Chương 45: Chapter 1.45: Feast of the Harvest

The press was a large, primitive construct. A long beam of timber had been anchored into the wall of the storehouse. Under it stood a stone plate with channels for draining fluids like the olive oil in the neighboring press into a waiting amphora. A soft reed basket was filled with whatever was about to be pressed, or, Favius noted, even a piece of cloth, as in the case with the honey, before a larger plate of stone was placed on top. The beam extended five more meters out, where two things were attached to it.

The first was a small platform upon which blocks of stone were being heaved. Favius observed how the honey slowly spilled into the drainage channel of the press stone, and the entire basket had been compressed down from five hand spans to slightly more than one. When the platform was fully loaded, Serran nodded in approval as the press overseer called out and a group of muscular men walked over.

They took hold of several ropes that were attached to the very end of the beam by a complex pulley system anchored to the ground, and then they pulled hard. Pull by pull, they lowered the lever, and a wave of honey spilled out of the cloth sack while the pressure nearly halved the remaining height of the wax. With wooden scrapers, the honey was encouraged to flow into an amphora. The others talked about something, or in the case of Urania and Caliga, were commenting on the pleasant smell.

But Favius' mind was racing again. Their mechanical technology is so primitive they don't have water power. And this... I guess it's one way to build a press, but it doesn't use any sort of lock-in or winding screw. If I want to start printing... He shook his head and leaned toward Urania.

"So, sister, it's an impressive machine, isn't it?" She nodded.

"Yes. An application of leverage, right?"

"Not only leverage," Caliga murmured and gestured to the ropes.

"Those are pulleys. They increase the pressure because..." She narrowed her eyes as if recalling something.

"A pulley allows you to reduce the force at the price of moving a longer piece of rope."

"Exactly," said Favius, looking at her.

"So, sisters, if I told you to design a press that works without using a large lever, one that could work in a room and wouldn't have to be anchored to the floor and walls, how would you go about it?" Serran tilted his head.

"That sounds like an impossible problem, young master." Brutus merely chuckled, but Urania chewed her lower lip, her eyes narrowed with thought. She's using pneuma to reinforce her thoughts, isn't she? As if from a distant place, she began speaking.

"A longer lever increases the force, so that would help. But if we can't use anchor points and we have to make it smaller..." She looked at him.

"We could use a larger stone weight and hang it from the ceiling using pulleys and then press it down?" she ventured. But before Favius could respond, Caliga sneered.

"That's a stupid setup. What if the stone falls and crushes someone?" Favius' lips twitched. Maybe I should put her in charge of writing the OSHA regulations once we have actual workshops.

"Yes, but beyond weight and leverage, I don't see how…" Favius touched her shoulder and pointed toward the weight and the pulleys.

"Tell me, Urania, what do you think those do?"

"They provide force," she ventured carefully after almost a minute had passed. But Caliga stepped forward and poked the beam.

"They do more than that. They not only provide force, but they do so consistently. They hold it." She ran a finger over the taut ropes.

"So if we had a machine that could slowly accept force but would retain all of it..." she murmured. Urania's eyes widened.

"You mean some sort of device that holds force using friction or resistance and we can press down continuously. But how would we do that?" Favius kept pushing, kept throwing them questions, yet the girls didn't seem to be able to make the final conceptual jump.

"A wooden screw. You need a screw and a long lever," he finally told them at last. At the puzzled expressions, he described the device, and Brutus hummed in amusement while Serran clicked his tongue.

"It seems rather complicated to construct such a screw from wood. Alternatively, if it was metal, that might get very expensive." But Favius shook his head.

"No. It only needs to hold a certain part of the force. You can use a lever to rotate the plate down the screw, and that's how you combine leverage and retention. After all, the device isn't supposed to hold down what we are pressing indefinitely. Only as long as we are supplying force." Brutus murmured, "If we use rotation with a lever, wouldn't that rotate the table?"

"No," Caliga replied.

"Obviously not. We would be using another lever to hold the table in place and apply a counterforce."

"Yes." Favius smiled at her, but soon the majordomo cleared his throat.

"While those are fascinating thoughts, might I suggest we do not let our dear beekeeper wait any longer and follow along?" Favius nodded and observed how the workers were taking apart the press, releasing tension and removing stones. Next, they scraped the honey into the vessel and finally extracted the honey-stained cloth sack full of wax. The smell was overwhelming as Beren showed him the sack, yet inside was a malformed golden piece of wax.

"It's still sticky," argued Urania, and Brutus nodded.

"It is. Which is why we are washing it." They walked inside the building and soon found themselves near a cauldron into which the wax was thrown. It collected on the surface, and Favius noticed several amphorae into which the water was filled.

"Where does the wastewater go?"

"Wastewater? Boy..." Serran's voice was loud, and he sniffed derisively.

"That isn't wastewater. It retains honey. So while the slaves normally have to make do with spring water or weak ale, for the festival of the first snow, there will be small mead brewed from this honeyed water." Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Favius looked at the man.

"Did you... did you just say that the slaves are drinking spring water?"

"Yes, of course. Why?" Favius pressed his eyes shut.

"Why haven't I been offered spring water? I only ever get wine. Thinned wine." The majordomo narrowed his eyes.

"Why would the young aristocrat want to drink water?" Favius massaged his forehead and groaned. I thought we were drinking water with alcohol because there is no safe water around. But water from a fresh mountain spring or well… He groaned again. Oh my God. I've been day drinking for almost three months and I could have drunk water instead. He sighed and studied Serran Vale.

"Majordomo, please make arrangements that my sisters and I are served fresh spring water alongside our meals." Urania narrowed her eyes, but Caliga instantly pounced.

"But I don't like water. Why can't we keep drinking wine?" Favius swallowed the first reply. Explaining why wine is bad for children convincingly requires at least a detour into anatomy or neuroscience. He shook his head.

"Fine. We can keep some wine for the taste. But if you would be so kind, Serran, please have some non-alcoholic alternatives arranged."

"Yuck. Vinegar," Caliga murmured. Yet Brutus laughed while studying Favius with a strange look. The majordomo rubbed his chin, then the middle-aged man merely shrugged.

"If that is what the young aristocrat wishes." Favius nodded, and soon they left the workers to their work, but not without Serran mentioning that he wasn't quite sure about the final numbers. After all, the survival of the hives was key for their deal, but he guessed that Favius had increased the honey harvest by three quarters. Favius grinned broadly as he returned to sleep that night. The next few days were a mixture of falling leaves, meditation, mathematics, and the encroachment of winter's cold.

On the first day of winter, they, alongside everyone else in the estate, drank the small mead, and Favius enjoyed conversation with all his siblings, Marius and Lia included, and Brutus over a rich meal. Soon Serran Vale and Doroth Cerul joined them. Favius took another sip. I quite like this small mead. It's simply richer than water. And I can't taste the alcohol. He smiled at his family, friends, and allies. It's nice to finally just hang out and enjoy an evening.

He studied the fire in the hearth and let conversation, food, and the festive atmosphere wash over him. As he kept staring, the fire somehow drew him into retrospectivity. He couldn't say what did it, why it happened now, but suddenly his mind was in a different place. Ideas like images on a rotating cube flashed before his eyes, and a bright comet approached his mind. No, the strange center, the dark place in the middle around which the glowing sphere of his endurance insight was already orbiting.

It was strange, even surreal. There was no pain. The comet slid in closer. He felt it rotating, spiraling in over four steps until it settled opposite the endurance insight. Favius felt warmth and clarity, and realized his mind was saturated with pneuma. He took a deep breath and his eyes opened. The room was perfectly silent except for the crackling of the fire. People's hair was standing up and dancing in all directions as subtle sparks could be seen running over their robes and the utensils.

Brutus embraced him with a bear hug.

"You got it, boy. You got it. Tell me, how does it feel to advance at the pace of a legendary genius?" Favius swallowed and chuckled. Yeah, that's right. Brutus told me that it usually takes years between insights. He shook his head, and soon his sisters were rushing forward. They both hugged him, but Urania soon pushed back.

"Did you get the same as mine or did you get something special? Tell me, tell me! Try it out." She poked him, and he fended her off while the others in the room congratulated him. But before he could continue, before he could try it out, he closed his eyes and focused on the space of the insights, how they co-orbited. Each a ball of bright knowledge with a comet's tail around... Around what? Brutus chuckled and squeezed his shoulder.

"Ah, so you know," murmured Favius, and Brutus laughed.

"Because the second time is the first time for everyone when they see the center clearly, or at least aren't too distracted by pain."

"So what is it?" Brutus studied him and scratched his beard.

"The truth is, nobody knows. Some say it is a divine spark imparted by the Muses when they judge your character. A few claim it's the appearance of a soul refined enough to allow cultivation. Others assert that it is the weight of one's soul, the gravity of one's existence that draws in insights and allows one to take steps beyond the earth towards the heavens." In the end, Brutus shrugged.

"It is just how we see our insights. Does it matter how our minds grasp that which is beyond reason?" Urania squeezed her eyes shut, then murmured, "I... I can't make it out. Can you tell me if you can see it clearly?" Favius closed his eyes again.

"Yes. I first thought it was a memory, but..." Brutus nodded.

"It is only natural. You will gain more control and even the ability to manipulate the orbits of your insights. After all, remember the rule of five. Five insights for each rank, and the tribulation to surpass the bounds of your rank." Favius narrowed his eyes.

"It makes sense, but it's also somewhat strange that they are staying opposite each other." He studied their shape and murmured to himself.

"Are my two insights repelling each other?" Brutus nodded.

"Indeed they are. Insights within the same rank always seek to place themselves as far away from each other as possible." Favius nodded, but his thoughts were interrupted by Caliga poking him.

"Don't keep us waiting. Tell us, what can you do?" Favius took a deep breath and focused on two numbers. Instantly, he understood why Urania described it as a crossroads. He held three and four in his mind, but around him he sensed it. Seven. Minus one. Twelve. And others. So many other options and interactions. He frowned and imagined an exponential decay function, and he didn't quite see it, but he saw how an area expanded, had the impression of a graph, and could read precisely off it.

And whenever he cared to focus on a variable, he got the corresponding result.

"Oh." He grinned broadly.

"It's everything I was looking for." Predictably, the feast devolved into experimentation. Him playing about, trying out his sisters' suggestions, though Brutus too occasionally provided a question. Caliga soon organized a contest between him and Urania, and while Favius did his best to keep the developing pounding headache at a minimum, his frown grew as Urania threw out the answer faster every time. It's as if my visualization is more costly. And her pure calculation... He shook his head, then narrowed his eyes.

I wonder how far I can take it. He smiled and sat down at the table again.

"I want to try something else." Nearly an hour later, his rapt audience had grasped the basics of Boolean logic, calculating with ones, zeros, and logical operators like and, or, and the like. It turned out both he and Urania were capable of calculating based on this in their heads. But when he tried to generate a more complex operation, even with the use of pneuma, his mind grew distracted. He ground his teeth and held a cool piece of cloth to his head.

"It's not working," he murmured. Caliga had long since refocused on the food, but Urania was frowning beside him.

"I still don't understand why you want to use those sequences and combinations of these and-or interactions." Favius sighed.

"Those interactions, they are key to doing..." He gestured broadly.

"Whatever you can think of in your mind, they allow you to—" He swallowed hard. I still haven't told her. If I tell her about Earth, I could explain video games, simulations, and everything... He studied his younger sister and shook his head. Still don't know how she's going to take this. Brutus squeezed his arm.

"Don't be so disappointed, boy. Scholastic cultivation, like all cultivation, tends to require insights working in unison. Your insight is already of a high quality. Maybe your plans will work out in a few years. After all, challenging the heavens is a marathon, not a sprint." Favius sniffed at first, but then he slowly smiled and nodded and took a deep sip of the thin honey wine. He's right. This entire game, it's gonna take two hundred and fifty years. And despite everything, I am making progress.

As the meal settled down and turned into casual conversation, a servant knocked on the door.

"Enter," was all that Brutus said, and the man bowed without stepping into the room.

"Young master, I bring Dominus Marcus' congratulations on attaining another insight. He would like to speak to you tomorrow regarding the senatorial party and your recent activities."