Brickhaven: CH 2 | Max Is Taken Prisoner In The Town He Built | LEGO Adventure Audiobook for Boys

Max knows this LEGO town better than anyone alive. He built every brick, designed every guard, placed every lamp and fountain. But when he's escorted through the gates of Brickhaven under armed escort, the citizens look away and Krag — the champion Max designed himself — calls him confused, or dangerous.

Max gets to see his creation alive for the first time at ground level: the bakery with real bread, the fountain with actual flowing water, the clocktower actually ticking. And then he's exiled through the east gate with nothing.

New to Brickhaven? Start at Chapter 1...

Brickhaven is a LEGO adventure story for boys 8–14. 

00:00:00 — Max arrives at the gates of his own town — and the guards don't know him
00:00:30 — Chapter 2: The Gates of Brickhaven
00:08:15 — Escorted through Brickhaven as a prisoner — his own citizens won't look at him
00:18:15 — Face to face with Crag — the champion Max built to protect the town
00:28:45 — Expelled beyond the walls — into the Destroyer's territory
00:29:00 — CH 3 — What Comes Next

New chapters weekly. 

Narrated by Reed Sterling.

I am the author of serialized fiction books for kids, teens, tweens and young adults, including:

- Brickhaven: A Bricks Fan Fiction Adventure

- Colony In Danger: A Fire Ant Adventure

- Eagle's Edge: A Story of Rome, Gaul and the Making of a Soldier

- Treasure Island: A Classic Adaptation

- Iron Rails & Ruin: A Novel of Steam, Sorcery and the Lawless Montana Territory

📚 All five books -- are now available on Amazon: https://us.amazon.com/stores/Reed-Sterling/author/B0H2ZM86WQ

📖 Wanna check out all five series for yourself?  Get all five Chapter 1s free: https://compass-codex.kit.com/middle-school-reader-group

Thank you for listening!  This is Reed Sterling.  Remember: Never stop exploring unknown worlds.

Transcript

— Max arrives at the gates of his own town — and the guards don't know him

SPEAKER_00 0:00

Max built Brickhaven brick by brick, every wall, every guard. But now they've escorted him through the gates as a prisoner to assess. The man he built to be their hero calls Max a myth. This is Compass and Codex. Never stop exploring unknown worlds. Brickhaven a Bricks fan fiction adventure. Chapter two The Gates

— Chapter 2: The Gates of Brickhaven

SPEAKER_00 0:30

of Brickhaven Scene 1. The guards' plastic faces somehow managed to convey suspicion despite their limited features, two dots for eyes, a simple curved line for a mouth. I stood motionless before them, caught between wonder and disbelief that my own creations now regarded me as a stranger. The gate remained closed, the port cullis half lowered in a defensive position I had never designed it to take. One of the guards motioned to someone behind the wall, and I heard the distinct click of Lego mechanisms engaging. A sound both familiar from years of building and utterly foreign in its autonomous operation. The massive wooden doors, really just brown plates arranged in my careful pattern, began to part slightly, just enough to reveal three more guards standing in formation behind them. Their spears pointed outward, forming a bristling barrier between me and the town beyond. I'm Max, I repeated, raising my voice slightly. The builder. I made Brickhaven. I placed every brick. My words hung in the air, seeming to drop to the ground between us like physical objects the guards observed with suspicion. One guard, taller than the others, with a small red insignia on his chest that I remembered painting myself, stepped forward. The builder is a legend, he said, his voice higher than I expected, but clear and firm. A story told to explain our origins. Not a legend, I insisted. I'm real. I built this place. I gestured at the walls around us. Two months ago in my bedroom I the words suddenly tangled in my throat as six pairs of eyes fixed on me. My brain raced ahead while my mouth struggled to keep up. I designed the pattern of I felt the familiar sensation of my thoughts scattering under social pressure. My right hand dropped to my side, fingers beginning to tap against my leg, index, middle, ring, pinky, then reverse. A rhythm I'd developed years ago when words failed me. The guards noticed, their plastic hands tightening on their spears. Your eastern watchtower, I managed finally, my words coming in short, precise bursts as I forced myself to focus. It has a hidden support beam, brown, one by eight, embedded in the third layer. You can't see it from outside. I pointed toward the corner of the wall. I put it there because the first design was unstable. The guards exchanged glances, their simplified faces somehow conveying complex emotions. The lead guard's eyes narrowed, an impossible movement for a painted on feature, yet I saw it happen. Anyone could guess at hidden supports, he said, but uncertainty had crept into his voice. My fingers continued their tapping as I gathered my thoughts. I was losing them. Words weren't working. I needed to show, not tell. The crenellations, I said, pointing upward. There are exactly one hundred and forty four around the entire perimeter, thirty six on each wall, except I paused, pointing to the western wall segment, except there, thirty five there, I ran out of the right pieces, had to improvise. The lead guard turned to look where I was pointing, then back at me, his expression impossible to read. And the gate hinges, I continued, my words coming easier now as I focused on the precise details of my creation. They're asymmetrical. The right hinge is one plate higher than the left. I did that because the door kept catching on the ground otherwise. A murmur passed through the guards, not words exactly, but a sound of collective unease. They couldn't deny what I was saying. These weren't things someone would notice without intimate knowledge of the construction. The fountain in the square, I pressed on, gaining confidence. It has a blue two by two round plate at the bottom that doesn't match the rest. I dropped the original piece and couldn't find it under my bed. The lead guard stepped back slightly, conferring with two others in hushed tones. I caught fragments. Impossible knowledge and security risk, and Crag must assess. I took a deep breath, focusing on one final detail that I knew would prove beyond doubt who I was. The east wall, I said loudly enough for all to hear. Behind the third guard tower, there's a loose brick, grey, two by four, second row from the top. It looks fine from the outside, but it's not connected to anything behind it. I meant to fix it, but forgot. The lead guard froze mid sentence in his conference with the others. He turned slowly to face me, his simple face now showing something I hadn't seen before. Fear. How could you possibly know that? he demanded. That vulnerability is classified information. Because I built it, I said simply. I built all of this, every brick, every minifig. I gestured at him, including you. The guards formed a tight circle, their conversation now too quiet for me to hear. I stood waiting, my fingers still tapping lightly against my leg. The gates remained partially open, revealing tantalizing glimpses of the town beyond, my town, alive with movement and activity I had never imagined possible. After what felt like minutes but was probably less than thirty seconds, they broke their huddle. The lead guard approached me, his posture rigid with what appeared to be formal decision. You will be admitted to Brickhaven, he announced, his voice carefully controlled. Not as the builder you claim to be, such claims require assessment by higher authority, but as a person of interest who possesses concerning knowledge about our defenses. Two guards moved to flank me, their spears not quite touching me, but positioned to make it clear I was under their control. You will be escorted to the town square, the lead guard continued, where your claims can be properly evaluated. Any attempt to deviate from our path will be treated as hostile action. He paused, studying my face. Is this understood? I nodded, recognizing that arguing would only make things worse. Understood. The gates swung open fully, revealing Brickhaven's main street beyond. The lead guard gestured for me to walk between my escorts. Welcome to Brickhaven, he said, his tone making it clear this was a formality rather than a genuine welcome. Keep your hands visible at all times. I stepped forward between my guards crossing the threshold into the world I had built. Not as its creator returning home, but as a stranger under suspicion, a prisoner to be assessed. As we passed through the gate, I heard the heavy doors close behind us, followed by the decisive clunk of the locking mechanism I had so carefully designed engaging. The sound felt like a period at the end of a sentence, final, conclusive, marking the end of one reality and the beginning of another.

— Escorted through Brickhaven as a prisoner — his own citizens won't look at him

SPEAKER_00 8:15

Brickhaven had welcomed its builder home, not with open arms, but with spears at the ready, and suspicion in its plastic hearts. A road I had paved brick by brick with smooth grey plates, now worn in places as if from years of traffic that had never actually occurred. My escorts maintained perfect formation around me, their postures rigid and professional, spears held at precise angles that somehow conveyed both threat and routine. I walked between them, my plastic feet clicking against the road surface, taking in the impossible reality of my creation now alive at minifig scale. The first building we passed was Brickhaven Bakery, a simple structure I had assembled in about twenty minutes one Tuesday afternoon. I'd used white bricks for the walls, brown for the counter, and placed three small round pieces as decorative bread loaves in the window. Now those bread loaves were actual bread, with visible texture and, I blinked twice to confirm, actual steam rising from them. The scent reached me as we passed, warm and yeasty, a smell I had certainly never built into the plastic. That's impossible, I muttered, staring at the bakery. I never designed functional ovens or silence, the lead guard instructed without turning his head. You will be permitted to speak when questioned. Behind the counter stood a baker minifig, one I recognized as a standard Lego figure with a white hat and apron that came in a set I'd received for my ninth birthday. I had positioned him there permanently. Now he moved with purpose, arranging loaves on shelves, occasionally glancing toward our procession. When our eyes met, he quickly looked away, busying himself with dough. The pattern repeated as we progressed through the town. Citizens, all minifigs I had placed throughout Brickhaven, ceased their activities as we approached. Conversations died mid sentence, eyes averted. A group of three figures outside what I had designed as a small market, folded their yellow arms and turned their backs as we passed. They're afraid, I realized aloud, forgetting the instruction to remain silent. The guard to my right nudged me with his spear. Not hard enough to hurt, but sufficient to remind me of my status. We turned a corner onto what I had named, in my head, at least, Fountain Square. The centerpiece of my design stood before us, a three tiered fountain built from blue and white pieces, with a central column supporting two shallow basins. When I had built it, I'd imagined water flowing, but of course it had been static plastic. Now incredibly water actually flowed. Clear liquid sprang from the top, cascaded into the first basin, overflowed into the second, and collected in the pool at the bottom. Light caught the droplets, creating tiny rainbows that vanished as quickly as they formed. The physics of it seemed impossible. The water maintained perfect scale with the environment, falling in droplets proportionate to the minifig world, rather than behaving like the actual water it appeared to be. How is this possible? I whispered, quiet enough that the guards chose to ignore the infraction. I noticed the blue two by two round plate at the fountain's bottom, the mismatched piece I had mentioned to the guards. It sat exactly where I had placed it, now submerged under actual flowing water. Beyond the fountain rose the astronomer's tower, a tall, narrow structure I had built from dark grey bricks with a single round window at the top. I had placed a minifig with a small telescope there, aimed at nothing in particular. Now the telescope was positioned precisely, angled toward the ceiling of my bedroom, which from here appeared as a distant sky. The telescope itself had gained details I hadn't built, small adjustment knobs, a focusing mechanism, even a tiny chair for the astronomer to sit while making observations. The astronomer herself, a female minifig with printed glasses on her yellow face, quickly ducked away from the window when she saw me looking up. More evidence of their fear, I thought, cataloguing these reactions. We passed the blacksmith's forge next, a simple structure where I had placed an anvil, a small grey piece, and a furnace, black bricks with transparent orange pieces suggesting flames. The setup had been purely decorative in my design, now the forge glowed with actual heat, the bellows pumped rhythmically, and the blacksmith, a minifig with a printed beard, hammered at what appeared to be a tiny metal sword. The sound of metal striking metal rang out clearly ping, ping, ping, until the blacksmith noticed our procession. He immediately set down his hammer, extinguished his forge with a bucket of water that produced actual steam, and retreated to the back of his shop. They've all been instructed to avoid me, I realized, the pattern now unmistakable. As we approached the town centre we passed a small courtyard, where I had positioned three child minifigs with various toys. I had added the children as an afterthought, placing small objects near them as props, a tiny boat, a ball, a jump rope made from a thin black piece. These children now played with those toys actively. The boat sailed in a small puddle, the ball bounced between them, the jump rope whipped through the air as a child minifig hopped over it with perfect timing. Upon seeing our approach, an adult minifig, presumably a parent, rushed into the courtyard, gathering the children and hurrying them inside a nearby building. The door closed firmly behind them. Throughout our march I became increasingly aware of the garrison, a large, fortified structure I had built on the east side of the town square. In my design it had been an impressive but ultimately decorative feature, housing what I imagined as Brickhaven's defenders. Now it dominated the square with an ominous presence. Guards patrolled its walls, more numerous and better armed than I remembered placing. A black flag I had never created flew from its highest tower, bearing a symbol I didn't recognize, something like a shield divided diagonally. That's new, I noted mentally. I never designed that flag or emblem. The clock tower, a tall structure on the north side of the square, contained actual functioning mechanics. I could see the gears turning through the transparent pieces I had used for windows, marking time in a world that shouldn't have had any concept of its passage. The clock face showed ten fifteen. Though whether that corresponded to the actual time in my room, I couldn't determine. Our procession finally halted in the centre of the town square, a broad open space I had intentionally left mostly empty to serve as Brickhaven's gathering place. The guards maintained their formation around me, forming a perfect square with me at the center. Citizens who had been in the square quickly departed, entering buildings or side streets with conspicuous haste. Within minutes the square was empty except for our group and a ring of additional guards who took up positions around the perimeter. The fountain continued its impossible flow of water behind us. The clock continued its mechanical ticking above. But otherwise an unnatural silence descended on what should have been the busiest part of town. Wait here, the lead guard instructed, the first words any of them had spoken since we entered the town. He stepped away, approaching the garrison's main entrance, an imposing doorway I had constructed from black archway pieces and a double door of dark brown plates. I stood, motionless, observing the square from this new perspective. Every building, every architectural feature was exactly as I had designed it, yet simultaneously transformed. The plastic had gained texture, the colours subtle variations, the straight edges slight imperfections that suggested age and use. My perfect Lego town had gained a history I never gave it, a life I never imagined for it. The lead guard spoke briefly with someone inside the garrison, a conversation too distant for me to hear. He nodded once, sharply, then returned to our formation. He will see you now, the guard announced, his tone neutral, but his plastic face somehow conveying apprehension. Who? I asked, though I already suspected the answer. Crag, the guard replied, the name hanging in the air like a weight. The protector of Brickhaven awaits. The guards tightened their formation around me and began marching toward the garrison's entrance, where a tall figure had emerged, standing silhouetted in the doorway. Even from this distance I recognized the distinctive outline of the special minifig I had designed to be Brickhaven's champion, the custom black armor I had carefully assembled piece by piece, the helmet with its unique visor, the posture of authority I had imagined for him.

— Face to face with Crag — the champion Max built to protect the town

SPEAKER_00 18:15

Kragg, my creation, waited to pass judgment on his creator. Scene three. Kragg stepped into the square, and the air seemed to change around him. He moved with a fluid precision I had never imagined my creation could possess, each step deliberate, the black armor catching the light in ways plastic shouldn't. I had spent hours designing that armor, connecting small black plates in overlapping patterns to create the impression of formidable protection. Now, seeing it in motion, I realized I had succeeded too well. The figure I had crafted to be Brickhaven's protector now radiated an authority that bordered on menace, his visor casting his face in shadow despite the bright light of the square. The guards around me straightened imperceptibly, their postures shifting from alert to rigid attention. One of them whispered something that sounded like present, and as one, they adjusted their stance, spears perfectly parallel. Cragg approached with measured steps, stopping precisely ten brick lengths away from me. Up close I could see the details of his armor, the slight variations in the black plastic that suggested wear, the barely perceptible scratches on his breastplate that I had never created. His helmet featured the retractable visor I had designed, currently raised to reveal his face. The standard minifig features, two dot eyes and a curved line mouth, somehow conveyed a cold intelligence I had never intended. This is the intruder, Crag asked, his voice deeper than the other minifigs, exactly as I had imagined it would be during those late nights building his world. Yes, Lord Protector, the lead guard replied. He claims to be the builder. Crag's eyes fixed on me, studying me with terrifying thoroughness. Interesting, he said finally. You don't match any known design in Brickhaven. I stared back, momentarily unable to speak. This was Crag, my creation, my champion, the figure I had positioned at Brickhaven's gate to keep the town safe. I had given him the best armor, the finest weapons, a position of honor. I had named him after a character in a story I'd made up, carefully printing the name in my notebook Craigvar. Your name is Craigvar, I said suddenly, the syllables feeling strange in my mouth. The effect was immediate and unsettling. Crag's plastic face remained immobile, but something flashed behind his eyes, recognition, confusion, perhaps anger. The guards exchanged glances. Where did you hear that designation? Kragg asked, his voice perfectly controlled but somehow sharper. Finding unexpected confidence, I continued. I named you that. I built you, piece by piece. I gestured at his armor. That breastplate, I used sixteen different pieces to create it, small black plates overlapping to create the impression of segmented armor. The shoulder guards took the longest. I had to use hinge pieces to get the angles right. Krag remained motionless, his face betraying nothing as I spoke. Your helmet has a special visor that can be raised or lowered, I continued, the words coming more easily now. I built it that way because I wanted you to have two expressions, the friendly one for the townspeople and the intimidating one for the town. For enemies. I pointed to his belt. And that symbol on your belt clasp, it's not a standard Lego piece. I painted it myself, a small shield design because you were meant to be Brickhaven's shield. The square had gone completely silent. Even the fountain splashing seemed muted, as if the town itself was holding its breath. Your sword, I added, nodding toward the weapon at his side. It's non standard too. I traded with Jeremy Coleman for it, a special piece from a medieval set I didn't have. I wanted you to have the best weapon because you were the town's champion, its protector. Cragg's hand moved to the hilt of the sword, the exact sword I had described, his fingers wrapping around it with a deliberate slowness. I positioned you at the main gate, I said, standing guard, keeping the town safe from I hesitated, suddenly remembering what lay beyond the eastern hills in my design. From the destroyer in the east. At this Crag's expression shifted, the barest narrowing of his eyes, but in a face with such limited articulation it registered as significant. You speak of things you cannot know, Crag said finally. His voice remained even, controlled, but carried an undercurrent I couldn't identify. Yet you are clearly not the builder. I am, I insisted. I built this entire town, every brick, every building, I created you to protect it, not to I gestured around at the fearful town, the excessive guards, the strange emblem flying above the garrison. Not to rule it like this. Cragg studied me for another long moment, then made a small gesture with his hand. The guards around me tightened their formation. The builder is a myth, Cragg said with terrifying calm, a story told to children, a convenient explanation for origins better left unexamined. He stepped closer, looking down at me from his slightly taller height. You are either confused or dangerous, perhaps both. But I you possess knowledge that threatens the security of Brickhaven, Cragg continued as if I hadn't spoken. Knowledge that could only have been obtained through suspicious means. I know these things because I built them, I said, frustration creeping into my voice. I can prove it. Ask me anything about the construction, the interior supports of the garrison, the hidden storage room beneath the clock tower, the Enough Kragg raised a hand and I felt silent. Your claims are impossible, yet your knowledge is real. This presents a security concern I cannot ignore. He turned to the guards, his decision apparently made. Take him to the East Gate. A chill ran through my plastic body. The East Gate. The one facing the dark hills where I had placed the destroyer, a monster I had built as a challenge for the town's hero to overcome, a monster that, in this living version of Brickhaven, might be equally alive. No, I said, the implications suddenly clear. You can't send me out there. I built the destroyer to be unbeatable except remove him, Crag ordered, turning away as if the matter were settled. Standard expulsion protocols. The guards grasped my arms, their grips surprisingly strong. I struggled briefly, but their hold was secure. This isn't what I designed you for, I called to Craggs retreating back. You were supposed to protect the town, not rule it through fear. Cragg paused midstep but didn't turn around. The town is protected, he said quietly. I ensure it daily. Then he continued walking, disappearing into the garrison without another word. The guards marched me across the square, away from the fountain, away from the garrison toward the eastern edge of town. Citizens who had been watching from windows quickly pulled back as we passed. No one met my eyes. You're making a mistake, I told the guards as we approached the East Gate, a reinforced structure I had built with extra supports and defensive positions. The destroyer is out there. I built it, so I know what it can do. Then you understand why threats to Brickhaven's security cannot be tolerated, the lead guard replied, without emotion. We reached the east gate, which was smaller than the main gate, but more heavily fortified. Two guards operated a mechanism I had designed, turning large gears that raised the portcullis and unlatched the heavy doors. The gate swung outward with a low groan, revealing the landscape beyond. The eastern hills rose in the distance, dark and forbidding against what from this perspective appeared to be a grey sky, but which I knew was actually the ceiling of my bedroom. Between Brickhaven's walls and those hills stretched a barren plain I had left intentionally empty in my design. A no man's land that the destroyer would have to cross to reach the town. The guards marched me through the gate, their spears at my back. When we reached the outer perimeter they stopped. By order of Lord Protector Kragg, you are hereby expelled from Brickhaven, the lead guard announced formally, return, and you will be treated as hostile. With a sudden shove, they pushed me forward. I stumbled, catching myself before falling, and turned back just in time to see the east gate swinging closed. The massive doors met with a heavy thud, followed by the decisive click of locks engaging and the mechanical grind of the port cullis lowering. I stood alone outside the walls of my own creation, facing the darkening eastern hills, where I had placed a monster of my own design. The sound of the lock sliding into place echoed in the empty landscape, its finality settling around me like a physical weight. Brickhaven, my Brickhaven, had rejected its builder and cast him out into the wilderness. And somewhere in those dark hills waited the destroyer, a puzzle guardian I had built late one night, designed to be unstoppable unless the challenger knew its specific weakness.

— Expelled beyond the walls — into the Destroyer's territory

SPEAKER_00 28:45

A weakness that standing here now as a minifig in a world suddenly impossibly real, I couldn't immediately recall. Max knows every brick of this town. He built them all, but Crag won't hear it. If your creation came

— CH 3 — What Comes Next

SPEAKER_00 29:00

to life and didn't recognize you, what would you do? Next episode Outside the Walls, one small scout has been watching everything. Subscribe to Compass and Codex now so you don't miss the next chapter when it drops. Thank you for listening to Compass and Codex Never Stop Exploring Unknown Worlds.