The expansion plans for Greystone's storehouse and waystation lay across the table—a promise sketched in ink and intent.
Ink lines marked the improvements discussed over weeks—wider loading bays, an additional privy and bathhouse, better drainage near the kitchen, and reinforced walls lined with wardstone channels.
Master Hargan, the builder hired to oversee the work, tapped the edge of the parchment with a blunt finger. "You've got good sense here, my lord. Expanding what already stands saves coin, time, and tempers. Blackthorn timber will fit the old frames easily."
Tristan nodded. "We're not chasing grandeur, Master Hargan—just function and order."
Joshua stood nearby, a ledger tucked under his arm. "We also reviewed feedback from the caravans, my lord. The drivers requested wider turn space for the wagons, and Mistress Eira suggested a better drainage path so the kitchens don't flood during heavy rain."
