to see Aldric bent over in the dirt, lifting a heavy beam, wiping the sweat from his brow. No airs, no haughtiness. Just a man working.

And the more they saw, the more they understood.

Word continued to spread—Aldric was doing this for them.

People began to trickle in, unsure at first, but curious. The laborers on the site were speaking of how Aldric personally made sure they had enough food, how he worked beside them in the sun and rain. There was something different about him.

One day, a woman from the village, a widow named Aline, approached Aldric while he was taking a short break from carrying supplies. She had heard about the project and wanted to see it for herself. But as she saw the lord's worn hands, the calluses that covered them, and the determination in his eyes, something stirred within her.

"You… You're really doing all of this for the people?" she asked, eyes wide.

Aldric wiped the sweat from his brow, smiling softly. "Yes. And I believe it's the right thing to do. We all need food to survive. The winter is coming. I'm not doing this for the glory or for gold. I'm doing it so you don't have to starve."

Her eyes filled with unshed tears. She nodded, unsure of what to say. "I've heard the stories. About your past. But this… this is something else entirely. This is real."

Aldric didn't respond, just gave a small nod. He didn't need her validation, but the gratitude in her eyes spoke volumes.

It wasn't long before others joined the effort. A man, once a stranger, came up to Aldric offering his help. "I've got two sons," he said, "who can help with the digging. We'll work hard. Just… just tell us what to do."

Aldric raised an eyebrow, surprised. "You're willing to work for free?"

The man hesitated for a moment before answering, "I've got a daughter, Lord Aldric. She's small, but she can help with gathering wood. She's hungry too. If you can build this… my family will be able to eat. We've got nothing else."

Aldric looked at the man, his heart aching. "I won't let you work for free. You'll be paid for your labor. You and your sons."

The man shook his head, stubborn. "You need this finished, don't you? The quicker we get it done, the sooner we eat. I'll take what you offer, Lord Aldric. But I won't take a coin more than I've earned."

Aldric stared at him for a moment before nodding in agreement. "Then let's get to work."

From that moment forward, more people started showing up. They came with tools, with eager hands, and with hope. Even the children came by to help gather small twigs and leaves, carrying them to the workers. They were all part of it. Aldric's reputation had spread quickly—and the people were moved.

Despite the growing numbers, Aldric refused to let anyone work without compensation. It wasn't about charity. He wasn't trying to buy the people's loyalty. His stance was simple: "You get paid for what you work." It was a matter of respect, of treating people with dignity.

The workers began to grow fond of him. They had never seen a noble who treated them with such fairness, such care. They saw his commitment, his sacrifice of time, money, and resources. And for the first time, they believed in him.

As the days passed, the structure began to take shape. It wasn't just a series of chicken coops—it was an entire complex. Divided by species, each coop was tailored for its inhabitants. There were separate areas for the chickens, ducks, geese, and quail. Each section was equipped with wooden perches, insulated walls, and a plan for herbal disease prevention. Aldric had brought in experts from the village to help design the coops. He didn't know everything, but he was determined to learn—and more importantly, to teach the workers how to tend to the animals.

On the fifth day of construction, the roofing was completed, and the walls were mostly finished. It was a major milestone. Aldric stood before the building, his brow furrowed as he looked at the progress. The workers gathered around, waiting for his approval.

Aldric stood still for a moment before nodding, a quiet sense of pride swelling in his chest. He turned to the workers. "We've done something good here. But this is only the beginning. Tomorrow, we'll move the birds in. And we'll start teaching everyone how to care for them."

The workers cheered, their spirits lifted.

That night, as the structure neared its completion, Aldric gathered the workers and volunteers around a large bonfire. They had finished much of the building, and now, as nightfall came, they took a moment to celebrate their hard work.

"To the work we've done," Aldric said, raising his mug. "To the effort, the sweat, and the hope we've all shared. Tomorrow, we start the next phase. But tonight—tonight, we rest and celebrate."

The crowd cheered, their spirits high. They had done it. They had built something tangible, something that would sustain them through the long winter ahead. It was more than just a building—it was a symbol of the change Aldric was trying to bring about.

Over the coming days, word spread even further. The people from the surrounding villages came to see the coop, marveling at the efficiency of the design. They saw the compassion behind the project, the dedication Aldric had shown. His name was on the lips of everyone—from peasants to knights, from servants to merchants.

They started calling him the Bird King.

But not all are too enthusiatic with Aldric raising fame.

In the backrooms of noble halls, where Aldric's father, Duke Alaric, sat with his advisors, the whispers had begun.

"Aldric's done something… unexpected," one advisor remarked. "The people speak of him differently now."

Duke Alaric's brow furrowed. He had heard the rumors too.

His son was doing something unconventional. Something that could either change the landscape of their territory or alienate them from their peers.

The Duke's study is imposing as always—its grandeur feels suffocating at times. Velvet curtains shield the tall windows, while the scent of ink and leather fills the air, mingling with the flickering light of the fire. A cold, calculated atmosphere surrounds the space. Duke Alaric sits behind his massive wooden desk, his posture rigid, brow furrowed as he reviews a stack of reports. The soft tap of his fingers against the desk is the only sound that breaks the stillness.

The door creaks open, and Aldric enters. His steps are measured, his face unreadable, but the tension in his shoulders betrays the weight of the conversation he knows is coming. He stands just a step from his father's desk, pausing for a moment as though preparing himself to face the storm.

"Aldric." The Duke's voice is gruff, low, and controlled. His eyes remain fixed on the reports, unwilling to meet his son's gaze immediately. "Come in."

Aldric steps forward, unwavering, but his words come with a cool calm. "I've come to speak on the matter, Father."

The Duke's eyes flicker up briefly, his gaze sharp. He takes a slow breath before setting the papers down in front of him, locking eyes with his son for the first time. There's a coldness there, but beneath it—a trace of something else, something harder to define.

"You still believe your little project will amount to anything, do you?" The Duke's words are dismissive, as though dismissing Aldric's efforts is something almost second nature to him. "You want to stoop to the level of peasants, Aldric?"

Aldric's jaw tightens at the insult, but he holds his ground. "I'm doing it for the people, Father. For the ones with nothing. The ones who've been ignored, forgotten. They deserve a chance." His voice is calm but firm, though his father's dismissal stings.

The Duke's expression hardens further. "And yet you choose to dirty your hands for them. Your place is among the noble, Aldric. You were born into it. You should be concerned with matters of power, not this… idealistic nonsense."

Aldric exhales, his frustration palpable but controlled. "I don't want power for the sake of power. I want to change something, make a real difference for those who've never had anyone fight for them."

The Duke's eyes narrow, measuring his son. The silence between them grows heavy, as if the room itself is holding its breath. Finally, the Duke speaks again, his voice quieter this time, but still cold and firm.

"You'll never be able to change anything, Aldric. The kingdom doesn't care about your ideals. They care about stability, and without power, your efforts will amount to nothing."

Aldric's eyes harden, and he takes a step closer, meeting his father's gaze head-on. "Then let them see the failure. But I'll still try. I'll still give them something worth fighting for. Something real."

The Duke is about to retort, but before he can, the door creaks open once more. Lucien steps in, his presence immediately bringing a cool, composed air to the tense room. He glances between his father and Aldric, sensing the strained atmosphere.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," Lucien says lightly, his voice smooth, though there's a glimmer of something deeper in his eyes. He knows exactly what he's walking into.

Aldric, though still tense, gives a brief nod in Lucien's direction, but his expression remains fixed, a mixture of frustration and determination. Lucien's eyes flicker to him briefly before turning to their father.

"No interruption at all," the Duke replies, though there's an edge to his words. "Lucien, you've come just in time. Perhaps you can help Aldric see reason. He refuses to accept that noble work is done in the court, not with these common folk."

Lucien steps forward, his gaze calm but thoughtful. He looks between his father and Aldric, sensing the simmering emotions beneath the surface. "I don't think Aldric is looking for reason, Father. I think he's looking for something real. Something that matters." His voice is quiet but unshakable, as though Lucien truly understands his brother's drive. "I've seen what he's doing. And I think he's onto something."

The Duke's lips curl into a slight sneer. "Something real? He's building nothing but castles in the sand. When the tides come in, it will be washed away."

Lucien doesn't back down, his gaze unshaken. "Maybe it will, maybe it won't. But what Aldric is doing matters to the people. You can see it, even if you refuse to admit it."

Aldric, hearing Lucien speak in his defense, feels a quiet sense of warmth in his chest. Lucien isn't on the same page as the Duke, but he's showing something—respect, support, perhaps even a quiet pride. Lucien turns to Aldric, his voice softer now. "You're impressive, Aldric. What you're trying to do—it's bold. And it's not something I'd easily overlook."

The Duke scowls at the exchange, clearly not pleased by Lucien's veiled support for Aldric's project. "Impressive, is it? If you call working with common laborers impressive, then I suppose it's something."

Lucien remains unfazed, his tone casual but still respectful. "It's more than just working with them, Father. He's building something. And that's more than most nobles can say. I don't think you've fully grasped what Aldric's doing yet."

The Duke stands abruptly, his chair scraping back with a sharp noise that cuts through the room. "I've grasped it perfectly. What he's doing is folly." His words are final, cold. "But let him learn his lesson, then. I won't coddle him anymore."

As he turns to face the window, Lucien's gaze flickers to Aldric, a fleeting look of understanding passing between them. Lucien doesn't speak, but he knows—there's more to this than just stubbornness. He's seen something, a quiet sacrifice, behind his father's cold demeanor.

"Do not fail, Aldric." The Duke's words are low, almost like a whispered warning, though beneath them, there's something else—something unspoken. "The consequences of failure will be yours alone."

Aldric stands still, his resolve hardening even further. He doesn't flinch at the Duke's words. He knows what he must do, even if it means standing alone. "I'll face it when the time comes."

Lucien watches the exchange with quiet interest, his expression neutral, but there's something shifted in his eyes. As the Duke retreats further into his thoughts, Lucien steps toward the door, glancing at Aldric before speaking quietly, so his father cannot hear.

"You're making an impression, Aldric. People are talking. It's not all for nothing, no matter what Father believes." His words are soft, but there's a sincerity to them that Aldric hasn't expected from Lucien.

Aldric's eyes meet Lucien's. For the first time in a long while, there's a flicker of gratitude in his gaze. "Thanks, Lucien. I… appreciate it."

Lucien nods, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips. "Just remember, you're not completely alone in this. If you ever need something… unexpected, I'll be there."

As Aldric watches Lucien leave the room, he feels a mix of gratitude and quiet resolve. Lucien may not show it outwardly, but Aldric knows he's found a surprising ally. Even if their father's support is secret, hidden in the shadows, Lucien sees him, and for now, that's enough.