by Miya Kazuki
“Moreover, is it not possible that the difference in status between those working outside and the other gray priests will lead to some finding it uncomfortable to stay in the orphanage? I believe the friction that boy had with his family began after he changed his place of work, no?”
Different work meant different pay. The temple maintained equality between the grays, and bringing inequality to the orphanage would cause their way of life to break down. Things might get even worse than they did with Lutz’s family. And as the orphanage director, I would need to settle that chaos.
...That sounds scary. It was impossible to predict the chaos resulting from a sudden change. Being told that I would be responsible for something I couldn’t predict was honestly terrifying. The High Priest’s sharp gaze softened, as if he had seen through me and knew how scared I was.
“I believe there is no issue with them working in the Myne Workshop. As you said, they are earning profit and the conditions of the orphanage have vastly improved. I have heard that the children are much more lively than before thanks to their trips to the forest and the visits from merchants such as Benno. But there is a significant difference between them doing work inside the temple on the temple’s rules while making contact with the outside world, and working in the outside world under the outside’s rules.”
I nodded, and the High Priest’s expression showed that he was a bit relieved that I understood.
“Not to mention, even if Benno could be their guardian, I do not yet know Benno very well. I cannot make an informed decision as to whether he is more trustworthy than a laynoble purchasing gray priests as servants. I also do not know if a restaurant would be a suitable place for priests to work.”
“If you came to the restaurant during its initial test run, you could see with your own eyes just what kind of place it is,” I suggested to the High Priest with a smile. He shook his head with an exasperated look.
“I do not know what you are planning, but it is written on your face that you have ill intentions. Learn to hide your emotions better. But in any case, I am allowing merchants to enter the temple on their way to the Myne Workshop and I can permit you to expand the jobs done by gray priests, but as it stands I will not allow them to work outside.”
I had expected his rejection, so I didn’t feel too disappointed. Instead, I knew I just had to keep changing things here bit by bit until the High Priest changed his mind. “...Understood. I will work hard to ensure that you come to know Benno well by the time the restaurant is finished. And by I, I mean Benno.”
“You won’t work hard on that yourself?”
“Maybe a little, but there’s a mountain of things that need my attention more, so...”
The High Priest gave a short laugh. “Learning to behave as a noble certainly does come first,” he said.
Sorry, but I’m prioritizing the picture books for my soon-to-be-born little sibling.
“...And that’s why he won’t let priests work outside the temple.”
The day after my lunch with the High Priest, I gave a report to Benno in his store like I always did. I told him what I noticed during my meal with a noble, then explained why he wouldn’t let the priests work outside.
“Figures,” Benno murmured, apparently having expected as much. “But hey, since we can go into the workshop, how about you include training waiters in their workshop duties?”
“Mmm, that might be a good thing to do during the winter when we can’t make paper. Though that would get in the way of them doing winter handiwork.” Winter was a season that demanded a significant amount of firewood and food. Since we couldn’t gather much in the forest, we would need to buy most of it. Winter handiwork was valuable since you could both kill time and make money while blocked in by the snow.
“What kinda handiwork?”
“I was planning to make a variety of toys. I would like to order a lot of boards from a carpentry workshop, but all the ones you know are busy with orders for the restaurant, right? Could you introduce me to another workshop?”
I didn’t want to delay the restaurant’s opening even further. It might have been normal in this world, but to me it just felt like walking into failure. Benno grimaced when I suggested he introduce me to another workshop, but I didn’t want my own order to be put off for months. I wanted to give my order to a workshop that would get it done for sure.
“I need it to be delivered before winter starts. If it’s that hard for you to introduce me to a workshop from your network of associates, I can just find someone else to do it.”
“That ‘someone else’ would be Freida, yeah? Not a chance.” I thought for sure Freida would know workshops Benno didn’t, but he rejected my idea before I even said her name. “...Fine, alright. I’ll talk to the foreman of the workshop I go to about introducing you to someone.”
“In that case, let’s go to an ink workshop first. I want ink. Or rather, the boards will be useless without ink.” I emphasized my need for ink until Benno scratched his head and stood up, looking annoyed. He then picked me up and strode out of his office.
“Mark, I’m gonna go to the ink and carpentry workshops with Myne. Lutz, come with us.”
“Understood, Master Benno.”
When we arrived at the ink store, me traveling in Benno’s arms, I checked the prices of the ink bottles lined up on a shelf and felt my head spin from how expensive they were.
“Do you have any other ink?”
“This is all we sell here. If you really want to know about ink, try going to the workshop directly.” As I hung my head in disappointment, Benno asked for the location of the ink workshop and off we went to craftsman’s alley. The sharp scent of various chemicals pierced my nose when we arrived. Benno set me down and I walked into the workshop myself.
“...Not often that customers come here themselves. What’s your business?” Only rich people who could read and write needed ink, so they always ordered what they wanted at stores without bothering to deal with the workshop. None of them wanted to visit a store with such an overwhelming smell. The foreman, whose face and clothes were dotted with black ink stains, narrowed his eyes and looked us over suspiciously. He seemed a bit high strung, maybe because his job involved precise extraction of pigments and careful mixing.
“Um, I would like to know what kinds of ink you make here.”
The foreman’s furrowed brow managed to furrow further as he looked down at me.
“How do you make your ink?” I asked.
“Sorry, but that’s a trade secret,” he snorted, clearly having no intention of answering. I hurriedly continued, since it looked like he was on the verge of ending the conversation.
“I don’t want to know the method, I just want to know what kind of ink it is. Is it (iron gall) ink, is it sticky (lampblack) ink...? That’s all I want to know.”
“...Huh? What’re you talking about?” The foreman didn’t understand me at all since I didn’t know the names of this world’s ink varieties. I desperately tried to think of ways to describe the kinds of ink I knew.
“Umm, how many different kinds of ink do you make here?”
“Ink is ink. That’s all there is.” The foreman shook his head as if I had asked the dumbest question in the world.
“Okay, I’ll describe different ways to make ink and you can tell me which sounds familiar to you.”
He closed his eyes with annoyance to think about it, then nodded. I figured they were probably making iron gall ink, so I described how to make that as simply as I could.
“Harvest natural dyes from plant gall, ferment it, mix in (ferric ions)... I mean, iron salts, then take plant fibe—”
“That’s it! How do you know that?!” The foreman gasped and dropped his annoyed expression to lean forward towards me. His sudden intensity made me hide behind Benno.
“I don’t know what to tell you except that I learned about it because I was interested. You don’t make any other kinds of ink, do you?”
“...There
are other kinds of ink?” Judging by the piercing look in his eyes, it was likely that he really did only know about iron gall ink. I slumped my shoulders and shook my head, unable to hide my disappointment.
“Nevermind, it’s fine. It would be better to buy ink at a store than order it here, right?”
The foreman crossed his arms, thought about something, then nodded. “Yeah. If you’re just buying, the store’s the better place to go. And... girl, what’s your name?”
“I’m Benno of the Gilberta Company, her guardian. Bring any questions to me. Later.” Benno put a hand on my mouth to stop me from answering, then lifted me up and turned around.
I could see the foreman looking straight at us as Benno walked away. “...The Gilberta Company, huh? Alright.”
The second we were out of the workshop, Benno flipped his lid. “What were you thinking in there?!”
“Bwuh? I was just seeing what kind of ink they made.”
“Couldn’t you be a little more subtle...? Actually, probably not, I guess.”
I had thought I was just having a peaceful discussion with the ink workshop, but to Benno it apparently looked like I was picking a fight or something. But what else could I have done? I didn’t know what kind of ink they made. It was hard to think they would understand me if I said India ink or printing ink or anything like that.
“I guessed it the second he said they only make one kind of ink, but it looks like they’re making (iron gall) ink. That’s a shame.”
Iron gall ink was the kind of ink commonly used in Rome, medieval Europe, and so on prior to the invention of modern ink. It was widely used thanks to its durability, water resistance, and simple manufacturing process. One important factor was that, unlike India ink, it stuck to parchment and wouldn’t vanish if you rubbed it or washed it. But since it included acidic components, the dried ink would start eating the writing surface away. Plant paper decomposed faster than parchment, and sometimes the paper would end up covered in holes by the end of the decade.
That would be a problem for a picture book I intended to make for a child who wasn’t even born yet. Fire-resistant trombe paper would probably resist the corrosion, but that would run such an enormous cost that it wasn’t really worth considering.
“Maybe I should just make the ink myself?” Iron gall ink might work if I used something to neutralize the acidity, but that would be picking a fight with the vested interests again. It would be better for me to just develop a different kind of ink entirely.
“Huh? You’re gonna pick a fight with the Ink Guild head-on?”
“Why do you look so excited, Benno? I’m not trying to start any fights. I would have let things end here if I could just buy the kind of ink I want, and now I’m feeling annoyed that I have to make it myself. I don’t like conflict.”
Benno gave a bored snort at my protests and started walking. I started to think out loud while bouncing in his arms. “(India) ink might be good for plant paper. But I would want something more sticky for woodcuts. Oh, wait a second. I think I saw ancient (Chinese) woodcuts in a (museum) once, so maybe (India) ink will work? Or should I just go all the way and make (oil paint)? (Crayons) smear when you rub them, so I don’t think they would be too good for woodcuts or picture books.”
I had made iron gall ink, oil paint, and crayons with my mom back in my Urano days, but all of them used ingredients we just bought in a store. It would be a lot harder to get the equipment and materials we needed here. ...I’m pretty sure we hardened the crayons in lipstick cases. I would want an airtight container for the paint, but what could I use for that?
“Uh. Lutz. What the hell is Myne saying?”
“She’s just saying what she’s thinking. You can just ignore her. She’ll be stuck like this until she settles on an answer.”
No matter what method I chose, getting the pigments would be difficult. I would probably have to gather soot again, just like I had to do for the soot pens. But unlike before, I could buy animal hide glue and wax. It was much easier to get materials now than when I didn’t even have the money to buy a single nail. Making ink now would be much, much easier than it would have been back then.
“Hey, Lutz. I’m guessing you won’t really understand what I need for this unless we go ahead and start making prototypes like we did with the paper, right?” I leaned over Benno’s shoulder to talk to Lutz, and he shrugged.
“...Made your decision, then? What kind of ink are you gonna make?”
“Every kind that might be good with woodcuts. I’ll make my picture books with whatever ink works the best.” My reply made Lutz shake his head with exasperation.
“You still haven’t given up on picture books?”
“They’ll be my first gift to the baby as his older sister. How could I give up on them?”
“Figures. Things were finally calming down at the Myne Workshop, but I guess it’s back to being busy.” Lutz looked exasperated, but at the same time was grinning with eager excitement.
Preparing to Make Ink
Despite having decided to make ink, I couldn’t just start right away. I first needed to go to Sieg’s carpentry workshop and have the foreman introduce me to another workshop.
When we arrived, the same supervisor as before was at the counter doing some work. He looked up, blinked in surprise, then gave a friendly smile. “Heya, Benno and Sieg’s little brother.”
“Call the foreman for me,” replied Benno, and the supervisor immediately turned around to go deeper into the workshop. We faintly heard him yell “Foreman!” behind the door, then a bearded man with two thick arms came out front while brushing wood shavings off his clothes.
“What brings you here, Benno? Not quite done with your wainscot yet.”
“Yeah, I’m here ’cause I want an introduction to another carpentry workshop.”
“...What’s that supposed to mean?” The foreman’s eyes hardened on the spot. Benno gave a casual shrug while eyeing him back.
“I’m not thinking about breaking our contract. This girl here wants to place an order, but your place is filled up, yeah? Got any other carpentry workshops you wanna send work to?” asked Benno while pushing me forward.
The foreman relaxed a bit in relief, then looked me over while stroking his bushy beard. “Hmph. Guess I can send you to Ingo’s place. Follow me.”
The foreman took us to a workshop owned by someone named Ingo. He was a young foreman who had just recently gone independent. I called him young despite the fact he looked a bit older than Benno because most foremen were in their forties or older. The older foreman came with us because it was apparently normal to introduce new customers personally. I could guess that this was just the tip of the iceberg when it came to the power balance between workshops.
“My place doesn’t have the manpower to take another job right now. Whaddaya think, Ingo?”
“Oh yeah, you got that big job recently. You giving me a bite of the pie here?”
“’Course not, this is another job entirely. Your customer is this little girl here. Have fun.” The foreman from Sieg’s place left it at that. Ingo looked down at me with clear disappointment. That was kinda annoying, but I couldn’t blame him—I did look like a kid who hadn’t even been baptized yet, after all.
“I would like wooden boards for winter handiwork. Please be sure to deliver them on time.” After giving a description of how big I wanted the boards to be, I completed my order.
This year, the orphanage’s winter handiwork would be making reversi sets and playing cards. For the reversi boards they would only need to draw a grid with ink on top of a thick board, and even the disks could be made by chopping up tiny pieces of a board and putting ink on one side. The good part about reversi was that anything that fit into the squares would work; they didn’t have to be circular.
As an aside, the same boards could be reused for chess if we made the pieces. But chess pieces were just too intricate and complex. It would be unreasonable to expect those in the orphanage to
go from zero carpentry knowledge to carving chess pieces overnight. In the meantime we could use shogi pieces instead. They were simple since you just had to write the names of the pieces on top of tiny pentagons.
...But shogi and chess are different? That’s fine, nobody here knows that. I can even change the names and moves of the pieces however I want. Yup, it’s my rules now.
I thought about making the playing cards out of paper, but boards were cheaper than paper, and the washi made by the Myne Workshop would need to be modified to work as cards. Meanwhile, thin boards could endure being treated roughly by kids and all that without breaking too easily. Most of the cards would be fine with just some coloring and number marks, but I should probably think about how to deal with the jacks, queens, and kings. Drawing art for each deck of cards would just be too much.
“Still, what’re you gonna use all these boards for? Sure are ordering a lot of’m,” inquired Ingo as I tapped my guild card against his to make an advance payment. The fact that I had a forewoman’s guild card and paid ahead of time without any fuss seemed to have earned his trust. He was a bit more relaxed than before.
“They’re for winter handiwork, but the details are a secret. I’ll order them again next year if they sell well.”
“...Next year too? Aren’t you signed up with him?” Ingo pointed at the door the other foreman had left from.
“That’s Benno’s workshop, but I haven’t decided on one yet. I’ll make my decision based on the quality and speed of your work. Please deliver the finished goods to the Gilberta Company.”
“Alright. Pleasure doing business with ya.”
With the boards ordered, I left the workshop in Benno’s arms and returned to the store. Once there, he set me down by his desk with him and Lutz sitting on the other side. I could imagine that Benno was about to barrage me with questions about my future plans. And as expected, he drummed his fingers against the desk and glared at me while saying “Alright, spit it out,” the very image of a detective in a crime drama.