Ascendance of a Bookworm (LN) - Volume 2.2 - Chapter 11

Black Oil Paint 

“Dad, pleaaase? I want to use it to check the ink.” 

My fever refused to go down, and after Dad brought me a glass of water I sat up and clasped my hands together to start begging. I wrote mirrored letters on a block of wood large enough to grip and asked him to carve the letters out to turn it into a stamp. 

“...Sheesh. When I’m done, I’m not gonna show it to you until your fever’s down.”

Two days passed since I asked Dad to see the carved-out block. My fever finally went down and the debate of the century began, with my family arguing that I needed to stay home for a bit before going to the workshop and Lutz arguing that making ink would get me so excited I would get a fever the next time I went to the workshop no matter what. 

“Um, I think th—” 

“Be quiet, Myne! We know you want to go already!” 

Everyone agreed with Tuuli, and I was denied participation in a debate that was about me. Bored, I fished through the storage room and took out a thin wooden board. I stayed in the corner of the kitchen while everyone was arguing and wrapped a cloth around it, then wrapped a layer of bamboo around it so it wouldn’t hurt the paper. 

...Eheh, I made a baren. Kinda. This will definitely be important for the woodcuts. The debate ended by the time I finished my baren, with the ultimate decision being that I would stay at home today, but could go to the temple again starting the next day.

A day of waiting built up my hype. With some old clothes I wouldn’t mind throwing out, soap, and the stamp Dad made for me, I was ready to go. 

“Are you as excited as I am, Lutz?” 

“Yeah. So, how do you make this stuff anyway? You’re gonna have to explain, since you don’t get to help.” He was kinda hiding it, but Lutz did look excited to be making something new again. I couldn’t participate in the making myself since I was forbidden from working in the workshop as a blue shrine maiden, which meant I had to tell Lutz exactly what to do. 

“When adding the paint, add small amounts bit by bit. Things will mix together better that way. But to start with, you have to put the soot on top of the marble slab. Then you dig in little holes with your fingers, pour the linseed oil into the holes, and mix it up with the scraper. We don’t want too much oil, so if you think you need more, add only one drop at a time. Once you’ve mixed it up with the scraper, go to town with the pestle.” I explained what to do while using my hands to show how much soot and oil to add. 

Lutz fell silent, thinking for a few moments. “...How hard do you mean when you say ‘go to town’?” he asked. 

“I’m not sure, it depends on the pigment. When I made this in the past it took about twenty minut— Uuum, about as long as it takes for a pot of water to get boiling, but someone using another pigment might not finish by the time the water’s boiling.” 

You had to keep mashing it all until it got silky. The mashing was exhausting and took a lot of grit and endurance. When I explained in cooking terms, Lutz opened his eyes wide in surprise. 

“...You managed to make something like that? You, Myne?” 

“Back then I was a peppy girl, okay? Everyone always said I was full of energy as long as I got to read books. I even got (perfect attendance) at my (school’s) library.” 

“Life sure comes at you fast.” 

I gave a big nod. It was hard not to complain that if not for this body, things would have been a lot easier for me. There would be so much more that I could do. 

“Alright, I’m going off to the workshop. Come on over whenever you’re ready.” Once we reached the gate, Lutz handed me off to Fran and speed-walked to the workshop. I was going to my chambers to greet my servants before going to the workshop, since I had been bedridden for so long. 

“And now that I am better, I believe I shall go to the workshop.” 

“Your harspiel practice comes first, Sister Myne.” 

I wanted to get started making ink right away, but Rosina stopped me with a smile. An ambush had been set in the place I least expected. 

“Daily practice is vital for learning an instrument, but you have already missed practice five days in a row. You will need to practice more than twice as long today to minimize the damage. I believe five times as long will suffice, given that you missed five days.” 

Rosina’s blue eyes were sparkling in excitement at the prospect of practicing five times as long. She was serious, too. She seriously intended to make me practice five times as long. Just as I could read books all day without feeling bored at all, Rosina could thrive anywhere as long as she had music. The longer the practice, the happier she was. 

I instantly shook my head as hard as I could. “No thank you! I request a standard study session. I will take it quite seriously, I assure you!” 

Rosina smiled and held out my instrument with a bright “Very well.” I took it from her and got into playing posture. But when I tried playing the first practice song I had been given, I discovered that she was right. My skill had plummeted while I was sick and I couldn’t play the song well anymore. That didn’t bode well for learning to play the second song. With cold sweat running down my back, I practiced hard until third bell rang.

“That was an impressive degree of focus.” Rosina smiled warmly and praised me after third bell rang. Getting a compliment from a beautiful girl never felt bad. Time to go to the workshop! I thought with brimming happiness, only for Fran to stand in my way. 

“The High Priest’s administrative paperwork has piled up due to your extended absence, and he has grown worried upon hearing of your sickness. Let us go to his office.” Fran had no intention of budging either. The High Priest probably did get worried after I spent so many days sick at home. But I wanted to go to the workshop. I wanted to skip helping the High Priest so I could get started making ink already. 

“Awww... Fran...” 

“When afternoon comes I will have no complaints. I will accompany you to the workshop.” 

“Sister Myne, at times like this you must continue to smile without showing any emotion. And please remember that there will be many times in life where you are forced to do things you dislike.” 

Unable to argue with Rosina, who had been given a stack of financial boards to work her way through before lunch, I hung my head sadly. How could I smile at a time like this? I thought tearfully as I forced a twitchy smile onto my face. 

“You are right, Rosina. I understand. Off to the High Priest’s room we go...” I headed to the High Priest’s room with slumped shoulders. I didn’t dislike helping him with his paperwork or anything, but the fact that I had something a lot more fun waiting for me really put a damper on my spirits.

“Ah, I see you have finally recovered. Come here, Myne.” The second he saw me, the High Priest handed me the sound-blocking magic tool. I gripped it so we could talk. 

“It seems that all the gray priests in the orphanage cleaned the chimneys and fireplaces far earlier than expected this year. What are you plotting?” 

“Please do watch your phrasing, honorable High Priest. I have no plots, only a desire to make ink that will work well on plant paper. The gray priests gathered the soot I needed for it and did nothing more.” I explained what happened and the High Priest rubbed his forehead. 

“I see. I understand now that you needed to do it for your workshop. But take care not to overstep your bounds and anger the High Bishop.” 

I hadn’t seen him in so long I had actually forgotten about him, but yeah, the High Bishop was a person who existed and he sucked. Was I the only one who thought I would anger the High Bishop no matter what I did?

After helping the High Priest and finishing lunch, I could finally go to the workshop. Lutz predicted that I would be held up all morning and had been directing the paper making in the meantime. 

“There’s a lot of stuff you need to do that built up over the past five days, yeah? Some good daily routine is just what you need to cool your head, Myne.” 

“...Well my head sure has cooled off now.” 

The three things I needed were lined up at the workshop and split into groups: the soot everyone gathered, the linseed oil that Benno bought, and the lime that Lutz bought. 

“I have heard that you all worked together to gather soot for me. I greatly appreciate that. Today, I would like to make ink. This is labor that requires significant strength, so only adult gray priests will be participating. Everyone else may continue making paper as usual.” 

After thanking everyone and splitting up the workforce, it was time to make ink. “Now then, Lutz. Please begin.” 

Lutz was my biggest helper here. It seemed he had memorized everything I explained to him just fine, as he put the soot on the marble slab and dug holes for the oil without any issue. Once the oil was in, he used the scraper to flatten and mix it all thoroughly. I still remembered the time I made oil paint in the past, so I was confident this part would go well. But I hadn’t sought out particularly high-quality soot or oil, so it was very possible that the paint would turn out poorly regardless of technique. 

“The mixing seems to be going well. I believe now is the time to switch to the pestle.” Lutz started off with a small amount since paint ends up better if mixed bit by bit, and that seemed to be going well. Once it was all mixed together he switched out for a pestle and began grind, grind, grinding it. He kept on crushing and grinding the mixture without pause. 

Sweat formed on his brow and he put all his might into his arms as he crushed the mixture into paint that would serve as ink, his face going bright red in the process. I couldn’t help him since I was a blue shrine maiden, and even if I tried, I would just get in his way. Grinding the paint mixture took far more strength than I had right now. I had summoned a gray priest to stand at the ready since I predicted it would be too hard for a kid to do, but Lutz finished it without a single complaint. 

“That is a suitable amount of silkiness and stickiness.” I quickly took out the stamp Dad made and pressed it hard against the freshly made paint a few times before pressing it against some ripped volrin paper. The letters spelling “Myne” appeared on it and an audible stir went through those watching. 

“...She really did make ink.” 

“To think it needed only soot and oil...” 

The gray priests, having seen something new be created for the first time in their lives, looked at the oil paint with wide eyes. It seemed they hadn’t entirely believed that soot and oil would actually make anything. Paint workshops probably made their paint with a similar method, but the priests never had any opportunity to see it. It was possible that their paint-making methods were also trade secrets. 

“Everyone else, please gradually make the oil paint as he did. Put the finished ink here.” Fran got the container for the oil paint and Lutz put his ink inside it. Although it was a bit confusing, paint or really any substance used for printing could be called ink. 

“Lutz, please wash your hands with this soap and get some rest.” 

A gray priest began making ink in Lutz’s place, and two others brought different tools and joined him, adding bits of oil to the soot and starting to mix. While they were hard at work doing that, I took the finished oil paint and tried using the pointed tip of a shaved bit of wood to write letters on paper and draw lines on a board. It was too sticky and thick to be a replacement for normal ink. But it seemed like it would work just fine for the woodblocks. The main thing was that I would need a roller like I used in art class to spread the ink evenly, since the thickness would vary too much without it. Getting a clean woodblock print would be a bit difficult without a roller or at least a paint brush. 

“How’s the ink, Myne?” Lutz came back after washing his hands and face, but his fingertips were still a bit black. We would need a stronger soap. 

“It works, more or less. Now I want ink in other colors...” 

“Other colors? You can make it colored?” Lutz’s eyes widened. I told him it was made the same way, just with different pigments. Making ink in other colors wouldn’t be impossible. I just wasn’t sure where or how I would get those other pigments. 

“What other pigment is there than soot?” 

“As far as I know, most pigments are made from pulverized minerals. Or in more simple terms, if you take colored rocks and break them into fine powder, you can make paint out of it with oil just like you did with soot.” 

Iron oxide and loess (a combination of clay, sand, and wind-blown silt sometimes called yellow clay) were historically used as pigments. Blue colors made from lapis lazuli and azurite were fairly prevalent, as were reds made from rouge and cinnabar. But I had no idea if I could look at the minerals here and tell which were which. 

“...Uh, Myne. Does that mean someone’s gotta hit the rocks until they’re all powder?” asked Lutz timidly, afraid of having to do that himself. I shook my head. Naturally, I had no intention of making Lutz break his back pounding rocks to bits. That was too much for a kid. 

“Surely someone’s job is to do that. I asked Mom about the pigments at her dyeing workshop, but she told me more people asking for pigments would increase the cost of dyes.” According to Mom, some conflict broke out in the past when the number of art workshops increased and the materials for dyes got more expensive in turn. She asked me not to do anything that would cause problems like that, since she would lose her job. Naturally, I couldn’t do anything that would hurt my mom like that. 

Directly mining the minerals seemed like a big leap, but I could imagine that buying the pigments would be too expensive. Especially problematic was that I didn’t even know where one could mine the minerals that would make pigments. How could I, when I had only ever left the city to go to a nearby forest? 

“I guess yellow clay would be the simplest thing to get if I just knew where to find it. We’d have to pound it into a powder, but yellow clay is usually powder already.” 

“But like I said, who’s gonna do that?” It was written on Lutz’s face that he had no intention of doing it himself. I didn’t have the tools or manpower to break up rocks, so giving up on this idea seemed wise for now. 

“...If we go to a mineral store like a lumber store, they might have tiny chunks of rock for sale. Too bad pulverizing them would be so hard. Maybe we should try asking an art workshop about how they make their paint?” 

“Master Benno said they wouldn’t talk about their paint, just the tools.” 

“More trade secrets. Figures.” 

The three gray priests finished their oil paint as Lutz and I talked. They finished faster than Lutz since they had the strength of adults. I couldn’t help but smile as I saw the porcelain container fill up with paint. 

“The stamp worked and colored ink can come later, which means it’s time to make the picture books using woodcuts.” 

“Let’s stop with the ink for today. Making it takes a lot of work. My arms feel heavy as heck.” 

“Okay. About the paper, then. Could you make some thicker paper for the picture books? Like, kinda a lot of it?” 

“Sure. You get some rest while you think about the picture books. Alright?” 

With the oil paint basically complete, I wanted to move straight to making the picture books. I walked around the workshop to encourage the kids swishing water and making paper, then returned to my room. 

I headed for my desk and immediately began writing an adaptation of the bible for kids on the paper Benno gave me. The stories didn’t need to be that detailed for the picture book, and I tried to keep my vocabulary as simple as possible. Once done, I read over my work. Everything seemed fine. All I had to do was ask the High Priest if I could make it into a picture book. 

“Oh, right. I need to talk to Wilma about drawing the art... Rosina, would you come to the orphanage with me? I need to talk to Wilma about something.” Wilma, uncomfortable around men as she was, would no doubt prefer for me to go with Rosina rather than Fran. 

Rosina was in the middle of glaring at boards while receiving work instructions from Fran, and the moment I called out to her, her expression beamed into a smile. She must really hate math. 

“Fran, I must go. Sister Myne needs me.” Rosina started putting away her things. Fran nodded at her and handed over several boards. 

“Please deliver these to Wilma while you are there. She seems to struggle with math as well, but she will need to learn if she is to watch over the girls’ building.” 

Rosina blinked after being given both the boards she had been working on and boards related to the girls’ building, but ultimately smiled without missing a beat. ...That’s Rosina for you. She didn’t show her surprise for a second. 

I went to the orphanage with Rosina, who was carrying the boards, paper, and some ink. Wilma seemed to be cleaning and making soup while the kids were working in the orphanage. She really was the orphanage’s mother. 

“Oh my, hello Sister Myne. I see Rosina is with you. Please, have a seat.” Wilma greeted us with a warm smile, and I ended up smiling as well. My life truly was enriched by having two beautiful girls as attendants. I took a seat in the dining hall and explained my business as Rosina and Wilma followed from behind. 

“As discussed earlier, I would like you to draw art for a bible picture book. I have also brought with me paperwork from Fran. It seems he would like you to go through these, given that you are overseeing the girls’ building.” 

Wilma paled slightly at the pile of boards, and probably not because she was considering why it was called paperwork when no paper was involved. Rosina in the past had been consoled by Wilma that all attendants had to overcome their weaknesses, and now it was her turn to console Wilma with a smile of assurance. “Attendants must do work of this form, and although it may be painful now, you will grow accustomed to it over time as a matter of necessity. Practice is important in both math and art. Isn’t that right, Sister Myne?” 

“It is. The more you practice, the faster you will get and the fewer errors you will make. Join us in overcoming our flaws, Wilma.” 

Unable to argue, Wilma hung her head sadly and took the boards. I had her and Rosina read my simplified adaptation of the bible so they could point out anything I shouldn’t have cut out and stuff like that. Wilma suggested that I use all the words on the karuta so that kids could learn to read easier, and with great difficulty I managed to make that work. In the meantime Wilma sketched illustrations on boards that were about half the size of an A5 piece of paper. That art would be carved into wood to make a woodcut later. 

“I thank you ever so much, Wilma. I will have these carved to make the picture books. Once they are finished, perhaps we can write a continuation.” 

“Yes, I would like that.” 

I excitedly returned to my chambers with the boards Wilma drew on, only to find Lutz waiting for me with a furious expression. 

“Myne, didn’t I tell you to rest in your room?” 

“Wha? Didn’t you tell me to think about the picture book’s story? No...?” It seemed I had misheard him a little. And so Lutz got furious at me for not resting in my room quietly.