After the Festival of Longevity, news of the Emperor and Isaac’s flight spread throughout the Empire. And at an unprecedented speed. It seemed there were two major reasons for this.
One was that the sun of the Empire, the Emperor himself, was the subject of the rumor. And the other...
"... Is it true? He really flew in the sky?!"
"Why can't you believe it! I saw it with my own two eyes!"
The 'credible' nobles who had gathered for the Festival of Longevity became the purveyors of the rumor. Until now, Isaac had remained the hero of the capital. But not anymore.
After his flight with the Emperor, he was elevated to the same rank as the mages who represented the Empire. Some even went so far as to call him the 'Measure of the Empire.' Thus spoke Isaac Upperhills.
Upholding the will of the late Emperor, he declared that petty units like yards and miles were to be abolished, and only the meter was to be used. This Royal Decree reached every territory in the Empire. For the stewards and scribes of the provincial territories, the news was a bolt from the blue.
"No, please, why?!"
In the eastern part of the Empire. Benjamin, the chief scribe of the Count Pinetree family, was aghast after reading the newly arrived official document.
"Unify the units for all official documents from now on? And by Royal Decree?"
His fellow scribe, Thomas, peeked over Benjamin's shoulder at the document and fumed.
"Damn it...! Was the rumor true?"
"What rumor?"
"The one about some orphan named Isaac bewitching His Majesty. Damnation. How are we supposed to change the feet and inches we've used for hundreds of years overnight?"
"My thoughts exactly! And who's supposed to do all that work?"
But this anger did not last long. The scribes' personal hell, the quarterly accounting period, had arrived. According to the new decree, this quarter's report had to be written using the metric system.
On the verge of tears, Benjamin begrudgingly opened a guide to weights and measures and began his calculations.
"Ah, for fuck's sake...."
At first, curses flowed freely. But as he turned one page, then another, his pace quickened.
"What is this...?"
The calculations were getting faster and faster. In the metric system, 1 mL of water has a volume of 1 cm^3 and a mass of 1g. Under this grand premise, different units were being exchanged neatly with one another.
Benjamin said to Thomas.
"Hey. This... is way more convenient than I thought."
Thomas, who had been struggling beside him, grumbled back.
"What is?"
"What do you mean, what is? You just have to adjust the number of zeros at the end without thinking, and the units change."
"That just means we're being forced to fit everything into the metric system. How is that convenient at all!"
Thomas's face was still full of dissatisfaction. Benjamin sighed and asked.
"How do you calculate when you convert from gallons to ounces?"
"Well, one gallon is 128 ounces, so..."
"Which ounce are you talking about? A fluid ounce? Or a weight ounce?"
"In our region, it's fluid ounces."
Even for the same unit of ounce, the standard differed between the east and the west. Here in the east, they used fluid ounces, but in parts of the south and the west, they used something called a weight ounce. Naturally, the two units were not compatible.
"Don't you feel like something's off?"
"What is?"
Tsk.
Benjamin clicked his tongue.
"Forget it. You can live your whole life worrying about duodecimal and hexadecimal systems."
Benjamin now felt he could never go back to the world before the metric system. Of course, this thing called the metric system still had a gap with the everyday units used in the market. Merchants still sold fabric by the foot, and farmers measured land by the yard.
But when it came to administrative work, it brought about a revolution. Once converted to the base unit, subsequent calculations were simple. The meter unit established by the late Emperor had the clear justification of being based on nature.
But it had the flaw of not being compatible with other units. However, this new system of units created by Isaac allowed all physical quantities to be instantly converted in units of ten.
"Our territory received the metric system prototypes quickly, so we adapted this easily, but..."
Benjamin muttered, looking out the window. The backwater territories that hadn't received the prototypes yet must be in a bad state. They were probably poring over some wretched conversion chart, just like Thomas next to him.
Benjamin offered a silent prayer of thanks to Isaac Upperhills. While that was the situation for the administrative officers, the nobles were viewing the situation from a slightly different perspective. What was important to them was not the metric system.
They were overwhelmed by the sight of the 'Emperor standing in the sky.' While Benjamin was singing the praises of the metric system, on the floor above him, the lords of the neighboring territories were holding their regular meeting. Under a splendid chandelier.
The expressions on the nobles' faces were all serious.
"Same story today?"
"Yes... I hear they're not accepting any investments."
While the administrative officers were excited about paper and the metric system, the nobles were excited about the 'airship.' A rumor had spread that a 'flying ship' was being built using the magic from the Emperor's flight. The entity building this airship was the 'Upperhills Workshop.'
It was already the best workshop in the Empire, having proven its technical prowess with the suspension. There was no way the nobles would miss such an opportunity. If they could just get a piece of that business, they felt they could make a fortune. ...
However, their expectations were shattered.
"The imperial family is covering the entire production cost?"
"Yes. I hear it's a project led by Her Highness the Princess herself. It seems they excluded the participation of nobles from the very beginning."
If investment was impossible, there was only one method left.
"At this point... I guess the only way is to buy a ticket first?"
"Are you in your right mind? Not an investment, but you're going to pay the fare in advance for a ship that hasn't even been built yet?"
The baron sitting opposite him clicked his tongue in reproach. But the man was undeterred. Since the first person to fly in the sky became the Emperor, 'prestige' would be decided by who flew next.
The baron who had mentioned the fare was probably thinking the same thing deep down. Their gazes met.
Balkan prepared to leave, saying he would go and persuade his kinsmen.
"How many weeks do you think it will take?"
At my question, Balkan tilted his head and answered.
"Well, I don't know for sure. There are many variables in persuasion."
"Don't you have even a rough estimate?"
"Hoo..."
Balkan let out a deep sigh.
"Then let's be clear about this. This is not me setting a time, but merely stating my guess."
"So it's true that dwarves treat promises as they would their own lives."
"... Is that how it looks to humans? To my eyes, it seems humans treat the weight of their words too lightly."
I nodded my head. I could see why he would think that. 'I'll have to be careful with empty words.'
I should never even bring up the idea of getting a meal sometime. A moment later, Balkan opened his mouth.
"I'll try to be back within a month. I'll be on my way now."
As Balkan finished speaking, Tobin and Callen, who were standing beside him, were startled.
"You're leaving right now? Why don't you rest a bit more before you go..."
"I'd like to, but time is passing even as we speak. Let's just have a drink later when all the work is done."
It was a puzzling sight. Weren't dwarves the type not to do the 'let's get a meal sometime' thing? What was this?
Was I mistaken? A moment later, just as Balkan was packing his things to leave. I called out to stop him.
"Just a moment."
"What is it now?"
"Take a gift with you."
"... A gift?"
I brought a crate of distilled spirit that I had prepared in advance from the workshop's attached warehouse.
"What is this?"
"It's liquor."
"It'll all spoil on the way, won't it? The road to the Iron Mountains is quite rough."
"It's been distilled, so it won't spoil. The taste won't change either."
"... You distilled all of this?"
Balkan's eyes widened. In a pre-modern era, distilled spirits were valuable enough to be used in place of currency. And since there was a rumor that dwarves loved alcohol, they would prefer it even more.
Of course, it wasn't that I had made so much knowing this would happen. I had once experimented with adding fragrance to soju, and I was just giving him the leftover stock from that time. I said to Balkan.
"Don't drink it alone, share it with your colleagues. It will help with the persuasion."
"Well, this is... Thank you."
Balkan's eyes sparkled.
He continued.
"When I return, I promise to bring the best liquor from our homeland."
"Alright. Let's have a drink later."
"... Sounds good."
With a satisfied look on his face, Balkan shouldered the crate of liquor and left. I watched his retreating back and thought. 'They're not as rigid a race as I thought.'
I guess it's okay to say 'let's get a meal sometime' after all.
A few days after Balkan left, on a holiday. I was in my personal workshop at the Upperhills Workshop, reading the book the Dean had given me. The one that was a history of the dwarves, starting with the Imperial Calendar.
'This is so damn boring....' Just then, Laura came in.
"A history book...? That's unusual."
"Well, something came up that requires it."
I closed the book and straightened my posture. Laura then began her report.
"It seems we'll have no more competitors in paper production in the capital. The merchant guilds that tried to jump into the business late have recently been turning their attention elsewhere."
I nodded after looking at the data Laura handed me.
"Directly hiring the ragpickers was a big factor."
"Indeed."
Surprisingly, the imperial capital operated jobs closely tied to the poor, like ragpicking, under a 'permit system.' This was to prevent an excessive influx of people from the rural areas near the capital into the city. Naturally, ragpickers were closely associated with the slums, and their numbers were limited.
And I had hired every last one of them. Because of that, it became impossible for other paper mills to be established in the capital. It had effectively become a monopoly.
Of course, I have no intention of price gouging. That would defeat the purpose of popularizing paper. I need to operate with a reasonable conscience.
Laura continued.
"Therefore, we're seeing a movement to produce paper centered on the regional lords rather than the central nobles."
Her intelligence network was as uncanny as ever. How in the world does she find these things out? Laura answered my unspoken question.
"The informants we planted when we enacted the metric system and sent the prototypes to the major cities found out."
"Oho."
So that's how it connected. Her work was impeccable. Laura asked me.
"Shall we expand to other major cities as well?"
"I don't think that will be necessary."
We've already secured the imperial capital, where paper has the highest profitability. In other words, even if a price war over paper breaks out in the future, Upperhills Paper is in the most advantageous position. It's not like we can devour the entire world's paper industry anyway.
Let's take it slow.
Slowly.
'This is stable.' I was impressed as I looked at Laura's report. The willpower typewriter was also on the verge of commercialization.
It was a good thing we signed a licensing production agreement with the workshop under the imperial family. If our workshop had taken on that as well, we would have had to postpone the airship plan.
On a hill overlooking a lake, under the shade of an apple tree. Anna sat with her knees drawn to her chest. The apple blossoms that had bloomed so brilliantly last spring were now gone without a trace.
Just like Anna's investment funds.
Hwamushibilhong.
No flower stays red for ten days.
"Right... flowers are meant to wither."
Anna tried to rationalize it somehow.
'It's not that I lost money by investing in parchment. I simply... consumed the money.' Isaac had once told Anna.
Money has meaning not when it's hoarded, but when it flows. In other words, Anna Upperhills's money had just flowed very, very intensely. Even thinking that, a corner of her heart still ached.
If she had been in front of Isaac, she might have cried. "If I had made money with this... I wanted to donate it to the foundation."
As Anna grew melancholic, her friends gathered around and whispered among themselves.
"...
So you can calculate the movements of the heavens, but you can't predict the movements of the market." "That's not true!" Stephanie, who was next to her, exclaimed.
"Anna didn't lose any money!" "She invested in parchment, and the parchment workshops are going bankrupt one after another right now."
"...
Anna must have been doing futures trading with parchment. She must have known the price would fall like this and signed contracts to sell at a high price in advance."
"Stephanie, you...
I thought you weren't interested in investing, how do you know so much? Did you also put money in parchment?"
"Yeah."
Stephanie's eyes grew moist. For trusting Anna too much, Stephanie had to watch the workshop she had poured her allowance into go out of business.
She continued.
"But I still believe in Anna." At Stephanie's words, the other friends fell silent. Just then, Anna shot up to her feet and said.
"I've.
Made up my mind." Could it be that Anna had finally decided to quit investing? Her friends' gazes were fixed on Anna.
Anna said.
"This is the first money I've ever earned in my life, I can't let it end with a loss like this."
Ah... Aah...
Sighs escaped from her friends' mouths.
Anna read her friends' reactions and hastily laid out her logic.
"I didn't know paper would be created, but it's inevitable that administrative demand will increase. In fact, the existence of paper will create demand that wasn't there before."
Anna had a gut feeling about what form that would take. When paper becomes common, even commoners with a bit of money will want to record their own stories. Literary works like epics and folk tales will pour out.
Of course, investing in each of them individually is too risky. Even Anna didn't know which work would be a hit. But she could tell where the money would gather.
When a new gold mine is discovered, it's not the miners who get rich, but the nearby inns that rake in the money.
"Therefore, the most promising industry at this point is...!"
"Scribes. What do you think about investing in them?"
"Well. That makes sense... but I think it would be better to stop investing for a while."
"Let's just ask your brother once before we start."
"Okay..."