Chapter 173. Scheming (4)
Outskirts of Albion. In a quiet open lot, the polar opposite of the glamorous city centre.
Jurgen and Serena stepped down from the carriage.
"Oh my……"
Serena climbed out and gazed up at the building in admiration.
The walls, stacked neatly from red brick, looked sturdy, and the windows — save for a few broken panes — were reasonably presentable.
"What was this place used for?"
"It was the printing house that put out the weekly paper, Albion Weekly. As you can see, it went bankrupt."
Jurgen fiddled with the padlock, perfectly at ease.
"Did you lease it? The ownership rights must be complicated with a bankrupt building……"
Serena, who had originally been a pure engineer but had picked up all manner of things by looking over Penelope's shoulder, ventured her knowledge.
"Which is why I didn't lease it — I acquired it."
Click.
Jurgen replied as the padlock snapped open with a crisp sound.
"Pardon? When?"
"Yesterday."
"……Excuse me?"
Serena's train of thought ground to a halt. Her eyes went wide.
"Yesterday? Before the cups were even made? No — you went and bought a factory outright when we didn't even know yet whether it would succeed or fail?"
"That's what I said."
It was madness. No matter how flush with funds Y&P Trading Company was, purchasing a building before the technology was even developed—
"What if I had failed?"
"Wouldn't you have succeeded?"
Serena faltered for a moment. Because that remark was a boost straight to her self-esteem.
"…… !"
One might have forgotten, but Jurgen is an Alchemist and a renowned engineer of Britannia. And Serena had always been a Viscountess-born young lady starving for recognition.
She had resented him for doing nothing but working her to the bone and making eyes at Penelope. And yet here he was, showing her this much trust!
"Oh, come on…… well…… obviously I could have pulled it off……"
Serena twisted her body and lifted her chin with great pride.
The fatigue from the all-nighter melted away entirely. If she was trusted like this, what was a little hardship?
"Well, it's, it's not that impressive or anything."
Serena beat her own drum and soaked in the emotion all on her own.
"What are you doing? Come in, quickly."
But Jurgen had already pushed open the heavy iron door and was heading inside.
"……"
Serena returned to her displeased blank expression and followed him in.
―Creeeeak.
With a shriek from the rusty hinges, the interior of the factory came into view. Having been shut for so long, a musty wave of dust and ink smell hit them full in the face.
Yet the inside was in far better shape than it had looked from outside.
"The equipment is in decent condition?"
"I chose the most recently shuttered place, after all."
Serena's eyes shifted into those of an engineer.
Though a thick layer of dust had settled, the machines themselves were in good shape.
The enormous Rotary Press that had churned out hundreds of newspapers per minute. The hulking Press Machine that had hydraulically crushed and cut through thick stacks of paper.
And the other automated equipment besides.
"Now then, Serena."
Jurgen looked at Serena as if setting a test.
"How would you go about making paper cups here?"
It was indeed a test. Jurgen had consistently been trying to develop Serena to the level of a Technical Noble worthy of receiving a barony through her own merit.
The old Serena would have panicked. But not now.
In the time she had spent being ground down at Y&P Trading Company, she had accumulated a staggering amount of practical experience.
"Hmm……"
Serena's eyes lit up. She quickly scanned the machines' specifications and structure.
If she were to graft onto that the manufacturing method of the paper cups they were about to make……
The answer came quickly.
"I'm…… not fully confident, but……"
Serena quietly pointed at the Rotary Press.
"First, we remove the ink rollers from that Rotary Press and attach heat-plate rollers. That way the paper would automatically get wax-coated as it passes through."
Serena's finger moved to the Press Machine.
"Then we feed that coated paper into the Press Machine?"
Having spent so long together she no longer feared Jurgen as she once had, but— The situation was different now. Serena hedged and hesitated, perhaps slightly nervous.
"Mount a Mould and stamp it down — thud! — and cutting and bonding would be resolved simultaneously, so…… I timidly think we could shave off quite a lot of time……"
"It's a shame about the lack of confidence, but the answer itself is correct."
Jurgen smiled with satisfaction.
"Hehe."
Serena beamed with pride.
"You've done well — your skills have come a long way."
Serena was moved by Jurgen's rare moment of candid praise. Come to think of it, hadn't Serena's life changed from the moment she met Jurgen?
A terrible employer who worked her to the bone as a matter of course…… And yet, at the same time, the very person who had seen through the talent no one else had ever recognised, and delivered a viscountcy into her hands.
"Hehe, it's all thanks to Jurgen."
"It's the fruit of Serena's own efforts."
"Oh, come on, it isn't!"
Just as the atmosphere was warming up nicely—
Bang!!!
The factory's heavy iron door was flung open hard enough to break.
"Jurgen!"
What burst through the cloud of swirling dust was Penelope, blazing with murderous intent.
Serena, who had been smiling brightly at Jurgen just moments before, got a fright in advance.
The situation looked off! A deserted factory on the outskirts of the city. A man and a woman, alone together.
And caught in the very moment of exchanging a strange look with each other. Anyone who saw it would find it perfectly easy to misunderstand!
"Pe, Penelope! I, I, that's not what it looks like!"
Serena began flailing her hands in the air and babbling incoherently.
"It's a misunderstanding! No, don't misunderstand! Truly nothing happened!"
"……"
"We only looked at the machines! I swear on my life!"
Penelope stared flatly at Serena, who was causing a scene all on her own.
"Hi, hik……?!"
"…… ?"
The question mark rose on Penelope's face, which had been deadly serious. Jurgen also tilted his head alongside her.
"What did you two do?"
"Pardon? Pardon?"
"You said you came to look at machines, and you looked at machines. So what?"
"Ah……"
Serena's face went red. She had realised she had created a scene all on her own, like a guilty thief with a pricking conscience.
"……I'll just, quietly turn invisible for a moment."
Quietly fleeing to a corner of the factory to bury her mortification, Serena.
"Why is she like that?"
"I haven't the faintest. More importantly, what's happened that you've come rushing in like that?"
"Ah."
Penelope's face hardened into seriousness again.
"This is no time for that. Something's gone terribly wrong."
Penelope pulled a sheaf of papers from her bag.
Jurgen's eyes swept rapidly over the documents. At the bottom of the page, the red seal of the Capital's Security Commissioner, Viscount Guttera, was stamped clearly.
[Order Restricting Use of Open Flame on the Day of the Birthday Banquet]
[For the safety of the capital and prevention of fire, on the day of Her Majesty the Queen's Birthday Banquet and the three days before and after it, the use of any and all open-air flame within a 3km radius of the plaza and surrounding Royal Palace is strictly prohibited.]
[Violations shall result in immediate arrest and full confiscation of goods.]
"Hmm."
A short sigh escaped Jurgen's lips.
"A 3km radius……"
"3km covers not just the plaza, but all the surrounding shops and open lots too."
Penelope said, irritation edging into her voice.
"The restaurant and kitchen we'd reserved near the plaza are completely useless now. We've thrown away a pile of deposits for nothing."
It couldn't be helped. The cooking bases that Y&P had arranged in advance had vanished in an instant.
She had gone traipsing all around the capital, dragging her hangover-addled head to sort all this out.
"I knew they'd be making moves against us. Still — they've found a sharp place to stick it."
Even Jurgen clicked his tongue.
Had it been an official notice that blatantly said Y&P Trading Company, go take a flying leap, they would have had grounds to argue back. But having tied up the entire plaza under the pretext of safety, there was nothing to be said.
A move that left no political fingerprints, while striking precisely at the opponent's vital point. It was unmistakably the work of Clarisse Rosemore.
"Isn't this quite a big problem?"
Serena, who had been facing the wall in the corner, came over, pale as a sheet.
Even if the paper cups were made, without cooking there was no way forward.
"We need to find another method. Should we pack lunch boxes? Or try throwing a fit to borrow the Royal Palace kitchen?"
Penelope bit her lip and muttered anxiously. But Jurgen was not flustered. He rummaged inside his coat and pulled out a map of the capital, spreading it across the dusty worktable.
"A 3km radius……"
Jurgen pressed his finger onto the Royal Palace's location on the map. Then he drew a rough circle by eye.
"Penelope, Serena. Look here."
Jurgen's finger moved to the factory district on the outskirts, beyond the map's circle.
"Now — do you have it with you?"
"Of course."
"Measure it. The distance from the centre of the plaza to the printing house."
Serena quickly fished a ruler from her tool bag and held it against the map. As she calculated the scale, her eyes grew wider and wider.
"Huh……?"
"How many km?"
"Well…… it's exactly 3.2km."
"3.2km…… not bad."
He raised his head and looked up at the old factory ceiling. The decree had invoked the safety of the Royal Palace and the plaza as its justification.
In other words, it had only blocked the city centre where the crowds gathered. The factory district where the printing house stood fell outside the scope of the restrictions.
"But…… that's not really the problem, is it? Even if we make the paper cups, our issue is ultimately that cooking is impossible."
Penelope frowned and asked.
"What good is it that this printing house is outside the restrictions? It's not as if we can cook here."
Jurgen walked toward one corner of the factory. And came to a stop in front of a piece of machinery buried under dust and cobwebs.
"Actually, I've been thinking of putting this to use."
Jurgen patted the rusty surface of the boiler with his palm.
"It's an industrial steam boiler. The fellow that used to generate enormous quantities of high-pressure steam to run the Rotary Press and dry the wet paper."
"A boiler? I follow that much, but……"
Penelope folded her arms, looking incredulous.
"What does that have to do with cooking? Surely you're not suggesting we make food here?"
"And why ever not? The foundation of mass catering is steaming."
It was not for nothing that the menu of Y&P Trading Company had been set as Braised Ribs Rice Bowls.
"The steam pressure this thing puts out is more than sufficient. Far more powerful and efficient than thousands of wood fires."
Jurgen patted the boiler's enormous body.
"……Even so — isn't it a bit unsanitary?"
Penelope expressed her concern. The factory boiler looked dreadfully filthy with oil grime and rust.
Jurgen, who was ordinarily fastidious to a painful degree about hygiene, was planning to use a boiler like that for cooking. Was he making a poor move out of desperation……?
"Don't worry. Trust me just this once."
Jurgen flashed a grin.