368. Wine Pressure

Tavern Somewhere in Capital City, Mainland Ancorna Empire

The tavern was thick with the smell of woodsmoke, spilled ale, and the low hum of a dozen overlapping conversations. A fire crackled warmly in the hearth, casting dancing shadows over the patrons who huddled close to its heat. At a corner table, a burly baker slammed his heavy tankard down, sloshing foam onto the scarred oak wood.

“I’m telling you, it’s a whole new age,” he boomed, wiping his mouth with the back of a hairy hand. “My wife bought one of those new-fangled self-heating kettles from Princess Serena’s guild. Just a pinch of dried sunpetal flower in the little bottom compartment, and your water’s boiling in a minute flat. No more hauling coal for the morning tea!”

A wiry woman who ran the local laundry scoffed. “That’s nothing. I got their new cleaning brush. The bristles are enchanted! You just push it across a stubborn stain, and it vibrates the grime right out of the cloth. My hands haven’t been this soft in years.”

“It’s clever, I’ll grant you,” said an old man, the town’s master carpenter, stroking his graying beard. “But it’s all little things, little everyday comforts. They’re not selling magic to turn you into a grand lord. They’re selling magic to make you feel like you’re not living in a pigsty. My son bought one of their pestles. Grinds herbs and spices to a perfect powder every time. Never thought I’d live to see the day.”

The burly baker nodded, his earlier enthusiasm turning thoughtful. “Aye, it’s the small things. The guild’s got a real mind for it. But Raven Casino isn’t trailing behind either, not with their official newspapers, rubber water hoses, ink pens, and so much more. They’re essentially selling us a better night’s sleep.”

“Speaking of the small things,” the old carpenter said, leaning in conspiratorially. “Have you seen the new wine press barrel they’re hawking? My cousin, the vintner, just got one delivered. He’s been talking about nothing else all week.”

The wiry woman leaned forward, intrigued. “A magic wine press? What’s wrong with a good old-fashioned foot stomp?”

“This is entirely different,” the old man explained, his eyes gleaming with admiration. “It’s a coopered oak barrel, looks the same as any other, but with a silver band around the top inscribed with crushed flower juice runic scripts. You pour your grapes in, and there’s a small dial on the side, marked with little pressure symbols. You can set it for a light, fruity press for a young wine, or crank it all the way to Full-Bodied for a deep, tannic red.”

“And it just... does it on its own?” the burly baker asked, deeply skeptical.

“Perfectly! Every single time,” the old carpenter said, tapping the table for emphasis. “No more guessing. No more sour batches because you pressed too hard, or watery swill because you didn’t press enough. It uses a bit of glimmer-lily powder that costs a few copper coins, but the guild sells those in neat little refill packs. My cousin says it’s the most consistent vintage he’s ever produced. The pressure is exactly what you set it to, from the very first drop to the last.”

Readers seeking the published chapter can use the author's official page; this version was copied without consent.

The burly baker stared down into his ale. “A machine that presses the grapes just right. Goddess above... what will they think of next?” It wasn’t a complaint, but a genuine, bewildered observation. The world was rapidly changing before their eyes, one small ordinary invention at a time, courtesy of the Imperial Siblings' competing business ventures.

Inside Meeting Cabin, Search Vessel, The Luminous Sea, Eastern Continent

“If, hypothetically, this person is somehow capable of locating the correct floor and securing all one thousand plus civilians aboard the escort ship... and our sole responsibility is simply delivering them into the dungeon's interior... then yes, Your Highness,” Ryan declared, a spark of hope lighting up his eyes. “I believe it is entirely possible.”

Everyone turned to him with curious, intent eyes as Ravenna asked, “How?”

“Recently, Her Highness Serena has been successfully distributing her magic tools throughout the Capital for a while now,” he started, taking a piece of chalk to write on the board.

Ravenna commented calmly, “I am well aware. It has been her lifelong dream to advance the Eastern Continent in magic technology... which is precisely why she is competing for the throne, after all.”

“Yes! Our reporters have been printing advertisement runs for her products in our newspapers for a while, so I happened to come across this specific design,” Ryan drew a cylindrical barrel with a side-gauge dial on the chalkboard. He quickly instructed his assistant to write down a note to secure a copy of the specific newspaper issue once they returned to land.

“What is that?” Sarah asked, squinting her eyes at the chalk sketch on the board.

Ryan turned back to the room and answered, “A magic Wine Pressing machine.”

He immediately began detailing his concept on the chalkboard, drawing a double-layered pressurized diving capsule derived from the machine's core runes. “Since our primary obstacle is the immense deep-sea water pressure, as long as we are able to create an isolated chamber that artificially balances and maintains internal atmospheric pressure... we can safely lower a person straight down to the ocean floor without them being crushed.”

The Archmage tapped his knuckles on the table, his eyes brightening. “So that wine pressing machine’s enchantment actively stabilizes and regulates internal pressure against extreme external forces?”

“Yes! That is the primary core function it is being heavily advertised for... since fine winemaking requires exact, unwavering pressure control during fermentation,” Ryan added eagerly.

“Of course, we would still need to thoroughly experiment with its underlying functions and run stress tests, but based on what you’ve outlined, it is theoretically feasible,” the Archmage replied, stroking his chin in deep thought.

Sarah, Richard, and Knight Samuel were all opening their mouths to ask a barrage of technical questions when Ravenna slammed her palm down on the table with authoritative force.

“Get it!” she ordered, her voice echoing sharply through the meeting cabin.

“I want multiple units of that machine delivered to our ports within a few hours. Requisition every available magic researcher, engineer, and craftsman from across the Kim Dukedom,” she declared, standing up from her seat. Her fierce determination was terrifyingly evident to everyone in the room. “We are not losing any more of our people! If your teams have to pull an all-nighter to understand the schematics into the diving vessel, then so be it! Dismantle them, analyze them, build a prototype, test it under heavy load... whatever it takes! By tomorrow morning, I demand a functional answer!”

“B... But Your Highness, who exactly is this individual we will be se-” Dame Aisha began to ask, her brow furrowed with concern.

Ravenna cut her off instantly, slamming the table a second time as her jet-black eyes flashed with fury. “Stop wasting precious time on endless questioning and get to work! Every single second we sit here deliberating, our knights might be dying inside that dungeon!”