Preparing the Children's Scripture

Regardless of how people outside perceived it, the pages for the black-and-white picture book aimed at babies were finally done. Satisfied with this, Lutz and I held hands and headed home through the main street, where the signs of autumn were growing ever stronger.

"So, the animal glue won't be ready until after the winter preparations, so I'd like to get back to working on the children's scripture first."

"Are you gonna do woodblock printing again? Seems like paper would be easier, right? Even you could manage that."

I'd been thinking about wanting to get this book done during the reading season of autumn, and when I said that to Lutz, he tilted his head slightly.

Lutz was right—cutting thick paper to make the original plate wasn't all that difficult. If I could manage it, it clearly didn't require much strength.

"Yeah. For the main text too, if we cut it out with a cutter and write the letters, there's no need for mirror writing. For a picture book with few characters, I think that would work fine. …I'll need to order more cutters, though."

Since they'd be custom orders, the design cutters would be a bit pricey, but you'd need similar carving tools if you went with woodblock printing anyway, so the cost was comparable.

"Having to spend money on initial investment is just how it goes, right?"

"…Like you said before, Myne. Trying anything new takes money. But that's exactly what we saved up for, so it should be fine, right?"

Ultimately, I wanted to create movable type for the basic alphabet and move to letterpress printing, but that would require a huge number of type pieces. Making the type involved intricate metalwork, and if you wanted metal type, it would cost even more than what we'd spent so far—so that was still a ways off.

"Man… I'm still miles away from reaching Gutenberg's level."

"Who's that?"

"A great man who achieved something tantamount to divinity, as far as I'm concerned. He's my goal. …For now, I can only improve things one step at a time, though. Lutz, is there anything you'd want improved?"

"Is there some kind of tool to hold the paper down when you're printing? If you lose focus for even a second, the paper slips right away, your fingers get covered in ink, the ink won't come off—it's a real problem."

Lutz was an apprentice merchant dealing with nobles. He was supposed to be mindful of his appearance, yet he was getting his hands dirty like a craftsman, which was a terrible look.

There was the option of leaving it to the blue-robes, but Lutz himself was fixated on the idea of "I'm the one who builds what Myne comes up with." That meant we had to figure out a way to do it without getting too dirty.

"Hmm… Even if we just make the frame for a 'Gestener' press, I think it would be much better."

"Gestener? What's that?"

"Well, printing where you poke holes in a plate, apply ink, and press it through is called 'stencil' printing, and Gestener is one type of that. With Gestener printing, the paper is held in place by a wooden frame and mesh, so your hands won't get as dirty. Something like this."

I took out my writing board, stopped right there on the street, and began drawing a diagram. Lutz, startled, pulled me aside—"Hey, Myne! At least move to the side of the road"—and we relocated to the edge of the street.

Moving the iron pen as I sketched, I explained to Lutz.

"There's a wooden base big enough to hold the paper, with a wooden frame like this that opens and closes. The frame and base are attached with hinges, and the frame has a mesh screen fitted into it. When printing, you place the paper on the base, put the printing plate on top, lower the frame to lock it in place, and then apply ink through the mesh from above."

"Oh. If it just needs wood and mesh, maybe that's doable?"

Aside from the original paper and sanding tools, the construction wasn't all that complex, so I figured Lutz could probably build the simplest version. The one thing I wasn't confident he could make himself was the frame with the mesh.

"Lutz, the craftsman you asked to make the screens before—could we place another order with him? Has the big screen for the plant-paper workshop been finished yet?"

"…I'd have to ask the boss or Mark about that."

"Want to stop by and ask?"

I pointed at the Gilberta Company shop that had just come into view, and Lutz and I went inside.

The work was almost all wrapped up, with tidying already underway in some areas. The movements were smooth and practiced, but there was a sense of busyness about the shop. I spotted Mark inside.

"Mark!"

"Oh, if it isn't Myne and Lutz. If you have business, I'd be happy to hear you in the back room."

He said it would be a distraction to talk in the shop area, so Mark led us to the back room. Inside, Benno was checking some ledgers or other documents.

"Benno, may I borrow Mark tomorrow? I'd like to place an order with the craftsman who made the frame screens and have him come to the workshop with me. Has the plant-paper workshop's order been completed yet?"

I'd heard that the craftsman who helped us with the screen frames had been contracted to make large frames for Benno's papermaking workshop as well. I wondered if he had any free time now.

"All the pieces we ordered should have been delivered by now. What are you making this time?"

"A frame with a mesh screen stretched across it."

Benno cocked his head in confusion at my answer.

"Huh? Mesh? What on earth is that for?"

"It's to keep Lutz's hands clean when we use ink."

"No idea what you're talking about."

Even as he said that, Benno turned to Lutz, clearly expecting an explanation. Despite having heard my explanation just moments ago, Lutz shook his head slowly as if to say he didn't get it either.

"Fine. I'll pass the word to Mark. What time works for you?"

"…Well, Rosina told me I should come practice my spiel, so I'd like to go to the temple in the morning. Would afternoon be all right?"

"Afternoon works better for us. Then, it's settled for tomorrow."

The following afternoon, after finishing lunch, Lutz and I went to the Gilberta Company, and Mark accompanied us to the craftsman's shop on Crafters' Row.

"Hello there."

"…You two again?"

We were greeted by a craftsman with deep furrows between his brows and an expression of extreme displeasure. It was such an unpleasant look that I thought no one in customer service should ever make it.

"Please tell me it's not screens again. I just finally finished those—spare me any rush jobs."

It seemed making the large workshop screens had been quite the ordeal. I compared the craftsman's exasperated expression with Mark's calm smile and waved my hands side to side.

"No, that's not it. What I'd like this time is a wooden frame."

"A wooden frame? Go to a woodworking shop for that."

The craftsman waved dismissively, gesturing toward the door.

"Not just any frame—I want a wooden frame with gauze… that is, silk thread stretched across it in a mesh pattern. Can you do that? The weave doesn't have to be especially fine. It's needed to hold the paper in place so it doesn't shift or wrinkle during printing."

I took out a stone tablet and drew a diagram of the mesh frame I wanted made. The craftsman squinted hard, stared at the drawing for a while, and then let out a resigned sigh.

"…It's not impossible. It's a pain, though."

"May I go ahead and commission it?"

"It'll be a lot of work, but since you pay well, I'll take it. As long as it's not screens, fine by me."

"Thank you very much."

We decided to have the mesh frame made. When it was ready, it would be delivered to the Gilberta Company—Mark signed off on the arrangement.

"Oh, Mark—one more stop. Could we visit the blacksmith's shop? I want to place an additional order for cutters, and I'd like to consult about rollers."

If we were going to make printing plates from thick paper, we'd need multiple design cutters. I wanted to have enough for Lutz and me to use for cutting letters, plus a set for Wilma.

Also, if we wanted to apply ink evenly, a roller would really be the way to go. But all I knew about were rubber rollers and sponge rollers. Were there any materials that could substitute? If not, wrapping fabric around something could work, but I wondered how practical that would be.

"Myne, what on earth are those little knives for?"

"They're for cutting paper. When you need to make fine cuts, a regular knife is too big."

"I see."

We went to the blacksmith and placed an additional order for two more design cutters. Johann accepted with a bright smile. Apparently, orders that let him fully use his craftsmanship were incredibly satisfying.

"And, I'd like a roller…"

"What kind of thing?"

I drew a diagram and explained its purpose. When I tried to describe rubber and sponge, the blacksmith just tilted his head in bewilderment.

"A cylindrical thing, and you roll it to apply the ink. Another peculiar order from you, isn't it?"

"I want a cylinder like this with a handle attached, one that doesn't rattle when you roll it. If you wrap fabric around the surface, the ink should adhere, so I'll leave the material up to you."

Something with a bit of spring that ink would stick to would be ideal, but if not, I figured we could make do somehow.

"…Got it. That much shouldn't be too difficult. When it's done, I bring it to the Gilberta Company again, right? Leave it to me."

After leaving the blacksmith, Mark parted ways with us, and Lutz and I headed home.

"The remaining problem is the illustrations, huh. If we cut the thick paper to make the printing plates, I think it would end up looking like shadow puppets. The design cutters let us keep slightly finer lines, but I'll probably have to ask Wilma to find a clever approach to the drawing style."

"If there was some kind of reference to go by, it'd make things a lot easier, I'd think. I can't really follow when it's just you explaining it, Myne."

I nodded thoughtfully. Of course—if you'd never seen something before, no amount of explanation would make you grasp it right away.

"Hmm… Well then, whether it helps as a reference or not, I don't know, but want me to try making one?"

"Huh? You, Myne? Will that be okay?"

Lutz looked at me warily, his face pinched with worry. I'd only drawn one stylized cartoon—just how low was his opinion of my artistic abilities? I'd typically gotten a four in art class, after all.

"I'll base it on Wilma's drawing, so it'll be fine. Honestly."

I parted ways with Lutz at the well square—he'd been watching me with concern right up until the end—and went home. That evening, I got to work right away, using Wilma's woodblock print as reference to sketch the outline of the goddess, then shading it black and white with soot pencil like a shadow puppet. It was simple, but I thought it was more readable than the woodblock print.

"Not bad, right?"

Of course, this was my impression as someone whose sensibilities still retained a Japanese upbringing, so I wasn't sure it would be accepted here. In a culture that prized delicate, realistic artwork, something resembling shadow puppets might be rejected as far too simple.

The next morning, I packed both the mediocre woodblock print and my shadow-puppet drawing into my bag to show Wilma. I also had the design cutter and soot pencil ready to hand over.

"Good morning, Lutz. What do you think about doing the pictures like this?"

When Lutz arrived to pick me up, I showed him the shadow-puppet-style goddess I'd drawn the day before. Lutz, who'd looked so anxious, lightly widened his eyes, stared at the drawing, and then let out a breath of relief.

"This looks… pretty good, actually? I think it's easier to see than the woodblock print."

"Great. Let me consult with Wilma and see if this approach could work."

After lunch, I headed to the orphanage with the mediocre woodblock print, my shadow-puppet drawing, the design cutters, and the thick paper. Whenever I visited Wilma, Rosina accompanied me.

"Myne, welcome."

I placed the woodblock print on a dining hall table and gently presented it to Wilma. She picked it up and furrowed her brow in confusion.

"Myne, this is…?"

"Wilma, your drawings are so delicate that when you have to carve into wood for a woodblock print, it ends up looking like this. All the wonderful qualities of your artwork are lost, aren't they? So I thought about whether there was another way to make it, and came up with this."

As I spoke, I held out the shadow-puppet drawing. Showing it to a professional artist made me hesitate, but if I didn't, we couldn't move forward.

"I think this method is easier than carving into wood. But since Wilma excels at drawing among all the other arts, I wanted to get your opinion…"

Wilma looked at my shadow-puppet drawing, drew a small breath, and opened her eyes wide.

"…Did you make this one, Myne?"

"Yes. I used Wilma's drawing as a reference and made a sample using only black and white, cutting paper to create the image. What do you think? It's quite different from the illustrations we've done before, but can you, um, get the feel of it?"

Feeling like it might not work, I asked Wilma. She shook her head briskly, her brown eyes lighting up with delight.

"I've never seen anything like it. I would very much like to try making illustrations this way. I want to challenge myself and see what I can achieve with a new technique."

"Then I'll gift you these cutters and the soot pencil. Please try them out on the paper I gave you before. These are the thick sheets for the actual print. Once you've finished the first one, we'll print it and take it from there."

I presented Wilma with the tools I'd brought, along with notes on how to use them, as she gazed at the shadow-puppet drawing, captivated. Knowing Wilma, she'd soon be drawing illustrations far more wonderful than anything I could manage.

While Wilma experimented with the new technique, I was writing letters onto thick paper and creating the printing plates.

Johann delivered the design cutters and rollers, his work finished even faster than last time. Then Lutz and I carefully cut out each letter together. It was fiddly, painstaking work, but knowing that printing these would make a real book kept me going.

And before Wilma's illustrations were finished, the mesh frame from the craftsman arrived. So I went to Lutz's house and asked Ralph and Sieg to help build a wooden base for the Gestener press and a frame to hold the mesh.

"What exactly do you need?"

"Something like this! It's necessary to keep Lutz's hands clean. Please, big brothers!"

I drew up plans on paper with precise measurements and thrust them at the two of them.

They seemed well accustomed to looking at blueprints from their work. Sieg and Ralph reviewed the drawings and immediately set to work, grabbing boards and nails while chatting casually.

"Like this?"

"You guys are amazing! It fits perfectly."

As expected of apprentice woodworkers—no measurement errors. In the blink of an eye, they had a beautiful wooden frame with the mesh fitted neatly inside.

When I praised them, Ralph snorted and glared at Lutz with a smirk. "I'm becoming more of a proper craftsman just so Lutz can become a proper merchant, you know."

"Then hurry up and make the base next, Mister Craftsman."

Lutz puffed out his cheeks indignantly, and the two brothers exchanged a look, shrugged, and resumed their work with light chuckles.

"Ah, this doesn't fit. Lutz, bring that board over there."

"Make sure you sand this one properly. You're the one using it, right? If there are splinters left on it, you'll get hurt."

"You two are so bossy—seriously."

Lutz was still being ordered around as usual, but the tense atmosphere from before had dissipated, and I breathed a small sigh of relief.

"Sieg, could you also attach these to the wooden frame so we can secure the mesh?"

I asked Sieg to attach toggle hooks to the frame as well. The toggles were components for fastening the mesh to the wooden frame—metal pieces shaped like teardrops that you screwed into the frame and rotated to attach or remove the mesh. They were similar to the hardware used to secure the backboard of a picture frame, if that helps.

Then the frame and base were joined with hinges. A board about five millimeters thick was installed on the base so we could align the paper's position during printing.

In less time than expected, the printing press base was complete.

"Th-thanks, brothers. Really, you helped me out a lot."

Having to formally thank his own family seemed to embarrass Lutz, and he turned away with a slight blush. The brothers likewise looked awkward and averted their eyes.

"It's no big deal."

"Yeah, just pocket change, really."

If it were me, I'd have hugged Tuli and shown my gratitude with every fiber of my being, but for these brothers, this was probably as far as they could go. Compared to the total silence between them before, I thought they'd made tremendous progress.

As I watched warmly, the three of them noticed my gaze and let out small, collective "Ugh" sounds.

"Myne, stop looking over here like that!"

The fact that their voices had synced up so perfectly just went to show they really were brothers, and I only watched them with even warmer eyes.

"Lutz, take Myne home!"

"Right. I'll clean up here."

"Let's go, Myne!"

With their surprisingly well-coordinated teamwork, I was promptly ushered out of Lutz's house. It was a shame—I'd wanted to keep watching the heartwarming exchange between the brothers.

"Myne, quit grinning and think. Do we have everything now? All that's left is Wilma's illustrations, right?"

Lutz forcibly changed the subject. Apparently, he really didn't want the sibling dynamic to be brought up again.

I ran through everything we'd need to make the book. Paper—done. Ink—done. Text printing plates—done. Roller—done. Printing base—done. Now we just needed Wilma's illustrations, and the book's contents would be complete.

"Hey, Lutz, if you have the time, could you make some paper for the cover? I'd like to press flowers between sheets and use that for the cover."

"Oh, that stuff. Yeah, it's pretty. Alright, I'll take those guys into the forest tomorrow then."

With all preparations complete and only Wilma's illustrations left to wait for, I was able to spend my afternoons immersed in the library's books.

After finishing lunch, just as I was gearing up for another reading session, a child from the orphanage delivered a message through Gil that Wilma's illustrations were done, and he came into my room.

"Myne, the printing plates are finished. The little ones have a request—they want you to come pick them up yourself."

At Gil's words, I felt my face light up. The printing plates being done meant we could finally begin printing.

"Gil, after lunch, could you relay a message to the workshop that I'd like to prepare for printing? Rosina, let's go to the orphanage."

"Myne, please calm yourself. The God's Blessing has not yet arrived at the orphanage."

"…Right."

I remembered that the orphanage's meal times were different from mine and slumped back into my chair.

Gil smiled faintly and said, "When the little ones come to the workshop, I'll come give you the word, so you might as well start memorizing your prayer phrases while you wait," reminding me of the task the High Priest had given me.

Nervously fidgeting, I did as Gil suggested and focused on memorizing the prayer phrases. These were the words used when the Knights' Order made a request during autumn, and since I never knew when that might happen, I'd been told to have them perfected by now.

…Oh, I also needed to check on the progress of the ceremonial robes.

When word came that the children had finished eating, Rosina and I set off for the orphanage with light steps.

In the dining hall, which we'd just entered, Wilma was waiting—not with her usual gentle smile, but with a slightly tense expression. Sheets of A5-size paper were laid out on the table.

"May I see them?"

"Yes, please take a look."

The meticulously cut printing plates retained the delicate characteristics of Wilma's artwork while presenting the lines in a cleaner, more streamlined way.

"Oh my!"

Rosina's eyes widened slightly, and she gasped in admiration.

It depicted the scene where the God of Darkness met the Goddess of Light. The God of Darkness had more cutout sections, while the Goddess of Light—though she retained more white space—was beautifully rendered through the shadows of her hair and the folds of her robes. I wanted to pour ink on it right away and see the finished result.

"…It's wonderful! Let's try printing right away. I've already asked Gil to have everything ready."

I had Rosina carry the printing plates and stood up immediately, ready to head to the workshop.

"A-ah, Myne!"

"What is it, Wilma?"

Wilma stared at me with an expression of grave determination. After moving her lips slightly several times, she clasped her hands together in front of her chest, pressing so hard her fingertips went white, and asked in a trembling voice.

"C-could I possibly accompany you to the workshop?"

"I don't mind, but are you sure?"

I'd heard that Wilma was uncomfortable around men and didn't want to leave the orphanage—she never visited the workshop, even though she worried about the children. She was too scared, and her legs would freeze up.

"I'm still not good with men, but… I'm so curious about what it will look like once it's printed, and I can't stop thinking about it, I can't focus on anything. The woodblock print didn't turn out the way I'd hoped, and this is a new technique too, so I have no idea what the result will be…"

The woodblock print's outcome had been mediocre from my perspective, but apparently it was quite disappointing for Wilma. This would be her first time creating simple illustrations by cutting paper in a shadow-puppet style rather than producing delicate, darkly textured pieces. I completely understood wanting to see how it turned out.

But I worried about Wilma's emotional state. Going to the workshop meant she'd inevitably run into the blue-robes. Would the young woman who'd said adult men frightened her be able to handle it?

"If I'm with Myne, I feel much more at ease…"

The moment Wilma said that, hesitantly but with quiet resolve, the part of me that was worried about her vanished completely. In its place, a fierce sense of mission surged up.

"I will absolutely not let any men near you, Wilma. Let's go together."

"Myne, technically it's the attendant's job to keep men away from the lady of the house…"

Rosina's exasperated voice cut in, but I couldn't have cared less. What mattered was that Wilma had mustered just enough courage to step outside the women's quarters of the orphanage, and that she was relying on me—that was the most important thing of all.

I gently tugged Wilma's hand—the one she was pressing anxiously against her chest with a strained smile on her face—and headed down the back stairs toward the rear exit that led to Myne's Workshop.

…I'll protect Wilma! I have to show her I'm dependable!

The instant I psyched myself up, I missed a step on the stairs, and Wilma caught me before anything bad happened.

"Are you all right, Myne!?"

"Y-yes."

"…Myne, it's fine to be enthusiastic, but you mustn't lose your composure."

Rosina's gentle admonishment, accompanied by a sweet smile, pierced straight through my heart.

Printing preparations are complete.

As for when Rosina's ladylike education will start having a real effect on Myne—who knows.

Next time: making the children's scripture.