Making Picture Books with Woodblock Prints

I added the mirror text for the picture book's body onto the printing blocks Wilma had drawn for me. I had Lutz take the finished blocks home so his older brothers could carve them.

The illustrations were quite detailed, so I worried whether it would be all right, but Lutz just shrugged lightly and said, "If we say it's a commission from Mine and hand over the money, Ralph or Zig will volunteer to do it in no time."

While Lutz and my brothers worked on carving the printing blocks, I requested an audience with the High Priest to discuss making a picture book of the sacred texts and to show him the revised text adapted for children. Even though it was being simplified for children, the fact remained that I'd be creating a picture book that modified the sacred texts, so I figured I ought to get permission just in case.

Whenever I seemed to be planning something new, the High Priest apparently wanted to hear about it properly, because he set an audience date and had me escorted to the hidden room once again. I thought the anti-eavesdropping magic tool would be enough, but apparently he couldn't decide whether it was good or bad for other people to see the actual items I'd be bringing without hearing me out first.

"A children's version of the sacred texts, you say… It could be useful for helping them memorize the words and passages."

"Yes. I'm planning to make it as a picture book, and I'm hoping it will help the orphans learn to read as well."

"The orphans? What on earth for?"

The High Priest narrowed his eyes with suspicion, but my reason wasn't all that grand. I simply wanted to start improving literacy rates from the closest and most accessible point.

"They'll need to learn eventually once they enter service, and for the craftsmen at Myne's Workshop who'll be making books in the future, it would be a problem if they couldn't read the very products they're producing."

"…A merchant's way of thinking, is it?"

"Yes. I'd also like to increase our customer base…"

The High Priest looked over the text I'd revised for children and murmured, "Well, very well." Then he fixed me with a penetrating stare, his orange-gold eyes narrowing into slits.

"Mine, where exactly did you receive your education?"

"Huh?"

The High Priest's words came so suddenly that the smile I'd plastered on my face vanished, and my features stiffened. My heart began hammering in an ugly rhythm, and the blood rushing through my veins quickened.

"I don't understand what you mean."

I truly didn't. I had no idea where that question could have come from.

Without breaking his gaze from my face, as though probing my reaction, the High Priest flicked the papers bearing the children's text with his finger.

"…The writing is too polished. The sacred texts are full of long, complex expressions, and distilling their essence into simple language that even a child can understand is by no means easy. At the very least, it's not something someone who had only first encountered the sacred texts at their baptism ceremony—someone who couldn't even reliably grasp individual words when I read to them—should be capable of."

A chill crept through the depths of my chest. This was apparently the first time I'd ever shown the High Priest writing I'd composed myself.

Helping with paperwork had always been limited to calculations, since I wasn't yet well-versed in the correspondence between nobles, and all the documents and letters I'd submitted had been created under Fran's guidance.

I'd been taught to read in preparation for becoming a merchant's apprentice, but my command of everyday vocabulary was shaky, so the writing of a commoner girl who still needed Fran's proofreading to send a single letter was far too unnatural.

"…So you're saying I did well?"

"Yes, exceedingly well. It's as if someone had received a thorough education in an entirely different language and simply didn't know the characters used here—a foreigner, in other words."

His eyes held the wariness of someone examining a spy, and I pressed my lips together. Was it the High Priest who was remarkable for deducing all that from a single piece of writing, or was it me who was foolish for never having considered that my writing ability might be abnormal?

…Probably both.

I exhaled slowly, my thoughts racing. Unlike with Lutz, I couldn't trust the High Priest enough to tell him everything.

The High Priest's way of thinking differed somewhat from that of the blue priests in the temple, but that was because he acted from the perspective of a noble rather than a priest. Someone with that much power—I had absolutely no way of predicting how they would deal with an anomaly like me.

"High Priest, I was born and raised in this very city. I've never even left the gates except to gather materials in the forest. I only just learned that other countries exist."

Mine truly had never left this city. In her early years, she'd rarely even left the house. It was obvious she'd had no opportunity for any kind of education.

Even with my words, the suspicion didn't leave the High Priest's eyes. He furrowed his brow and continued to stare at me.

"Ah, I know. My own investigation didn't turn up any inconsistencies. …And yet, I can't make it add up."

If this suspicion from the High Priest lingered during what had so far been a reasonably amicable relationship, I'd lose the one blue priest in the temple who might have been on my side. The reason I'd been able to operate without running into other blue priests was that the High Priest had been mediating on my behalf.

Being glared at by the High Priest himself now would be like losing my safety net on the tightrope walk of temple society, where I still didn't know left from right.

…That would be a problem. A huge problem.

I had to give the High Priest some kind of answer, but lying to him would be pointless. Unlike the High Priest's excellent memory, my brain wasn't the type that could remember every lie I'd ever told, so I was bound to slip up somewhere. Rather than inviting even more suspicion when that happened, my only option was to deflect as best I could within the bounds of truth.

"…I've been asked similar things about my cooking recipes before. 'Why do you know such recipes? Where did you learn them?' I was asked."

"And what did you tell me then?"

Meeting the High Priest's sharp gaze, I spoke.

"That I learned them in a dream. I told him it was in a place like a dream, somewhere not here that I could never return to. …If I say that, will you believe me, High Priest?"

I didn't know what reaction the High Priest would show, but I couldn't answer any further than that. Keeping my eyes on him, I clenched my back teeth and squeezed my fist tight.

…There. I've given you an answer, and I haven't lied.

Staring each other down, time passed in silence.

I couldn't tell exactly how long we stayed like that. All I knew was that cold sweat beaded on my back, and while the inside of me burned hot, my skin felt unnervingly cold—an endlessly uncomfortable state.

"…I can't say anything definitive."

After a while, the High Priest let out a sigh and spoke those words. The furrow between his brows remained, but the sharpness of his gaze had softened somewhat.

I'd expected his gaze to grow even sharper, that he'd shout something like "Don't be ridiculous" or "Answer me seriously." I'd been prepared to play innocent and declare "I'm not lying," so this unexpected reaction left me at a loss.

"I think it's an outlandish story, but it doesn't entirely fail to add up. At the very least, my hypothesis that you received an education elsewhere doesn't seem to be wrong. …Besides, you're terrible at hiding things and lying—everything shows on your face. There's no noble who could be deceived by you or fail to read your expression."

"Ugh…"

When I instinctively pressed my hands to my cheeks to keep him from reading them, the High Priest tapped his temple lightly with a fingertip.

"But that's precisely why I'm confused. I'll need time to think. …You may go for today."

"Yes."

I was handed back the papers of the children's sacred texts and left the hidden room alone. The feeling of his gaze piercing my back was almost painful.

The next day, I took the day off from the temple. I needed to gather the supplies for woodblock printing, so I'd asked Benno to take me shopping. It wasn't just that I'd wanted to avoid running into the High Priest. Absolutely not.

"Shopping, you say? What exactly are you buying?"

"I want a 'roller' and brayers—the kind used for making prints."

"A roller? What's that?"

Lutz and Benno both tilted their heads. I tried to explain a roller in terms they'd understand.

"Um, it's like a cylindrical tube, and it has a squishy handle attached like this, and you roll it along like this—go, go, go."

"…I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

No matter how hard I tried to explain what a roller was to Benno and Lutz, they couldn't picture it at all. Both of them let out deep sighs. Since Lutz knew tools used in construction, this particular thing probably didn't exist around here.

"Well, let's just go to the shop and see."

I was taken to the shop where they sold painting supplies that Benno had learned about when he visited the art workshop. They apparently also got the palette board and palette knife there.

I looked for a roller and brayers at the shop. I explained what a roller was to the shopkeeper in the same way, but he didn't seem to understand either. They had wide brayers, but unfortunately, no rollers.

"Hey, Mine. Can't seem to find this 'roller' thing anywhere. What are we going to do?"

"Well, I'll try with the brayer first. If it really doesn't work, I'll place an order at the forge workshop."

Even if I couldn't explain it well with words, if I drew diagrams and specified exact dimensions, Johann at the forge workshop would surely understand.

"Sure hope it works as well as your explanation."

Benno snorted dismissively, and after finishing our shopping, I headed home with Lutz.

Walking hand in hand, a cool autumn breeze swept past us. In a leisurely mood as we walked toward home, Lutz said, "I'm looking forward to tomorrow."

"Huh? Why?"

"Because the blocks my brothers were carving for you are done. …Didn't I tell you?"

"You never told me!"

When I blurted out my surprise, Lutz clapped his hands together.

"Yeah, I figured getting you excited before shopping would make things difficult. When we get back, I'll bring them over to your place."

"Hooray!"

Lutz came over to my place carrying the printing blocks his brothers had carved for us.

Looking at the blocks I was handed, they'd been carved according to my specifications, though there were places here and there where they'd made mistakes.

"Mine, my brothers asked me to pass along a message: this job is way too fiddly, and it's brutal."

"…Yeah, I can kind of see that from looking at the blocks."

Lutz relayed the message with some difficulty.

They'd cut too aggressively in places, and lines had bled over the edges or gouged in where they shouldn't have. Part of it might have been inexperience with printmaking, but the level of detail in Wilma's illustrations had raised the difficulty considerably.

"I'll set the payment higher than what we originally agreed on, since my brothers worked so hard."

"Yeah, I'd appreciate that."

Still, the fact that Ralph and Zig, who worked in a woodcraft workshop, had found it unpleasant meant that producing enough pages for a picture book wouldn't be easy.

"Hmm, if these blocks turn out decently, I'm thinking of asking Ingo's workshop to handle the carving."

"…Yeah. It'd be better to route the work through a proper workshop. The job's too detailed to treat as a casual side gig."

I nodded along with Lutz's words, but I could feel the cost of the picture book climbing even higher, and my mood sank.

"So how exactly do you use the brayer?"

Lutz's thoughts had already moved on to the actual printing process. He took the brayers we'd bought out of the bag and started fiddling with the bristles.

I fetched my homemade baren and the practice sheets of paper from my wooden chest and explained the woodblock printing process.

"First, you lay down a sheet of scrap paper underneath, like this. Then you place the printing block on top. Next, you lightly moisten the paper with a wet brayer, and also dampen the block. Then you dab the ink on like this. You press in with the tip of the brayer to spread the ink evenly—be careful to keep it uniform."

I rubbed the uninked brayer against the board to demonstrate for Lutz. Lutz took notes on a writing board as he watched.

"This is when you really want a roller. I'd love to go rumble-rumble and spread it all evenly, but since we don't have one this time, I'll just have to make do. Once the ink is on, you place the paper on top like this, gently, put the newsprint over it, and then rub it with this 'baren' in a circular motion to transfer the ink firmly. You need to rub with even, consistent pressure."

As I moved the homemade baren in circles on top of the paper, Lutz murmured, "I thought you'd made another weird thing, but it actually turns out to be something useful."

"Then you peel it off slowly, and once it dries, it's done."

"…Got the process down. We'll start tomorrow, right?"

"Yep."

The next day, I went to the temple trembling with apprehension. I ran into the High Priest, but he didn't say a thing. He wore the same expressionless face as though nothing had happened at all, giving me instructions in his usual detached manner.

I was able to finish my assistance work without being addressed about it at all, and I let out a sigh of relief.

…All right, the biggest hurdle is cleared. Now it's time for the printmaking.

"Then I'll take my leave for today."

With my mind completely filled with the woodblock prints I was about to create, I left the High Priest's room in a mood so cheerful I nearly burst into humming. I had absolutely no idea that behind the closed door, a murmur slipped out: "…I hope she doesn't think that's the end of our conversation."

"Myne-sama, you seem to be in quite a good mood."

"Well, the High Priest's work went smoothly, and now I get to make picture books at the workshop."

When I replied to Fran, I was lightly humming, but by the time I finished lunch and arrived at Myne's Workshop, I was in high spirits and just slightly on the verge of excitement.

"Sorry to keep you waiting. Let's start printing right away. Come on, Lutz. Give it a try."

When I arrived at Myne's Workshop, Lutz had already finished nearly all the preparations for the woodblock printing. I could see the scrap paper laid on the worktable with the printing block placed on top. The children had gathered around the table, watching with curious faces.

When I headed toward the table, the best seats cleared out in a flash. The children had made room for me, so I settled in to watch Lutz work.

"Myne-sama, what will this turn into?"

"Hehehe, just watch and see."

Lutz loaded the brayer with ink and coated the block until it was completely black. Excited cries rose from the children.

"Wow, it's all black!"

"You can't see anything anymore!"

At the children's cheers, Lutz merely raised an eyebrow slightly and continued working with calm efficiency. He placed the vellum paper gently on the inked block, positioned the newsprint over it as I'd explained the day before, and began rubbing with the baren.

"Ooh, that looks fun. I wanna try."

"Me too, me too!"

The baren came to a stop, the newsprint was moved aside, and Lutz's fingers reached for the edge of the paper. As we watched with bated breath, he peeled it off carefully and gently. The paper came away with the ink just as I'd expected, and there before us was a woodblock print as I knew it.

"Wow, it's a picture!"

"It was all black, but there are white lines!"

The children beamed with delight as they saw the image emerge from what had been the blackened block, squealing with excitement.

After ordering the children back to the papermaking work and sending them off, Lutz and I examined the printed image together.

"So? What do you think, Mine?"

"…It's so-so."

That was my first thought as I'd waited with anticipation for the paper to be flipped over.

Unlike the crafts I'd made in my elementary school art class during my life as Yoshino, this was somewhat more intricate and artistic. I was glad we'd asked his brothers to carve it rather than doing it ourselves.

"As a woodblock print, I don't think it's a failure. But it's not really suited for a picture book, is it?"

"Right. The text is legible enough, but white text on a black background is kind of hard to read, don't you think?"

White text on a black background was indeed difficult to read, and there were places where the mirror writing was incorrect. That was my mistake—I'd tried to do the illustrations and text on a single block, so fixing it would mean redoing the whole thing.

And then there were the illustrations that came out wrong in places, which looked frightening. Part of it was the carvers' inexperience, and part was that woodblock printing itself wasn't well-suited to fine detail. Even if I used this for a picture book, I thought it would be quite off-putting.

"For the text, stamps would be better, right? Would it work to have all the text carved into stamps?"

"…But they're already saying there's too much detail and it's not worth the effort. Making all the text into individual stamps would be impossible, right?"

"Yeah, you're right…"

Carving along the lines of the text versus carving around the text to make it stand out—the effort and time involved were completely different.

"I think I need to rethink this a bit more. Woodblock printing doesn't seem to be suited for picture books after all. Plus, there are so many dark areas in the illustrations, and they look kind of scary."

"…Yeah."

Lutz placed the printed sheets on a shelf by the wall and began cleaning up the tools. There was no point in printing more copies of something I deemed mediocre.

Hmm… For Wilma's illustrations, copperplate engraving would probably be a better fit…

But as for starting copperplate engraving, I wasn't sure whether things like Pandora or nitric acid—corrosive agents—would be readily available. Searching for substitutes myself sounded honestly tedious. And in a workshop where young children came and went, I'd rather not use dangerous chemicals if I could help it.

…What should I do?

Before, I hadn't been particularly disheartened by failure, but this time, Wilma had drawn the illustrations and my brothers had carved the blocks, and it had still ended up being a failure. It would be hard to report back that it hadn't worked, and without a clear path to success, it would be difficult to ask for their help again.

"What are you thinking about?"

Lutz finished cleaning up and came back over.

"Maybe I should just give up on adding pictures to the children's sacred texts altogether? Even without illustrations, if the words are written down, it should be plenty for a book, right?"

"…I don't really have any particular attachment to books, so that's fine by me."

Lutz paused, tilted his head, and looked at me.

"Do you call a book without pictures a picture book?"

"No, you don't. So I think we should just make it a regular book instead."

"But… wasn't the whole point that this was going to be your first picture book, and your first gift to your dear little siblings?"

"Ah! That's right! I can't compromise! I absolutely have to make a wonderful picture book!"

I couldn't let myself be discouraged by just one or two failures. I had to think of a way other than woodblock printing.

The woodblock-printed picture book ended with mediocre results.

Next time: the black-and-white picture book.