"I guess I'll have to make paper first."
At my muttering, Laura tilted her head.
"Sir Upperhills, it would be difficult to make books out of papyrus."
"No. Not papyrus, I'm going to make real paper."
"Isn't that... the same thing?"
"!"
The word I just uttered, 'paper', is treated as a dialectal term for papyrus in this world. 'Since 'paper' probably originates from 'papyrus' anyway... are they similar?' But aside from having the same etymological root, the two are completely different things.
You can't make textbooks with papyrus. That's because all documents made from papyrus must be in the form of a scroll. What I want is a book, a 'codex'.
Only then can students immediately reference the pages they need while studying.
Like parchment.
After listening to my explanation, Laura said.
"So its physical properties are like papyrus, but its use is like parchment."
"Yes. The method I'm thinking of is to grind wood finely, spread it out thinly, and dry it."
"Grind... wood? Not cut it?"
Laura tilted her head. I didn't say I was going to make hangover soup with a stone, so why the fuss? Is this the limit of an administrative worker?
At times like this, the only ones to trust are the technicians. 'Since it has come to this, I'll have to go there again.' In the end, there was only one place for me to go.
Upperhills Workshop.
As I entered the workshop's main building, a wave of hot air and a rhythmic roar greeted me.
"I'm here."
The sound of hammering echoed in place of a greeting.
Clang! Clang!
Tobin was standing in front of the power hammer, making a suspension. Next to him, Callen was cooling the finished parts and inspecting their quality. Ting, ting, ting.
It seemed he was judging by striking them with a hammer and listening to the sound. 'He's right next to a power hammer... can he even hear that?' There are times when his dexterity seems more magical than the magic I use.
I approached the serious-faced Callen.
"Callen. How have you been lately?"
"Old man, can't you see I'm work... Sir Isaac?"
"Yes. It's been a while."
The last time I saw him was before I went to the north, so it had been quite some time. Callen put down his hammer and smiled brightly.
"I really missed you."
"Me too."
It wasn't a lie. Even now, I was dying to entrust him with work.
Squeeze.
Callen's hands, hardened by hammering, squeezed mine. After our reunion, I approached Callen and explained the situation.
"Hmm... A substitute for papyrus and parchment. That's difficult."
"Do any methods come to mind?"
Just then, Tobin, who was operating the power hammer from a distance, shouted.
"Why are you asking about that here! Go talk to the guys who make papyrus!"
Aww, damn it. He must have only heard half of it while working.
"I'm telling you... what I'm trying to make is different from papyrus?!"
At my shout, Tobin finally turned off the power hammer and came over.
"Alright. Let's hear in detail how it's different."
I repeated the same explanation I had given Laura. Grinding wood, mixing it in water, spreading it thinly... When my explanation was over, Tobin stroked his chin and said.
"So... you're going to process wood very thinly to replace the reed stalks."
"Yes, that's right."
"Does it have to be fresh wood? The water power from this river wouldn't be nearly enough to grind a log into powder."
I agreed with him on that point. The reality was that we were already using almost all of this river's water power just to make small parts like the suspension.
"Hmm... since we can recycle waste paper, it doesn't necessarily have to be fresh wood."
But that would be falling into a circular argument. To reduce the cost of making paper, you need paper that's already been made. It made no sense.
Tobin crossed his arms and fell into deep thought. 'Come to think of it, do I really need to grind it physically?' A faint memory from Earth surfaced.
When I whined about why only my department couldn't get research funding, a junior from the chemistry department had said. -'Even this piece of paper you're using, Senior, is all chemically treated. Where is particle physics even used?' It was a hurtful remark, so I was glad I had kept it in mind.
In this world, chemistry is mostly handled by the School of Classical Alchemy. I asked Tobin.
"Should we entrust it to the School of Classical Alchemy?"
"The unit cost would probably end up as high as parchment."
"Hmm..."
Then that's a no-go. A moment later, Tobin asked me.
"Isn't there a way to reinforce papyrus to make it stronger?"
"Should we go in that direction after all?"
But the technological gap between papyrus and pulp paper is too wide. Even if we gathered the relevant technicians, I feel like we wouldn't get any results... If it were possible to develop papyrus into paper in the first place, the Egyptians would have done it long ago.
People from the past weren't fools, after all. I was lost in thought for a moment. They must have used paper even before the Industrial Revolution.
What on earth did they make paper from back then? 'Energy powerful enough to grind a whole log must have been rare.' While I was contemplating, Callen was quietly eating the chicken skewers I had bought.
Gulp.
After swallowing a chicken skewer, Callen opened his mouth.
"Um... Sir Isaac."
"Yes?"
"From what you've said, it seems the important thing isn't wood, but just making something from 'plants'. You said it can be recycled anyway, right?"
"That's right."
"Then... what about just buying up old, unusable clothes from the slums?"
"!"
In that instant, both my and Tobin's gazes turned to Callen. Callen flinched, his shoulders trembling.
"... W-why?"
With my eyes still fixed on Callen, I said to Tobin.
"Should we try it?"
"Yeah. We should do it right away."
We immediately began the experiment. First, we bought old scraps of cloth from the ragpickers, paying them a premium. I examined them with detection spell.
I'm not familiar with life sciences so I can't be sure, but in the old cloth, the structure that holds the plant fibers together was already 'moderately' loosened.
"Maybe with just a little more effort, it might work."
"Got it."
Tobin and Callen soaked them in water, boiled them with lye, pounded them with a mortar, and then spread them thinly to dry. Tobin grumbled the whole time.
"Aww, damn it. I specialize in metal, why am I doing this."
I asked Tobin.
"So. Is it not fun?"
"No!"
"Then isn't that good enough?"
"Damn it all..."
After two days of trying, they finally succeeded. I received a thin, yellowish sheet of paper from them.
"How is it? Is it any good?"
"Is it okay?"
I stared intently at the 'prototype paper' in my hand. The paper was rougher than I expected. However, it was much sturdier than papyrus, and lighter and more flexible than parchment.
I said to Tobin and Callen.
"It's a success."
"That's right!"
"Yes!"
The two were overjoyed. I examined the finished paper with detection magic. 'Processing raw wood to this level... is indeed impossible before the Industrial Revolution.
For now, recycling used cloth is the best option.' Callen, with a proud look on his face, examined the finished paper from all angles.
He said.
"Why couldn't anyone make something this easy?"
"Because no one needed it."
"... Huh?"
In this world, the number of literate people who can read and write is very small. Parchment would have been enough to meet that demand. The merchant guilds might have wanted to make cheap and sturdy paper, but...
In a world with crystal orb communication, which is close to optical communication, the expected demand for paper would have been even lower. I said to Callen.
"Mr. Callen. Thank you."
If he hadn't given me the idea, it would have taken me a much longer detour to get here.
"You're a real genius."
Hehehe.
Callen laughed and said.
"After filling in for you that one time, Sir Isaac, I guess I've started to resemble you a little on the inside, too."
That wasn't what I wanted to hear. My ears burned. Tobin gagged at Callen's words.
Anyway, with this, the problem of the core technology was solved. 'Next is the problem of sourcing materials.' I need to consistently buy scraps of cloth from the ragpickers in the slums.
I could ask Laura, but Hans is good at this sort of thing. I handed three bottles of homemade distilled liquor to Hans and made my request.
"Hans. Can you track down the ragpickers in the slums and gather them?"
"Whoa. You made this yourself? Thanks, Mage sir!"
Hans's eyes were glued to the liquor. He then said.
"I don't know what you plan to do with a bunch of ragpickers, but I'll scrape together every last one in the capital."
Hans agreed to my request without even asking why. I've secured the technology and the raw materials. I have enough money to build a paper mill.
Now, all that's left is the manpower to actually make the paper. Watching Tobin and Callen, I realized papermaking is quite strenuous. In other words, I need a young and vigorous workforce.
I asked Laura.
"Ms. Laura. Among the children under the foundation's care, there are some who are close to graduation, right?"
Flinch.
The corners of Laura's eyes twitched. For someone who always has a poker face, it was unusual.
She replied.
"Yes. There are."
"I'd like to arrange jobs for those children. Would that be possible?"
"... You're even looking out for those children."
Laura nodded her head and continued.
"I will do my best to summon all of them."
Most of the children under the care of the Upperhills Foundation are young. But not all of them are. Among them were 'older children' who were on the verge of adulthood.
For those who were of age, the future was bleak. They had come in hearing they would be cared for until they turned seventeen, the age of adulthood, but they had nowhere to go once they left.
Phew...
'Johannes Upperhills (16, unemployed)' leaned against the window and sighed.
"Should I go back to being a hunter?"
Around Johannes were several friends in similar situations. Before coming under the foundation's protection, they had proper jobs. Usually, they were day laborers, mercenaries, or hunters.
To have survived into their mid-teens with the name Upperhills meant they were that much tougher. One of his friends replied to Johannes's words.
"That would be the quickest way."
"But... to be honest, I don't have the confidence to go back to how I lived in the north."
Everyone fell silent at Johannes's confession. They were all thinking the same thing. Life here was so peaceful.
Meals were served regularly, and their safety was guaranteed. And here, no one looked down on them for being orphans. To them, this was the most important point.
Johannes had the confidence to return to the north and work as a hunter again. But he didn't have the courage to face the merchants again, who would look at him like filth every time he brought them mountain goat hides.
"If I can just somehow stay in the capital..."
The citizens of the capital don't discriminate against the Upperhills. Naturally, it was because of the existence of 'Isaac Upperhills'. However, staying in the capital was no easy task.
Jobs in the capital... usually had demanding requirements. One of them said.
"I've been knocking on workshop doors for a month now, and they all say I'd have to work for years without pay. What are we supposed to live on in the meantime?"
"I guess we have to leave the capital again..."
Johannes looked at the young children playing in the yard. At this, everyone fell silent. They weren't saying it, but they were all probably thinking the same thing.
'If only we had come here when we were younger... we could have held on here for a few more years while working as workshop assistants.'
'I'm jealous.'
Johannes shook his head. 'No, let's not have useless thoughts.' Johannes finally composed himself and stood up from his seat.
He said.
"Sorry for the depressing talk. I'm going to go now."
And so he left his friends and returned to his dorm room alone. Johannes lay on his bed, lost in thought for a while. He thought of the children who had been playing in the yard.
Those children, too, must have lived difficult lives like Johannes before coming to the foundation. Their stories might be different, but they all had one thing in common: they were orphans. Don't be jealous.
Nothing good will come of it. I just took a short, sweet nap. The night is resentfully short, but it's time to wake up from the dream.
It was then.
Knock, knock.
The sound of a knock on the door was heard. 'Who is it?' When he opened the door, a teacher was standing there.
She said.
"Johannes, have you found a job?"
She was smiling brightly.
Johannes replied.
"No... but don't worry. I'm sure I'll find one within a year."
"I thought so. This is actually for the best."
"Huh?"
The teacher handed him a sheet of paper and said.
"Chairman Isaac said he needs your help. Here, an employment contract."
Johannes's mouth fell open. 'The hero wants to make a contract with me?' Johannes silently took the contract paper.
'Really?'
He desperately wanted to read it and confirm, but he couldn't. It was because Johannes had only learned to read for the first time after joining the foundation. It was still too difficult for him to read a contract fluently. The teacher said.
"I'm not going anywhere, so take your time and read it. I'll tell you any words you don't know."
"... Yes."
Haltingly, Johannes began to read the contract.
"Upperhills Papermaking, hereinafter..."
Johannes's words stopped. He didn't know the next word. Since he couldn't read the black letters, the yellowish paper underneath kept standing out.
Johannes carefully caressed the paper. It was yellowish, rough, and thin. The teacher continued.
"It's okay. The next word means 'employer'."
"Yes... hereinafter the employer and Johannes Upperhills, hereinafter the employee, shall work as follows..."
"...enter into this contract."
Reading the contract slowly, Johannes had a gut feeling. This contract was real.
Tremble, tremble.
The hand holding the contract tightened. Johannes would be making books for his juniors. And if he wanted, he could continue to stay at the foundation during that time.
He wouldn't have to wander anymore. He could stay in the capital and live without being looked down upon.
"Method of wage payment."
"On the first Monday of every month..."
Drip.
"Are you okay, Johannes? Are you sick?"
"No." Drip, drip.
Tears spread across the paper. Johannes said in a choked voice.
"...shall be paid directly to the employee."
Even after that, Johannes continued to read the contract. Slowly, but steadily.