Embergrove

Founding, Ground, and Purpose

The Embergrove sits in a bright glade east of the Roothearth. The first builders chose it for steady ground, open air, and clean runoff that carries smoke and wash-water away from homes. Lorekeepers marked cooling trenches and firebreak lanes before the first forge was lit. Council clerks posted limits for fuel, dye, and ash so the work would not stress the flows under the city. Barkstone roads were laid wide enough for log sledge, ore cart, and water wagon. From the start, the aim was simple: build a district where many crafts can work at once without tripping over each other.

The layout follows the work. Metalwrights hold the south ridge where clay keeps heat even. Dye-binders set their vats in the east where shade and wind help colors hold true. Sculptors and potters use the central kiln-ring so firing can be watched from every side. Rootshapers keep to the mid-paths, close to timber sheds and the Barkshard Yard. Runners can cross the whole district in minutes with quench buckets, seal stamps, or ledgers. Work happens in the open. Elders call advice across lanes. Apprentices carry tools and water. When a piece reaches its last step, it moves to the Inkveil Canopy to receive final lines, then to the Registry for seal and number.

The Embergrove does not chase spectacle. It turns skill into tools and cloth the city uses every day. The Wardens’ hooks and staves, the Lake-wardens’ oars and ferrules, the council’s staves and court seals, the stairs and doors of the Roothearth, the banners in the Boughring—most begin here. The district answers the calendar: spring for tool blessing and field gear, summer for roadworks and trade goods, autumn for stores and festival cloth, winter for repairs and strong fittings. When the city calls for a special work—shrines, gates, or treaty gifts—the Embergrove posts schedules, clears space, and gets it done.

Houses of Craft and the Line of Making

Work in the Embergrove follows a clean line from raw stock to sealed goods. It starts at the Barkshard Yard, where crews tag barkstone and hardroot slabs by source, age, and use. Barkstone dries under covered racks. Hardroot soaks in moss-lined troughs until a master selects it. The Yard teaches young hands how to read grain and cut waste-free. From there, timber and stone move to the Rootcarver’s Hall, a shared lodge where furniture, staves, crates, and ceremonial pieces are shaped. Council staves, marriage vessels, and family totems are assigned by roster so each lineage keeps its share of civic duty.

Metal begins at the Firebank Forges, a line of family-run bays set into the southern clay. Shifts are posted to prevent heat overlap, fuel disputes, and crowding. Apprentices sort ore and strike simple tools. Senior smiths take contracts for fittings, hinges, rootbinding knives, and marked blades. Every piece bears a forge-mark before it leaves. Potters and sculptors bring their work to the Kiln-Ring Plaza, six permanent kilns with strict schedules and firing logs. Each kiln has its own heat path and glaze habit. Masters teach in the evenings with short, clear lessons. During seasonal showings, the plaza becomes a judged floor where new commissions are chosen.

Cloth moves through the Silkwash Galleries, where vermosa fiber is washed, softened, and dyed with bark powders, ground minerals, and flower oils. Drying lines hang high to keep air steady. Some dyes exist only during short bloom cycles, so work follows the city calendar. Finished bolts for official use go next to the Sigil Loomhouse, where master weavers embed lineage marks directly into the cloth. No sigil is painted. Each loom carries a pattern logic guarded by families and reviewed by guild clerks. The Loomhouse keeps a strict ledger of every commission and blocks orders that do not meet rules.

Across the lanes, the Toolwright’s Exchange keeps the district supplied. It buys, leases, and restores tools; records weight and balance; and teaches apprentices how to care for edge, hinge, and haft. Next comes the Inkveil Canopy, a shaded court where painters and calligraphers finish borders, glyphs, weather coats, and registry marks on cloth, wood, metal, and stone. The Artisan Registry Hall inspects the final piece, records its materials and maker, and seals it with resin and number. For designs that affect the city—gates, shrines, court furniture, or ritual tools—the Archivist’s Trestle stores the plans under Lorekeeper care so they can be referenced if the original is lost or copied without leave.

Law, Ledger, and the Weight of Work

Craft in Naath lives under clear rules. The Merchant Guild issues permits for rare stock, reviews bulk contracts, and enforces stall law. In the Embergrove, this means posted hours, recorded shifts, and open inspections. The Guild assigns bonded guards to the Stall Hall when high-value goods move and to the kiln-ring during judged showings. The Guild does not set prices for daily wares, but it can cap or stagger luxury commissions so one lineage cannot choke a market. Fines land fast when ledgers do not match hands. Exile is rare, but the threat of work-ban is enough to keep most books clean.

The Artisan Registry keeps a second spine of order. A piece cannot sell, gift, or ship until it is inspected, sealed, and logged. The resin seal has a number that traces back to maker, stock, and day. Disputes move faster because of this. If a hinge fails or a dye runs, clerks can pull the ledger and find the lot. When a master claims a work was copied, the Trestle pulls the plan and settles it. The registry board also posts a monthly rank of notable works. Rank brings better access to stock and earlier picks at the Yard or Galleries. It does not bring immunity from fines.

Magic is useful here but stays within law. Heat-stones help hold kiln temperature. Rootglass windows keep sparks where they belong. Simple binding runes reinforce hafts and joints. Anything that pulls hard on the flows is recorded and witnessed. The Cloister bans certain shortcuts outright—any weave or etch that strains the ground for the sake of speed does not pass. Dyers follow water rules set with the Lake-wardens so waste does not foul the run-off toward Selenmere. Fires are watched by dedicated stewards with sand bins, quench pits, and brass horns hung at set distances. When the horn sounds, work stops and every hand moves to drill.

Trade ties reach from the Pavilion to the far roads. Highgrove contracts commission banners, court furnishings, and treaty gifts. The Trunk Market buys tools, cloth, and vessels for daily sale. Trailhome posts steady orders for ward-gear and pack crates. Seekers contract for rugged kit—hooklines, ferrules, quiet iron, and simple gear that works in bad weather. During hard winters, the Council may direct the Embergrove to shift output to braces, gate pins, chain, and sled runners. The district keeps reserve stock and posted plans for that turn so it can switch in a single day.

People, Learning, and the City’s Needs

Craft is a family matter in the Embergrove, but doors are open to talent. Children sweep floors before they touch a tool. Apprentices learn to carry water, keep ledgers, and listen. A first lesson is simple: know the step before yours and the step after. Masters move between shops to teach technique and common sense—how to set a hinge so a door never sags, how to read a kiln’s breath, how to spread dye so a robe falls clean. When an apprentice earns their first mark, they stamp it on a tool that will outlast them and loan it to the Exchange. The district remembers who helped it grow.

Seasonal showings give shape to pride without turning it into noise. During summer, the kiln-ring displays judged work. In autumn, the Loomhouse presents guild robes and banners. The Council sits a short line of tables, speaks with makers, and posts a list of civic commissions. Messengers carry those choices to the Pavilion and the Trunk Market by dusk. The Boughring borrows Embergrove hands before major rites—building frames, stringing lights, seating elders, and installing safe flame. When winter comes early or a storm breaks bridges, the district shifts to repair. Shop walls hold measured plans for braces and trusses so crews can build fast.

The Embergrove keeps steady ties with other castes. Wardens of Rootwatch send signs from the Verdwood when shrines need repair or markers need carving. Seekers report failures in field gear so hinges, buckles, and lashings improve each season. Lorekeepers visit the Trestle to copy plans or to flag a design that needs ritual care. Guild clerks from Highgrove walk the lanes during audits and festival runs. Lake-wardens advise dyers before spring floods. Outsiders see only a district of hammers, vats, and looms, but inside it is a circle of clear roles and shared duty.

The district knows its dangers. Fire can jump. Dye can foul. A single cracked shaft can fail a bridge. For that reason, drills repeat, logs are checked, and mistakes are recorded without shame so others do not repeat them. The Embergrove’s honor is not a boast. It is a record of pieces that work when needed: a gate that closes in a storm, a spear that holds its edge, a banner that does not bleed in the rain. When the city calls, the Embergrove answers with plain skill and a clear stamp.