It was something he’d need to do in order to pass the computer and generator on to his descendants, but it wasn’t something that needed to be perfect either.
Aura agreed. “Indeed. Japanese is of little use without access to the computer, so keeping the dictionary on the computer maintains the secrecy.”
Conversely, it would be a good idea to translate instructions on the appliances and their maintenance, along with how often the battery required rewinding away from Japanese and leave written records. Shutting off the generator meant doing the same to every appliance connected to it, so keeping detailed information on those procedures was vital.
Digressions aside, they had decided how to deal with the information on resurrection via time reversal.
“So does that pretty much finish everything about Priest Yan?” Zenjirou asked.
“It does,” Aura affirmed. “Or more accurately, it marks the point where we can do little but wait and watch.”
The priest had been revived and sent back to the Northern Continent. Capua had no further control over either man, so all they could do was wait and see. They were out of Aura’s hands now.
“Got it. Is there anything else we need to talk about?”
The required secrecy was far and away the highest with Yan’s revival, but it was not the only problem currently facing the country. There were several other matters of greater importance. He’d only just asked the question when he remembered something else he should ask about.
“Oh, what about that glass craftsman I sent after the commander?”
“Ah, he is a guest of the palace. We do not yet know his skill, but the palace will be taking responsibility for the rest of his life. He will not be leaving.”
The elderly craftsman had originally managed a small workshop in Bohevia, but he’d been unable to keep pace with technological advances and was starting to struggle to keep food on the table due to the lack of demand. Zenjirou had invited him to Capua through a local intermediary.
The instructions he had been given included coming to Logfort in secret, and there had been a lump sum, but they had not given him any advice for how to get there in secret. While he may have done his best, it was almost inevitable that the leaders of Uppasala would spot him. Truthfully, it was something Capua wanted to happen. He was a smoke screen to divert from the two Yans moving around.
Out of work or not, countries could certainly find fault with a foreign land poaching their craftsmen. There was therefore nothing unnatural about Zenjirou teleporting him to Capua behind closed doors.
“I hope he’s useful. They might be old techniques, but he should be able to make reasonably transparent glass, so I’ve got some hope for him.”
The queen nodded in agreement as she spoke. “That would be the ideal outcome. We cannot ask for too much. He was useful for camouflaging the priest’s and mercenary’s movements. That is enough.”
She had very few expectations of the aging man. While advances in technology had put him out of a job, the same wasn’t true for all of his peers. Some maintained a living using the connections they’d formed over their years in business; others dismissed the new technologies as a gimmick and still maintained a following with their polished traditional techniques. There were some who had moved away from production to manage workshop unions, while delegating the production to newcomers who had learned the new skills. Some were even joining the young apprentices to learn the new skills as well.
Overall, those who couldn’t maintain some form of living were in the minority. From one perspective, they’d picked someone whose personality, skill, business acumen, administration, passion, and luck had all failed to secure him an opportunity. In that way, they certainly couldn’t expect too much of him.
“Well, that’s true. I guess I’ll just take it as a bit of good luck if things go well,” Zenjirou told himself, changing his opinion.
“That would be for the best. Speaking of such things, Freya made a suggestion. She wishes to use her own funds to bring people from the Northern Continent. Those specializing in the bleaching and washing of cloth specifically,” Aura said with a meaningful smile.
Realizing that it was about what Zenjirou had advised Freya on, he answered truthfully. He’d never intended to hide it in the first place. “Yeah, Freya spoke to me about it, and I gave her what advice I could. As far as I’ve seen, the average cloth on the Northern Continent is higher quality than ours.”
Technically, you could consider his advice to Freya as favoring one of his wives over the other, but a relationship where he could not even do that was too detached for Zenjirou. In the polygamy common in noble families, such relationships were not unusual, but Zenjirou’s mental constitution wasn’t strong enough to withstand something like that.
Indeed, Aura herself wasn’t condemning him for offering his advice. “It is not an issue,” she agreed. “I have given her leave to spend outside of a limited number of industries, and I have no right to stop you from offering her advice. The potential problem would be the likelihood that her success will invite pushback from our countrymen that work in that industry.”
If Freya was successful, it would mean a new supplier of cloth and fiber being formed in Capua. Assuming Zenjirou’s judgment of the quality was accurate, the thread and cloth would be able to outcompete current products on either quality or price—or potentially both.
That not happening would be an issue for Freya, but it coming to fruition would also disadvantage the local workforce. Businesses with higher quality and lower prices still often failed due to lack of fame or trust, but Freya had her title as royalty. In the worst case—or best, depending on your perspective—the current workers could lose their businesses.
Zenjirou may not have had the best head for business, but even he could see that. “That wouldn’t be good,” he admitted. “Then what if she only sells the techniques rather than directly selling the products?”
“Sell the technique?” Aura asked.
“Yeah. Whatever happens, I’m probably going to be teleporting them over, right? That puts a significant limit on numbers, and they wouldn’t be able to produce huge amounts of anything. That would mean they’d need to hire local talent as well. That would put them in direct competition with the current businesses, though.”
Competing for patronage was one thing, but the merchants would not let poaching their workforce go unanswered. If they hired children and unskilled apprentices, they would take too long to turn a profit. Freya didn’t want to spend a long time making money; she wanted it as quickly as possible.
“So her people would start by replicating things here. They’d use local materials to get bleaching to the same level as on the Northern Continent. There would be a fair number of businesses that wanted those techniques. They could mass-produce cloth under license, and Freya could take a percentage of their sales. That would end up benefiting both sides, right?”
Zenjirou’s idea—centering mostly on minimizing conflict rather than maximizing profit—was potentially the best advice he could offer here.
“A continuing fee to utilize the established technique? That could work well if it is accepted,” Aura agreed.
The proviso was there because it wasn’t a proposal that would usually work. There was no concept of intellectual property on the Southern Continent, so collecting money for techniques and knowledge was difficult.
Once someone had learned the method, they could quite easily refuse to keep paying, and there was no law to compel them to do so. If anything, the blame would usually fall on the people allowing their trade secrets to fall into their hands.