Sylvester attended the last rites of Augustus in the morning. Augustus' pyre was burned at the Golden Peninsula, the holiest place, as a sign of respect and apology.
Sylvester had no idea what had transpired after he left last night. He couldn't find Saint Seer there. Only the Pope, a few higher clergymen, and Guardians were present.
But he didn't care about that and went on to do his usual work, which included going to the entry gate of the Holy Land and checking everything. At the end of Season of Solis, a rush is usually observed as people become agitated to enter.
The biggest danger at this time was a stampede due to increased desperation. After all, they'd have to wait for an entire year if they missed entering the Holy Land.
He checked the register of the guards at the entrance. They had scaled up his given model of entry checking. That effectively decreased the needed time to merely five minutes per person.
"Good job. Just one more week and your hard days will come to an end. I shall recommend all your names to the Administration." Sylvester praised the men at work and crossed the gates.
He headed left and arrived at the construction site of his house. The last time he saw it, the structure was erected, and interior work was left. Now that all work was completed, he freely entered the building and checked the furniture.
On the ground floor were the living quarters for the staff and the whole restaurant itself. The kitchen was huge, and all the cooking stations were made according to his demand. He had also installed normal indoor plumbing in the house using expensive pipes he had some blacksmiths make.
The indoor plumbing ensured that the restaurant kitchen could work at all times. There was a large water tank on the terrace that helped with everything. Not to mention, his restaurant would be different as he'd be using a lot of magical runes and crystals that he could buy cheaply from the Holy Land.
Both indoor and outdoor areas had a seating capacity of fifty people each. Sylvester's three ex-slaves were going to be the only main cooks, while waitresses would be hired from the nearby Graced Village, which was merely half an hour's walk away.
The menu was kept small, but Sylvester knew it'd be enough to create a buzz. Starting with pizza, there were fish and chips, burgers, crispy fried chicken, french fries, ice cream, sandwiches, and all kinds of sauces.
For drinks, Sylvester decided not to serve any alcohol as that would go against the faith, and it could annoy some higher clergymen. So, he decided to sell soda, lemonade, tea, and milkshakes with ice cream.
Of course, he was mostly experimenting at the start to see how the process would work. He carefully planned things and the menu so that items could be prepared in advance in bulk. For example, various sauces could be made once a week, as Sylvester had built a metal, walk-in refrigerator that could hold many ice-magic crystals. It would keep all the vegetables, meat, ice cream, and sauces from going bad.
Besides that, buns for Burgers would be outsourced to Graced Village nearby, where old Healer Hendrix lived. Chopped potatoes for French fries were also outsourced, and fish would arrive fresh from local fishermen.
His three cooks would only have to do small preparations in harmony. Not to mention, if the workload became too much for them, he was ready to make the menu smaller so that it could be alternated. His main goal was not money but the crowd.
'I should call those women and start training them. But first, let's have a look at the office.'
He climbed the stairs to the top floor. The room's steel door was painted to look like wood. It was going to be his unofficial office for all work unrelated to the faith.
For now, it only had multiple empty bookshelves at the side and a table beside the closed window.
He took a seat and started writing something in his booklet with a charcoal pencil. 'Alright. Since the upper structure is done, I need to make the basement. Thanks to the head of Anti-Light, a big enough hole was left behind.'
He had already drawn most of the design and had decided to create a normal basement first. From there, some hidden entrances would lead to others. There were going to be three long corridors with around twenty rooms of various sizes.
And the first room's usage was for his printing press since he had finished his book.
'Alright, this is the best I could remember the Gutenberg's press.' Sylvester drew a crude model of the contraption, as it couldn't really be called a machine.
Sylvester knew his limitations. He was not God who knew everything. Although he had a mechanical engineering degree, that didn't mean he knew how to make complex automatic machines.
At best, he could conceptualise them and make a cruder version, hoping that someone would build upon it and make a better version. For now, he just needed to get by.
'This still won't be enough to print in large numbers. Hmm... How can I use magic in this?'
Sylvester tried to brainstorm how to improve the design of Gutenberg's press. 'Perhaps using Babcock Printing Press would be better as its sliding type-form and cylindrical paper movers are much more automation friendly.
'I have fire crystals. Maybe I can make a single-piston steam-powered system and connect it to the printing press through a closed latex belt. This is certainly within my capabilities. But what if my enemies find such inventions?'
Sylvester knew that if he wanted, he could change the whole world within a year using all his knowledge. But knowledge was one of his greatest assets. So giving it away before taking over the world was foolish.
He glanced at the good furry boy sleeping near the window where the sunlight hit. 'I guess I will use Chonky and always keep these inventions in his belly, only letting them out when I have their use. With this automated printing press, I can easily print a few dozen books every week. I won't need it daily.'
Thus he decided on the plan and started drawing the blueprint for the machines. He needed to get the blacksmiths to make things to his strange demands. But he was friends with a few of them, so it was no problem.
'I'll have to arrange large sheets of paper too.'
"Lord Bard! Are you there?!"
Sylvester quickly folded the large sheet of paper he was designing on and went to the window. Outside, he saw a large stagecoach and six knights on horses.
"Lord Raftel? Please come up here!" Sylvester called them.
He quickly placed two cushioned chairs in front of the table and waited for the Count and his wife to arrive. He had asked the Count to visit him before leaving months ago.
Soon, the tall, thin Count and his beautiful blonde wife reached him. But the Count took Sylvester by surprise, and instead of a normal greeting, he went for a hug. Not just him, but once the Count was done, the Countess hugged him tightly.
Sylvester embarrassingly stepped back after he felt the woman's bust. "What was that fo... Wait!"
He just remembered that the woman's breasts were chopped by the Shadow of Masan during that plot he unearthed.
Countess Melinda smiled and softly spoke. "Thank you, Lord Bard. Due to your recommendation, we were swiftly provided with the best care in the specialist sick bay. There, my treatment lasted for two months."
Count Raftel, who had stopped smiling long ago, now had a huge happy grin. "They were able to heal her completely. Not only that, when it became clear she'd be fine, we decided to conceive."
"I'm one month pregnant!" Countess chirped excitedly as if she was waiting to shout that for a while.
Sylvester felt good for her as he remembered how she cried when her breast was chopped. She was hoping to have a child, and her dreams were crushed.
"Congratulations, my lady. I'm happy for you." He raised his palm towards her belly and made it shine. "I bless that your child is born healthy, smart and strong."
Sylvester was like a legend in the minds of the Count and Countess by now, so his blessing meant a lot to them.
So much so that they wanted something more from him.
Countess Melinda reached for Sylvester's hand and held it in her palms. "Lord Bard, I wish for you to be my child's godfather. Without you, me, my husband, and the County--nothing would have survived. You blessed us, so I hope you can also forward it to the next generation."
Sylvester would have stabbed his own throat if he had even thought of ignoring such an opportunity. Being able to influence a future Count or Countess was huge.
"Of course, I will be happy to do so. Now come, take seats. It's not wise to stress my lady too much." He guided them to their seats.
"Why are you outside the Holy Land all alone, Lord Bard? Isn't it dangerous?" Count Raftel asked him in worry.
As Sylvester took his seat, he nearly laughed. "What difference does it make? Inside or outside of the Holy Land, people try to kill me all the time. Anyway, I wanted to meet you to discuss the possibility of a business partnership. You see, I have invented a few things that can help healers around the world. I want you to manufacture it and be its distributor. Of course, I will take the royalties as the patent holder."
Raftel became alert quickly. The Northern Duchies of Gracia were suffering after the madness left by Masan's plot. Poverty was rising, and it was getting hard for everyone. So, he wasn't going to leave such an opportunity.
"May I know what those things are?"
Sylvester opened the drawer and showed them. One was a physical item, and the other two were parchments. "This is an injection and a needle for intravenous fluid insertion."
"What! You invented these?" Countess Melinda exclaimed loudly. "I saw this every day at the sick bay. No wonder they prayed to this instrument every time they used it. It's a blessing from you!"
'What the hell, do they pray to this thing?' Sylvester knew it was popular, but not this fact.
"There are two more things I am making. One is a heartbeat and pulse hearing aid called Stethoscope. The second thing is an instrument for measuring body temperature, called a Thermometer. Making a Thermometer takes some level of expertise in alchemy, however. But, all these instruments can fetch a reasonable price as they can help even non-magical healers.
"Here, read this agreement. I will take a forty-five per cent share of the profit for the coming ten years. In return, you secure the right to research these instruments, make them better and sell them. After ten years, I will take a share of fifteen per cent." Sylvester forwarded the agreement.
There was a major reason why Sylvester added the ten-year limit for his higher profits. The reason was that he'd either be the Pope by then or dead.
"I will read it, but I have something for you too." The Count passed on a folded parchment.
"I hope you don't mind, but to help you, over the past few weeks, I decided to ask my men to keep an eye on all information related to you. This is the list of all Assassin guilds with an ongoing bounty against you and Mother Xavia."
"What?!" Sylvester's smiling face turned cold. "They also put a bounty on mum?"
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