Chương 74: Chapter 2.11: Opening Moves

"An achievement more impressive than anything I have already seen here?" Marcus smiled, holding the piece of paper he had written on in his hands. Favius nodded.

"Indeed. Oh, and you might want to..." He pointed to a small earthen vessel on the table.

"Throw some sand on the text before it smears." Marcus hummed and did so while Favius exchanged looks with Brutus and his other collaborators. Time to get the printing revolution on the road, I guess. After Marcus had stuffed the paper into a pocket, Favius gestured at Arryn's workstation.

"Examine our printing stencils, if you would. We are still figuring out how to carve them, but..." He pointed to a recent half-finished workpiece of applewood.

"We are making good progress." Favius took a deep breath of the resinous and pitch-stained air as Marcus stepped forward and ran his hand over the woodworking. Suddenly the Senator froze.

"Those. Those are daggers of arcane steel." He spun around, his eyes widening.

"How? Brutus Ovinius Kestrelo, did you hand a craftsman your arms?" The Magnicultor chuckled.

"I did indeed, Brother. For is it not said that a warrior ought to lend his blade only to a worthy cause?"

"A worthy cause..." murmured Marcus. Before Favius could interject. Let's not get sidetracked with that.

"Well, as you can see," he began, swallowing down the dryness in his mouth, "those are single letters instead of the continuous ones of ordinary writing." Marcus hummed reverently, extending his hand toward one of the arcane steel daggers before Brutus cleared his throat. The Senator's hand flinched back. He refocused his full attention on Favius.

"Of course. But..." He bowed down.

"The text seems inverted." Favius nodded and gestured at Arryn.

"A piece of paper, please." The boy handed Favius one. Next, Arryn wetted one of the stencils carved with a single word, Favius's name, against an ink-stained piece of cloth. Favius held up the ink-black wood block.

"See for yourself."

"Simply press it to the piece of paper?" mumbled Marcus before complying. And as predicted, six clean letters could be seen in perfect black against the beige of the paper.

"Rather curious," nodded Marcus.

"But by your excitement, I presume that this is not the end of what you wanted to show me."

"It is not," replied Favius.

"Now, if you would come over here." He gestured at the table standing next to the press. The device was ready. Its wooden plates were lined with felt.

"It took us almost a day to figure out the correct thickness so it cushions out imperfections without becoming too fluffy. See, if you were to examine this particular wood print more closely, you might note that it's the first page of my book on mathematics." Marcus squinted, carefully holding his robe to avoid it touching any of the dirtied tables.

"Yes. Yes, it is indeed. And those other four pieces?" He pointed to the partially assembled pages.

"You'll see." The frame was held up before it was installed in the upper part of the press. Next, Veren stepped forward with Favius's best approximation of an ink roller, and he ran ink over the underside of the wood blocks. At Favius's gesture, Caliga pushed four pieces of paper onto spots that were marked out on the felt.

"Now we are ready." Brutus began screwing the press shut until it tightened. Marcus's eyes widened slightly.

"This. This is a pressing device. Oh, I remember. Serran told me about them. That you had certain ideas for how to make one of our oil presses less cumbersome. But truly..." He stared with narrowed eyes at the wooden screw and counter lever, which was firmly held in Veren's hands.

"Is it capable of exerting a similar force on the produce as a lever press?" Favius waved a hand in the air.

"Well, we haven't tested that yet, but..." He held up a hand as Brutus began screwing open the press.

"Witness the first round." Arryn and Caliga removed the pieces of paper while Urania replaced them. After Veren had wetted the wood blocks with a fresh dose of ink, Brutus again lowered the press, pressing the device firmly shut and forcing the ink into the paper. The process repeated three more times, and Marcus idly studied the printed pages.

"Well, your ink stencils certainly are an interesting application of the press, but the press itself..." He paused.

"Please go ahead and determine if it matches the lever presses in power." Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. Favius blinked several times in quick succession. What is going on? Why isn't he...

"But Father, don't you see? The paper. They are exact copies."

"Oh, indeed they are, and that is quite wonderful. But the potential of a simpler pressing device, one that can be operated by two people while matching our old presses..." Marcus clucked his tongue. Favius simply stood there while his Father continued talking. Why? What is...? I just showed him the future. The printing press. And he... he... Favius swallowed and tuned back into the conversation.

"I thank you all for this fine presentation, children. As I already had Serran inform you, I shall be taking a personal interest in this. So let us discuss the details of this tomorrow afternoon."

"Yes, Father," his sisters murmured, visibly excited. Marcus's eyes met his, and Favius merely murmured, "Yes." Finally, Marcus turned around and left without fanfare. Favius stood there stunned for nearly a minute. Urania and Caliga were gossiping. The workers returned to their duties. Brutus stepped up to him. The man grinned broadly.

"Well..." he drawled. His eyes flicked to the door, and Favius nodded. Soon they were enclosed by the cultivator's aura, hidden away in an unused side room.

"What the fuck?" hissed Favius indignantly.

"Seriously. What the fuck did just happen?" Brutus couldn't help it, and a roaring laugh erupted from his lips.

"Well, kid. What did you expect?"

"I..." Favius gestured, moving his hands through the air in a wild pattern.

"I am not sure. I merely... Well, you know what I told you about the importance of printing books, of mass-producing knowledge. But he... he was more interested in the press." Brutus replied with a wide grin.

"Well, you need to understand that your Father might be a strategist, politician, and negotiator, but he is not skilled in the art of logistics, production, or supply. Men like him, by Oblivion, men like us usually consider such disciplines beneath themselves."

"Yes, I know, but printing..." Favius repeated. Brutus shook his head.

"Well, I can give you a little longer if you need to get it all out of your system." Favius let out a long-suffering sigh and shook his head.

"No, you are right. I need to prepare for the negotiations." Brutus nodded, and Favius set off toward the estate, toward his room. The next day began as usual with training. Calisthenics, fighting, and meditation had all lost their pleasant luster in the cold of winter. Yet Brutus was mercilessly insistent that if they didn't like the chill in the gymnasium, they should keep moving throughout the breaks. Lunch was a tasteless distraction, but finally he and Brutus walked into one of the larger side rooms.

Its walls were decorated with mosaics. A fireplace roared on one side of the room, while the roof was painted with scenes of a hunt. The smooth, oiled wood of the large table was laden with parchments, wax tablets, and refreshments. Favius took a deep breath of the air. It was rich with spiced wine. Is that cinnamon? He sniffed again before shaking his head. His hands tightened on the wax tablets he was carrying.

"Ah, greetings, my son." He exchanged a nod with Marcus. He's wearing fine clothes. So he's taking this seriously. Or, more likely, he wants to show us how a serious negotiation looks. Caliga and Serran sat to his sides, and Urania sat at the long side of the table, somewhat lost. Favius studied the remaining chairs and nodded. Well, good thing my Father on Earth told me so much about his negotiations as a manager.

He smiled and walked straight toward the chair at the other end of the table, receiving a nod from Marcus as Brutus settled down beside him. A servant, a man whom he had seen several times around Marcus, filled steaming spiced wine into his and Brutus's cups before settling down in a corner. A shadow fell onto Favius as he looked at Marcus, who was framed by the fire. He knew which position I had to take, so he chose the dramatic framing. He certainly knows what he is doing. Favius took a deep breath.

Most compliance techniques or manipulation can usually be diffused by taking your time. So, one by one, he laid down his stack of wax tablets, and a smile played over his face. Urania narrowed her eyes and mouthed a word at him.

"Unfair." He merely smirked back before continuing the presentation for Marcus. The wax tablets were covered in dense writing. Comments, notes, and reminders, all in English, all perfectly illegible to anyone present in the room. And, if someone figures out how to crack my cryptography, I'll just start messing with them by mixing English with German and Spanish.

Finally, as Favius was adjusting the corners of the wax tablets for the second time, tilting his head while trying to find the perfect angle of the stylus, Marcus cleared his throat.

"Well, son, here we are. I am certainly glad that there is no need to instruct you on the utility of letting others in negotiations wait while you take your time, is there?" Favius returned a smirk.

"No, Father. There is no such need."

"Very well. So tell me, son, how does the wine agree with you?" Without hesitation, Favius picked up the cup and took a small sip. It's actually cinnamon. Yet he kept the cup up to his mouth far longer than necessary. Marcus raised an eyebrow after Favius put down the cup.

"Do you believe that to be wise, son?" Favius grinned broadly and tilted the cup so Marcus could see into it.

"You tell me, Father." Marcus slapped the table and threw his head back in laughter.

"It seems all my planned lessons for today are falling short of their target."

"That might be the case," Favius replied, his voice serious.

"So will we continue playing educational games, or might we get to the actual negotiations?" Marcus stroked his chin.

"Your feigned indignity still requires some work, son. But yes, I agree. Let us get to negotiating." Favius smiled to himself, exchanging a quick look with Brutus. Well, it seems like my goal of being more functional in this world, of getting better with politics, is coming closer each day. Now, if I can just negotiate three nice little contracts without any major fuckups or disasters of politics-defining proportions, then this day might end up being perfect.

"Very well." Marcus steepled his fingers and looked at each of the children in turn.

"Originally, I was mildly amused by your pursuit of ideas that were gifted onto Favius through divine grace. Yet after how the soap was received, and after the numbers my dear Majordomo"—he nodded to Serran—"showed me regarding our honey production and his projections for next year... Not to mention what I witnessed in the workshop yesterday, I would have to be a blind man to deny the truth." He paused for a moment, and Favius raised a single eyebrow, causing a near-imperceptible twitch in the man's lips.

"Your pursuits have become vital for the future of this family, and thus it is my duty as Patriarch to ensure that they proceed under proper patronage." Favius nodded to himself, glancing at one of the notes. Proper patronage. All right. That's a scenario I planned for. Favius imitated the gesture he had seen many people in this world use to interrupt someone else. He raised two fingers. Marcus raised an eyebrow.

"Yes?"

"Well, Father, as you said, we"—he emphasized the word and gestured at his sisters—"developed those projects by divine grace that was granted to me." He gestured at his chest.

"I do like the idea of patronage, but ultimately I consider it vital for our futures that we remain in control of the future development of those projects. After all, they are merely in their infancy, and without proper guidance they might yet... suffocate."

"They might suffocate, you say?" replied Marcus to Favius's gamble in a dangerously low tone. And the boy, despite having lived an entire previous life, couldn't help but swallow hard.