Johann and Zack
The next day, Lutz brought Johann and another boy to the orphanage director’s chambers. It was probably more accurate to call him a man, given that he was the same age as Johann, but he was still young enough for me to instinctively use the term “boy.” He had short crimson hair styled in what resembled a crew cut, and his gray eyes had an aggressive, competitive glint.
And, in sharp contrast to his enthusiasm, Johann was looking fairly stunned. I was wearing my High Bishop robes today. Up until now, he had thought that his patron was a rich commoner working with the Gilberta Company, and was now floored to learn that I was actually the tiny High Bishop who had apparently been the talk of the lower city ever since the Star Festival. I could hardly blame him for being shocked.
“Good morning, Lady Rozemyne,” Lutz said politely, speaking in the formal tone he reserved for nobles.
Johann hurriedly dropped to his knees as well. “Good morning, erm... Lady Rozemyne?” He was looking at me with confusion, clearly not understanding my name change at all.
I launched into the small speech that I had discussed with Lutz and Benno ahead of time. “My apologies for summoning you so suddenly, Johann. As you can see, I have been given the duty of High Bishop, and thus can no longer visit you myself so easily. I would ask that you travel here yourself when necessary, if possible, but I understand if that isn’t feasible.”
“O-Oh, it is! I’ll come! I’ll walk here myself. I would never suggest you come all the way to my workshop!” Johann exclaimed. He was such an honest guy that he seemed to have concluded that I was an apprentice blue shrine maiden who had been sneaking out of the temple in disguise to walk around the lower city. Things went exactly as Lutz and Benno had said they would, which made me sigh in relief.
“That is much appreciated. Incidentally, Lutz... who is this with him?”
“Zack from the Verde Workshop. It seems he would like to receive your patronage as well,” Lutz said.
I asked for more details, and learned that Johann’s metal letter types had been presented to the Smithing Guild alongside the tasks of other new smiths to great praise. Zack’s work had come behind Johann’s in second place, and apparently the title of “Gutenberg” had played a significant part in that decision.
“It makes no sense that Johann would suddenly get so much praise after failing to get a patron—and leaving his customers dissatisfied—for so long,” Zack said. “You just don’t know the work other smiths can do, Lady Rozemyne. I believe I am more suitable for the title of ‘Gutenberg’ than he is. Please compare my work with his.”
“...As you can see, Zack is quite eager to become a Gutenberg himself. I brought him here so that you may hear his case,” Lutz said with a small smirk. The look in his eyes made it more than clear that he found Zack’s eagerness to become a Gutenberg hilarious.
It turned out that Zack was very confident in his skills, and had some sort of one-way rivalry with Johann. I was more than happy to have such an enthusiastic craftsman join my legion of proud Gutenbergs—after all, the more skilled workers we had, the better.
“Before any decisions can be made, I must see how talented you truly are, Zack. Shall we go to the workshop?”
“Yes, milady!” Zack responded enthusiastically, before shooting Johann a victorious look.
I headed to the workshop with Lutz, Fran, and Damuel in tow. Gil was absent as he was taking the orphans to the forest; the gate guards recognized them now, which meant they could go on their own without Lutz or Tuuli accompanying them.
Once we had all gathered around a work table in one corner of the mostly empty workshop, in which only a few people were working, I took out some paper and ink to aid my explanation.
“I would like you to build a roller for making wax stencils.”
“What are wax stencils?” Zack asked.
This was Zack’s first time doing a job for my workshop, and Johann’s first time entering the workshop, so Lutz explained the production process while showing them a thin wax stencil, a printing press, and a stylus that Johann had made.
“...So, for mimeograph printing, you need paper so thin you can see through it. You then need to coat it with a super thin layer of wax, but that layer has to be even. That’s what we need a roller for.”
“A roller? Like... the thing I made before?” Johann asked.
“No, not quite,” I said with a shake of my head. I then looked over at Lutz, prompting him to read off of a cheat sheet I had prepared so that he could explain how it worked in my place.
“What Lady Rozemyne wants is a machine used to spread wax. It will be composed of two rollers, which are pressed against one another with a tray beneath them. You put the wax on the tray, then light a flame underneath to melt it. Like this.” Lutz showed them the rough sketch I had drawn before continuing his explanation.
If you repeatedly turned the two rollers while the heated wax was below them, they would heat up too and get covered in melted wax. You could then slide a piece of paper between the two rollers, turning them just enough that the corners poked out the other end, before piercing these corners with thin bits of wood similar to toothpicks. One person would then turn the handle of the machine, while the other held onto the toothpicks and slowly pulled the paper out of the roller. The result would be a layer of wax so thin that it would dry while still suspended in the air, thus completing the wax paper.
“I apologize that I have nothing to offer but a rough explanation; I don’t remember the details well enough to draw up any blueprints.”
As Lutz gave his explanation, Johann looked over my sketches with a thoughtful frown. Meanwhile, Zack was listening with shining eyes as if completely fascinated, then started asking question upon question as he too started looking over the sketches.
“Lady Rozemyne—as long as the machine still accomplishes what you want, would you permit me to change its shape?”
“Of course. The important thing here is creating a machine that produces an evenly thin layer of wax. The appearance does not matter.”
In the end, we decided that they would come back with rough blueprints in three days’ time. It would then fall on me to decide which design we would use.
“I’m gonna become a Gutenberg, no matter what!” Zack declared, puffing out his chest. His gray eyes were burning so passionately bright that I could have sworn they had turned silver.
In response to the heated gaze from his so-called rival, Johann just shook his head with an exasperated expression. “I don’t want to lose my patron, so I’m going to focus on doing work that Lady Rozemyne appreciates. But either way, I don’t need the title. You can have it, Zack. Good luck out there.”
The title of “Gutenberg” was purely symbolic, and Johann’s dedication to results rather than appearances was exactly why it suited him perfectly. I could only hope that all of my workers would be so humble and dedicated to spreading printing.
But when I mentioned that, Lutz whispered something strange to me from behind. He said, “Johann’s not being humble here, doofus.”
In the three days during which Johann and Zack were making the blueprints, I decided to pick the songs that Ferdinand would be playing in the concert so that I could put together a schedule for the program. To that end, I burst into his room and requested his assistance.
“‘Program’? Come again?”
“It’s a printed document that lists the songs being played during the concert. Since we’re holding this concert to gather money for the printing industry, I intend to sell printed goods once it’s over. Each program is made using a single sheet of paper. The front will show a printed illustration, while the back will list each song and its lyrics.”
The program would be like a movie pamphlet, and those who wanted to buy one could treasure it forever.
At my explanation, Ferdinand started to firmly massage his temples. His expression made it clear that, while he emotionally wanted to say that no program was needed, he had also rationally determined that it would be good to market the printing industry while we had an easy opportunity to do so.
“...Show me the finished program ahead of time.”
“Consider it done.”
I guess I’ll go for a full black-and-white illustration for the program’s cover. After all, I don’t want to end up screwing myself if the wax stencils aren’t ready in time.
“Shall we prioritize songs that the audience will be familiar with, adding only one or two new songs?” I asked.
“No, I would rather play new songs than ones I have played countless times before,” Ferdinand replied.
With that in mind, I ultimately wrote up a schedule containing three songs based on classical music and two based on anime songs, with a break between the two genres. In total, five songs would be played.
“Good grief... Swear to me that you will never use Rihyarda against me again.”
“I didn’t ask Rihyarda to step in; she helped me out of sheer compassion. Personally, I had given up when I failed to convince you with what I had to offer,” I explained. I hadn’t expected Rihyarda to give him the final push, and I certainly hadn’t expected Ferdinand to cave.
“If you don’t stop Rihyarda as her master, then who will?”
“Considering that not even you could refuse her, Ferdinand, there is no chance whatsoever that I could on my own. Otherwise, I would have read all of those books you brought me before coming here. Why did you agree to do this concert in the first place?” I demanded with puffed-out cheeks.
Ferdinand averted his eyes. “...Although I was ultimately forced into this by Rihyarda, I am a man of my word. I will do whatever I have promised to do.”
“Oh, I know you will. You have my full trust there.”
When I returned to my chambers, I found Rosina playing the song she had arranged with Ferdinand. The fact that she had arranged it with him apparently made her love playing it. She was acting like a girl in love, and while that was cute, I was honestly pretty tired of the song by now. I almost wanted to ask her to stop playing it.
“I shall head to the orphanage to discuss the program,” I said, needing Wilma to draw a full black-and-white stencil illustration of Ferdinand playing the harspiel both to draw his attention away from my true plot and so that I had a backup in case the wax stencils weren’t ready in time.
...And when I informed her of that, Wilma’s light-brown eyes shone with excitement.
“You may count on me. At the moment, I am overcome with such a powerful urge to draw that it feels as if Kunstzeal the Goddess of Art herself is granting me her divine protection. Lady Rozemyne, what manner of illustration do you need?” Wilma asked, before inviting me to her room in the orphanage where she had apparently drawn several pictures of Ferdinand already.
As Damuel and Fran were men, I left them in the dining hall and headed to Wilma’s room with just Monika and Brigitte.
“Oh my! Wilma! These are spectacular!” Monika cried out as soon as we stepped inside.
“They certainly are impressive,” Brigitte agreed.
My jaw dropped as I looked around the room; it was filled with so many stacks of Ferdinand drawings that I genuinely couldn’t believe my eyes. Maybe she hadn’t been joking when she mentioned that Kunstzeal had given her strength.
“I just kept thinking of more angles and styles to draw him in, and my hands simply couldn’t stop.”
Wilma’s heart had been stolen by Ferdinand, and the resulting art fever was something to behold. Most of the paper I had given her for sketching had been used to draw him, and while I couldn’t tell exactly how much, there was definitely some beautification going on. It was hard to deny that Wilma was looking at him through the rose-tinted glasses of a starstruck young girl. The real Ferdinand didn’t shine anywhere near as much as he did in her illustrations, and he certainly didn’t smile as much. Wilma and I were presumably looking at the same person, but we were seeing him in dramatically different ways.
...His expression does loosen up a bit when he’s playing music, but he never smiles as gently as this. In fact, I reckon I’ll die before I ever see him give a gentle smile at all.
Wilma had done a number of drawings showing Ferdinand playing the harspiel with Rosina, and while I was only going to sell illustrations of him by himself during the concert, they really were fantastic. Each one seemed to tell a romantic tale of a handsome man and a beautiful woman. She had also drawn him playing while I sang, and I immediately noticed that I looked about thirty percent shinier as well. It was as if the filter she was looking at Ferdinand through was so strong that it even affected how she saw me when I was beside him.
“So you would like a full-body illustration of Ferdinand playing the harspiel, cut into a stencil. I can finish that at once. Please come for it tomorrow afternoon.”
I had never seen Wilma so full of life before. It was honestly kind of scary to think that Ferdinand had made her go from being afraid of men to... whatever this was. At this point, I had to accept that there would be women passing out or just completely losing their minds at the harspiel concert. In order to minimize any potential damages, it would probably be necessary to get the Knight’s Order involved so that they could stop any rampaging fans and carry any collapsed women to the nearby medical room.
Wilma’s prediction that she could have the illustration finished at once proved correct, as the stencil was ready the next day. It was a full-body picture just as I had ordered, and, in all honesty, it looked like she had put a lot more care and effort into it than she had the picture book illustrations.
“How is it, Lady Rozemyne?” Wilma asked, her eyes brimming with satisfaction despite it being clear from her face that she had barely slept last night.
“I think it’s spectacular. Once I have Ferdinand’s approval, I will send it to the workshop to be printed at once.”
When I showed him, Ferdinand expressed his satisfaction through a contented “This will do.” I had now managed to secure his permission to use the illustration for the programs, but I had a feeling that this was only because it wasn’t a clear-cut picture of him. In fact, had it not been for the hairstyle and the general atmosphere surrounding the illustration, it might not have been recognizable as Ferdinand at all.
Before I knew it, it was time for Johann and Zack to submit their blueprints. They would be bringing them to the workshop, and so I was waiting there with Damuel and Fran. Behind me, gray priests were starting to print the programs. We would be using the same method to print the illustration as we had used previously, but this would be our first time printing using metal letter types. To that end, the priests were all tightly knitting their brows in concentration as they picked up the types and awkwardly lined them up on the stick.
“Lady Rozemyne, I have brought Lutz from the Gilberta Company and the smiths,” Gil announced.
“Thank you, Gil. May I see your blueprints, then?”
With hunched shoulders and his head drooped a little, Johann took out a board. On it was a blueprint for a machine that looked and would supposedly work just as I had described, but it seemed that not even he was satisfied with it. The plans showed Johann’s greatest weak point: while he could perfectly follow even the most detailed blueprints, he was bad at making his own plans based on customer needs.
Zack, in contrast, victoriously took out several boards, each with a blueprint on it. He had come up with various unique approaches to the wax coating machine, and each one appeared to have its own virtues. They were made well enough that I could understand why he was so confident and had so many patrons.
“These certainly are impressive,” I said.
“Yeah. I could never think up anything like these,” Johann added gloomily.
I couldn’t blame him for hanging his head; following the blueprints that Zack had drawn up would make the machine I wanted a reality. Since he had based them on existing techniques, they would apparently be a lot easier to make than what Johann had drawn up based on my description alone.
“Zack, which of these would you most confidently suggest to me?”
“This one will probably work the best, but this one will be the most realistic to make,” Zack replied.
I looked over the two blueprints he showed me and asked Johann what he thought. His expression turned serious as he began comparing the two. Then, once he had glared between them for a bit, he pointed at the one that Zack had said would work the best.
Zack narrowed his eyes and glared at Johann. “That one’s not realistic! This part right here needs to be done so precisely that it’ll be impossible to make!”
Johann slowly shook his head as he peered at the blueprint, the orange hair bundled in a ponytail behind his head shaking along with him. His face was full of confidence and his eyes shone with determination, and with a powerful nod, he declared that he could do it.
I clapped my hands once to stop Zack from leaping at Johann in anger; that kind of behavior would absolutely not be permitted in front of a patron. He stopped on a dime as he came back to his senses, then lowered his clenched fist.
“Now, I shall ask you each to make the machine you have picked. I intend to establish printing workshops in other cities as well, so having two functional waxing machines will be entirely acceptable. However, I will not pay for something that does not work.”
Without any working examples to back up their arguments, any further debate was pointless; the competition could be settled once the products were completed.
Zack glared at Johann with the heated look of a rival, but Johann just glared at the blueprints.
“You may bring your machine and set it up here when you are finished, but ensure that you speak to Lutz and come here through him. Gil, will there be space for the machines?” I asked, and Gil pointed at a wide-open spot elsewhere with his chest proudly puffed out.
“We have plenty of space since we cleaned up.”
“I see. Thank you. I have faith that you will both provide good work,” I said.
I had assumed that would be the end of our conversation, but Lutz flashed a mischievous grin for just a second before taking out a letter. I looked up at him in surprise as he handed it to me.
“A hairpin craftswoman in our store has made a hair stick for you, Lady Rozemyne, and would like to show it to you as soon as possible. Would you be able to meet with her sometime soon?”
Tuuli. He was talking about Tuuli. I could see her again.
I gave a big, happy nod. “Please bring her to the orphanage director’s chambers tomorrow afternoon!” I exclaimed, unable to hide the excitement in my voice.
Lutz nodded in response, a small grin creeping onto his face.
I did my best to keep my expression neutral as I exited the workshop with Fran and Damuel, but the moment I was outside, I heard Lutz burst into laughter behind me.
As soon as I was back in my room, I read the letter from my family.
Kamil was now able to roll over, and Mom was earning a stable income by making hairpins, which meant she could stay at home and look after Kamil until he was old enough to not need someone like Gerta around. I was glad beyond words that he wouldn’t have to suffer being neglected by Gerta like I had.
Dad was busy working at the gate as commander, and he mentioned that Benno and the guildmaster were frequently passing in and out of the city. “Don’t work them too hard, now,” he wrote.
Tuuli said that she’d have the new hair stick ready when she saw me. I couldn’t even begin to describe how excited I was to be able to see her soon.
I immediately got to work on my reply. I wrote that Ferdinand was bullying me by stopping me from reading books, that I was glad they had come to see me during the Star Festival, that I had successfully performed the Starbind Ceremony in the Noble’s Quarter, and that I was working hard to develop the printing industry in the temple.
I folded the finished letter, and slid it between the pages of a finished picture book I intended to give to Tuuli. Then, I had Rosina bundle it together with something that I had asked her to prepare earlier.
“Lady Rozemyne, you are getting much too excited,” Fran observed with a small grin as I squirmed in place. I knew in my head that I needed to act more like a proper noble girl, but I couldn’t contain my excitement over seeing Tuuli again after so long.
“Lady Rozemyne, I have brought our store’s hairpin craftswoman,” Lutz said in a polite tone as he entered with Tuuli. I wanted to rush forward and leap into her arms like I always used to, and I wanted to cry tears of happiness at getting to see her again, but we were forbidden from addressing each other as family.
Tuuli was looking at me with the same tearful expression that I was no doubt wearing myself. Her lips trembled, but she swallowed the name “Myne” without ever saying it.
“Thank you for seeing me today, Lady Rozemyne. Here is the hair stick I made, using a new style of stitching...” Tuuli said, before taking out a hair stick bundled in cloth from the tote basket I used to carry. She had drawn inspiration from the method of using hide glue that I had taught Lutz and made a large flower with freely moving petals and a rigid stem.
“It’s beautiful... I am always wearing the hair sticks that you make for me. As thanks for this new hair stick, I shall offer you this gift. I pray that it serves you well.”
I gave her the second in my line of picture books, this one focusing on the subordinate gods beneath the Goddess of Water, as well as a collection of sketches detailing the clothes I had seen nobles wearing at the Starbind Ceremony, which I had asked Rosina to draw in return for teaching her the new songs I had taught Ferdinand. Hopefully they would help Tuuli in her design studies.
“I am honored,” Tuuli said, probably having been taught how to speak to nobles by Mark and Benno. I had never heard her talk like that before, and it was clear as day how hard she was working to grow.
“...There is a baby in the temple’s orphanage. He has started to crawl, and those taking care of him have noted how much of a handful he is. I would like to hear about any experience you might have with babies.”
Tuuli paused for a moment in thought, then gave a small smile. “I hope that stories of my little brother Kamil will be to your liking. As of late, he has been spending much of his time looking at his black-and-white picture book. I am not exactly sure what he enjoys about it so much, but my mom usually keeps it spread out on the bed, leaning against the wall, and I always see him quietly looking at it on his own.”
On top of that, Kamil had finally gotten big enough to hold onto the white rabbit rattle I had made for him. He could grab it, and track where the sound was coming from with his eyes.
“...May I bring you another hairpin when I finish one, Lady Rozemyne?”
“Yes, of course. I shall be waiting.”
We shared gifts, pleasant words, and smiles, and while it pained me that I couldn’t touch her, Tuuli’s warm smile was enough to fill my heart with light.
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