Chapter 8
Chapter 8
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: Fountain Pen (2)
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As soon as I got home, I shoved the ballpoint pen blueprints and plans aside.
Instead, I pulled out a fresh sheet of drafting paper and started working on the fountain pen design.
A fountain pen fundamentally relies on capillary action.
To put it simply, it's the phenomenon where the liquid level rises higher inside a tube dipped in water due to the tube's narrow bore.
You see the same thing in diffusers or marker pens.
Anyway, that's not the point.
"I need to decide on the manufacturing method."
There are several ways to process it, but right now, I'm considering two.
One is to mold it directly from the start.
The advantage of this method is that it reduces the number of steps.
You just mold it and trim off the excess.
The downside, though, is that the defect rate would be pretty high.
Since fountain pens depend on capillary action, they need precise gaps, and hitting that with a mold would be tricky.
Still, it cuts down on steps and relative costs, so it's worth considering.
The next option is similar—molding it—but adding one extra step.
You mold it as a solid piece first, then use scissors or a press to create the gap in the middle.
In other words, unlike the first method, a person manually creates the gap for capillary action.
This will definitely increase production time and costs.
But since human hands are involved, the defect rate should be lower.
That's why artisans were held in high regard right up to the modern era.
Machines just can't match their quality.
Well, in the modern day, machines have surpassed artisans, but anyway.
"Prioritize productivity and accept higher defects, or minimize defects and sacrifice productivity."
Hmm, I guess I'll have to make a prototype to know for sure.
I need to see how the factory can achieve the results I want.
The problem is, I have no information on that.
Back in grad school, the professor handled all that stuff for me.
In other words...
"...Looks like I need to contact the professor."
Time to meet up with him after all this time.
I took out a sheet of stationery and began writing the letter.
I kept it to a light greeting and cut out the unnecessary fluff, getting straight to the point.
Neither the professor nor I care for empty words.
Once the letter was done, I called for Biena.
"You called, young master?"
"Yeah. Deliver this to Professor Herman. Send it to the academy—that should do it. Thanks."
"Understood."
As she took the letter and turned to leave, something occurred to me, so I stopped her.
Biena turned back, tilting her head quizzically.
"Is something the matter? Any additional orders?"
"Oh, nothing big. Just wondering if there's anything you want."
I'd originally planned to surprise her, but asking directly and preparing what she actually wants seemed better.
It's smarter than buying something useless just because I thought it was nice.
Not that my sense is lacking, of course.
Biena tilted her head the other way at my words before replying.
"I could use a new handkerchief lately."
"Got it."
A handkerchief, huh.
I'll ask the professor for recommendations next time I see him.
He's married, so he should know.
I sent Biena off and turned back to my chair.
Now it was time to finish the second volume of Sherlock Holmes, The Sign of the Four.
"Haven't written for a few days because of the ballpoint pen."
I picked up my quill and raced toward the end.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ I poured two straight days into it and managed to complete the manuscript.
Proofreading for typos and such could be left to the publisher.
"Jenectra's still the best choice."
Better to stick with a familiar place than shop around right now.
This time, I headed out myself to deliver the manuscript pages in person.
Biena had been handling it before, so this was like a little vacation for her.
I arrived at Jenectra, and...
"Hand over the books now!"
"Jenectra, awaken! Awaken!"
Whoa, it's gotten worse.
I was shocked by the larger crowd protesting than before.
Didn't they say they were doing additional printings?
From the looks of it, you'd think they'd screwed up and were getting hate.
I slipped into the building through the back door, avoiding the demonstration.
Inside, employees were rushing about everywhere.
They looked exhausted, but their smiles suggested rising profits made it worthwhile.
I glided past them naturally, heading straight for the president's office.
This was a trick I'd picked up by chance at the academy.
Channel mana into your feet and control it right, and you can move like a shadow.
"Of course, it's just a trick."
A mage imitating a knight's footwork, at best.
Even that was second-rate.
I reached the president's office in no time.
Knock knock.
I rapped on the door, and Foren's irritated voice came from inside.
Heavy footsteps approached.
"Damn it, we're busy—who—? Gah! Author!"
"Haha, hello? You must be swamped these days. No welcome, and getting yelled at like this."
"N-no, it's not...!"
He jumped in shock, sweat beading on his brow.
I teased him a bit more, amused by his stammering panic.
"Maybe I should take my business elsewhere—"
"I'm sorry! Forgive me just this once!"
Foren dropped to his knees, bowing his head in perfect contrition.
On Earth, he'd have gone full kowtow.
I hadn't expected such a reaction and felt a bit flustered myself, but I didn't show it.
"Ahem. It's fine. I was joking."
"...Phew, got it. If I were a mage, I'd have exploded for sure."
I helped him up, relieved, and gestured inside.
"Haha, what a joker. Anyway, come in quick. I've brought the second Sherlock Holmes manuscript."
"What?! Already?! No, I mean—come in! I'll get some tea right away!"
I entered the office and sat on the sofa.
Foren soon returned with tea and snacks.
He set them on the table and sat across from me.
Still thinking he'd messed up, he fidgeted nervously.
I ignored it and handed him the manuscript pages.
"This is...!"
Foren took them reverently, like holy relics.
His eyes sparkled as he turned the pages one by one, calmly.
"Wow, it's a totally different feel from A Study in Scarlet."
"Exactly. I wanted to try something a bit fresh."
Of course, that was a lie.
I'd just adapted Sherlock Holmes slightly to this world and put it out there.
Unaware of that, he beamed like a kid.
"This one feels great too. No, I'm certain! It'll be a hit again!"
"You're making me blush. Same as always—take good care of it."
"You got it!"
We signed the publishing contract right there, as usual.
With business done, I stood to leave.
Until Foren, sorting the contract, sighed as if remembering something important.
"Oh, right—there's something I need to tell you."
"What is it?"
"Um, do you know House Apontuna?"
"Who doesn't?"
It's the family of Pretina, who'd pestered me endlessly while I was at the academy.
She was always clashing with Esili.
Even without that, no imperial citizen could be ignorant of them.
Not knowing a ducal house of imperial merit would make you a traitor.
But why bring it up?
I eyed him curiously, and Foren hesitated before speaking.
"Well, they've invited you to dinner under the pretext of sponsorship."
"Ah, sponsorship. Wait—what did you say?"
What did I just hear?
I blinked at him, and he shook his head, confirming I hadn't misheard.
"I can't refuse, can I?"
"Probably not. I tried, but... ahem."
He started avoiding my eyes.
One look, and I knew instantly.
Ah, he took the bribe.
"As expected, another publisher—"
"I'm sorry, author! But I don't want to die yet! Spare me!"
Bam!
Foren slammed his head on the table, pleading.
He looked so pathetic I had no choice but to nod.
"Sigh, fine."
"Thank you so much, author!"
Foren bowed repeatedly in gratitude.
I told him it was okay, but inside, I sighed.
An invitation from House Apontuna for "sponsorship."
I could already picture the exhausting future.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Why would House Apontuna want to sponsor me?
There could be many reasons, but in the medieval era, nobles sponsoring artists was commonplace.
No money?
Here, take some and make art.
Your work's inconsistent?
Slip 'em some cash.
Don't need money?
Take it anyway.
That's sponsorship.
In short, they were doing it because they're nobles.
Some nobles would be corpses without flaunting their authority, so sponsorship itself isn't an issue.
"The real problem is this."
Our family's carriage halting before House Apontuna.
Peering out from inside, I couldn't help but chuckle wryly.
If you're sponsoring, just do it—why the invitation too?
A sigh escaped me, but from here on, every gesture mattered.
As a house right below the imperial family, who knew who might hear what, where.
At the academy, they were just young ladies and peers, so I could slack off.
"This is basically the duke's private chamber."
I couldn't act like I was at the academy.
Plus, I was meeting the family head, not Pretina.
Stepping down from the carriage, I recalled noble etiquette.
It had been ages, so I'd forgotten a bit, but Biena, who'd come along, helped.
"Thanks."
"Not at all. Just doing my job."
I gave a small nod, and Biena descended first to escort me.
She offered her hand to help me down.
Isn't this usually the man's role for a woman?
Well, she's my attendant, so it's fine.
Once down, I faced the Apontuna butler who'd come to greet us.
An elderly butler, but sturdier than expected—not one to underestimate.
"Welcome. House Apontuna is honored by your presence. I am Valent, the head butler here."
"Yes, pleased to meet you. Edn of House Rlangbur."
A light bow, then I followed him inside.
True to its prestige, the ducal residence was vast and opulent.
As if boasting that only the imperial family ranked above them, it was excessively lavish.
...Not that I'm jealous.
About ten minutes later, we reached the reception room.
It was so huge that even getting there took time.
Valent opened the door and bowed politely to me.
"The family head will arrive shortly. Please go in and wait—we'd be grateful."
"Understood."
"Thank you. If you'll excuse me."
Valent left, leaving just Biena and me in the reception room.
I sat on the guest sofa, and Biena came to my side.
She looked calmly down at me, unflustered.
"Young master, you mustn't let your guard down today."
Her voice trembled about 2% more than usual.
Even composed Biena gets tense in a ducal house, huh.
I needed to pull myself together too.
I soothed her calmly, as if unperturbed.
"I know. But it won't be a big deal. We'll probably just chat here before heading to the dining hall."
The real talk might happen there.
I skipped saying that and picked up the teacup on the table.
Valent had poured it before leaving; I drank to steady my nerves.
I'd acted calm for Biena, but truthfully, I felt the same tension.
To relax, I thought about who I'd meet today.
Duke Ropel Apontuna—what kind of man was he?
I'd only dealt with Pretina, so I had no idea.
But surely not as odd as her.
After sipping tea for about five minutes...
Steady but heavy footsteps approached from beyond the door.
I subtly raised my mana to enhance my hearing and sensed a man of considerable build.
Must be the family head.
The pompous arrival fit House Apontuna.
I stood, straightening my clothes.
Biena helped with the unseen spots.
Just as I finished, the door opened, revealing a man.
Nearly two meters tall, with a massive frame.
Not fat—pure muscle.
His hair was neatly slicked back, his attire formal and authoritative.
His eyes, the same hue as Pretina's, gazed coldly down at me.
Unmistakably Duke Ropel Apontuna, faintly familiar from memory.
I bowed at once.
"My respects to the duke."
I considered fancy words but opted for plain courtesy.
Good—no displeasure.
"Pleased to meet you. So you're Edn."
Wow, even his voice drips authority.
Pretina's on the cute side by comparison.
Higher pitch, somewhat seductive tone.
Whatever she said had a charming quirk, but the duke? No.
One slip, and my head rolls.
He was a knight on the cusp of Swordmaster realm.
No mistaking that sensation.
Of course, he had no intent to harm me.
I ignored the cold sweat on my palms and lifted my head.
"Yes, Your Grace."
"I see. Now I understand why my daughter talks about you."
Pardon? What did that mean?
I swallowed the words rising to my throat and smiled.
"Haha, you're embarrassing me."
"No need for false modesty. She says she teases you often."
No, what the hell did she tell you?
This time, sweat trickled down my neck.
But I didn't show it.
As I kept smiling, the duke strode confidently to the sofa opposite mine and sat.
I sat after him, and he asked,
"Do you know why I invited you?"
"Yes. Regarding sponsorship, I presume."
He nodded, seemingly satisfied.
Relieved, then came words I shouldn't have heard.
"Pretina recommended your books. We had quite the enjoyable chat about them."
"...Pardon?"
I couldn't hold back my bewilderment this time.
Far from offended, the duke seemed amused, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
Pretina, what on earth did you say?
What could she have said to get this reaction?
Seeing the duke's smile, I was utterly dumbfounded.