Chapter 53: The Older, The Wiser

As expected, Sander asked exactly the question Lulumia had anticipated.

“Printing house? What’s that?”

“It’s a place specifically for printing books. With three skilled workers operating one printing press, you can print 300 to 500 pages in a day.

If you want to print more pages, you need to add more workers and presses, which takes up a large area.

And then, the printed paper can’t be stacked right away—it needs to be spread out somewhere to dry before binding, so you need a drying yard. Add in the necessary warehouse and storage rooms, and you need a space as large as a proper workshop to keep things running smoothly. If you want the printed holy books to spread quickly, Grandpa Sander, a printing house is an essential step.”

Lulumia pressed her index finger to her chin, explaining seriously.

“Before, I was planning to rent a shop on Commercial Street with Sister Eno for the printing house, but the merchants there only sell, not rent. Buying a shop is too expensive, so when I overheard Grandpa Sander and the others discussing the old church just now, I started wondering if we could clear it out and use it as the printing house.” “…All these thoughts came to you just now?”

Lulumia’s explanation was so logical, it hardly seemed improvised.

Lulumia was honest.

“No, the printing house idea was something I had in mind even before trying to rent a place. Originally, it was for printing newspapers. Ah,

a newspaper is something that collects information and spreads it publicly.”

Lulumia explained newspapers to Sander again. This time, Sander seemed to understand, but he regarded Lulumia with a far more scrutinizing gaze.

He was reassessing this sweet-talking little magic automaton with an abacus for a heart.

If Lulumia hadn’t only learned he was the Cardinal a few days ago, Sander might have suspected he’d fallen into her trap from the very start.

He stroked his chin in thought.

“This newspaper thing is, after all, just something sold to make money, and it has nothing to do with the church. The old church is church property, so it definitely can’t be handed over for your personal use. Put that thought away.”

Sander paused, his gaze meaningful.

“I’ve told you before, what outsiders consider trivial often becomes intolerable sand within the church. Church property must be meaningful to the church.”

Is he warning me?

Lulumia blinked innocently, pretending not to understand.

“Meaningful to the church… The old church is still the church’s, and printing just lets it shine again. Grandpa Sander, you’d only need to let me use a few empty rooms to print the holy books.” “And what about your newspaper? That kind of thing won’t be allowed out in the church’s name.”

“Newspapers and holy books have to be kept separate. I think… I’d like to rent a few small rooms. Printing holy books is one thing, newspapers are another. Having both places close makes communication easier.”

“No way,” Sander shook his head. “You’re oversimplifying things. There are many in the church even more stubborn than me—they’ll never accept that argument.”

So what, am I supposed to print holy books for them and not get any benefit? Do they really think I’m a nun with no financial worries? Even the nuns who copy manuscripts and do embroidery get paid for their work.

Lulumia grumbled inwardly.

After a moment’s thought, Sander spoke first.

“Your status isn’t high enough. You lack prestige, and others will say giving it to you is no different than giving it to a noble. But if we get someone from the church involved, then in both name and fact, the old church remains church property—no one can object.”

You can do that?

Lulumia was stunned. The older really are the wiser.

But what does it mean to have someone from the church involved? Get the nuns to help print? Isn’t that too improper? Lulumia thought about it—printing might seem simple, but it’s hard physical labor. The nuns usually do manual work, yes, but there are always a few inconvenient days every month for women. Besides, newspapers might contain content unsuitable for nuns.

Sander smiled, a cunning glint flashing in the wrinkles around his eyes.

“Just so happens, those old scholars who discuss fonts with me have nothing better to do. I’ll pick one to guide you in printing the holy books. And beside the old church, there’s an abandoned farmstead. There’s a row of buildings that used to be storerooms and warehouses. As payment for printing the holy books, the church will lend you the farmstead and storerooms. How about it? Once the first batch of holy books is done, it’ll be easy to shut everyone else up.”

Oh, oh! Not bad!

Lulumia’s eyes sparkled. Using the old church as the place to print holy books, and giving the unused, non-sacred farmstead as payment to the press—this way, the church isn’t misused, and she gets the venue she needs for the newspaper. Two birds with one stone.

No wonder he’s an insider.

Lulumia gave Sander a thumbs up in her heart. Excited, she threw her arms around Sander’s arm and said,

“Grandpa, you’re brilliant! I never even thought of that! You’re so good to me!”

“I’m not being good to you,” Sander said with a stern face, though he didn’t push Lulumia away, “this is for the entire Ounheim diocese, for the whole church. Without your printing press, how would we print the holy books, or let more people venerate Lady Isthel? The church won’t shortchange anyone willing to serve it.”

“Hehe, thank you, Grandpa.”

You really are something. Such pretty words, Lulumia’s respect for Sander rose another notch. He looked so stiff, but he was actually extremely shrewd.

With this, the problems of the printing press, Ink, type, manpower, and venue were all solved. Setting up the press must be a matter for the next few days.

“All right, all right. Eno, there’s no training today. Take Lulumia to see the old church. And fetch Kren for me while you’re at it. He’s the most senior when it comes to the old church—if he agrees, no one will object.”

“…Okay.”

Eno hesitated for a moment, then nodded. After exchanging a few words with Sander, Lulumia also left with Eno at his urging.

“Eno, is there something wrong with this scholar called Kren? You seemed worried just now.” On the way to the old church, Lulumia looked up and asked.

Dressed in light yellow, Eno sighed and answered, worried.

“That’s just what I wanted to tell you. Kren was the former chief priest of the old church. Before the temple on Commercial Street was built, he was in charge of that area for the church. He’s known for being rigid, old-fashioned, and having a nasty temper. And after the old church was abandoned, the church had no new post for him. Sander feels guilty about it, but there’s nothing he can do.”

“You heard before we entered—he’s the one most opposed to selling the old church. Trying to use it for something else right under his nose might be hard.”

“This…”

But Sander seemed so confident—surely he wouldn’t send someone difficult to supervise my printing of the holy books, right? He can’t be setting me up.

While Lulumia frowned in thought, Eno reached out and gently patted her head.

“Don’t worry. If Kren makes things hard for you, we won’t bother with the church—I’ll pay for you to buy a workshop.

Just focus on running the newspaper.”

“But that would cost a lot…”

“You’re so clever, I’m sure you’ll earn it back.” Eno smiled and pinched Lulumia’s dragon horn.

“What on earth do you have in that little head of yours? You’ve only got Level 1 magic, yet you have Sander wrapped around your finger. I’ve been in the capital diocese for years, and I haven’t seen Sander smile as much in a day as he did today. Usually he’s so stern with us saints, as if we owe him money, but the moment he sees you, he’s like a different person. If the other saint candidates saw this, they’d think I sent you to charm Sander for me.”

“Well, let them think so! Serves them right!”

“Hehe.” Lulumia’s childish reaction made Eno cover her mouth, stifling a laugh.

After a moment, she turned serious again.

“But how did you think to use the glasses to draw Sander in? And you even got me involved, without telling me beforehand.”

“I’ve had it in mind for a while now. I originally wanted to wait until we were on better terms before sending them over. Eno, your relationship with Grandpa Sander isn’t good, and as your magic automaton, it’s my duty to help smooth things over. Since I can’t help with magic, I have to do what I can elsewhere.”

Lulumia blurted this out, though even she wasn’t sure how much was genuine and how much was feigned.

Compared to how Eno treated her like a little sister, Lulumia’s feelings were more complicated—she called Eno “sister,” but always felt like Eno was the younger one.

Yet because of that, when Eno said just now, “If it doesn’t work, forget the church, I’ll pay for your workshop. I believe you’ll earn it back,” it struck Lulumia deeply.

Five hundred gold coins was nearly all of Eno’s savings. Bringing that out now was no different from Lulumia saying “I’ll earn money to support you, Eno.” Eno’s words were like a little girl offering up her whole fortune, trusting Lulumia to make a comeback.

What adult could resist such trust? Whether or not she accepted the money, the sentiment was so heavy she didn’t know how to repay it.

Of course, in Eno’s eyes, today’s events looked different. Lulumia, who had nothing, still tried so hard to ease things between her and Sander, and even solved the rumor problem. The effort behind it made Eno, as the older sister, feel something indescribable.

“Lumia…”

“What is it?”

Lulumia, who also had things on her mind, looked up.

Eno pursed her lips, her light blue eyes full of mixed, indescribable emotion.

“I feel like you’re more of an adult than me in some things. If it were me, I’d never think to fix a relationship like that… Am I really so useless?”

“How could that be? Everyone knows how good you are to me. If it weren’t for you, I’d have died at the hands of those smugglers long ago. And you never shunned my past, even picking a fight with that wicked Fourth Princess for my sake. No one else would go so far. You’re the best, Eno.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely!”

This truly was how Lulumia felt—in Eno’s company, she felt a comfort hard to describe.

“Is that so?” Eno’s lips curled in a smile, her holy face outshining even the sun. “Then I have to work even harder. I must become a saint.”

“Go for it, Eno!”

Looking at Eno’s smile, a question suddenly arose in Lulumia’s heart.

Eno wasn’t an idealist like Sander, and rarely spoke of the church with much reverence. Why did she want to become a saint?