“Volrin is the only kind of paper we’re gonna be using for a while, so why not just make colors that look good on that?”
He was right. The Myne Workshop was only making trombe paper and volrin paper at the moment. If we wanted to make the picture books any time soon, we’d need to focus on making colors that were suited to volrin paper.
“This red color was really pretty before, but now that it’s on paper and has dried, it’s more like a dark-blackish red. It would be good for drawing blood.”
“We don’t need a color that’s only gonna be good for that!” Lutz yelled.
I pursed my lips. Maybe we would need an ink that’s only good for blood. It wasn’t uncommon for religious myths to get bloody.
“...This stuff’s real tricky,” Heidi murmured as she glared at the changed ink, her arms crossed. “I think I understand why art workshops keep their paint recipes secret.” It really wasn’t easy to make colored ink independently.
According to Benno, paint production wasn’t bound by any magic contracts, so any workshop could make it as they pleased, but the production methods themselves were kept secret by the workshops and none were on sale in the lower city. The workshops making paint for art-loving nobles delivered their goods directly—I knew this from Rosina, who had been the attendant of one such art-loving shrine maiden. You couldn’t get certain colors anywhere except from the workshop that made them, so apparently Christine had favored a number of workshops at once.
“Lady Myne, let’s figure out why it’s changing colors.”
“Like I said, the results are the important thing here.” I could appreciate her dedication to discovery, but my goal was to make picture books for Kamil; I didn’t have the time to waste on superfluous research. I wanted usable colored ink as soon as possible.
“Let’s try layering the colors next. Gil, would you?”
“As you wish, Sister Myne.” Gil drew a blue line across the colors we had already put on the paper, and the overlapping parts darkened significantly. It wasn’t pitch-black, more of a really dark version of the mixed colors. Not a single one of the combinations could be described as bright or vivid. If we had a “Danger: Do Not Mix” sign on hand, this would be exactly the right time for it.
“...What’re we gonna do?” Gil asked, holding up the sheet of discolored paper. The result was so unexpected that we were all at a loss for words. All we could do was stare in silence at the dark colors.
Josef eventually broke the silence. “Guess we should just stick to separate colors for these,” he said with a shake of his head.
“But I’m pretty sure you gotta mix colors to paint things properly. Seems like there are still a lot of secrets behind the paint that art workshops use.” Heidi was right. If our ink turned black when mixed with other colors, we wouldn’t be able to draw anything like the paintings in the temple’s noble section. The paint used in this world definitely had a secret to it that I didn’t know about.
“Let’s stop for today. No matter how many colors we make, it won’t matter if they change over time and turn black when mixed.”
Maybe there’s some way we can sneak the secret to making paint out of an art workshop, I thought, slumping my shoulders in despair over the ink-making being stalled. The fact that we hadn’t made any usable colored ink meant we had failed.
I returned home with my head hung low, and reported the day’s results to Tuuli as I helped her make dinner.
“...Which means the colored ink doesn’t work. I don’t know what to do about it.”
“Mhm, you definitely don’t want mixed colors to turn black.”
“Right. It’s a big problem. It just wouldn’t be usable for printing, no matter how hard I tried.” I stirred the pot of soup while pursing my lips in a pout.
Mom, who was watching us cook while breastfeeding Kamil, put a hand on her cheek in confusion. “You’re not using a fixing agent when putting the ink on paper?”
“...What’s a fixing agent?” I had read about fixing agents for photos and art back in my Urano days, but had no idea what kind of fixing agents were used here.
Seeing my confusion, Mom returned her gaze to Kamil and continued. “A fixing agent is a liquid used to stabilize colors. We use them when dyeing to stop the color from fading over time.”
“Mom, could I ask for specifics? How exactly do you make a fixing agent?” I looked at Mom with gleaming eyes, but she just furrowed her brow in concern.
“Is this something I should be telling you?”
“I’ll check to see whether it’s bound by any magic contracts later.”
“...Well, I suppose it won’t be a problem then. I trust you to make sure it’s safe for you to make,” Mom said with a somewhat uneasy tone before continuing.
You could apparently make the base of a fixing agent by putting the sap of a tree called a gnade into the stem of a flower called heirein, then boiling it until it went all gooey. When actually using it, you would want to dissolve it with about twenty times as much boiling water.
“Be careful. I’m sure there’ll be differences between using it on cloth and paper.”
“Thanks, Mom. I’ll give it a shot.”
Now that I knew about fixing agents, I immediately asked Lutz to get the necessary materials for me. He seemed to have not known about fixing agents either, judging by how his eyes widened in surprise.
“I didn’t know there was something like that. We might’ve never figured it out if Mrs. Effa didn’t work in a dye workshop.”
“Uh huh. I want to get the materials together and
