The Alchemist Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Now it was clear that the Guardians wanted me to improve this world with technology from my own. While I wasn’t very well versed in the technical aspects of much of the technology in my world, I did understand enough to be able to figure it out if I worked hard enough.

My first step in getting a printing press up and running was to create the movable type and make something to fit the type into the press. I would also need a specific formula of ink and a way to put it on the paper. And of course I needed the paper itself. I was pretty sure that, if I had wood, I could use my alchemy powers to make paper. I needed to test that out.

I hammered together a paper mold with some leftover scraps and used my alchemy powers to mush the wood. The wood came apart in fibers that blended with the water I added. When I was satisfied with the consistency, I sucked all the water out.

When I picked up the paper, it fell apart in my hands.

Well, this is going to be difficult, I thought. A lot more than I had thought. Alchemy isn’t the end-all be-all, I guess.

I tried a few combinations of wood and water but got nowhere. After getting up to stretch the kinks out of my tired muscles, I decided to take a look at the wine press.

The press was comprised of a frame, a bucket, a twisting arm and a jig that pressed the wine inside the bucket. It was a simple construction, and with my alchemy powers I could modify it to fit the construction that I needed to make a printing press.

This particular model looked like it had seen a lot of use. Stains covered it, seeping deep into the wood grain. I tried twisting the arms at the top and the press moved down as expected. I could probably hire someone to do this for me—my muscles weren’t exactly developed.

I removed the barrel and disassembled all the outer bits, giving me access to its center. Using some more scrap wood, I put together a prototype hold for the movable type.

It was easy to form little letters out of the ambient metals in the ground beneath the shop. Eventually that source would be exhausted, I knew, but the world was large and the ground was deep.

With a full set of type, I placed each piece in the frame, fitting them and holding them with pressure and wires.

The day turned to night, and I lit a couple of candles and lanterns. Problem after problem came up and I had to deal with them. At first, the type casts kept falling out. Then, the machine wouldn’t align properly. It took until morning before I had somewhat of a working prototype.

I had just pulled an all-nighter to complete this and it was still held together with metaphysical rubber bands and duct tape.

I needed an expert. Someone who knew what they were doing and could execute my ideas for me. Maybe one of the Guardians could help?

Claude had left a magic communication device with me. I picked it up and dialed her.

“Yes?” she answered.

“Hey, I need a carpenter,” I said. “Do any of you know how to work with wood and crafts?”

“Sorry, Markus,” said Claude. “None of us are any good at handiwork. You’re going to have to find some. Do you want Tanna’s help? She has a lot of connections.”

“Sure, I could use her help,” I asked.

“Great, I’ll send her over on Hypo. She’ll be there in about two bell chimes.” Claude then hung up.

I put the small coin-shaped communication device back in my pocket. Looking at the modified wine press, I suddenly had the feeling that I was in deeper than I had thought I was.

I was going to have to do in a couple of weeks what it took Gutenberg years to do—design a functional and practical printing press. I shouldn’t have held myself in such high regard, even with the boon of alchemy.

I spent the next two bell chimes—about two hours—working on my paper making. I managed to create something that didn’t fall apart, though the grain was all over the place.

Good enough? Not really. I could only hope that the person I hired would know enough to make this better.

There was a knock at the door.

“Hello?” I said, opening it.

Tanna grinned at me. “I heard you needed some help procuring skill,” she said. “While I can’t help you with actual building and working, I can direct you to a number of places where masters work.”

I nodded. “Let’s go, then,” I said.

Tanna smiled, and then turned. “Follow me,” she said.

“How is the starsilver lode mine doing?” I asked.

“Good,” said Tanna. “We’ve made enough money on the land alone to finance the next incursion. Your idea was a great one.”

“I hoped so,” I said. “And what are people doing with the starsilver?”

“Selling it, I guess?” she said. “It’s no good for weapons since it’s so light and not very durable. But it makes for some very pretty jewelry.” She paused. “I’m still thinking about that whole “soda can” thing you gave us before. You said it was a cuisine from your world?”

“Yes,” I said. “And in my world starsilver is worth less than copper.”

Tanna whistled. “You told us that before,” she said, “But I’m still having a hard time believing it.”

We arrived at the craftsmen’s guild hall, a large, imposing building built with functional old-timey architecture. While not very luxurious, it held a solid presence and made clear that the people inside meant business. “This is the site of the craftsmen’s guild,” said Tanna. “You need a special permit to enter, and I have that.” She flashed a piece of parchment at me.

“What?” she said. “You’re looking at the seal funny.”

“I just find parchment to be strange,” I said “It’s animal skin, right?”

Tanna tilted her head in confusion. “Your society doesn’t write stuff on parchment?”

“No,” I said. “We use a wood-based product called paper.”

“Paper …” said Tanna. “Interesting. You’re going to have to explain that in detail later to me.” She walked towards the entrance. “But in any case, it’s time to show what I can do.” She showed the guard at the door her parchment seal. “I’m here to do some recruiting,” she said.

The guard nodded, said nothing, and opened the door. Tanna and I walked through.

“Now that’s called being connected,” said Tanna.

The interior was a well-lit wood-paneled room with several counters, behind which was stored a good amount of workshop equipment. No one paid us any attention when we entered.

Tanna walked up to the counter. The man behind it, a well-dressed fellow with pale skin, bowed slightly. “May I help you, Lady Tanna?”

Tanna leaned on the counter. “I need a master craftsman to work with my compatriot here,” she said, pointing to me. “He wants to modify a wine press to do something special. He also has a number of other jobs that would require a lot of skill and experience.”

“Understood,” said the man. He picked up a magical communication device. “Yes, I have some guests for you. No, they’re not from the Bollan. Yes. Okay. I’ll do that.” He hung up. “Room two on the second floor.”

“Thanks!” said Tanna. She flipped him a silver coin.

The man bowed.

Tanna led me to the stairs, to the second floor, where we came to room two. Tanna stopped before knocking. “I have a question,” she said. “What, exactly, are you trying to make with that wine press of yours?”

“It’s what’s called a printing press,” I said. “It allows the mass production of the written word.”

Tanna thought for a moment. “Okay,” she said. “I don’t understand exactly what that means, but I trust you and your ideas. Your last one was great.” She turned to the door and knocked.

“Come in,” said a voice.

I entered. A man with a shock white beard and long curling hair sat behind a mahogany desk. He folded his hands and his lips curled up.

“Lady Tanna,” he said. “I thought we had seen the last of you.”

“Well, you know, Bront,” said Tanna, “I’m the kind of girl who’s always a bit whimsical.” She gave a dangerous lopsided grin.

Bront sighed. “What do you need?”

“Someone who is a skilled carpenter, metalworker, and glass worker,” I said.

Bront looked at me with a bit of amusement in his eyes. “You’re that fellow who bought the corner store item shop a while ago,” he said. “I know just the person who can help you.” He wrote a few things down on a piece of parchment. “I’ll have her out to your store as soon as possible.”

“Thanks!” said Tanna. She looked at me and gave me a thumbs up.

Bront tapped his desk in annoyance. “If you please,” he said. “I have some work to get to.”

Tanna nodded, and then we left the room.

She split with me before we reached the shop. I entered it alone, and took in the sight of the empty shelves.

If this was going to be a real item shop, I needed to stock it with stuff.

I could probably fill one shelf with pots and pans, one shelf with metal containers, and dedicate another shelf to plastic.

Plastic! With my alchemy powers I could probably turn a crude oil deposit into tons of useful stuff. Kerosene, asphalt, gasoline, Vaseline. With my alchemy powers I could both extract and crack the crude oil.

I decided to go on a little journey to find if there was any crude oil buried beneath the town and its outlying properties.

I wandered the streets for a while, finding nothing. And then, I picked up a bit of oil in the far part of my “mineral vision.” It was outside underneath a farmhouse, and stretched beneath at least three full-sized fields.

The deposit was small, probably not worth extracting in modern times, but it was enough for me to start making derivatives. Kerosene was my first priority, as lamp oil was expensive. Plastic was second, and the other stuff I could find a use for later.

I found the farmhouse. It wasn’t far from the city gates, and had a quaint charm to it. Outside, a woman was hanging laundry.

I approached her. “Hello!” I said. I made sure that my bag of coins was still there. “I’m a local shop owner,” I said. “And your house has minerals underneath it that I want to extract.”

The woman tilted her head in confusion. “Eh?” she said. “Whatcha mean, mineralize?”

I extended my hand. “I’ve discovered a vein of precious ore beneath your home,” I said. “I’m willing to pay you for the use of that field over there.” I pointed to the field that sat over the largest conglomeration of oil.

“Ah, that?” she said. “That garden was overrun by weevils a long while ago. Take it.”

“Do you mind if I set up an extraction operation here?” I said.

The woman waved her hands. “Do whatv’r ya want,” she said.

A raggedy man leaned out of the door. “Beth!” he yelled. “Where’s my dinner?”

It was getting late. I could extract just enough for me to be able to carry and then experiment with it.

I knelt down on the empty field and pulled up about a gallon of the black stuff and put it in a metal container. Standing up, I waved to the peasants living in the hovel and returned to the city, just in time for the sun to start setting.

When I arrived at the shop, a quite beautiful girl was standing in front of the door.

“I was told you would be here,” she said. She extended her hand. “My name is Rachel. I’m the craftsman you ordered.”

I shook her hand. “Great.” I held out the gallon of oil. “Do you want to see what I can make with this?”

Rachel looked at me with a curious expression. “That’s just tar,” she said. “What are you going to do with it?”

“Crack it,” I said. “Into lamp oil, explosives, and plastic.”

“Lamp oil from tar?” said Rachel. “I want to see this.”

I unlocked the shop’s door. “Then that’s exactly what I’ll show you.”