Passing time

Richar brought a bucket filled with water and poured it into the wooden bowl he'd just finished. Rafael tossed the wooden pulp into the water and began stirring it with deliberate motions. Cenric stood by, arms crossed, his gaze focused intently on the process, his mind absorbing every detail.

After a thorough mixing, Rafael picked up the wooden frame with cloth attached—the "canvas"—and scooped up the water-saturated fibers. He flipped it upside-down and placed it onto the table, shaking it gently to help the pulp detach from the screen.

"Do you have anything to compress this with?" Rafael asked, looking at Richar, who handed him a small wooden box.

Cenric, intrigued, asked, "Why are you putting that on top?"

Rafael pointed to the box, explaining, "It's to remove the excess water and bond the fibers together."

Cenric's brow furrowed in confusion. Wood has fibers? What does that even mean? Despite his knowledge in managing the village, the intricacies of papermaking were beyond him.

Rafael, having memorized the process from his book, took a step back, hands on his hips. "And that's how paper is made. Now we just have to wait for it to dry."

Cenric's eyes widened in disbelief. "That's it? You're saying paper, something that could be sold for a coin per piece, is this easy to make?"

Richar, observing with newfound interest, had his own moment of realization. Paper… Paper?! His eyes grew wide as he grasped the potential.

Rafael saw the excitement in Cenric's eyes. This could be mass-produced. But the price might drop if there's a surplus… Though, demand might drive the price up, especially if we can't keep up with the supply.

As Cenric began envisioning the profitable potential, Rafael's thoughts turned practical. I need to focus on industrializing the papermaking process and ensuring it doesn't leak to others.

Richar, feeling a mix of apprehension and opportunity, decided to contribute. If this is as valuable as they say, I need to ensure I stay in their good graces.

"So, Cenric," Rafael said, turning back to him, "to produce a lot of paper, we'll need more and better equipment."

Cenric nodded, still lost in thought. "And these tools could be made by my friend here. Remember when I mentioned you'd be making more of those wooden bowls?"

Richar's eyes flickered with uncertainty, but he reluctantly agreed. If it means staying alive, I'll go along with this friend idea.

"I do remember, and I'll help with all the tools needed. There will even be a discount," Cenric added, trying to be accommodating.

Rafael rolled his eyes slightly. Of course, a discount…

Outside, the sky had darkened, and the villagers, exhausted from the sudden harvest, began returning home. The mood was somber; they were tired and frustrated by the quick turnaround and the meager amount of grain left.

A father, worn out from the day's labor, approached a bucket of water on the table. He picked up a cup, ready to drink, but stopped. "Did you boil the water as I said?"

The two young girls, eager for their father's attention, nodded vigorously. Only then did he drink, savoring the clean water. How I wish we could always have clean water without worrying about the cost.

The older girl, with a serious look, asked again, "Daddy, could you tell us what happened after you told us to run away?"

Their father sighed, thinking, They won't stop until I tell them. He settled into a chair while the girls sat expectantly on the floor.

"I saw the bad guy. He was tall and wore strange clothes!" he began, trying to recall the day's events.

"And he was inside that big thing too! I heard him screaming! Is he the devil?!" the younger girl exclaimed, her eyes wide.

"He is the devil! But Daddy fought him and won!" the older girl said, her voice filled with pride.

The girls' faces lit up with awe and admiration as they imagined their father as a hero. Their father, moved by their adoration, felt a deep sense of purpose and gratitude. Thank you for these two. You've given me a reason to fight and protect.

He smiled, ready to embellish the story for their delight. "Yes, he was a demon sent by the devil himself!"

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