The New Printing Press’s Trial Run
“Now then, what story should we start with?” I wondered aloud.
Everyone from the Gilberta Company had since left, and I was now at my desk in the High Bishop’s chambers. I needed to blast out a manuscript as soon as possible so that we could try making a text-filled book using the new printing press. There were several tales about knights among the collection of stories I had written down over the winter, and by using those as a base, it wouldn’t be too hard to put something together.
“Maybe I should start by printing something short, with our goal ultimately being to create a collection of knight stories...”
Gil responded with an affirmative nod. “Given that this is a trial run, I think starting with a small manuscript would be best.”
After talking it over with him a bit more, I settled on writing a story with a happy ending. In it, a knight would hunt a feybeast, before gifting its feystone to his beloved.
A few days later, I completed the reasonably thin knight short story. Come seventh bell, it was time for me to listen to my attendants’ reports on the day, so I took this opportunity to tell Gil and Fritz that I was done.
“Gil, Fritz—the manuscript for the short story is now finished. We shall do the typesetting in the afternoon on a sunny day to limit the children’s access to the workshop. Please pass this information on to Lutz. Furthermore, please decide with Fran who is going to be present in the workshop to observe the trial run.”
“As you wish,” Gil replied promptly.
Fritz momentarily fell into thought, then softly crinkled his calm, dark-brown eyes. “Gil, I imagine that you wish to participate in the typesetting as well, so I shall take the children to the forest. Please listen closely in my place, as you will need to learn the process well enough for the both of us.”
“You can count on me. Lady Rozemyne, are the illustrations completed, too?”
“As this printing session will consist entirely of text, there is no need for us to wait on illustrations; we’ll be using mimeograph printing for them, as we already have been. Oh, but I do intend to ask Wilma if she can begin the new illustrations. You may send her a messenger so that she knows about this ahead of time.”
The next afternoon, I excitedly headed to the orphanage with the completed manuscript in hand, planning to ask Wilma to draw the accompanying illustrations.
“Wilma, I would like you to draw illustrations for this knight story, using Ferdinand’s face as a reference.”
“...Lady Rozemyne, I believe doing that will only lead to you earning the High Priest’s ire once again,” Wilma said with a worried look. But I had an ancient, unbreakable blade at my disposal, passed down through my family for generations.
“There is no need to worry—we’re only using him as a reference, after all. The knight in the story is someone entirely different from the High Priest. For one, they do not have the same name. It will also be clearly stated in the book that its contents are mere fiction, with any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, being purely coincidental.”
“Oh my. You always have a trick up your sleeve, don’t you?” Wilma asked, her eyes widening in complete awe. She then looked up to the ceiling in thought. “In that case, I will modify the hairstyle and the like so that he appears different enough.”
“Thank you ever so much, Wilma.”
“Think nothing of it. I have such a delightful time drawing the High Priest that, when he banned our illustrations, I was more depressed than anyone,” my partner in crime said with a giggle. I had successfully secured the pictures I needed.
“We’ll print them as usual once we’ve finished printing all the text. Plus, we’re going to be using an entire page for the illustration, so there’s no need to think about size or where to put the letters. You don’t need to hurry, either, since the pictures won’t be added right away.”
“Understood.”
I stood up, having finished my conversation with Wilma, which encouraged the kids playing in the corner of the dining hall to come rushing over.
“Lady Rozemyne, are you making a new picture book? What’s it about?”
The picture book about the autumn gods had been completed while I was attending Spring Prayer, and the workshop was presently in the middle of making one on the winter gods. They were curious, therefore, what my next one would be about. It seemed that my plan to raise the orphans into bookworms was going off without a hitch.
“Ahahaha. Once I’ve finished the book about the winter gods, I will be making a collection of knight stories. But I’m not sure you all will be able to read it, since it’s going to be filled with text.”
“We’ll make sure we can! Learning new words is so much fun!”
“The collection shall be based on stories that I’ve gathered from noble children. I am very much looking forward to all of you one day writing new stories for me, too.”
“We’ll practice so we can get good at writing!” the orphans said, their eyes brimming with motivation.
The sight warmed my heart; I wanted them to keep up this enthusiasm in hopes that it would drive them to make books of all kinds themselves when they grew up. Teaching the orphans their letters and the art of enjoying reading was all an investment so that I myself could have more books in the future.
The day had finally arrived. I completed my morning work, eager to typeset for a movable-type printer for the first time, and planned to tear through lunch so that I could get to the workshop as soon as possible.
“Fran,” I said as he served my food, “I would like to wear throwaway clothes, since I might be getting dirty at the workshop this afternoon.”
He furrowed his brow at my request. “My sincere apologies, Lady Rozemyne, but under normal circumstances, the daughter of the archduke would never engage in the work herself. For that reason, you do not own any throwaway clothes.”
“Wait, what? But the ink stains will most likely be permanent. Will that not be a problem?” I asked, pinching the white sleeves of the High Bishop robes I usually wore and holding them up to him. Getting black ink on this white cloth would be a major issue, and I couldn’t imagine it was acceptable for the High Bishop to go around wearing dirty clothes.
“There are still several robes in the orphanage director’s chambers from your days as an apprentice shrine maiden. Might I suggest using those? The only consideration is that you will need to change in the director’s chambers, and you should attempt to stay in your High Bishop robes as much as possible while in the temple.”
The only clothes in this closet were those suited to the High Bishop and the archduke’s adopted daughter. I had gone to the orphanage director’s chambers many times since becoming High Bishop, but as I wasn’t allowed to open its closets and the like myself, I hadn’t known that my old clothes were still in there. In fact, my assumption had been that they were burned or something to hide my commoner origins.
“...Oh, I had no idea they were still in there. Thank you ever so much, Fran.”
And so I headed to the orphanage director’s chambers with Monika and Damuel to change into something from my days as Myne. Amid the several sets of clothes in the closet, I found my Gilberta Company apprentice outfit that I used to wear, and my heart immediately twinged with nostalgia.
“I shall change into these. After all, these are the only clothes without frilly sleeves.”
Monika looked over the outfit, then nodded. “They are certainly the most suitable for work.”
I pushed my arms through the apprentice clothes, feeling an even stronger wave of nostalgia wash over me. They were a little tight on me, but nothing that I couldn’t wear. Plus, the fact that they were tighter meant I was actually growing to some extent. Though that, too, emphasized how much I had changed since being Myne, which was sad in its own way.
Gil finished his lunch just as I finished changing and came to join us in the director’s chambers.
“Monika, I shall head to the workshop with Gil. You may use this time to help Wilma. I imagine she is fairly busy right now, due to the illustration job I have given her.”
“As you wish. You may leave it to me.”
After sending Monika to the orphanage, I went to the workshop with Gil and Damuel.
“I’ve sent everyone outside, so you can go a little crazy with the typesetting if you want,” Gil said, proudly puffing out his chest.
Fritz had taken everyone to the forest so that I could handle things in the workshop myself. It was their first time going there for paper-making this spring, so they had all left in a rush of excitement.
Damuel gave a small smile, having been dragged along to all this. “I would rather you make it so that she doesn’t go crazy at all.”
“When books are involved, you would need the power of Mestionora, the Goddess of Wisdom, to keep Lady Rozemyne contained. Do you have such power at your disposal, Sir Damuel?” Gil asked, indirectly suggesting that he had absolutely no idea how to control me. There was no way I was going to hold back in the face of a new printing press, and it seemed Gil understood that as well as Lutz now.
“I see. In that case, I suppose I should pray to Mestionora later on,” Damuel said, quickly giving up on containing my rampage himself and instead resorting to praying to the gods for help.
Well... if you’re going out of your way to pray to Mestionora, you might as well ask her for some insider tips on how to further advance printing technology.
We reached the workshop soon enough. I spotted Lutz already lining up the necessary tools, so I called out to announce our arrival.
“Lutz, we’re here.”
“Myne?!” Lutz exclaimed, turning around with wide eyes. He then slapped a hand against his cheek and shook his head. “No. That’s wrong. Wrong.”
Knowing that he was surprised to see me wearing the apprentice outfit, I spun in place and struck a pose. “What do you think, Lutz? Brings back memories, doesn’t it?”
“It’s more confusing than anything. I mean, come on, I even messed up your name there. Wear something else next time,” he replied with a pout.
“These were the only clothes with sleeves appropriate for working in. You might as well give up, because I’m gonna keep using them,” I replied, already heading over to the typesetting stand. I grabbed the lowermost letter type case and grinned at the sight of the gleaming metal within. “Lutz, Gil—where are the composing sticks and the interline spacers?”
“All the small pieces that Ingo and Johann made are on this shelf,” Lutz replied, revealing crisp rows of sticks and spacers.
I let out an emotional sigh. Words couldn’t even begin to explain how beautiful the pieces looked, and the thought of printing with them genuinely moved me. But when I started checking all the drawers of the typesetting stand, I noticed something really bad.
Oh no... I can’t reach the top.
“Gil, please fetch me something to stand on.”
“Actually,” Lutz began, “maybe we should just line up the letter type cases on a worktable? That way, we can all go through the process together.”
I nodded in agreement, at which point Lutz and Gil started moving the cases. It was too bad, though; I’d wanted to look all cool working in front of the typesetting stand.
“Okay, time to start typesetting. Let’s see... You did some before when you were printing the text for the picture books, right? This is basically the same, but since the books we’re printing this time are filled with letters, we need to make the length of each line and the spaces between them uniform, so the text will be easy to read,” I explained, handing the manuscript to Lutz and Gil. “Lutz, you typeset this page. And Gil, you take care of this one.”
I placed the manuscript on the worktable, then handed them each a composing stick. These sticks were slender wooden boxes small enough to be held in one hand, and they were where the several rows of metal letter types would be assembled.
“First, place an interline spacer in your composing stick. Yes, I’m referring to the thin, long pieces of wood. Now add as many letters as you can fit. This will determine how long each line is, so make sure there aren’t any sticking out. Once that’s done, add another interline spacer, and then put a setting rule on top.”
“Hey, what’s the setting rule for, anyway?” Lutz asked, holding up the thin piece of metal and looking it over with a confused expression.
I put an interline spacer and then a setting rule in my own composing stick before starting to search for the first letter I needed. “The setting rule helps the metal letter types slide easier than they would on top of wood, and it helps to keep all the letters aligned neatly in place. Ah, there’s the first letter. Got it.” I grabbed the first letter from the case, made sure it was flipped vertically, then set it in the composing stick with a clink. “Always start from this side of the stick, okay?”
“Got it.”
After that, nothing but the sound of clinking metal filled the workshop. When we finished each line of letters, we would set down an interline spacer, take out a setting rule, and then lay that down on top. Once that was done, we would begin lining up the next row of type.
Typesetting was very repetitious work.
“Mm, where’s the next one...? Oh, there it is.”
It was my first time doing this, so it took me a long time to find each letter. I noticed that Lutz and Gil were hunting for them with squinted eyes, too. Once we had several lines of text arranged in our composing sticks, we’d carefully move the pieces to the galley—a long tray for holding types—and then start adding letters to the now-empty composing stick all over again.
As I said, it was repetitious work.
“This sure takes a lotta time,” Lutz observed.
“We’ll get faster as we get used to it.”
I quickly got used to the process, meaning I was able to speedily line up my rows. But my energy quickly started to wane, and by the time I was halfway done with my page, I was already exhausted; squinting at the rows of tiny letter types had really tired my eyes out. When we had initially begun, I was enjoying myself and making good progress, but when we were finally finishing our pages, I was going the slowest out of everyone.
With the pages done, we delicately tied the arranged types together with typesetting string so that they wouldn’t fall out of place. I was so drained that I couldn’t actually manage to do mine, so Lutz had to handle it in my place.
“And that completes the galley. The typesetting’s done, so next up is making the galley proof. This stage will require us to use the printing press, so we might want to send word to Ingo, Zack, and Johann. Either way, for now, I’ll explain how to work the galleys into the printing press.”
I brought the filled-up galley over to the printing press, then put it in place. The printing press itself perfectly matched the blueprint we had agreed on, though that much was to be expected, given that it had been made by Johann. It had been arranged so that we could print double-page spreads—that is, both the left and right pages of an open book together—so Lutz set the second filled-up galley next to it. We then arranged furniture around the galleys to create the margins, before setting everything in place with the wooden frame.
That marked the end of our preparations.
“Now we just need to rub on the ink and do a test print. See how there are marks on the frame? Line the paper up with those marks, then press this board down.”
It was set so that, when the paper was being held down by the cover, it could be folded such that it would be positioned right above the galleys. I compared the printing press blueprints with the real thing while continuing to explain how it worked.
“I’m pretty sure turning this handle will move the stand...”
“Yeah? Let me see it.”
I wasn’t strong enough to turn the handle myself, but Lutz and Gil could both manage it on their own. The stand moved just according to my specifications, which was incredible to see. As we were utilizing the principle of leverage, this new printing press hopefully wouldn’t require as much arm strength as the previous version, making it easier and less taxing to use.
“So, you can print by moving that handle. It won’t actually print right now, since we haven’t put any ink on the types, but try turning it anyway. It should be a lot easier to move than the earlier press.”
The old press had needed the strength of two adults, but Lutz and Gil were managing to operate this new one by themselves.
“Woah! That wasn’t tough at all. If we can start picking up the letter types quicker, this should make printing take no time at all,” Lutz said, his green eyes sparkling with excitement. Meanwhile, Gil was writing instructions for the entire process onto his diptych.
Once they both had everything down, our work for the day was done.
“...Okay, I understand now,” Gil said, looking up from his diptych. “We can bring Ingo and the others to the workshop tomorrow, then do the trial run.”
Lutz peered over his shoulder at the diptych, then nodded. “Yeah. And while they’re here, you’ll be watching—and only watching—like a good High Bishop. Did our work today scratch that itch for you?”
“Just a little. Enough for me to stay calm tomorrow.”
...Though it’s less that I’ve calmed down, and more that today’s work will probably leave me too exhausted to move much at all.
Ingo, Zack, and Johann came over to the workshop the next day. They were all wearing their work clothes in preparation for the printing test, so I alone stood out with my clean High Bishop robes.
“Now then, shall we begin the trial run for the new printing press? Gil, Lutz—please begin.”
They both nodded, then started putting together the galley proof as we had discussed, rubbing on the ink, putting the paper into place, and setting down the frame. Lutz turned the handle while Gil pushed the stand beneath the press as it moved, and everyone watched on with interest and nervousness. The craftsmen in particular observed the process with serious glares and furrowed brows.
Pushing the handle and using leverage to move the press made the press board itself move with a loud banging sound. Lutz and Gil pulled out the stand and undid the frame covering the paper, then removed the sheets from the press. The small mimeograph printer could only print one page at a time, but here we had printed two at once.
“Phew, they’re done. Real good quality, too.”
“So that’s printing, huh? I dunno what those pages actually say, but I’m impressed.”
With the trial run a success, the craftsmen all let out sighs of relief. I smiled upon seeing them all finally freed from the stress that came with having to deliver a working product.
“Thanks to you three combining your talents, we have improved the printing press into something truly wonderful,” I announced. “I shall direct the Gilberta Company to handle the rest of your payment and report your success to the guilds. Winter was a stressful time, was it not? Where exactly did you struggle the most?”
The stress-free craftsmen went on to explain their respective struggles to me.
“Well, Lady Rozemyne, I was busy all winter thanks to you calling me one of your Gutenbergs,” Johann murmured with a sigh.
I placed a hand on my cheek and tilted my head. “Busy all winter, you say? Should I take that to mean you have found a new patron? If so, I truly am overjoyed for you and would be more than willing to remove you from the Gutenbergs, comfortable in the knowledge that doing so will not deprive you of work.”
“Ngh...” At that, Johann awkwardly averted his gaze, having clearly not found a new patron yet.
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