With haste and determination, Sylvester set to work, setting the printing press to one side and directing his energy towards creating the ballpoint pen. It was a laborious task but one that posed little difficulty for a seasoned wizard such as him. The most critical component of the pen was the tiny ball tip, which required a flawless ink that could flow seamlessly through the minuscule gaps surrounding the ball and dry at a moment's notice.
It was no easy feat, but he overcame it because Sylvester had already spent a long time researching and experimenting with inks for the printing press. Yet the mechanical aspect of the pen was relatively simple for one skilled in the ways of alchemy and runes. The greatest challenge lay in the precise placement of all the various components, but even for that, Sylvester devised a miniature assembly contraption to aid him in his task.
After several hours of toiling away, Sylvester had completed his task. As the last page of the book was printed, he held in his hand the first of its kind, the ballpoint pen. Though the design was rudimentary, lacking the beauty of a master craftsman, it served its purpose as a prototype, a symbol of hope for the future of writing instruments.
"Behold! The moment of truth!" exclaimed Sylvester, placing a fresh sheet of paper before him and taking hold of the pen firmly. The design was modern, not the initial patent from his past world, which featured a larger ball.
Soon, he dragged his hand on the paper and wrote the letters of the current world. It felt smooth, and he could easily make the letters more cursive and beautiful. He also checked the angles and the pressure.
"Woah! Magic!" Miraj exclaimed and looked closely at the pen move.
Sylvester chuckled and made Miraj hold the pen between his little fluffy fingers. "Try to move your paw now."
Fully focused, Miraj moved the pen and soon gasped. "I can do magic!"
"Haha, this is not magic, Chonky, at least nothing compared to what you already possess. This is just science and inspiration I took from another great man. Now, I just need to create a detailed plan to mass-produce them and then file for a patent. After that, I will get one of the nobles I'm close with to produce them and share profits." Sylvester rubbed his hand while keeping a big grin on his face.
Yes, he was the evil capitalist at the moment.
Miraj agreed with Sylvester. "Yes, Chonky bank must remain full. Let's make big money."
So Sylvester made a few more prototypes but tried to improve them over the various turns. Ultimately, he created an acceptable and mass-producible version after ten creations.
But Sylvester thought about something that could have made his life much better in inventing all sorts of machines quickly.
'No matter what happens, I have to go to Viscount Mineworth and learn Metal manipulation from him.'
With fierce determination, Sylvester focused his mind and set on the task at hand. He had a few more pages to print, pages that were not for the book but held a particular purpose. They were the key to a grand design, a plan to create a spy network unlike any other. Because his spy network won't just spy but also work as a propaganda or misinformation tool.
Finally, after hours of tireless effort and finishing printing, he had to bind the books, which also took a few good hours. When the sun began to dip below the horizon, he completed everything and decided to head home.
"Chonky, eat all of this."
Woosh!
The good, friendly neighbourhood invisible cat cleaned everything and jumped onto Sylvester's shoulder. His stomach growled, clearly showing how much he looked forward to the night's feast.
Hurrying, Sylvester exited the hidden basement and went to the staff of his shop. "All of you are coming with me to the Holy Land. No need to open the shop tomorrow. Just keep the closed sign on."
The three female workers showed a face of joy and asked no questions. This was precisely what they needed, a single day of rest. Yet they never cared about overwork because they got paid well, and all the money was only piling up so they could start a new life later on.
Knock Knock!
As they were finishing up, a sudden knock came on the door. Upon looking, it turned out to be the mighty, the one and only.
"King Highland, what brought you here today?" Sylvester asked, and instantly his words sent shivers down the three women's spines.
"Oh, don't mind me. I'm not here to eat today, but just talk. I was hoping you could help me, Lord Bard. I asked His Holiness, and he referred me to you." the modestly robbed King Highland asked in a much more calm and noble manner than usual.
Sylvester guessed it must be important, or else the king rarely called him 'Lord' bard. "I'm afraid I was closing the shop and returning home as I've organised a feast there. Why don't you and her majesty the queen also join me?"
"That would be marvellous, Lord Bard. We can talk while on the horse as well."
Sylvester agreed and waited for the women to get on the carriage while one of them drove. Sylvester and King Highland lead the way on horses, meanwhile.
"So, how can I be of help, your majesty?" Sylvester got to the point as he didn't want to spoil his evening later.
Instantly, a strong scent of sadness, anxiety and hope hit Sylvester and made him alert to what the King was going to ask.
The old king looked upon Sylvester with a weary gaze, his voice quivering with emotion. "Lord Bard, I fear my kingdom is on the verge of collapse. I have exhausted all my efforts to save it but to no avail. My mistake was that I have taken in as many refugees as possible from the Sorrow Kingdom, hoping to help some. But they continued to arrive in droves. So now, my coffers are empty, and the food reserves are dwindling."
He paused, his eyes filled with a deep sadness. "To make matters worse, a drought has hit the Highland Kingdom, which was already a harsh and unforgiving place. I don't have enough food to feed my people, let alone the refugees, and I fear that if we don't act soon, we will lose them all. His Holiness spoke of your deeds in the north where you helped a village grow crops in the desert. So, I implore you, Lord Bard, to lend us your aid."
Sylvester took to silence and merely gave a nod. The King also remained quiet as he knew what a man deep in thought looked like.
'So this is why I saw those refugees in Riveria Kingdom in the last year. I was curious as to why a man so righteous and kind as King Highland would turn down refugees. But… composting only works on a small scale unless it's highly organised, and I am not foolish enough to try and produce artificial fertilisers, as it's too hard and not socially and personally profitable yet.'
"Your majesty, I do have something in mind. But it will require me to do some calculations and drawings before I can present it to you. It will be patented by me, and only I can authorise its use. But, this year, you must borrow food from other kingdoms. I'm sure I can ask King Riviera and King Gracia to help you give food or take refugees from you."
"Haha!" King Highland laughed. "Oh, you're too smart, Lord Bard. They will do anything but take the refugees."
Sylvester smirked. "That's the plan."
Eventually, they stopped talking as they reached Bright Mother's housing area. The place was crowded already, and Bright Mothers walked in and out of the buildings, but most were headed to the terrace.
"Your majesty, why don't you bring the queen and the prince? The party here will be a good place for her majesty to get to know some powerful Bright Mothers." Sylvester offered.
'And she will get brainwashed by the same bright mothers to always keep me in the highest regard.'
"Of course, I will return with them soon. Have a good evening, Lord Bard."
With the King gone, Sylvester first went to the top floor and entered his home. He then changed his clothes into traditional white church robes with a short red cape around his neck that held his rank plate.
"Maxy, can I go crazy?" Miraj asked on the way to the terrace.
"You can, as long as you don't swallow all the food with your powers and only eat them normally. Remember, there are a lot of people here to eat." So Sylvester put Miraj on the ground and let him roam freely.
"Aye, aye, Maxy!" Miraj didn't even wait a moment and zoomed away.
Alone, Sylvester greeted all the Bright Mothers on the way. The old ones hugged him, and the young ones held his arms and talked sweetly. He was the only man in their lives they could openly tell anything. The only man who'd help them without asking anything in return.
Eventually, Sylvester found Isabella standing alone near the short wooden stage he had asked to be constructed. "What's with the grumpy face? Still angry at me?"
"Not you, but Felix." She barked, her cheeks pouted, and her brows furrowed. She still looked absolutely stunning, however.
[A/N: Look at Isabella]
Sylvester chuckled and took a glass of orange juice in hand. "Already angry at him? You haven't even started yet. Anyway, what happened?"
She looked at his face and asked. "He wishes to kill his father. I told him not to, as Count Sandwall is extremely important to the Gracia."
Sylvester shook his head and patted Isabella's head. "Girl, you're a rookie. The first rule of romance is never to be controlling. So try to find out about Felix's past and why he hates his father so much. Once you learn everything, you might kill Count Sandwall as the first thing after your coronation."
From Isabella's expression, it was clear she knew nothing about Felix. So she asked him directly. "Can't you tell me? He never tells me anything."
Sylvester shrugged and got onto the stage. "Forgive me, but it's an unspoken rule between us brothers. We never share our personal stories with a third party without permission. If he's not telling you, then it's your job to make him comfortable enough to do so. Love and trust go hand in hand, Isabella. Love is what you explore, and trust is what you earn."
"But how? He's so unpredictable." Isabella asked.
Sylvester chuckled and prepared to speak to the crowd. "Felix is a free spirit and has very thin skin. To win him, you just need to look within and ask… Am I willing to take his secrets to my grave? If not, then your relationship will only eventually die as a stormy wave."
Isabella was taken aback by his words, and a strange worry appeared in her eyes. "W-Why do you seem to know so much about this? You've been in love in the past?"
Sylvester smiled and looked at the crowd. "Isabella, some waves don't die—they are murdered."
"What do you mea–"
But she was interrupted by Sylvester's loud call.
"EVERYONE! I have been promoted to the rank of Archbishop!"
Clank!
Shhh!
Thud!
Glasses, plates, and even some Bright Mothers fell to the floor in shock.
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